Pisanthraphobia (H2OVanoss and Others)

Chapter 9

Brock wondered if it was rational to weld the front door so no one could get in. His breath was short as he paced around his flat, hands tangled in his hair as his mind raced. He couldn't let them see him.

His panic had started only a little after he had received a call from Nogla saying that Brian wasn't picking up his phone. He apparently was coming into town and was planning on staying at Terrorizer's flat like he always did.

Brock told him he'd make sure everything would go over smoothly and hung up, before realizing that Brian wasn't in a good state of mind, this setting off his panic.

Brian was in his bedroom, Gaelic conversation just a smudge of noise in the background. He had begun speaking it out of nowhere, and it frustrated him that Brian disguised his conversations.

He knew that Brian was on a social decline, but he'd fancied them having a sort of trust between them. He could never blame him for betraying a trust only in his mind, but it still hurt. A lot of things hurt lately.

Daithi had phoned later than he had planned because of a jet lag induced micro sleep, so he only had a few hours before he had to go with Brian to the airport. He'd already tried to convince either party to cancel, but it was too late.

He heard the beep of Brian ending the call, and a slight slam as he made his way into the kitchen. He sighed and sat on the couch, listening to the footsteps and thuds around the counters. If he ever got past this dilemma, he would surely spend the rest of his time as a housewife.

The flat was a mess, and Brock was the only one who bothered to clean anything. He definitely wasn't one of those people who enjoy cleaning, he rather detested it, but he slaved away every time only for Brian. It was making him tired.

Tired. That was a good word for how he had been feeling recently. Everything was a slow descent, things changing but without meaning.

He remembered when he was younger and he would draw pictures of his friends, and the small folder of pictures of Brian that he had long since moved on from. Those were simpler days.

He sighed and made his way to the closet, his own personal storage for the supplies he had brought over from his own pad. He pulled out the usual set and made his rounds, too mentally gone to cringe at the white stains on the carpet and the clothes that clearly weren't Brian's.

By he time he was finished it was almost time for him to go the airport, and he scratched at his wrist to calm his nerves. His plan was to take Nogla to a nearby Starbucks and try to explain what he could before they went back.

He wasn't really prepared for what would happen after, but Brock didn't have enough heart left to care. He spent some time looking at old photos on his phone, especially the ones from their beach house vacation an eternity ago, before rubbing a tired hand across his face and standing.

He called out parting words before he left, but he knew no one was listening. His keys jangled as he twirled them around his fingers, calling out a greeting to someone whose face he didn't see.

He drove to the airport while whistling to a song that didn't match the radio, tapping on the wheel and smiling to himself. Maybe if he just ignored it all then his problems would start to fade. They could disappear and he could go on without thinking, without caring, without remembering...

A blaring horn sounded behind him making him abruptly accelerate from where he had been stopped at a green light. He tried not to think the rest of the way there.

When he got to the airport he found out that the flight had been delayed because of late passengers, so he settled down with some headphones for the wait. The app he used for music wasn't even organized at all; he just had one playlist with everything he listened to.

Hitting shuffle, he looked around the airport blandly, watching the different people all going somewhere. There was a young woman in a Hawaiian print dress, tugging a lifeless child behind her, and a tall man with a grey sweatshirt, the hood having two rabbit ears extending from it.

He wished that he was leaving, that it was his flight that was delayed and it was to somewhere, anywhere but here. He could barely stand it anymore. Maybe he would get a flight back home to visit, he hadn't talked to his parents in months.

His eyes wandered to the Starbucks off to the side, no line and fully open, and his hand inched towards his wallet. Someone slammed into his chair, the plastic creaking as he almost tumbled off of it, and an arm circled around his neck.

About to scream but frozen in shock, he slowly turned his head and looked back to face his attacker.

"What are you doing here, hm?"