Second Boys Will Be First Choice (A Brallon Fanfic)

What Do You Want From Me?

"Police have reported that the body of Frederick McMahon, previously thought to be missing, has been found. The cause of death has not been released however the LAPD are investigating and speculation has arisen that this is a murder. The LAPD have issued an arrest warrant for the primary suspect in this case, former member of the popular rock band 'Panic! at the Disco', Ryan Ross. Further details on the investigation have not yet been released. We'll have more on this case, right after a brief message from our sponsors." I stare at the TV, my eyes glassy and bloodshot. A cigarette hangs from my mouth, unlit, and shadows swallow up everything all around the room. I look at my watch, it reads 8:38.

"Holy shit! This can't be happening..." My hand fumbles all over the coffee table, my fingers grasp around my phone and I look away from the news and call Dallon. It rings. "Don't you ignore my call now motherfucker."

"This is Dallon."

"Are you watching the news right now?" My words come out choppy and panicked.

"No, I'm at an arcade with the family, why?"

"They found it."

"Who...Found what...the bod..."I cut him off before he can finish.

"Don't say it on the phone." My head whirls as more realizations cascade over me.

"I'll take my family home and then I'll come over, alright?" He sounds so calm it makes me nervous. I put a new cigarette between my lips. Dallon must hear the lighter click.

"You said you'd quit" The words travel towards me softly, not at all disappointed, only disheartened.

"Yeah I promised, I will." I stare at the already dwindling pack on the coffee table and put the cigarette back inside. "I promise. I'll see you soon." The line goes silent. I fall onto my side, a pillow wedged in my spleen. The discomfort feels fitting, borderline welcoming. Ads for the mid 40's consumer illuminate the unfamiliar encasing of the living room. The third new living room I've tried growing accustomed to in a month. I clinch my body at the ribs and throw myself up out of the couch and move sluggishly over to the window. Outside the neighbor's kids are doing dumb shit in the street and laughing with the air that things will never change. I push the window open and wait for the stale living room smell to waft out. The sunset hangs its last lights over the street. This newly renovated area clings to keeping up appearances so barely any cars line the streets. They're all locked away in scratch proof cages trying their best to escape the insufferable heat. "Dallon has to go to Utah." The thought rushes in through the open window before I can slam it. "You really should mow...Dallon...the lawn Brendon...has...it looks like your...to go... scruffy face which ineluctably...to...also should be trimmed...Utah...to keep up appearances." I try pushing the thought out but it leaks in every time. "Fuck" I rest my head against the window. The last of the sun leaves the street and too bright streetlights start igniting. "I'll confess, I'll go to prison for him" The doorbell rings, startling me. I close the window and head to the door, dreading all the dialogue ahead. I swing the door open trying to suppress any apprehensions left in my stomach. Dallon looks handsome under the porch light. It blends his shadows so that the circles under his eyes intermingle with the dusk light, sculpting his face and making his eyes shimmer. If God were real, I swear a heavenly light would be around him, expelling all the demons in my house and leaving the place undisturbed by the past. I want to kiss him but instead I move aside letting him inside. The sound of the door closing shuts off the reaches of the divine and lets the darkness settle back into the walls.

"Living like it's a Bram Stoker novel I see." Dallon squints at me in the low light.

"Sorry I was..." I stop and flick the nearby light switch. The house remains in its shroud. "Sorry I don't know which lights are working." I start to walk past him in search of another light but he reaches for my arm to stop me. His fingers wrap around my forearm so tenderly that I almost collapse from wishing he would just pull me into his arms already, from wishing that I would just grow a pair and pull him into mine.