Second Boys Will Be First Choice (A Brallon Fanfic)

The Way You Look Tonight

I'd never wanted to be completely encapsulated in a person before. The feeling of his body against mine completely obliterated thoughts of anything and everything else, and I couldn't seem to get close enough to him. But then it was over. Then he pulled away and collapsed against the wall, tears pouring from his eyes.

I sit down beside him, feeling him shaking without even touching him. "We're always going to end up apart." I desperately try and cover the thought with others but it rests untouchable on my lips.

"Do you really mean all the things you said?" his voice is unsteady through his tears.

"Most of them." My own voice startles me. I barely recognize it.

"I should have just called the police that day, that guy was probably in the wrong for running on a street with no sidewalk."

"We're in California, that guy was entitled to run on a dirt path." I try mustering a laugh but all that comes out is a sigh. "Do you think something is really wrong with me?"

"Probably, but not in the way I said." He tilts his head softly and looks at me. His eyes are barely visible in the dark, still a light from somewhere shines on them.

"When do you leave for U..." I hold down sharp edges under my tongue trying to keep my voice soft. "for Utah?"

"Too soon."

"When?" Edginess seeps in to my tone.

"...Thursday."

"This Thursday? Next Thursday? When?" I can feel my calm slipping away.

"Next Thursday." I can tell he's trying to keep it together, trying not to cry, probably afraid I'll start screaming at him again. "You idiot piece of shit you're the one who needs to keep it together, do you love him or not..."

"Alright nine days then, I'll call in nine days, hopefully Ryan doesn't remember too much from that night." His name didn't make me flinch, or even open a floodgate of soured emotions.

"Brendon I just, I can't let you. I really can't." he sounds desperate, it makes my head ache.

"I'm so tired Dallon. I can't take anymore. I..." my stomach turns itself inside out and bile works its way up my throat. "I need a cigarette."

"I'll get them, where are they?" There's no shred of anger in his voice, it's a flat question. I look hard at his eyes, trying to memorize this moment.

"I need you more than anything." I close my eyes, trying to let my withdrawal hyper head relax. "I want you more than anything. I wanted to give up smoking for you but you were gone, I didn't think stopping would just bring you back to me." My tongue tries to force itself into silence. "I think we're meant to be apart." I hear him cry, and my chest starts to rupture.

"Please don't do this." His voice is underwater. Tears start slipping from my eyes.

"You're going to go, and you'll see your kids grow up and you'll be in new bands and you'll draw more beautiful things, and you're going to be so happy without me."

"What about you? What about your art?" his cries chip my heart piece by piece.

"Great art has come out of prison." I finally muster that laugh.

"No..." I reach for his hand, but he finds mine first. The room gets cold and lifeless around our hands.

"We're not going to see each other after this." My heart finally shatters and I force sobs back down my throat. My insides crumble and my head goes fuzzy.