treehouse // bronnie

16

Brandon and I got in my car. As I turned my ignition on, Brandon took in a deep satisfied breath.

"I'd hold off on the deep breathing -- if you sniff too deeply you'll smell the Taco Bell and tears," I warned.

He burst out into giggles, "I love being here, you know? It feels right."

"I missed having you here." I pulled out of the parking lot then rolled down the windows before turning on the radio. "Hope you like this still!"

"Yeah!" Brandon exclaimed through more giggles.

"Good, because I want you to sing to me!"

"What?!"

"Sing to me!!!" I turned the radio up higher. "Please, baby, I've wanted to hear you sing for months!"

"Well...I mean, if you're gonna call me baby like that..." he cleared his throat and bobbed along to the song for a moment. I listened in closely as he because mumbling along a bit.

"Louder, baby!"

"Oh shit, alright!" He began belting the song and I tried not to lose control of the car as his slightly shaky, off-tune singing fell from his lips. As the song progressed, Brandon seemed to grow less and less nervous, which led to his singing to grow more steady. I loved it. I loved how soft and scratchy it was, I loved how it sounded like he was chasing after something, I loved how he would giggle into it -- God, I just fucking loved it.

When he stopped, I immediately wanted to hear more. "You're so good!" I squeaked out like a little-excited bowl of fruit.

"You're just saying that because you're my boyfriend," he scoffed.

"Yeah?! So?!"

"You're just saying I'm good."

"No! I love your voice and me loving you doesn't affect that."

"Wait, what'd you say?"

"Ummm...I love your voice?"

I looked over at him for a split second and saw that he looking back with a wide grin. "Nooo -- the other part."

"Me...loving...you?"

"Yeaaah."

"Umm -- y-yeah -- I love you. I love you, Brandon."

I expected him to fall into a state of seriousness and tell me how we've only been together for a full two days, there's no way I could love him. It wouldn't change anything, I really did love him. It didn't matter if he loved me back, I just...

loved him.

To my surprise, he instead let out a strange squeal. "I love you too!"

My heart fluttered, "oh." It felt so surreal to hear from him, I felt euphoric. "C-come again?"

"I love you too, Ronnie."

I refrained from crying while driving. He loved me...he loved me too...we loved each other.

****

"Please come to the treehouse," Brandon groaned as we pulled up to his house.

"I'm sorry Brandon, but I think my parents might want to see their son at least once a week."

He raised an eyebrow at me, "really? You told me they don't even ask where you wander off to." I let out a small sigh, which he responded to by reaching over and squeezing my arm. "Please, Ronnie."

How could I resist? He was looking at me with his wide hazel eyes, I couldn't say no to that even if my parents cared if I got home. "Alright," I finally gave in and turned off my car.

I followed him through his yard. "You never showed me what you were writing."

He blushed, "it's embarrassing."

I grinned, "show me it."

"Maybe."

We climbed into the treehouse. He turned on the Christmas lights as I settled onto the bed. "Show me what you wrote," I insisted as he sat at his desk.

He dramatically sighed before sending the notebook flying at me. It landed on my chest and as soon as I felt it, I sat up and flipped through it. I found the page dated today.

8:30 a.m.
I feel dumb but
he's laying in bed
and the light's hitting him just right.
I like him.
I like his eyelashes.
I like his hands.
I like his lips.
I might love him
Oops.

I couldn't help but giggle at the last line and at the giddy feeling I got from the idea that someone like Brandon could write something like that about me. I close the notebook and stopped giggling once I realized Brandon was looking back at me, awaiting criticism. "This is really cute," I simply said, "it's kind of -- gay nonsense, but still cute."

"Shut up, it was a stream of consciousness," he gushed.

"It was a really cute stream of consciousness!"

He rested his cheek in the palm of his hand, "I just have a lot of feeling about your eyelashes."

"I could say the same about yours."

"And your lips. I really like your lips."

"I like yours too. Maybe you should get down here so we can appreciate our lips together."

"That's gay nonsense."

"Shut up and get down here."

He slowly dove into me, pushing me back into the bed. I held him close to me as our lips connected. As we kissed this overwhelming feeling that he was all I really needed hit me. I truly couldn't fathom being with anyone else -- I didn't really want to think of being with anyone else. I wanted that to be known to the universe.

"You're all I need," I murmured in between a kiss.

He squinted at me for a moment and pressed his thumb against my bottom lip, with a confused smile he said, "okay. You're all I need."