Far Too Young To Die // brallon

twelve

He changes into a sweater and some pajama pants and then grabs some clothes for Brendon. He instead grabs a t-shirt from his side of the dresser. He walks back downstairs and places the clothes on the counter.

"Bren?" Dallon says softly, causing Brendon to jump slightly. Dallon's heart sinks and Brendon's chest fills with guilt.

"I'm sorry, I... sorry," he says, standing up and then looks down, swallowing slightly. "Could you... um... leave really quickly? I just wanna dry off and at least put on some underwear," he asks nervously, almost guiltily.

"Of course, yeah," Dallon says after taking a brief scan of the bathroom. There isn't anything sharp. Good.

He closes the door behind him and Brendon undresses completely. He dries off, his bleeding cuts still bleeding and stinging. He puts on the boxer briefs that Dallon brought down, then looks around, not sure what to do.

"Dal?" he asks carefully, so Dallon opens the door. He feels horrible when he sees the amount of cuts on the younger man, swallowing hard. It hurts seeing him like this, and he never saw what was underneath the clothing until now.

Brendon looks around helplessly, obviously trying to find something to clean up his arms and thighs with. Dallon notices and grabs a dark towel, gesturing for him to sit on the edge of the tub. Brendon does so and Dallon opens the cupboard underneath the sink and pulls out a med kit. It has three boxes of gauze roll, two ACE bandage rolls, a box of Band-Aid's, some adhesive tape, and some more things that Brendon never really paid attention to.

Brendon watches him take out some gauze roll and place it next to him. Dallon pours some liquid onto a towel and then puts the bottle down. He gently grabs Brendon's hand in a way that makes Brendon's heart flutter, then begins to wipe the cuts on his right thigh. Brendon tenses up and grips Dallon's hand tightly, pressing his lips together.

"I know, baby," Dallon says softly, but doesn't stop cleaning it all up. It takes him a minute or so to clean up both legs, but eventually he finishes and grabs the gauze roll. Dallon quickly begins to bandage Brendon's thigh as Brendon watches, hands on the edge of the tub. He cuts it with the small pair of scissors and puts the rest of the roll on the ground.

"Use two Band-Aid's," Brendon says. They make eye contact. Brendon's done this before, he knows the easy way, and Dallon's realizing that. Brendon tenses and looks down once he can't handle Dallon's saddened expression. Dallon sighs and grabs two, putting them on after unwrapping them. This continues for the other leg and both of Brendon's arms, Dallon having to use two gauze rolls and 8 Band-Aid's. He is almost done with Brendon's arm when he suddenly stops, emotions finally taking over as he does a shaky gasp no louder than a whisper. Brendon hears it and his heart shatters. He looks the way Brendon does when he's trying not to break.

"Please don't cry," Brendon says quietly but Dallon doesn't know if he's gonna be able to keep it in. Dallon swallows and continues wrapping Brendon's arm. 

"I'm fine," he says. 

"No, you're not," Brendon says sadly. 

"Yeah, well, now you know how I feel every time you say you're fine," Dallon says. Brendon tenses and tears fill his eyes. Anxiety begins to fill his chest and the air is starting to feel thick. Brendon struggles to breathe and focus. A tear runs down Brendon's cheek and he wipes it quickly. Dallon puts on the Band-Aid alongside the other and begins to clean everything up. "Get dressed."

More anxiety fuels inside of Brendon's chest so he puts on the clothes in silence. He realizes that Dallon got him a t-shirt and feels a little odd, as he hasn't worn one since before he started cutting. 

Brendon walks out of the bathroom and walks to the living room, sitting near the fireplace nervously. He holds his knees close to his chest. His phone is blowing up with texts and calls. The ringing in his ears becomes louder, as well as all of the doubts and thoughts. 

"You should have cut deeper."

"You shouldn't have told Spencer and you could've died."

"Dallon doesn't actually love you."

"You're never gonna be happy."

"Everyone hates you."

Brendon bites his lip, fingers gripping his hair so tight that his knuckles are white. He cries shakily and quietly, but it all keeps getting louder. He feels something touch him and he jumps horribly, heart sinking with anxiety, but realizes that Dallon has put a blanket on him. Dallon gently takes Brendon's hands away from his hair, fixes his hair, plants a gentle kiss on the top of Brendon's hair. Brendon relaxes a bit. 

"Just relax, okay? Play some games on your phone," Dallon says, handing Brendon his phone. The blood has been cleaned off thanks to Dallon, and Brendon smiles very slightly. 

"Okay, thank you," Brendon says. Dallon smiles a bit and Brendon begins to play games on his phone. A while passes before Dallon finishes making two bowls of fruit and walks over to the smaller man. He places the bowls next to them, grabs another blanket, wraps it around his shoulders, sits behind Brendon, then holds him close. Brendon's back is pressed against Dallon's chest.

"Are you feeling a little better?"

"Yeah," Brendon answers truthfully. "I feel kinda relaxed." 

"Good," Dallon says, then places the bowls in front of them. Dallon kisses his shoulder before raising a grape to his mouth. Brendon eats it and Dallon smiles, hugging him sweetly.