Pulchritudinous • Ryden

¥ Chapter Three ¥

{{ Chapter Three - Luftschloss }}

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"B, hey Bren." Brendon's mother cooed softly, trying her best to wake her son in the kindest way she could possibly muster.

Brendon turned towards his mother, his eyes lazy. "Huh?" Brendon stretched and yawned, willing himself to sit up, "What?"

"Hey, sorry. I told you about your therapist appointment about a week ago, and I forgot to remind you last night about it." Grace spoke, she seemed unsure and sorrowful.

"It's alright. Are you okay mom?" Brendon turned his head, examining his mother. He didn't see his mom very often, but when he did have the time, he would study her. Even as a little kid, Brendon would just sit there and stare at her. He was so fascinated by his mom, the way her brain worked, the way she talked when she was upset, the way she moved when cleaning, the way she would change her personalities when talking to different people. It was safe to say that Brendon knew his mother more than well. He noticed things, he validated her, and that was why they seemed so close. Even when you don't see a person that you know more than anyone else everyday, you still know them, and understand them. It's like psychic abilities... sort of.

Grace looked at Brendon, smiling and turning her head, "Of course, sweetheart. I'm just thinking," Grace sighed, standing all the way up, "So, this therapist I booked you with is the best therapist in town, he has won a lot of awards, and has treated more than 100 patients. Your father and I wanted to book you with a therapist that actually knows what they are doing. Ever since the Dr. Gacioch incident, we needed to find you something better, that man was not a therapist, he was the devils advocate, and a disgusting mother fu-" Grace cut herself off, taking a deep breath, "Sorry. I just- The point is, therapists aren't like that, and we wanted to make it up to you. This therapist seems to be interactive, productive, and responsible." Grace played with the fabric of her floral dress, watching her fingers fiddle with the cloth.

"Mom, what are you even on about?" Brendon questioned. Maybe Dr. Gacioch was moms old therapist, or one of Brendon's siblings therapist, he just didn't understand why it would effect himself.

"I know, I know. You don't like talking about it, but you don't have to pretend you don't know about it." Grace replied, her eyes speaking more words than her mouth ever could.

"Mom, I seriously don't kn-"

"Okay, just get dressed, we need to go, or you'll be late." Grace interrupted, Brendon nodded to her request. Grace smiled, just barely, and walked out of Brendon's room, shutting the door behind her.

Brendon took a deep breath as he skimmed through the hanging clothes in his closet. Meeting new people was always the hardest when it came to picking an outfit for the occasion. After going through his choices four times, he decided on a dark navy blue sweater. All the sweaters he owned were a little too big for him, but he didn't mind all that much, it made him feel small, and timid. Brendon decided on black skinny jeans to pair it with, because, honestly, what else would he wear for pants?

Brendon quickly grabbed a pair of mix matching socks, and pulled them onto his feet. This was probably the only pair of socks that didn't have holes in it. Brendon took a deep breath as he grabbed his shoes and slipped his feet inside them. He needed new converse, but he didn't mind the fact that they were dirty, or old looking, it told a story, he just needed new shoes. The converse were obviously worn out, the once white tip of the shoe was a dark grey near to black. Brendon looked down at his feet and shrugged. Brendon quickly left his room, forgetting to turn off his light, running down the stairs, and jumping the last two.