one caress + brendon/josh/tyler

three.

Everything is moving in a blurry state, and Brendon is shaking hands with multiple coworkers only a minute or so after he arrives at work. He is closing things up, finalizing things he was working on before he got the new job.

He feels enveloped in anxiety and dread, but also relief.

He is sitting in Spencer's office once again, and he doesn't want to be here right now. He would rather be at his desk, or hiding away in the break room, or maybe even his bedroom.

"I know this new position is going to be perfect for you," Spencer tells him. "Lynn is telling me how excited she is to meet you in person."

Was meeting on Skype not enough? Brendon smiles sheepishly, playing with a wrinkle in his shirt, and he wonders why anyone would be so excited to meet him as Spencer is playing out Lynn to be. Brendon really isn't anything special, at least by his own standards.

"Good luck, Brendon," Spencer says as if he isn't the slightest bit younger than him. He just has this aura, maybe it's his job that makes it, that makes him seem so much taller than anyone else in the room. Like he could step on you but also give you a bear hug at any moment.

Work is quick, he has to say goodbye to his coworkers, or at least the ones he sort of cares about, which really isn't many, and he is let out early. He sinks into his car seat in relief, but only for a moment before he pulls his phone out of his pocket to call his mom.

"Oh, hi, Brenny!" she says. "This is a surprise! Aren't you supposed to be working right now?"

"I got let off early. I have... some news, mom."

Grace immediately jumps to conclusions with a loud gasp. "Did you get fired, Brendon? What did you do to get fired? Oh my goodness!"

Brendon pinches the bridge of his nose in a sense of frustration that he knows is only going to grow larger by the time he gets to his parents' house in a little bit. "Mom, I did not get fired. Can I come over?"

Grace is silent for a moment, not talking to Brendon, and the call is muffled, as if her hand is over the speaker so she can say something to someone else. Maybe she has a friend over, because Brendon knows for sure his father is at work.

Grace is back on the phone a second later. "Of course, honey, come on over. I'll make you lunch!"

Lunch would be nice, seeing as he left during its duration at work. But he didn't eat, though he packed himself something. He'll just eat it at his mom's house. Brendon sighs quietly into the phone, but it sounds more like he's just breathing, so his mother can't tell that he's a little stressed. He has so much stuff to do.

"I'll be there in a little bit, mom," Brendon says, and hangs up the phone before she can say anything else. He throws it next to his box of office supplies that were placed evenly across his desk just an hour or so ago. He turns the ignition and his car jumps to life, pulling him out of the parking lot and onto the main road, which is crowded, but not as much as it would be if it were later in the day and everyone was getting off of work, or tourists were coming to drink and smoke and have sex and waste all their money on casino machines and get married.

At a stoplight, Brendon sinks into his seat, and blindly digs around the car's console for a mint, because he always keeps them in here, but his fingers graze something metal and cold. The light turns green, he pushes on the gas to keep the car going, but grasps the small, metal thing. It is a gold necklace, the chain thin, a cross pendant hanging off of it.

Brendon hasn't seen this in awhile. He swallows thickly, placing it over the steering wheel to look at it as he drives. This is the one his mother gave him for his eighteenth birthday, and it sort of felt a little heavy on his neck so he always found excuses not to wear it.

Light reflects off of its surface. Brendon isn't sure if it is real gold or not, but it looks pretty real, which makes Brendon feel all the more guilty about never wearing it and then forgetting it.

His father's car is in the driveway, which is odd, because he should be at work, but maybe Brendon is missing out on something. He pulls onto the curb right in front of the house, turns off the engine, and then holds the necklaces in his hands again. The metal is cold, like it was placed in a freezer for some time.

Brendon pulls his tie off and undoes the top button of his shirt, and he's sure if his mother sees him wearing the necklace it will soften the blow of him moving. He's not really sure how that makes sense - maybe him wearing the necklace will make Grace believe that Brendon will go to church still while he's in Columbus.

Which he isn't even sure of yet. Grace would never know if he went or not, because she wouldn't be there with him to see.

Slowly, Brendon undoes the clasp and reattaches the chain at the back of his neck, and the necklace falls across his collar bones silently, light against his skin but it still feels like a million pounds more than it should, as if the metal is going to burn his skin and claim him as the antichrist. Brendon steps out of the car and pockets his phone and keys, and opens the front door because it is always unlocked.

"Mom?" he calls out. "I'm here!"

"I'm in the kitchen, Brenny," Grace calls back out, and Brendon toes off his shoes, padding softly into the kitchen. Grace is making ambrosia salad, another one of his favorites, especially with pineapple. Grace remembers all of Brendon's favorite foods as a kid.

"Hi," he says, leaning on the kitchen counter. "Is dad home too?"

"Yes, he wasn't feeling too well so he stayed home." So Brendon really isn't missing out on anything important, good.

"Do you think he could come in here? I wanted to talk to both of you guys."

Grace stops mixing the ambrosia, turning to face Brendon, her expression puzzled. Her eyes light up when she sees the necklace though, and she smiles. "Oh, I haven't seen you wear that in forever!" She wipes her hands, even though they are clean, on a dish towel hanging from the oven rack, and takes the cross in her hands, examining it. "You should wear it more often, Brendon. It looks very good on you."

Brendon swallows awkwardly. "Th-thanks mom. But... I really need to talk to you and dad." And then the puzzled expression is back, but Grace nods nevertheless, calling for Boyd.

Brendon doesn't want her to be worried, but she looks the part, which makes Brendon feel terrible. But there really is no other way to tell his parents that he's moving across the country in a matter of days.

Boyd comes padding into the kitchen, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a sleep shirt, meaning he probably hasn't changed clothes at all today. Sort of gross, but understandable.

"Hi, Brenny," he says. "What did you want to talk to us about?"

Brendon sits down at the table, rubbing his eyes. "Uh, I don't really think you need to sit down for this, but..."

Boyd and Grace watch expectantly. Brendon might be making this out more than it should be.

"...I got a job offer for a higher position."

Grace claps excitedly. "Oh, Brendon, that's perfect! I'm so proud of you!" And Boyd smiles, and normally, he would give Brendon a hug or something, but he's sick, so he stays in place, opening his mouth to congratulate Brendon, but Brendon continues:

"It's in Columbus."

Grace stops clapping, Boyd isn't smiling, they're both confused now. Brendon knew this would be hard, he knew they would be confused.

"That's - that's so far away, Brenny," Grace gasps

"I sort of already took the job," Brendon says sheepishly. "I start on Monday, and I've gotta pack tonight and tomorrow, and then drive out to get there and unpack my new apartment. I still have to look for an apartment, oh god. I'm so sorry, I - I can call and tell them I'm staying here, I-" Brendon begins to panic, guilt settling in when he takes in the expression on his mother's face, and she envelops him in a motherly hug, crushing Brendon.

"It's a little odd and possibly selfish that they're asking you to move across the country at the drop of a hat," Grace coos. "But your father and I will survive. You already took the job." She pulls away, and she's crying, but she holds Brendon at arm's length as she continues, "You're a grown man and you can make your own decisions. I am very proud of you, and so is your father."

Boyd grunts in agreement. "If you want to move to Columbus, you move to Columbus. You're going so far in life, Brendon."

Brendon sighs shakily, a quiet smile present. "Thank you, mom," he tells her, standing up.

"How much higher is this job anyway?" Boyd asks.

"It's for accounting manager. Like, $30,000 more than my normal $70,000."

"Oh my goodness, Brenny!" Grace exclaims. "Good thing you took that job! That's crazy."
"Yeah..." Brendon smiles sheepishly again, and through the entire lunch, and afterwards, when Brendon sits at the couch with his father, albeit a little far away so he doesn't catch whatever Boyd has, looking at apartments close to the company he'll be working at, Brendon has an odd feeling in his gut.

Guilt, anxiety, sadness, fear? He has no clue, but he knows he definitely doesn't like it.

...

Packing is definitely harder than Brendon thought.

He has to categorize things, wrap things up, clean things, stumble upon a tooth underneath his armchair that isn't even is, which absolutely terrifies Brendon, and do something about his groceries. There aren't a ton because he's been neglecting going shopping, so he just dumps them into the trash can, trying to ignore the fact that someone else could have used them.

Several hours later, and many boxes later, everything is shoved into the u-haul and Brendon is standing with his hands on his hips, examining what of his apartment he can see. It is empty, and that odd feeling in his gut returns, one he cannot place.

He turns off the lights before he steps out, muttering a quiet goodbye to no one in particular, dropping off his keys at the front office, and his mailbox keys, and then he is out the door, pulling out of the parking garage with his u-haul dragging behind the car.

Not even music can shake the strange feeling, but Brendon sings along anyway, and after hours and hours and hours of driving, he spends the night in a motel at a truck stop, having eaten a sad excuse for a sandwich.

He's pretty sure there is some form of disease lurking in the shower, and because he doesn't own any shower shoes, Brendon places a folded towel on the floor of the shower and stands on it as he washes himself. He leaves it to dry on the radiator.

It isn't until about nine or ten at night that Brendon arrives at his new apartment, and god, he's so tired, and his butt hurts from so many hours of sitting and driving on his own, a full twenty-nine hours, not counting the several hours he spent at the truck stop to sleep and the stops he took to pee and eat something.

He already paid the first six months over the computer after hours of searching with his father, which doesn't seem like the best or safest option, but it was the only option, having finally settled on an apartment. It is pretty nice, nicer than Brendon's old one. He just hopes it isn't a total scam or whatever, or that there isn't mold in the bathroom.

Brendon really wishes he had gotten a hotel for the night.

There is absolutely no way in hell - if hell exists, of course. Brendon isn't so sure about that right now - that he is going to lug all of those boxes up and unpack tonight, or his bed or furniture or whatever, so he pulls out the air mattress from his back seat after finding the parking spot designated for his apartment number, and brings it up.

His apartment is on the tenth floor. This is great, it's okay, Brendon isn't dying at all, there's an elevator. His butt still hurts as he blows up the air mattress.

He managed to somehow leave his blanket and pillow in the car, but at this point, everything has become too much, and Brendon feels like crying. Being an adult is so, so hard and he wishes that he was a kid again.

He wants to be ignorant, know nothing other than what he was taught as a child. He wants to be cared for, still live with his mother and father. He just moved his entire life across the country to a city he's never been through before. He has no friends, just himself, and all of his shit lurking crammed into the u-haul in the parking garage. He feels lightheaded from how fast the last few days have passed.

And beyond that, he has to unpack it all by himself tomorrow.

He finds it very hard to sleep tonight.