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Infirmary.
Stepping out of the room, you pulled the door shut behind you, leaving Aaron to sleep off the after-effects of the last couple of days.
Brendon had been waiting right outside the room, arms folded and back pressed against the wall just to the side of the door. He looked to you as soon as you set foot over the threshold.
Looking back at him, you drew in a deep breath and shut your eyes.
"Thank you. For saving him," you muttered, opening your eyes and giving a small smile.
Furrowing his brows, Brendon pushed himself off of the wall and took a couple steps closer to you. When he spoke, he sounded nothing like himself; his voice was mellow, softer than you'd ever heard it before.
"What's..." he stopped, almost as if he were second-guessing himself; raising your brows, you silently urged him on, "what's going on between you two?"
The ambiguity of his question was quite clear, however you chose to go with an annoyingly genic response.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," he huffed agitatedly, combing his fingers through his hair, "Are you sleeping with him?"
Slightly pissed off at the crudeness of his question, you scowled. "That's none of your fucking business," you deadpanned, and started to walk off.
He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back.
"Hey, no, wait, please."
He held you closer than you were before, swallowing harshly as he gazed down at you. The Brendon that stood in front of you was a Brendon you barely recognized; he looked... human.
"I didn't mean-" closing his eyes, he took a moment to steel himself, "I just... I need to know."
You stared at him, silent and unblinking.
"Are you with him?" he clarified, finally managing to phrase his question in an inoffensive, polite manner, "Do you... you love him?"
Parting your lips, you lifted your hand and tenderly cupped his cheek, meeting his gaze. He leaned into your touch ever so slightly.
"No," you said, "I'm not with him."
You felt him expell a breath you hadn't realised he'd been holding, but the worrisome creases on his forehead remained.
