Expect The Unexpected

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| E X P E C T T H E
U N E X P E C T E D |
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     Brooks sat silently, watching the swarm of happy families bubble around him. The ache deep within his chest never faltered, as he began to quietly cope with it, hours ago. He knew that he was supposed to call Blake if anything happened—anything at all.

But while thinking of having to burden someone else with his responsibilities or problems, it had him shaking his head both internally and externally.

Mothers and father's stared as he sat quietly inside of the small diner, a cup of coffee, black to be exact, sat before him. None of the happy families could amount to what Brooks was feeling. The parents loved and supported their children no matter what.

The children never knowing of anything else, and most likely taking their parents for granted. And this was the moment. This was the moment that Brooks swore that whenever he'd inevitably adopt a child with a man he loved, he'd support that child no matter what.

And he hoped they never, ever took him for granted.

Thoughts of UCLA resurfaced, and he wondered if that was still an option, without his father's aiding, and superficial guidance. Surviving without that kind of assessment was something Brooks had never experienced. Especially being a teenager in a town alike Merritt Hills.

And where was he supposed to stay until the end of summer? Sure, he had a plane ticket bought and ready, but the date of it wasn't set until August twenty-first, just a week before his very first class at UCLA.

Maybe Jackson would overlook everything that had been daring to split them apart as best friends, and take in his brother who had lost everything in just a few short hours. Would that be possible, at all?

Getting a part-time job was a must, now—Brooks knee this. He'd have to put enough money together, to buy a car once he started his first semester—a car that he would have no idea how to drive, due to Helena and Charles' incessant protest to teach Brooks how to drive.

And maybe that was their plan all along. To teach Brooks absolutely nothing when it came to living in the real world, so that whenever it was his time to flee the flock—he'd be utterly clueless.

And who would give a job to somebody who was barely learning how to drive? Brooks shuddered, beginning to terrify himself with his own foolish thoughts.

He glanced down at the few dollars placed deep within his pocket, as he silently knew that it Jackson turned him away, he'd have enough money to get to Blake, or maybe even a nearby Atlanta shelter.

     The bus had been almost filled to its absolute brim with men and women without homes or families, or anyone else to care enough for their well-being, to even let them stay in their homes for one mere night. The sight terrified Brooks, as he wondered if that would be him, by the end of the night.

     As he stepped down from the bus's steps, he was surrounded by darkness and erratic noises from the thousands of crickets that sounded as though, they had cornered him right into the nook that was the Fuller's front door.

     Brooks stared absentmindedly at the red door, wondering if the boy behind it would either forgive him, or simply turn him away, claiming once more, that Brooks was choosing Blake over him.

     And Brooks couldn't help but growl aloud at such an ignorant thought. But he cut himself short, while reaching out to ring the doorbell, clutching tightly at the suitcase just below him, as he awaited Jackson, or Jackson's mother or father's answer.

     Although, he really, really wished neither Mr or Mrs Fuller would answer.

     About a minute or two later, that same red door was being swung open, as Brooks couldn't help but let out a small cry at the familiar look of Jackson, the very person who had been there for him since he was eight.

     Jackson reached out for Brooks' cheeks, that were letting free everlasting tears, that seemed to crumble his heart, just as much as the mere look of Brooks' suitcase had. He understood what had happened.

     Jackson reached out for Brooks' suitcase, as he sent a reassuring smile. "Brooks, you're always welcome here. No matter what you and I are going through."

     Brooks nodded, leaning in to give Jackson his warm embrace for a short moment, as graciousness flourished through his being. Why had he never appreciated shelter so much, while living beneath his parents' roof.

     And only seconds later, the two of them were heading up to Jackson's bedroom together.

     Blake was giddy.

     Blake Warner was actually giddy. In all of his eighteen years of living, he had never once felt giddy—ever. But while spending that night with Brooks, he still couldn't seem to get over the aftermath. The aftermath that was still processing, even hours after.

     He sat alone on his bedroom's bedspread, as his dimples shone under the dim living straggled to his roof, one of his hands clicking profusely at a pen he had barley been using before.

     And who knew that after all of this time, with years and years of seeing Brooks Sutton as someone who was easy to break. Someone who could easily be pushed over, and forgotten, was the one person who had ever made Blake feel . . .

     Heard, acknowledged, important. Unlike Gwendolyn who had been working as hard as a dog since she had had Blake.

     And obviously he had never, ever wasted any breath saying anything, he wished he and Gwendolyn could be alike a normal mother and son. Maybe they could spend weekend vacations in Gwendolyn's mother and father's cabin in Aspen.

     Or even going to a move every now and then.

     But who was Blake kidding? The one person he wished to so badly see, was Brooks. But what would Gwendolyn have to say about that? Or Charles, or Helena, or even Jeff, Mitchell and Meghan?

     Blake shook his head, frizzy curls bouncing, as he leaned down toward the paper before him. Nobody knew, but he had been sending out college applications to any school near him, and Gwendolyn.

     One issue he had been trying his best to overlook, was the tugging fact that these applications were late, and that there was a slight—no, huge chance that he would be rejected by every single one.

     But still, he leaned forward and poured his heart out into the page before him.

A/N — Can you guys spy the building conflict? ...