cherry pain // bronnie

chapter four

The Brandon at my door was not the Brandon I was expecting. The luxurious cowboy I had seen at the bar must have been left at the hotel, because the man standing in a hoodie and jeans was nearly unrecognizable. Nearly. A part of me wished he was unrecognizable, then maybe all the nonsense feelings I felt would simmer down into nothing.

"Hey," I simply said.

He didn't say anything, he just flung himself at me and let out a heartbreaking-sob. I felt myself sober up from whatever buzz was left in my system. I shut the door behind him and just...held him there. It was hard to process that I was holding Brandon Flowers, the best physical representation of masculinity I've ever come across, together in my arms. With each sob, my chest clenched in sorrow.

He suddenly pulled away from me, wiping the snot and tears away with his hoodie's sleeve, "I'm so fucking sorry," he managed, "I didn't wanna do that, I just feel so-- hopeless right now." He shook his head and attempted to wipe away more tears. Eventually, he just left an arm over his eyes, "I just got to thinking. Just thinkin' about how lonely I am and wonderin' if I'm ever gonna find love if I keep workin' the way I do where I do. I met up with my friend earlier and he said they found out he was gay and they wouldn't let him rodeo anymore-- shit, Ron, I don't know if you understand how different this scene is. It's something else."

"Holy shit man, all you do is ride cows in rodeo, who cares if you ride cock?"

He laughed dryly and took his arm off his eyes, whatever light and warmth I had fixated on before had gone. He looked up and let out a deep breath. "Ronnie, I remember all of last night. When I slip up-- and I let all this get a hold of me again -- I just pretend like I was too drunk to remember, but I remember."

I gulped, God, I wished I remembered exactly what the hell happened between us. I took it for granted because, drunkenly, I believed it would happen again.

He looked at me and it was hard to ignore the tug in my chest. "You made me feel so good last night, I didn't feel ashamed afterward, I felt safe."

"I, uh, wanna keep making you feel safe."

What the hell was I saying? Was I even ready for a relationship, especially with someone who wasn't fully comfortable with themself? How could I help someone like that if I wasn't even comfortable myself?

Before I could fully panic, Brandon wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, his head resting on my shoulder. I could feel his nose brush against my neck. I wanted to keep him safe but I didn't know if I could keep him safe.

He started crying again, I could feel it on my skin this time. For a moment I thought that we could stay like that forever, well, if forever was what it took to make him stop feeling the hurt he did, then so be it.

He pulled away from me, still crying, his face twisting up in pain, what was probably the complete opposite of what I saw in the bar the previous night. I cupped his face in my hands and brushed my thumbs across his perfect, beautiful cheekbones, wiping away his tears-- or at least attempting to. He closed his eyes while grabbing my wrists and tilted his head down. I loosened my grip and he took a deep breath.

"Ronnie, I'm sorry but I don't know how to feel about this," he mumbled, "it feels so right, I've never had anything feel right."

"Brandon, you deserve all the right things in the world, honestly, even if our time has been short, I've never felt this way before."

He kept his gaze down and I kept my hands on his face. I could hear his breath staggering, the way breathing does when you're sobbing, and it was soul crushing. I didn't even think I had a soul.