Mediocrity 50% [Brallon: Deja Vu, Book 1]

7

"Okay, but I wholeheartedly believe that whoever decided to make bacon burgers should be burned at the stake." Brendon said, sitting cross legged on Dallon and Ry's apartment floor. Dallon, Brendon, and Ryan Squared were all sitting on the tile floor of their kitchen around a pizza box. Dallon's back was to the refrigerator. He and Ry had a dining table, but Brendon had opted to sit on the floor for some inexplicable reason and everyone else had followed suit.

"Did you know, actually, that no one was burned during the Salem Witch Trials? I mean, a guy got pressed by stones to death, but I don't think that compares to having your flesh burned off while you're restrained and can't move." Dallon brought up casually, as though socially sanctioned murder was a totally normal concept to bring up while eating pizza with your friends.

"Don't you die from smoke inhalation though, rather than burns?" Ryan asked. He had read a book about the Salem Witch Trials a forever ago and could barely remember anything about it. Something to add to his discussion with his high school class on Halloween, he supposed. It was October now, after all. He and Tyler had kept up the spirit of competition by trying to decorate their classrooms the best for Halloween. Spencer and Taylor would be the ones to decide, being the artistic geniuses they both were.

"Wait, you might actually be right." Dallon realized, widening his eyes. Brendon could tell they had alleviated some of that moroseness. They were still an elegant shade of the blues, a perfect eye color, a perfect metaphor.

"Why are we talking about burning flesh while I'm eating?" Brendon complained, covering his mouth while talking. He swallowed. Dallon noticed, though he wasn't sure why.

"Sorry not sorry." Ryan said, winking at his best friend, who glared at him in response, although there was no conviction behind the brown eyes.

"Isn't a myth that water breaks your fall, as well?" Ry asked. He remembered hearing that somewhere, but diving from high places was also considered an extreme sport, so he didn't really know how much faith to put in whatever he heard. It could have just been Patrick reminding Pete not to do anything too stupid while Pete went on vacation with his family.

"Yeah, because it's all about gravity, height, and speed. If you're high enough, nothing can save you unless you actually know how to cliff dive." Dallon supplied.

"Ugh, this is why I hate heights." Brendon groaned, leaning his head back in the air, pretending to be exasperated.

"He doesn't go on the roller coasters at the seasonal fair here, either." Ryan said. He constantly pleaded Brendon to, because he liked the adrenaline rush, but to no avail.

Dallon had a love hate relationship with heights. He didn't mind it too much, especially when the wind whipped through his hair and made him feel like the world was at his will. It brought back unpleasant memories and uncertainty and anger and bad feelings and not trusting himself, so Dallon didn't go up on any roofs without someone by his side anymore.

"Roller coasters are the pinnacle of amusement parks, though." Ry said. The two Ryans shared the love of thrills and fast rides at amusement parks. They never really outgrew that kiddush desire to go as fast as you could without getting dizzy. Was that even childish, or was it just human?

"Yeah, but I don't trust the ones they take down and put back up every season. If that malfunctions because someone was drinking on the job, you're screwed."

"Doesn't that apply for literally every job ever, though?"

"Well, yes, but that's what my mom used to always say and it stuck with me." Brendon said. 'Of course, that's the thing that sticks with me throughout all of my parents expectations and judgements. Don't go on roller coasters.'