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

8.5

Dallon had looked up the place that he and Brendon were going to beforehand, and sure enough, it was pretty damn fancy. Dallon promised himself that he would pick up the check. Brendon worked several part-time jobs, and sure, he had been the one to be asked out, but Dallon was honestly uncomfortable with Brendon wasting his money on him.

He stared in the bathroom mirror as he tied his bowtie. It was purple; Dallon had always liked bowties. He hoped that he was dressed appropriately and not too fancy. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, though it had been tailored to his lanky form.

It was 5:15, and he was going to meet Brendon at the restaurant around 5:30-ish, so he'd have to leave in about five minutes. Dallon walked out of the bathroom after giving himself a final once over. He didn't look too terrible, and his pants fit him for once, instead of being too short at the ankle, like the way most pants and jeans typically were. Having long legs sucked sometimes.

After Dallon, Geoff, Otto, Tyler, and Josh had returned from Houston two days before, Dallon had sat down with Ry and told him about his deepening crush on Brendon Myles Whitecastle, and the maybe date that he and Brendon were having tonight. Dallon really hoped that this dinner wasn't just him getting his hopes up and Brendon reciprocated. The cynical side of him thought there was a fat chance that Brendon could ever like him because he had only just acknowledged Dallon as a friend. His logical side, one that was neither hopeful or hellbent on making him sad, realized that he and Brendon were actually very close friends, and Brendon definitely did appreciate him.

It had actually been a while since that culminating night at the art show, so Dallon didn't know why he was still squashing his hopes down, beating them into a pulp and then burying it in the backyard. Six feet under was already overkill, but he felt like he was just making himself feel worse. Dallon didn't know how to control it, though. Jesus, he really needed to talk to his psychiatrist about his medication. His mood had been going from happy and elated to numb to depressed every few hours. It was getting annoying at this point. He just wanted to feel normal, like he deserved something, like he could believe the pretty boy with the loud laugh and intelligence adored him almost as much as Dallon did.

"Have fun, Dal." Ry said as Dallon shrugged on a light coat. It was a chilly November day, the seasons were about to change, the tide about to turn. The moon was waning, a sad type of metaphor that Dallon hoped wouldn't come to fruition.

"Yeah. I think I will." Dallon said, a smile tugging at his lips. A shimmer of something akin to happiness dusted over his eyes.

"Enjoy it. You deserve this. It's not false hope, I hope you've realized that by now." Ry said, reading his mind like he always did. It was a good feeling to have someone always by your side who understood every single thought that came into your head.

Dallon hugged him suddenly. And that was that; then he left. Left to go down into the streets and meet the only just now realized object of his affections. Wasn't it fitting that they had both realized around the same time? Ironically, while they were both apart, Dallon in Houston, Brendon still in LA.

He wondered if Brendon had told any of their friends yet. Maybe they'd wait until it was solidified, maybe they'd wait to see how tonight turned out. Dallon had to force himself to forget his inhibitions that were barely there in the first place. Brendon made him confident, but when he was away Dallon overanalyzed everything. Things were better and worse all at the same time, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hey!" Dallon said, the exclamation point audible in his voice. He was excited.

"Good evening, Dallon." Brendon said, making a motion as if to tip an imaginary hat. He bowed exaggeratedly.