Happy Thought: The One With Cash's Bad Day
amy13 had a bad day yesterday, so I decided to write her a snippet last night in an attempt to cheer her up. It's been too long since I've written these boys! (Not that I haven't been writing a lot! Just... not on this.) So, anyway. Brendon! Cash! Hugs!
Okay, so in the grand scale of, like, grand scales, Brendon might not always be the most observant person in the world. Or, okay, maybe 'observant' is the wrong word. More like, sometimes it takes him a few days to actually end up in the loop, up-to-date with the most current news.
In his defense, though, 35 guys living in one house means that there is a *lot* of news: break-ups, make-ups, what's going on with other houses. The usual. Plus, he has to spend several hours a week in the music building practicing the piano, the guitar, the cello. And then there's Cash, and Cash's apartment, and okay, so yeah, he doesn't *have* to spend several nights a week over there, but. Well. He does.
So basically: sometimes it takes him a few days to realize that something is going on, or that something in his world has changed. He's used to it now and when Ryan says things like, "Did you seriously not know that? Seriously?" Brendon just laughs it off.
Brendon's apparently better at noticing things when it comes to dealing with Cash, though, because Cash has only just answered the phone, has barely said, "Hey, 'sup?" before Brendon knows that all is not well. His voice is just a little too quiet, the pause between the words just a little bit too long.
Brendon asks, "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" which, okay, makes Cash laugh. Normally, Brendon thinks, that would be a *good* thing, but not this laugh. It's halfway broken, frayed around the edges, and Brendon's frowning now. He's actually just walked up to his house, is partway up the front lawn, but turns around then, in case he needs to start heading in the direction of Cash's apartment. In case Cash needs him to be there, like, stat.
"Nothing," Cash says, and he almost sounds like he means it. But not quite. "Nothing. Just, you know-"
-*A Day*, Brendon's brain fills in, and he starts walking again, waving to Ian and Marshall, who're laying out on the lawn, at Nate and Ryland, who are tossing a Frisbee back and forth. Ian says, "Leaving so soon?" and Brendon nods, mouths, "Cash," which makes Marshall roll his eyes.
"You home now?" Brendon asks, because it will take him 10 or 15 minutes to get there, and Cash makes a noise of agreement. He sounds like he's chewing something. He is, apparently, because Brendon hears him swallow once, but his mouth still sounds a little full when he says, "Yeah. I broke out the chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwiches a few minutes ago."
Which means, Brendon knows, that it had been even *more* of A Day than he'd originally thought, because Cash usually only digs into the ice cream sandwiches when he's just suffered through a particularly nasty midterm.
"You?" Cash asks after swallowing again.
"I *wish* I was eating an ice cream sandwich," Brendon says, and that actually does make Cash laugh.
"Not what I meant, Urie," Cash says. "You home for the day?"
"Not yet." Brendon could say that he was now 8 blocks away from Cash's apartment, that he'd be there soon, but he doesn't. No, instead he says, "I'm on my way to the music building, actually. Damn cello concerto." He growls the last part, which just makes Cash laugh again.
"You love it," he says, and Brendon nods, even though Cash can't see him, because yeah, he really does. It's so different from the piano, the guitar.
"I should probably let you go then," Cash continues after a moment, but that, Brendon thinks, is unacceptable, because while telling Cash that he's on his way isn't part of his plan, neither is letting Cash hang up. Because Cash still hasn't told him what's wrong.
"I've still got a few minutes," Brendon says. "So you should tell me what went wrong today, if you want to."
"It's nothing," Cash says. "Really. I just-"
"Yes?" Brendon says, because occasionally he has to pry things out of Cash. Not often, because Cash is remarkably good about speaking his mind, but sometimes.
"I totally fucking blanked an assignment for my English class this morning," Cash says after another moment. He sounds more than a little defeated. "And, like, it's not like I can't turn it in on Thursday, but we spent half of our last class talking about it, what everyone was writing about and everything, and just. Fucking poof, you know? Out of my brain."
Brendon makes a sympathetic noise, the sort that he *knows* will encourage Cash to keep talking.
"And then I got to accounting and-okay, I totally need you to fucking slap Spencer upside the head or something, because he got there, like, fucking five minutes late, okay? Which meant that the teacher had already assigned me to work with Tyler J."
Brendon cringes, even though he knows Cash can't see him. Because Tyler J. Winthropp the IV is pretty much Cash's least favorite person *ever*, and they seem to be on the exact same track in their business classes. They're in *two* classes together this term, and after each and every period, Cash comes back with more stories.
"And he fucking, like-" Cash starts, but then he stops and sighs. "So, yeah. I'm sure you can imagine how well that went. And then I totally missed a really fucking easy problem on my astronomy test, which took me from an A- down to a B+ and I just feel fucking stupid, you know?"
If Brendon were there with him, he'd probably say something sappy like, "Aww, babe, it's okay," but it just doesn't have the same sort of ring over the phone. Not when he can't hug Cash as tightly as he can until Cash squeaks and tries to push him away.
He's only got another 2.5 blocks to go now, though; he can see Cash's building in the distance.
"So, yeah," Cash says. "It was nothing, really, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to break out the ice cream. And then I was thinking of coming over to see you, but if you're at the music building…"
"Later," Brendon says. "We'll do dinner, and maybe we can find a picture of Tyler and toss darts at his head? Or we could have an epic Halo match and you could, like, wreak havoc and destruction and death?"
"Awesome," Cash says, and he actually sounds like he means it. He must be a little happier already, because he asks, "What about you? How was your day?"
And since Brendon still has two blocks to go, he starts rambling: how evil his Shakespeare teacher is, how some girl in his chorus class is convinced that she's meant to be on Broadway and she's really, really not. How Nate had nearly taken Singer out with the Frisbee the evening before, when he and Tom Conrad had decided to play a game of Ultimate in the hallway.
Then he's there, walking in the building, starting up the stairs, and Cash says, "Did you just go inside?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I'll have to go in a minute or so." When he knocks on Cash's door, he doesn't say. When Cash answers and Brendon doesn't have to talk to him on the phone anymore.
Then he's at Cash's door and he knocks, once, twice, three times, and Cash says, "You know, someone's at the door, so I should probably go too."
"Okay," Brendon says, trying to sound disappointed and not at all like he's grinning. "Okay, yeah. I'll give you a call when I'm done practicing? And we can go get dinner?"
"Sounds good," Cash says, and Brendon can hear Cash approaching the door, the sound of the chain being released, the bolt being flipped. "I'll talk to you later then. Love you."
And then he opens the door.
"Love you, too," Brendon says, flipping the phone closed, and yeah, okay, he's grinning now because he's never been able to say that and *not* grin. Then he says, "Hi." Because Cash is actually looking surprised to see him. Because he's opening and closing his mouth but no words are coming out.
Brendon rocks back onto his heels, then forward again, and then Cash is stepping out into the hallway with him and Brendon, well. On the way over here he wanted to hug Cash until he squeaked and batted Brendon away, so he does. He wraps his arms around Cash and squeezes, but Cash just leans into his hold, pressing his face to Brendon's neck. Brendon can feel his lips move when he finally says "Hi" in return.
"I'm sorry you had a bad day," Brendon says softly, loosening his grip far enough to give Cash some breathing room, and Cash really is grinning now. Not his widest smile, but still getting there.
"Oh, I don't know," Cash says, grinning up at him. "I think it's starting to look up."
Okay, so in the grand scale of, like, grand scales, Brendon might not always be the most observant person in the world. Or, okay, maybe 'observant' is the wrong word. More like, sometimes it takes him a few days to actually end up in the loop, up-to-date with the most current news.
In his defense, though, 35 guys living in one house means that there is a *lot* of news: break-ups, make-ups, what's going on with other houses. The usual. Plus, he has to spend several hours a week in the music building practicing the piano, the guitar, the cello. And then there's Cash, and Cash's apartment, and okay, so yeah, he doesn't *have* to spend several nights a week over there, but. Well. He does.
So basically: sometimes it takes him a few days to realize that something is going on, or that something in his world has changed. He's used to it now and when Ryan says things like, "Did you seriously not know that? Seriously?" Brendon just laughs it off.
Brendon's apparently better at noticing things when it comes to dealing with Cash, though, because Cash has only just answered the phone, has barely said, "Hey, 'sup?" before Brendon knows that all is not well. His voice is just a little too quiet, the pause between the words just a little bit too long.
Brendon asks, "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" which, okay, makes Cash laugh. Normally, Brendon thinks, that would be a *good* thing, but not this laugh. It's halfway broken, frayed around the edges, and Brendon's frowning now. He's actually just walked up to his house, is partway up the front lawn, but turns around then, in case he needs to start heading in the direction of Cash's apartment. In case Cash needs him to be there, like, stat.
"Nothing," Cash says, and he almost sounds like he means it. But not quite. "Nothing. Just, you know-"
-*A Day*, Brendon's brain fills in, and he starts walking again, waving to Ian and Marshall, who're laying out on the lawn, at Nate and Ryland, who are tossing a Frisbee back and forth. Ian says, "Leaving so soon?" and Brendon nods, mouths, "Cash," which makes Marshall roll his eyes.
"You home now?" Brendon asks, because it will take him 10 or 15 minutes to get there, and Cash makes a noise of agreement. He sounds like he's chewing something. He is, apparently, because Brendon hears him swallow once, but his mouth still sounds a little full when he says, "Yeah. I broke out the chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwiches a few minutes ago."
Which means, Brendon knows, that it had been even *more* of A Day than he'd originally thought, because Cash usually only digs into the ice cream sandwiches when he's just suffered through a particularly nasty midterm.
"You?" Cash asks after swallowing again.
"I *wish* I was eating an ice cream sandwich," Brendon says, and that actually does make Cash laugh.
"Not what I meant, Urie," Cash says. "You home for the day?"
"Not yet." Brendon could say that he was now 8 blocks away from Cash's apartment, that he'd be there soon, but he doesn't. No, instead he says, "I'm on my way to the music building, actually. Damn cello concerto." He growls the last part, which just makes Cash laugh again.
"You love it," he says, and Brendon nods, even though Cash can't see him, because yeah, he really does. It's so different from the piano, the guitar.
"I should probably let you go then," Cash continues after a moment, but that, Brendon thinks, is unacceptable, because while telling Cash that he's on his way isn't part of his plan, neither is letting Cash hang up. Because Cash still hasn't told him what's wrong.
"I've still got a few minutes," Brendon says. "So you should tell me what went wrong today, if you want to."
"It's nothing," Cash says. "Really. I just-"
"Yes?" Brendon says, because occasionally he has to pry things out of Cash. Not often, because Cash is remarkably good about speaking his mind, but sometimes.
"I totally fucking blanked an assignment for my English class this morning," Cash says after another moment. He sounds more than a little defeated. "And, like, it's not like I can't turn it in on Thursday, but we spent half of our last class talking about it, what everyone was writing about and everything, and just. Fucking poof, you know? Out of my brain."
Brendon makes a sympathetic noise, the sort that he *knows* will encourage Cash to keep talking.
"And then I got to accounting and-okay, I totally need you to fucking slap Spencer upside the head or something, because he got there, like, fucking five minutes late, okay? Which meant that the teacher had already assigned me to work with Tyler J."
Brendon cringes, even though he knows Cash can't see him. Because Tyler J. Winthropp the IV is pretty much Cash's least favorite person *ever*, and they seem to be on the exact same track in their business classes. They're in *two* classes together this term, and after each and every period, Cash comes back with more stories.
"And he fucking, like-" Cash starts, but then he stops and sighs. "So, yeah. I'm sure you can imagine how well that went. And then I totally missed a really fucking easy problem on my astronomy test, which took me from an A- down to a B+ and I just feel fucking stupid, you know?"
If Brendon were there with him, he'd probably say something sappy like, "Aww, babe, it's okay," but it just doesn't have the same sort of ring over the phone. Not when he can't hug Cash as tightly as he can until Cash squeaks and tries to push him away.
He's only got another 2.5 blocks to go now, though; he can see Cash's building in the distance.
"So, yeah," Cash says. "It was nothing, really, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to break out the ice cream. And then I was thinking of coming over to see you, but if you're at the music building…"
"Later," Brendon says. "We'll do dinner, and maybe we can find a picture of Tyler and toss darts at his head? Or we could have an epic Halo match and you could, like, wreak havoc and destruction and death?"
"Awesome," Cash says, and he actually sounds like he means it. He must be a little happier already, because he asks, "What about you? How was your day?"
And since Brendon still has two blocks to go, he starts rambling: how evil his Shakespeare teacher is, how some girl in his chorus class is convinced that she's meant to be on Broadway and she's really, really not. How Nate had nearly taken Singer out with the Frisbee the evening before, when he and Tom Conrad had decided to play a game of Ultimate in the hallway.
Then he's there, walking in the building, starting up the stairs, and Cash says, "Did you just go inside?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I'll have to go in a minute or so." When he knocks on Cash's door, he doesn't say. When Cash answers and Brendon doesn't have to talk to him on the phone anymore.
Then he's at Cash's door and he knocks, once, twice, three times, and Cash says, "You know, someone's at the door, so I should probably go too."
"Okay," Brendon says, trying to sound disappointed and not at all like he's grinning. "Okay, yeah. I'll give you a call when I'm done practicing? And we can go get dinner?"
"Sounds good," Cash says, and Brendon can hear Cash approaching the door, the sound of the chain being released, the bolt being flipped. "I'll talk to you later then. Love you."
And then he opens the door.
"Love you, too," Brendon says, flipping the phone closed, and yeah, okay, he's grinning now because he's never been able to say that and *not* grin. Then he says, "Hi." Because Cash is actually looking surprised to see him. Because he's opening and closing his mouth but no words are coming out.
Brendon rocks back onto his heels, then forward again, and then Cash is stepping out into the hallway with him and Brendon, well. On the way over here he wanted to hug Cash until he squeaked and batted Brendon away, so he does. He wraps his arms around Cash and squeezes, but Cash just leans into his hold, pressing his face to Brendon's neck. Brendon can feel his lips move when he finally says "Hi" in return.
"I'm sorry you had a bad day," Brendon says softly, loosening his grip far enough to give Cash some breathing room, and Cash really is grinning now. Not his widest smile, but still getting there.
"Oh, I don't know," Cash says, grinning up at him. "I think it's starting to look up."