California, here we come
I wrote this for foxxcub A Whole New World: A Bandom AU Meme really quick. Enjoy!
Brendon’s flipping closed his cell phone, wondering where the fuck William is because Spencer won’t stop texting him asking where he was, when a boy in a white tee and a black hoodie walks to the end of the Walker’s driveway.
“Who’re you?” he asks.
This boy looks up with cigarette in his mouth, his dull brown hair falling over his eyes; mysterious.
“Who ever you want me to be.”
Brendon can’t believe this guy,
“Ok…?”
-but he’s got him interested.
The boy stares back at him, and Brendon turns away. For just a second.
He looks back up at this boy, now bending down to light his cigarette, and tries to figure him out.
“Hey can I bum a cigarette?”
The boy looks over to him, flips his lighter closed with a clink, and struts towards Brendon. He puffs out a cloud of smoke and looks away.
This boy pulls out a cigarette for him and raises his eyebrows. Brendon wraps the tip of his fingers around the cigarette and stares at the boy, whose eyes are like dark honey, holds out the glowing end of the cigarette.
Brendon leans over, too, placing the cigarette between his lips and tipping the end to his, hopes this boy notices the amusement in his eyes, because those honey eyes won’t stop staring.
The boy puckers his cigarette back between his lips when Brendon's done lighting his and steps his way back to the Walker’s driveway. Brendon can’t help but be curious.
“So what are you doing here? Seriously.”
Inhaling again, the boy starts to walk back towards him.
“Seriously?” He steps up on the curb and lets the smoke drift dramatically from his lips. “I stole a car.” His fingers are long, Brendon notices, when he grabs onto the metal fence around his houses’ yard.
“Crashed it,” he continues, “Actually my brother did.” He steps closer to Brendon, sudden. “Since he had a gun, drugs on him, he’s in jail.”
Brendon acts impressed. Maybe he is, though, a little bit. That stuff doesn’t happen in New Port.
“Then my mom threw me out,” and the boy is moving in right next to Brendon. He looks over, making out Brendon’s expression. “Mr. Walker took me in.”
Brendon inhales some tobacco quickly, smiles and blows out the smoke from the corner of his mouth. He is so curious about this boy.
“You’re their cousin from Las Vegas, right?” he asks, not really sure if he’s right.
The boy is so close to his face and Brendon can’t look away, kind of loves when the boy smirks.
“Right.”
Mr. Walker appears at the end of the driveway.
“Hey, Brendon.” Brendon tears his eyes away from mystery boy and looks to the man in a suit, red tie. He drops his cigarette to the pavement and snubs it out quickly with the end of his red Nike.
“Hey Mr. Walker! I was just meeting your nephew.”
Mr. Walker glances oddly between the boy and him, but Brendon doesn’t think anything of it.
“Oh,” he looks at the boy, who looks back, and then pats him on the back, “my favorite nephew, Ryan, from Chicago.” Brendon looks at the boy, Ryan, and smiles, knowingly.
“Chicago!” Brendon plays along.
“Dad’s from Chicago,” the boy says fast, and he’s covering up, “Mom’s from Las Vegas.”
“Mmm.” Brendon is very suspicious now, and he keeps his eyes on Ryan, intrigued by the now surprisingly soft eyes. Ryan is as skinny as they come and Brendon can’t help but want to figure him out.
Mr. Walker tells Brendon he’s excited for their annual fashion show that Brendon helped put together this summer, and Brendon doesn’t really believe him, but he humors him.
“Really?”
Mr. Walker runs his hand through his hair and knows he’s been caught.
“No” he says honestly, shaking his head. Brendon laughs, smiles wide and knows Ryan is still watching him.
A large black truck on large wheels pulls up right beside the curb , headlights shining right in their eyes.
“C’mon, lets’ go!” a boy with wavy brown hair that reaches his shoulders yells through the open window of the truck.
It’s William.
Brendon turns back to Ryan, a takes his turn to smirk at him.
“Hey, you should come by, check it out.” Brendon shrugs his shoulders, “If you don’t have other plans.”
Brendon takes one last look at Ryan, standing with his jaw tight and staring after him.
“Bye!” Mr. Walker yells, William reaches over and pulls at Brendon’s hand as he climbs into the truck and kisses him hello.
William points his thumb out the window and mumbles, “Who’s that kid?”
Brendon just shrugs his shoulders lightly and watches Ryan, the mysterious boy who is still looking after the truck, get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.
He wonders if he’ll see Ryan again, what he’ll hear. He suspects it won’t be long before there are rumors about the boy from Las Vegaas or Chicago or whatever who’s living at the Walker’s. Nothing spreads faster and with more malice than rumors in this town.
Brendon’s flipping closed his cell phone, wondering where the fuck William is because Spencer won’t stop texting him asking where he was, when a boy in a white tee and a black hoodie walks to the end of the Walker’s driveway.
“Who’re you?” he asks.
This boy looks up with cigarette in his mouth, his dull brown hair falling over his eyes; mysterious.
“Who ever you want me to be.”
Brendon can’t believe this guy,
“Ok…?”
-but he’s got him interested.
The boy stares back at him, and Brendon turns away. For just a second.
He looks back up at this boy, now bending down to light his cigarette, and tries to figure him out.
“Hey can I bum a cigarette?”
The boy looks over to him, flips his lighter closed with a clink, and struts towards Brendon. He puffs out a cloud of smoke and looks away.
This boy pulls out a cigarette for him and raises his eyebrows. Brendon wraps the tip of his fingers around the cigarette and stares at the boy, whose eyes are like dark honey, holds out the glowing end of the cigarette.
Brendon leans over, too, placing the cigarette between his lips and tipping the end to his, hopes this boy notices the amusement in his eyes, because those honey eyes won’t stop staring.
The boy puckers his cigarette back between his lips when Brendon's done lighting his and steps his way back to the Walker’s driveway. Brendon can’t help but be curious.
“So what are you doing here? Seriously.”
Inhaling again, the boy starts to walk back towards him.
“Seriously?” He steps up on the curb and lets the smoke drift dramatically from his lips. “I stole a car.” His fingers are long, Brendon notices, when he grabs onto the metal fence around his houses’ yard.
“Crashed it,” he continues, “Actually my brother did.” He steps closer to Brendon, sudden. “Since he had a gun, drugs on him, he’s in jail.”
Brendon acts impressed. Maybe he is, though, a little bit. That stuff doesn’t happen in New Port.
“Then my mom threw me out,” and the boy is moving in right next to Brendon. He looks over, making out Brendon’s expression. “Mr. Walker took me in.”
Brendon inhales some tobacco quickly, smiles and blows out the smoke from the corner of his mouth. He is so curious about this boy.
“You’re their cousin from Las Vegas, right?” he asks, not really sure if he’s right.
The boy is so close to his face and Brendon can’t look away, kind of loves when the boy smirks.
“Right.”
Mr. Walker appears at the end of the driveway.
“Hey, Brendon.” Brendon tears his eyes away from mystery boy and looks to the man in a suit, red tie. He drops his cigarette to the pavement and snubs it out quickly with the end of his red Nike.
“Hey Mr. Walker! I was just meeting your nephew.”
Mr. Walker glances oddly between the boy and him, but Brendon doesn’t think anything of it.
“Oh,” he looks at the boy, who looks back, and then pats him on the back, “my favorite nephew, Ryan, from Chicago.” Brendon looks at the boy, Ryan, and smiles, knowingly.
“Chicago!” Brendon plays along.
“Dad’s from Chicago,” the boy says fast, and he’s covering up, “Mom’s from Las Vegas.”
“Mmm.” Brendon is very suspicious now, and he keeps his eyes on Ryan, intrigued by the now surprisingly soft eyes. Ryan is as skinny as they come and Brendon can’t help but want to figure him out.
Mr. Walker tells Brendon he’s excited for their annual fashion show that Brendon helped put together this summer, and Brendon doesn’t really believe him, but he humors him.
“Really?”
Mr. Walker runs his hand through his hair and knows he’s been caught.
“No” he says honestly, shaking his head. Brendon laughs, smiles wide and knows Ryan is still watching him.
A large black truck on large wheels pulls up right beside the curb , headlights shining right in their eyes.
“C’mon, lets’ go!” a boy with wavy brown hair that reaches his shoulders yells through the open window of the truck.
It’s William.
Brendon turns back to Ryan, a takes his turn to smirk at him.
“Hey, you should come by, check it out.” Brendon shrugs his shoulders, “If you don’t have other plans.”
Brendon takes one last look at Ryan, standing with his jaw tight and staring after him.
“Bye!” Mr. Walker yells, William reaches over and pulls at Brendon’s hand as he climbs into the truck and kisses him hello.
William points his thumb out the window and mumbles, “Who’s that kid?”
Brendon just shrugs his shoulders lightly and watches Ryan, the mysterious boy who is still looking after the truck, get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.
He wonders if he’ll see Ryan again, what he’ll hear. He suspects it won’t be long before there are rumors about the boy from Las Vegaas or Chicago or whatever who’s living at the Walker’s. Nothing spreads faster and with more malice than rumors in this town.