But he thinks it's just one more sunset (s/a)
Title: But he thinks it's just one more sunset
PG
Pairing: Brendon/?
Summary: This night is all we've got. Drive fast until we crash, this dead-end life."
The first time Brendon see's Him, he's sitting up on the old bridge. He's smoking something--probably not a cigarette from the way the smoke looks--letting the vapor curl around his fingers. Even from the distance, Brendon can tell he's only wearing a pair of tattered jeans, and a simple black shirt. Poor kid he thinks, as more snow begins to drift down. Probably no one else see's Him; no one is really looking up when they're driving. Brendon puts his head back down, focusing back on the car in front of him, and wonders where that kid is going.
Apparently out of Summerlin, is where He's headed. Brendon is a ways back, when he see's the lone figure standing by the side of the road, thumb out. Brendon isn't wearing glasses, so he squints, not able to make out the face. When he's closer, he see's it's Bridge-Boy, and chuckles a little. He doesn't think twice before pulling over, and rolling down his window. He's watched warily, and a little shocked, from behind tired eyes. Where the rest of the boy seems dead (he's way too pale, and has the structure of a skeleton), those eyes seem to twist, and move with a fire all their own.
"Where you headed?" asks Brendon.
"Anywhere."
"That's a dangerous answer," Brendon muses.
The guy shrugs, staring off into the distance, where cars either keep going straight, or turn sharply to the right.
"Get in."
He looks at Brendon, half like he's close to running, half like Brendon is God, and runs to the other side of the car, slipping in, and settling against the blue upholstery. Brendon thinks he looks good there.
It takes awhile before they reach the The End. They're about eight cars behind the turn off to Brendon doesn't know where, when He turns to him, breaking the silence.
"Do you ever wonder if choosing one of these roads, is right or wrong?"
"What?" asks Brendon, mystified.
He shrugs again. "Like, are you sure going straight is the right choice?"
"I'm not sure if that's it, kid," murmurs Brendon.
He turns an eloquent stare on him.
"First off, I'm pretty sure I'm older than you. Secondly, you're far too close minded."
Brendon never breaks eye contact with Him, as he turns sharply to the right.
Brendon's boss calls him awhile later. He ignores the bitch, and He smirks. Brendon thinks about asking his name, but decides to wait until he sees how long he'll be around. They don't speak about where they're going, and that's fine with Brendon. They drive all morning, heading down some city street that has Brendon hoping his windows are bulletproof. It's there they stop for gas. He watched Brendon as he fills the pump. He's leaning against the car, wind tossing his waves around. He's just staring, and Brendon shifts awkwardly.
"Um, you wanna go pay inside?" he offers, holding out his credit card.
He shrugs yet again, and takes it, loping off inside. It only takes Brendon a second to realize that He could easily run off with that little piece of plastic, and Brendon would be so screwed. He knows He won't. He wanders inside, and He is just getting his credit card back. He hands it to Brendon silently, who gives a small smile of thanks for not fucking him over. He smirks back. Brendon strolls to the back, sliding open one of the coolers. He ponders for a second, and he can see Him through the foggy window, watching him.
"Want anything?" questions Brendon, holding a Redbull.
He hesitates, his eyes glued on a Mocha from Starbucks, but shakes his head. When He turns away, Brendon grabs the Mocha, and pays for it. He's already in the car, drumming his fingers against the dashboard. When Brendon hands him the coffee, he lights up, and grins shyly at Brendon.
"Thanks," he all but whispers, uncapping it.
"Dude, it was, like, a dollar," laughs Brendon.
He shrugs, still smiling, and Brendon wonders if this is the first time someone has ever bought him coffee.
It's almost evening when they pull up at a Motel 8. He grimaces, looking around, then raises an eyebrow at Brendon.
"Don't gimme that look, fucker. I'm broke. It'll be fun! Every time we hear a noise, we can imagine it's a serial killer coming for us."
He laughs at that, shaking his head, and Brendon feels his stomach clench in places it shouldn't. They check in, the attendant doesn't seem to be one hundred percent alive, and make their way to their room. There's only one bed, and damn this is cliche. They look at each other, and laugh a little.
"As long as you don't have cooties," Brendon sighs dramatically. "I guess I can sleep with you."
"Oh, baby," He mutters, "Aren't you a charmer?"
Brendon smiles, and on an instinct hugs Him. He remains stiff for about a mili second, before he slumps in the embrace, squeezing back, and burying his face in Brendon's shoulder. Brendon rocks them side to side, humming, and He giggles. Fucking giggles. The sun is a only a red ball on the horizon when they break apart. Brendon drags Him outside to look at it, and they stand shoulder-to-shoulder, and maybe hand-in-hand, as the last rays of light shoot across the sky. Brendon's chest aches a little. He looks at Him, and He looks back. Brendon thinks how easy it would be, just to press a little kiss to the corner of his mouth. Instead, he goes back inside.
"Let's get some dinner, yeah?"
"Sounds good."
He's curled against Brendon, breathing even, and hot in his ear. Somehow in the middle of the night, they had twisted, so they were facing, wrapped around each other. In sleep, He looks so young, and soft. Brendon traces a thumb over His hip, and he sighs, burrowing deeper into their makeshift world. Brendon realized his life had been teetering on the edge, far too long, and he was too afraid to let it fall. But He had pushed him over, and now he was floating down, and it wasn't bad at all. Hitting bottom was the scary part.
In the morning, He was gone. Brendon lifted the note off of His place, eyes irrationally filling.
I think I know where I'm headed now. Thank you. I'll catch you again some time.
At the bottom He'd scribbled His name. Brendon looked out at the rising sun; the beginning of a new day. He hoped wherever He was, He was happy.
Brendon keeps driving until he hits the ocean. He's always wanted to see it. Brendon knows he's only here because of Him. He sits for a long time, staring off into the world of green, and blue, and crashing waves. Maybe one day he'll sail around the world. But for now, it's back to home. Now that he knows what's out here, maybe he won't be so afraid. He wonders if he's nearing the bottom. Wonders if the next time they meet, he'll be down there, settled safely.
He wonders if He has found Anywhere.
PG
Pairing: Brendon/?
Summary: This night is all we've got. Drive fast until we crash, this dead-end life."
The first time Brendon see's Him, he's sitting up on the old bridge. He's smoking something--probably not a cigarette from the way the smoke looks--letting the vapor curl around his fingers. Even from the distance, Brendon can tell he's only wearing a pair of tattered jeans, and a simple black shirt. Poor kid he thinks, as more snow begins to drift down. Probably no one else see's Him; no one is really looking up when they're driving. Brendon puts his head back down, focusing back on the car in front of him, and wonders where that kid is going.
Apparently out of Summerlin, is where He's headed. Brendon is a ways back, when he see's the lone figure standing by the side of the road, thumb out. Brendon isn't wearing glasses, so he squints, not able to make out the face. When he's closer, he see's it's Bridge-Boy, and chuckles a little. He doesn't think twice before pulling over, and rolling down his window. He's watched warily, and a little shocked, from behind tired eyes. Where the rest of the boy seems dead (he's way too pale, and has the structure of a skeleton), those eyes seem to twist, and move with a fire all their own.
"Where you headed?" asks Brendon.
"Anywhere."
"That's a dangerous answer," Brendon muses.
The guy shrugs, staring off into the distance, where cars either keep going straight, or turn sharply to the right.
"Get in."
He looks at Brendon, half like he's close to running, half like Brendon is God, and runs to the other side of the car, slipping in, and settling against the blue upholstery. Brendon thinks he looks good there.
It takes awhile before they reach the The End. They're about eight cars behind the turn off to Brendon doesn't know where, when He turns to him, breaking the silence.
"Do you ever wonder if choosing one of these roads, is right or wrong?"
"What?" asks Brendon, mystified.
He shrugs again. "Like, are you sure going straight is the right choice?"
"I'm not sure if that's it, kid," murmurs Brendon.
He turns an eloquent stare on him.
"First off, I'm pretty sure I'm older than you. Secondly, you're far too close minded."
Brendon never breaks eye contact with Him, as he turns sharply to the right.
Brendon's boss calls him awhile later. He ignores the bitch, and He smirks. Brendon thinks about asking his name, but decides to wait until he sees how long he'll be around. They don't speak about where they're going, and that's fine with Brendon. They drive all morning, heading down some city street that has Brendon hoping his windows are bulletproof. It's there they stop for gas. He watched Brendon as he fills the pump. He's leaning against the car, wind tossing his waves around. He's just staring, and Brendon shifts awkwardly.
"Um, you wanna go pay inside?" he offers, holding out his credit card.
He shrugs yet again, and takes it, loping off inside. It only takes Brendon a second to realize that He could easily run off with that little piece of plastic, and Brendon would be so screwed. He knows He won't. He wanders inside, and He is just getting his credit card back. He hands it to Brendon silently, who gives a small smile of thanks for not fucking him over. He smirks back. Brendon strolls to the back, sliding open one of the coolers. He ponders for a second, and he can see Him through the foggy window, watching him.
"Want anything?" questions Brendon, holding a Redbull.
He hesitates, his eyes glued on a Mocha from Starbucks, but shakes his head. When He turns away, Brendon grabs the Mocha, and pays for it. He's already in the car, drumming his fingers against the dashboard. When Brendon hands him the coffee, he lights up, and grins shyly at Brendon.
"Thanks," he all but whispers, uncapping it.
"Dude, it was, like, a dollar," laughs Brendon.
He shrugs, still smiling, and Brendon wonders if this is the first time someone has ever bought him coffee.
It's almost evening when they pull up at a Motel 8. He grimaces, looking around, then raises an eyebrow at Brendon.
"Don't gimme that look, fucker. I'm broke. It'll be fun! Every time we hear a noise, we can imagine it's a serial killer coming for us."
He laughs at that, shaking his head, and Brendon feels his stomach clench in places it shouldn't. They check in, the attendant doesn't seem to be one hundred percent alive, and make their way to their room. There's only one bed, and damn this is cliche. They look at each other, and laugh a little.
"As long as you don't have cooties," Brendon sighs dramatically. "I guess I can sleep with you."
"Oh, baby," He mutters, "Aren't you a charmer?"
Brendon smiles, and on an instinct hugs Him. He remains stiff for about a mili second, before he slumps in the embrace, squeezing back, and burying his face in Brendon's shoulder. Brendon rocks them side to side, humming, and He giggles. Fucking giggles. The sun is a only a red ball on the horizon when they break apart. Brendon drags Him outside to look at it, and they stand shoulder-to-shoulder, and maybe hand-in-hand, as the last rays of light shoot across the sky. Brendon's chest aches a little. He looks at Him, and He looks back. Brendon thinks how easy it would be, just to press a little kiss to the corner of his mouth. Instead, he goes back inside.
"Let's get some dinner, yeah?"
"Sounds good."
He's curled against Brendon, breathing even, and hot in his ear. Somehow in the middle of the night, they had twisted, so they were facing, wrapped around each other. In sleep, He looks so young, and soft. Brendon traces a thumb over His hip, and he sighs, burrowing deeper into their makeshift world. Brendon realized his life had been teetering on the edge, far too long, and he was too afraid to let it fall. But He had pushed him over, and now he was floating down, and it wasn't bad at all. Hitting bottom was the scary part.
In the morning, He was gone. Brendon lifted the note off of His place, eyes irrationally filling.
I think I know where I'm headed now. Thank you. I'll catch you again some time.
At the bottom He'd scribbled His name. Brendon looked out at the rising sun; the beginning of a new day. He hoped wherever He was, He was happy.
Brendon keeps driving until he hits the ocean. He's always wanted to see it. Brendon knows he's only here because of Him. He sits for a long time, staring off into the world of green, and blue, and crashing waves. Maybe one day he'll sail around the world. But for now, it's back to home. Now that he knows what's out here, maybe he won't be so afraid. He wonders if he's nearing the bottom. Wonders if the next time they meet, he'll be down there, settled safely.
He wonders if He has found Anywhere.