Brallon Oneshots

[Chapter 001] - Enervated Performance

Brendon's POV

Sitting inside the interior of the tour bus's capsule-like bed eating a bag of Lays chips, I had my curtain widely unlatched, just gazing upon the ember coloured room from the ceiling lights. The bus not only had bright white, but also automatically has a set to have a "Night Shift" type of setting. When it is dusk, it activates, allowing passengers to easily adapt to the time difference from switching time zones from other states. Yet I could just be sleep deprived because I couldn't fall asleep no matter how long I permit my eyes to stare into the light.

Everyone else seems to be napping without any conflict because their capsules were shut entirely. Though, there was one concealed person across the hall in the bathroom with the door vastly open, exposing the bright white luminescence.

I'm too lazy to march up there and tell the person to close the goddamn door but either way I have to brush my teeth eventually from snacking too much.

I ascend from my position, accidentally creating noise from all the plastic wrappers that were sitting on my lap.

Slowly and cautiously, I push the clutter away to the edge margin of the bed, leaving it to withdraw later.

Finally arriving at the troublesome location, I realised it was Dallon who was inside. He was attempting to remove my tight, thick sweater, trying to get into a more comfortable attire to sleep in, yet struggling because he seems so weary, drained with energy assuming it was from tonight's concert.

I smirk and chuckle a little, observing him wrestle the top weakly.

Upon seeing me, his face lights up immediately which led to a warm feeling inside my heart knowing that I made it better, but it didn't change his mood from his struggles.

"It was easy to put on, just taking it out is just hard," Dallon says, irritated.

"What size are you?" I laugh.

"Medium,"

"Ah, that explains a lot,"

"Why did you have to give me your smallest sweatshirt," He says, finally popping his head off.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're so tall," I say, closing the door behind me for his privacy. I always keep in mind that he's very self-conscious about his body, but I appreciate that he's grown comfortable enough to undress around me.

"Mhm, and it's not mine that you're so short," He says shirtless, acquiring his top from his duffle bag.

I gasp from being offended, jokingly, "I feel personally attacked to be honest,"

Putting his shirt on, he doesn't respond or even acknowledge a small smile.

"Man, you're really exhausted, aren't you, Babe?" I question.

"Mhm," he says weakly.

"Didn't get that much sleep last night?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "I'm just struggling to fall asleep lately. That's all,"

"You wanna sleep with me tonight?"

In silence, without even hesitation, he nods quickly and takes my hand, collapsing fully conscious towards my body, ready to drag him towards the bedroom.

Luckily, the premium tour bus accommodates one large guest room at the very rear end of the vehicle. No one makes use of it but since it was a part of the package, we only utilized it to store extra luggage inside.

I slightly haul Dallon towards the end of the hallway as he fraily walks with me.

As we finally arrive, he flops down, absorbing the bedsheets like sinking in water.

Jokingly disgraced at the amount of room he leaves behind for me, I turn off the lights and head to the rim of the exit.

"Okay, geez. Goodnight," I say in a tone.

He doesn't respond but is fully aware that I was ready to leave and extends his arms out, reaching for me infirmly.

I laugh as I close the door and lay on the opposite edge of him while he moves out of the way to make more room. He smiles, obliging my presence and it sets happiness inside me again. I smile with him and we both lay there wide awake looking eye to eye.

Awkwardly after a few minutes, I speak.

"Goodnight?" I ask, waiting for him to close his eyes.

He smirks, "I love you,"

"Aw, I love you too," I exchange a smile back.

From the last word that came out of my mouth, he smelled my breath and receded a little.

"Were you eating chips?" he asks.

"Depends. Which one?" I smile.

"H- how many different flavours did you digest?" 

We both laugh leaving the question unanswered.