There is Something About Brendon (Brallon)

Sunrise

Author's Note:
My shitty 15 year old self didn't make an outline to this story over a year ago. I'm winging it.

Brendon and I sat on his bed talking about sheet music. I lay my head on his lap exhausted, it being 4 am and all, but I wanted to stay awake to amuse him. He played with my hair and his voice was soft. He asked me a question and I mumbled a yes only half listening. He laughed.
"You're tired aren't you?" He smiled.s
I again mumbled yes.
"Go to sleep. I won't be able to sleep but I would like to cuddle next to you if that's okay?"
I didn't argue and we got under the sheets.

I woke up to the humming of Brendon. He sat on my bed fixing his school tie.
"Good morning." I mumbled.
"Morning. You look like shit." He smiled.
"I feel like shit." I groaned,rubbing my eyes.
"You are a piece of shit." He looked at me and laughed.
"Ha ha very funny.What time is it?"
"4 am."
"Why the fuck are you dressed for the day at 4am."
"I like to go to my recording booth. You can come if you want."
I pondered it for a moment.
"Yeah okay."
I got dressed quickly and almost didn't realize that I was was putting my pant on backwards. Brendon was amused greatly by this and I flipped him off. Then we went on our way to his recording booth.
As we walked the Sun began to emerge warming our bodies. This early everything seemed comforting, even the harsh buildings we passed had a softness to them. I felt a strange bolt of happiness rush through me. As if I had never experienced this comfort before. Yet I knew in mere minutes this warmness would turn into thick humid air and suffocate me. All good things came to the end at some piont.
Brendon looked at me and saw my awe.
"It sure is beautiful isn't?"
"Yes it is." I sighed.
We had finally made it to his recording booth. It was small. The size of a public restroom. He produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. We entered and the warmth I felt turned into the temperature of a movie theater, cold but in an inviting way.
Inside there was the mixing station and another door which led into the booth that you could see through plexy glass. The booth was filled with Brendon's instruments.
"Very plush Brendon Boy. I need to get me one of these." I whistled.
"I would allow you to use it but I have a feeling of serenity when I come in here."
"I'm in here now." I laughed.
"I know," he smiled, "but still."
He patted the seat next to the mixing station.
"Sit down, I'm about to go into the booth and record vocals for a song I'm working on."
I sat down while he fiddled with some buttons and then went in the booth. He adjusted himself and began to sing about a Mrs. Jackson. It was interesting and catchy. It was different from the couple songs I had heard him sing before.
He finished and stepped back out. He gave me a winning smile.
"What'd ya think?"
"Very fun."
"Good that was my intention."
He fiddled and sang the song in a couple pitches until he was finally content.
Each time he sang a pang of warmth entered my body like the sunrise did that morning. I just wished that Brendon would stay longer than the sunrise.

Little did I know that my wish wouldn't come true.