Love, Selfish Love (Brallon Mpreg) (SLOW Updates)

Love, Selfish Love (Brallon Mpreg)

"Dude, just ask him," Spencer said.

"But what if he says no?" I asked.

"Bden, it's Dallon, the man you've been in a band with for about three years now. He's going to say yes," he said, putting his hands on his hips.

"You're right," I sighed.

"Why are you having such a hard time about this? It's just a simple question," Spencer chuckled.

"I-I - it's nothing," I said.

"Whatever you say, man. I gotta go. Let me know how it all works out!" Spencer said, grabbing his jacket.

"I will. Thanks man," I hugged him, then he walked out the door.

He's right, after all. Why can't I just go ahead and ask Dal? It is a simple question - probably one of the simplest in the book. But no, I've got to fight internally with myself for days before I can actually ask him. I'm pathetic, I swear to god. And there's no way I can tell Spencer why I can't just ask him. He knows I'm gay, but he doesn't know I'm in love with Dallon Weekes. God, I love the way his name rolls off my tongue. I mean, look at the guy: he's tall, has great hair, his dressing style is superb, his taste in music is flawless, and he's just as passionate about this band as I am. I see absolutely no flaws in him whatsoever. So, you know what?

I'm going to ask him.

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed Dallon's number, "Hey man!"

"Bden! Hey!" he answered. "What's up, man?"

"You busy right now?" I asked.

"Actually, no," he chuckled a bit.

"Wanna meet at Ricky's Pizza Place for the usual?" I asked him.

"Sounds good to me! Meet you there at three?" he asked.

"Sure," I smiled, even though he couldn't see me. "See you then, Dal!"

"See ya, man," he said, then hung up.

With that accomplished, I've now got fifteen minutes to get ready. I hurried to my closet in my room and walked inside. I flicked the light on and just stood there. My god, I have a lot of clothes. As I looked through my shirts, I finally decided that I'd change into a nice black button-down shirt. After that, I turned to my pants. I decided on my red skinny jeans for a little pop of color. That, and I knew my ass looked fantastic in them.

With my clothes in hand, I rushed to bathroom and didn't even bother closing the door. I quickly got changed and did my hair. Boy, did my hair hate me today. It wasn't cooperating, so I threw on a beanie instead. I have to admit, I can totally rock a beanie. As I finished, it was about two fifty. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing it only took my five minutes to get there, so I'd be early.

I ran out of the bathroom and grabbed my keys from the counter in the kitchen. After that, I rushed out the door and to my vehicle. I hopped in, turned the radio on, then drove off. As I pulled away from the curb, what song other than Miss Jackson comes on the radio? I felt pretty accomplished. I'd definitely have to tell Dal about this.

I finally pulled up to the pizza place, then parked. As I got out and locked my vehicle, Dallon pulled up behind me and honked his horn, which scared the living crap out of me.

"You're an asshole!" I laughed as I hit him.

"Then I guess I'm an asshole wearing the same shirt as you, asshole," he smirked.

I looked down and we were, indeed, wearing the same shirt. We started laughing, then walked into the pizza place. The owner, Ricky - hard to guess, right? - greeted us and brought us to a booth. We were one of his regulars, so we were good friends. He brought us our drinks, then we ordered after a little while of talking.

"God, I love this place," Dallon chuckled as he say back in the booth.

"Dude, me too. Nothing beats Ricky's pizza. It's the best in town," I said.

"I heard that!" Ricky shouted from the bar.

"It's true!" Dallon and I shouted back as we laughed.

"Anyway, so guess what I heard on the way here?" I asked.

"Mmmm," he swallowed a sip of his drink. "Miss Jackson?"

"Yes!" I laughed. "How'd you know?"

"Were you listening to ninety-two-nine again?" he asked.

"Yeah," I laughed. "I assume you were too?"

"Always am," he laughed.

After a little while more of the two of us talking, Ricky brought us our pizzas. We thanked him, covered the pizzas in Parmesan, then dove in, both of us letting out a satisfactory moan - which sounded wrong, so we continued to laugh and then choke on our pizza.

"Can I like marry this pizza, please?!" I asked.

"Is that even legal?" Dallon asked, chucking a little.

"If it isn't here, I'll move somewhere where it is," I said.

"Alright, Brendon," he laughed. "Damn, I am full."

"Me too," I said, pushing my pizza away from me.

"But I will never not love this pizza," Dallon said.

"Same," I smiled. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Always," he said.

"Are you busy on Saturday?" I asked.

"Umm," he thought for a second. "I don't think so. Why?"

"My parents are throwing me a stupid birthday party," I chucked. "and I was wondering if you wanted to come?"

"Bren, I'd love to," he smiled.