Loyalty (JoshxBrendonxTyler)

2. Self-Esteem

Brendon doesn't make it home until nine. He's been on edge since lunch but he didn't want to make a scene.

Carina held his hand for as long as she could, he so unbelievably thankful for her. He didn't have to say anything for her to know it was getting bad again. Her eyes were glowing, her cheeks were flushed, and she pressed a kiss against his forehead before he left.

Now he's alone at his apartment, that doesn't smell like cinnamon spice at all.

He decides it's going to smell like marijuana, already rolling a joint.

His hands shake as usual, it seems to get harder every day. Hair falls in his face, he has to readjust his glasses, nothing feels like everything.

Brendon sighs after struggling for so long, burning the end before taking a drag.

He does this too often but not enough, it helps him though and that's what matters.

Brendon basks in the feeling after the high has finally gotten to him, the ceiling fan buzzing and his breaths becoming louder. He sinks into the couch, eyes stuck to the wall and just feeling it. It's better, his heart follows the mellow track he's on and everything is fine.

He thinks about buying a TV soon, being far too quiet for his liking.

Loneliness lingers but marijuana mends with his soul, allowing him to feel welcomed for a little while instead of drowning in self pity.

It's like that for the rest of the night until he finally has the decency to sleep, crashing while everything still was in slow motion. The fan creeks loudly in the living room, he wished he would have closed his door. It was too late for that though, he was already asleep seconds after his body hit the sheets, shoes still on, glasses on the coffee table in the other room.

It's eerie.

***

Brendon is a bit laid back the next day. He usually is after a something like that.

Being around his mother always made him emotional. Physically or mentally, he never can register the reality of the situation and it was one of the biggest factors that egged his anxiety on.

It's so hard seeing your own mom in that situation.

He sits in the breakroom eating his salad, chewing to himself. He's clad in a white button up and some dark gray slacks as usual, other office workers laughing along to what another said across the room. Yeah, Brendon really is a loner. It's not intentional, though, and that's what makes it worse.

Obviously his co-workers will talk to him, but usually for their own benefit.

People in this work setting were selfish.

Brendon sighs, eating a cherry tomato.

He looks out the window, seeing the scenery of other tall buildings and rushing cars. He feels so small in this world.

"Hey, Bren." Brendon hates when people call him that here.

He looks forward once more, seeing one of the most hard working women at the cubicles. Debby. She had fair hair and full lips. She's okay, tolerable, she brags a lot.

"Hey."

She starts to get comfortable in the seat in front of him, bending forward until her elbows were pressed against the table. She smiles, lipstick a deep rogue color. It suits her. Brendon is waiting for her mouth to run. Debby talks a lot, whether she was willing to admit it or not.