Reassuring Ryan and Spencer that they could indeed stay with Brendon in his apartment was one thing, but attempting to convince Dallon to let them walk through the front door was an entirely different story.
Brendon didn't understand what Dallon's issue was. He was being a kind person, taking in two of his only friends in New Orleans, and Dallon was shooting them down. It wasn't like Ryan and Spencer were dangerous, or even a threat to the apartment complex. They were good people who desperately needed a roof over their heads. Brendon wasn't going down without a fight.
It took some major convincing, even a few sharp and witty remarks from Brendon's side, but finally, Dallon had no choice but to cave in. He allowed Ryan and Spencer into his apartment complex, all the while casting them a nasty scowl from behind the front desk. That only made Brendon flash an even brighter smile in his direction as he guided Ryan and Spencer up the steps. The battle had been won.
It was already late in the afternoon when Ryan and Spencer were settled in the living room. A worn blanket was snugly wrapped around Spencer's shaking shoulders, and another one--one Brendon had kept draped over his couch--laid across his lap. His hair was disheveled and messy, his blue eyes dim and subdued. Every so often a terrible cough racked his body. He was the epitome of sickly, and just the sight of him shivering on the couch made Brendon's heart sink to his feet. Spencer didn't deserve this.
Ryan looked even worse than he had earlier that morning, too. Scruffy hair. Oily and ghostly skin. Lifeless eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept a minute in months, maybe even years, and as he sat next to his trembling father on the couch, Brendon wanted nothing more than to turn back time and prevent all of this from ever taking place.
But he couldn't make miracles happen.
The most he could've done was search the marketplace for some medicine, or at the very least, some healthy fruits and soups to make the two of them feel better. That was his plan of action, and although it wasn't the best of the best, it was the only thing that came to mind. As long as he was helping in the slightest, he didn't care what he had to do.
The sunset was a brilliant mixture of oranges and pinks, and as it began to dip below the ocean's horizon, Brendon left the apartment complex and made his way to the nearest marketplace. He just hoped nothing would be closed this late in the afternoon.
The breeze chilled his skin, fresh and laced with the scent of sea salt. It was a gorgeous evening. He passed the occasional family as they strolled through the streets together. He passed a group of children playing with a ball beside the park. He passed a few individuals taking their dogs on a nightly walk. One of the Labradors even stopped to give Brendon a friendly sniff. All in all, the evening streets of New Orleans held a sense of peace and comfort, and for a fleeting moment, it made Brendon forget about all the turmoil that hid behind that outer layer of serenity.
Great things never lasted forever.
A few of the marketplaces were still open, much to Brendon's relief. He scanned the stalls for what he needed, searching for any type of medicine or any kind of soup that would help Spencer get better. He didn't have much money, but whatever would be the most helpful, he was willing to buy it.
He decided on a couple cans of plain tomato soup. None of the stalls sold any medicine whatsoever, and even if they did, Brendon could only imagine how expensive they would've been. Medical care was a ridiculous price these days. Brendon didn't understand the philosophy behind it. How were people supposed to get better if the cost of medical care was through the roof and beyond? It was nuts. He hated it.
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Mad as Jazzmen |1930s Ryden AU| ✔️
Fanfiction"It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing." * * * The Great Depression was, by far, one of the worst tragedies in the history of the world. People drowned in debt. Banks were ruined. The stock market was broken and unreliable. But one...
