Bandom Short Story Collection (Fanfiction)

Choosing to Stay (Brendon x Reader)

"For fuck's sake Y/n, we already talked about this," Your father shouted, "You can't keep doing this shit."

"Dad, I'm sorry. I couldn't focus, I was so nervous," you reply quietly.

"I don't care how you felt," He scoffs, shutting you down, "This is just not good enough, Y/n!"

"I'm sorry Dad," you repeat, "I studied so hard—"

"Clearly not hard enough," He snapped. "God why can't you be more like your sister?'" He says exasperated, "You see how successful she is, on her way to medical school? She makes me proud."

"What?" you cried, "You're ashamed of me, is that what you're saying?"

"Well you certainly don't have much to show for yourself do you?" He hissed.

"Mom?" you looked to her and pleaded, praying she would step in.

"You need to get your grades up," she says seriously.

"Go to your room and study, you idiot," Your father waved you away, "Maybe you can try to make something of yourself."

You walked down the hallway and into your room. You shut the door and sat on your bed, staring down at your quilt, running your fingers over the squares. You had made it yourself, out of your favorite old t-shirts. You remember when you showed your parents, so happy with how it came out. Your dad took one look at it and asked you, 'What kind of shitty rag is that?'

Anytime you felt successful, he had to take it away from you. And your mom was practically just as bad. She was so passive and always let your dad blow up. You guess she must agree with him but doesn't have the voice to say it herself.

Your sister was always the star of the show—a valedictorian, star softball pitcher, president of the debate team equipped with a full ride at Johns Hopkins. And then there was you—an uncoordinated, mediocre student riddled with social anxiety and lacking any sort of leadership ability.

Tears roll down your face as you pondered your father's words.

not good enough

why can't you be more like your sister

you certainly don't have much to show for yourself do you

you idiot

try to make something of yourself

You would never be your sister. You were an idiot and your grades were proof. You didn't have trophies or medals to display proudly on your dresser. You were going nowhere in life. And most importantly, you were not good enough. For anything. Academics, sports, friends, relationships... You have no right to be on this planet. Your father had a point.

You contributed absolutely nothing to the world. You had nothing to offer. You might as well disappear. Your parents obviously wouldn't miss your meaningless existence. Who would?

Well, maybe Brendon would.

You had been close since freshmen year. You met on the very first day of school in homeroom. You kind of used each other to get accustomed to high school—it was a way to never have to eat alone or have to ask a random person to help them open your locker because you forgot which way to spin the dial first. Eventually it became a lot more than just a logistically advantageous friendship. You both had so much in common.

He loved music like you did. He was so amazing at it too, between his singing and piano and guitar and the general ability to pick up any piece of music and make it his own. It was beautiful. It was pure art.