limerence (brallon)

m-e-m-o-r-y

TW; suicidal thoughts/attempt

~~~

Senior prom. The absolute best night of a teenagers life. Excluding sweet sixteens and wedding days, over many months of detailed preparation, the bank of mom and dad has been ripped open and splashed out on expensive, one-of-a-kind dresses and exquisite suits. The hair, the makeup, the alcohol; all must be to the topmost of notches, and as for the few teachers lucky enough to be invited to the legendary afterparty, it is the one night out of the entire school year where they have every excuse to be a bad influence.

It is to be unforgettable. Unmissable. Special.

Or so I thought.

I can understand Brendon's mysterious need to sweep me off of my feet by making a conspicuously late entrance, but to do such a thing this late into the evening is kind of ridiculous. When you're standing in the middle of someones living room, filled to the brim with wasted teenagers, it's really not that difficult to be surreptitious, which, hypothetically speaking, defeats the object of his plan entirely. Also, it's messing up my plans to whisk him away for some end-of-year, celebratory private time.

"Oh, but Mr. Weekes, you'll have all the time in the world to fuck each other's brains out after tonight." Most of my students (of whom I can't quite believe label themselves daily as "mature, civilised adults"), are unhesitant to grind up against me while they inform me of this very obvious fact. "We're all going to college soon and you're never going to see any of us ever again, so drink our free alcohol and get over it."

Con: Most of our students will be attending college five minutes down the road from the senior high school they've been studying at for the last four years of their lives, so they're not exactly going anywhere, meaning it's highly unlikely that I won't be seeing any of them ever again.

Pro: Though I hate to admit it, I love these tipsy, sex-obsessed kids to bits, so I'm going to have all the time in the world to drink their free alcohol after tonight, too - seriously, who the hell says "no" to free alcohol?

Second Pro: Brendon loves them, too; too much not to turn up at some point within the next half hour. 

Second Con: He's still not here, and I'm beginning to doubt very much that he'll show up within the next half hour.

I don't know who's kids house this is, or where their parents are, or if they may have any knowledge whatsoever that this party is being thrown without their consent. The air is muggy. The multi-coloured disco lights stutter, ebbing and bleeding through thick, rolling mist. Dozens of pairs of sneakered feet pound heavily against the beer-soaked floor, squeaking each time they jump and twist and pivot, like the players in a basketball game. A loudspeaker hangs above the arched, open doorway that separates the lounge from the kitchen; it's far too big and far too heavy, and it trembles in time with the thump, thump, thump of the music.

The minutes drag into hours, and as one plastic solo cup full of punch multiplies by at least ten, I'm becoming certain that Brendon has turned his back on me. Again. The truth shouldn't dishearten me anymore. See, where I'm outrageously depressed, this guy Ryan is bright and bubbly and ignores all of life's weighty problems. Where I'm obsessed with my boyfriend to the point where I would rather not live at all than live without him, Ryan understands that everyone needs alone time. And, the most horrible realisation of all, where I would shamelessly fuck sense into him, abuse him in the hopes it will show him how much he hurt me, Ryan... doesn't.

It is the cherry on top. I am the lesser, but not of two evils, as they say. Bless, Ryan probably doesn't even realise what he's doing so wrong. He loves Brendon simply for who he is, flaws and all, and that's all that matters to him. He keeps him safe and warm and welcome in his arms, but will willingly keep his distance when asked.