Brendon sat at his computer early in the morning, writing some essay that was due very soon. His eyes glued to the screen, his glasses rest on the bridge of his nose and his soft brown hair messy and sticking up in all different directions off of his head. You smiled to yourself as you stretched, pulling the sheets from your chest as you sat up off the couch. You had forgotten all that happened at the party the night before, but there was a distant memory of Brendon laying you gently on the old beaten up couch, shushing you as he brushed your hair from your eyes in your drunken state and softly set a blanket over your shivering body.
Your head ached as you sat up, the room spinning slightly from being intoxicated the night before. Brendon turned at the sudden rustling of the sheets, concern in his dark brown eyes as he smiled to you.
"You're awake." He said in a hush yet hoarse voice. "I'm sorry for last night, I brought you back here so he couldn't try to come after you again." He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame the mess. His eyes sparkled as you swung your legs over the side of the couch, throwing the blanket off of you.
"Thank you, Brendon." You reply, still not knowing entirely what happened. "God I can't thank you enough, I love you."
Brendon smiled, a blush rising to his cheeks from your appreciation, quickly covering his grin in the back of his hand before it quickly faded away.
"It was nothing, Y/N, I didn't want for you to be hurt by that asshole." He stood from he seat, shuffling over to sit next to you on the couch. "You're okay now, you're going to be okay, right?"
You nod as his eyes get slightly misty. To cover the fact that he was now crying over you, he quickly embraced you in a hug, taking you in to his arms. He smelled like axe body spray and cheap coffee, like that was covering up for the fact that he hadn't showered in the last few days due to his essay, but he was warm and comfortable as he kept you close. You both were quiet for so long that you could hear his heart beat drumming in your ears along with his soft and slow breathing.
He wiped his eyes under his glasses on his hoodie sleeves as he pulled away from you, a soft smile on his soft lips.
"Can I get you anything?" He asked in a soothing voice, "You got real fucked up last night, I bet you have a wicked hangover."
You giggled at his choice of words, letting your back fall to the couch.
"Coffee would be nice, but I don't need anything." You replied, looking up to the ceiling, your hands folded in your lap.
"I can make you coffee." He said "Is that all? are you hungry? Do you need aspirin or something?"
"I think I'm good for now, Bren. Thank you."
He sighed, giggling softly before walking out.
