Graveyard Blues [Brallon]

Never

At three in the morning, two days before we start filming again, I receive two text messages.

The first one is from Hayley. It's about midnight back in California, and she lets me know she's finished tidying up and checking on our hamster, and she's going to pass out in our guest bedroom for the night. I let her know it's fine, and to tuck the sheets in when she's done.

She also attaches a recipe for the cookies Brendon likes too much. I planned out a picnic in a week, and she insisted I cook at least one dish for him. Cookies are the easiest, besides cereal and five-minute rice, but apparently those two don't count.

Twenty minutes after, I get a text from Taylor, asking if I could come down to her room and talk for a little bit. Brendon's a heavy sleeper, and he doesn't notice the mattress shifting from my absence or the squeaky door opening and closing in the middle of the night. He'd be upset I left to see a girl who has a raging crush on me, but I don't care. I'll make it up to him with the stupid picnic if he is angry, and he'll forget about it sooner or later.

Her door is unlocked, and the only light on in the room is the ugly lamp on the nightstand. There's a half empty glass of water beside her thick-framed glasses and her cellphone is on its last whim with a frayed charger cord. Other than the sink in the bathroom and her suitcases on the floor, her space is clean and smells great.

I shut the door behind me and she pops up from under the covers. Her hair is a mess, and there's mascara running down her cheeks. She's still wearing her contact lenses, and she needs to take a shower. Her roots are packed with grease purposely applied by Jenna, who insisted on practicing Taylor Winchester's future drained looks.

"What's wrong?" I sit down beside her and she immediately latches on to my arm and starts sobbing silently. It's uncomfortable.

"He b-b-broke up with m-me."

I don't understand breakups. I've had to end it with a few girls that thought I was hot and nothing else, and I couldn't have cared less, but then again I don't care at all. "Oh. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

She nods and pushes away to grab a tissue and blow her nose. "Yeah, yeah. C-can you just listen to me for a bit? You can lie down or whatever, I just need to talk to someone instead of the wall. They don't do shit."

"The wall is probably a better listener than I am."

"Yeah, well I cant hug the wall and the wallpaper just starts dripping when I cry on it. You'll absorb them."

I opt out of curling up under the blankets, because I will fall asleep, and then Brendon won't even think about joining me for a surprise picnic. I grab her tissue box and wait for her to start.

"Okay, so first, he called me like an hour ago because that's what we do. It's eight in the morning for him because he's got a modeling gig in Berlin, and I just stay up to two because I'm a night owl and I have nothing better to do, and I love the hell out of him."

"I didn't know he was a model."

"He is. He's super hot. Anyways, he calls me ten minutes later than usual, and he goes off on this short little speech about how I made his life so much better over the past few years and whatnot, and then he hits me with the whole 'I think we should see other people' and the 'I love you but this is the best option for both of us right now'. The kicker is, before I can even respond, he hangs up. When I try to call back, he doesn't answer and I find out he deleted all our conversations and declines ever message I send him. I can't contact him on social media anywhere, not even Facebook or fucking MySpace, and he deleted all our photos from his account. So not only are all of the fans pissing themselves, but so am I."

I listened to about half of it for the sole purpose of sounding like I care. People that care usually know at least some part, if not all, of the story. "Wow. That sucks. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"Literally nothing you can do could possibly make this better," she hisses and buries her face in her hands, embarrassed for herself, "my now-ex-boyfriend is across the world, he just dumped me over the phone in forty seconds, we still live in the same house, and he won't respond to me on any platform. The only thing to make this night better would be the sweet release of death."

I have two options; I can comfort her and do half-assed favors to attempt to make her feel better, but that isn't always known to work. Brendon has been known to resent me for days on end if I don't try to make things up in the best ways. But then again, he knows I don't mean any of it.

The first option is a bust, so I choose the second one without another thought. I turn on my artificial charm just for it.

I reach for her hand and move the blonde hair out of her face. "Well, you know, since you're not seeing someone anymore..."

Taylor looks up at me like she looked at Hayley and I imagine briefly what it would be like if I grabbed the lamp and swung it so hard it shattered against her head and knocked her out cold so I could end it's everything right there and then with a shard of the broken porcelain. I wonder if her blood would spray everywhere or just cling to the lamp and collect into one huge puddle.

I kiss her instead.

It's full of nothing and emptiness for me, but I know she thinks it to be something else, and that's fine. It'll be easier to kill her.

When she finally pushes away, the bliss in her eyes quickly morphs to worry and concern as her actions sink in. She puts up a barrier between us with her hand and backs away an inch or two. She's shaking.

"You have to promise," she whispers, "promise me you won't tell anybody."

I have her right where I want her. "I don't see why I would ever want to do that."

Her frightened demeanor melts away and she's pulling me down beside her and, as Brendon would phrase it, she starts going to town. She's so desperate and angry, anxious and determined to put everything in the rearview mirror, there's no outlet but me. I'm not one to accept my fate when it comes to physical interaction, but I give in and reciprocate whatever she deals out.

Nothing serious happens, because I don't allow it to go that far yet. Taylor's cherry flavored chapstick is all over my face and my neck, and her perfume has to be permanently engrained into the stitching of my shirt. The deep red polish on her fingernails is chipped and the mascara that had dried under her eyes is sitting in flakes on my fingers. She's everywhere.

"I hope this doesn't ruin anything; between us or with you and Brendon." She mutters. She's ashamed, upset with herself. She should be.

"Never." I tell the ceiling, and I can almost hear her smile return.

Her back is against my side and I turn over so I'm pressed up against her. I let my hand wander over her stomach to her shoulder and I sit up to give one long-lasting kiss before I roll out from underneath the blankets.

She watches me grab my shirt and leave, nodding when I tell her I'd see her in a few hours and that I hope she feels better soon. I also make sure she knows she knows where to find me if what we did is aching to be a regular occurrence.

On the short walk back to my own room, I'm impressed with myself. Not only can I not stand intimate physical contact with anybody, but I returned it believably, and I didn't kill her violently as soon as I had the opportunity. I had several of those and I didn't act on any of them. She found comfort in me, and she trusted me enough to spill her feelings and express so much more than what she showed on the surface. For a brief moment, I wonder if she would've called Hayley first if she was still around, or if I was her first choice, but none of that matters really.

I internally award myself a high-five before slipping quietly back into my hotel room. Brendon is sleeping still, and an hour later he has yet to move an inch.

He doesn't even notice when I slide back underneath the covers and cuddle up beside him. All I get is a sigh of happiness and his arm around my torso when he rolls over for the first time all night.

"Love you s'much." He mumbles.

"Love you too."

He has no idea.