Graveyard Blues [Brallon]

Honey

[the next chapter is the last one ayee also I recommend the song attached above it's good]

Brendon says yes. He forgets about the dead bird I kept under the bed, every unsettling thing I say is pushed underneath a rug, he imagines I'm normal and we're in love because that's what he wants. I'm not going to burst his bubble if he'd like to stay in that world for a while, and I play along.

He posted a photo of the two of us almost immediately, and on the short drive to our hotel in the back of a cab, his phone explodes with comments and the works. He doesn't notice, because he's too busy admiring my gift to him, but I watch them all flood in.

I was tagged in the pictures, of course, so I get the tens of thousands of likes and all the comments from people I follow, typing in all caps and sending excessive hearts. I need to post one too, so I snap a quick picture of Brendon taking another photo of his left hand in the sunlight, and shoot it over to Hayley asking her to post it for me. She'll know what to do with it, because I don't.

I get a text from Taylor too. It's a little essay in which she tells me how excited she is for us and wants to have a front row seat at the wedding. Before I can tell her Jenna called dibs already, she's making sure she and I are still exclusive and that nothing has changed.

She's a hypocrite. She's the kind of person that tears apart relationships because she's selfish and hungry. I wonder if her boyfriend broke up with her because he finally connected the dots. I guess this mean I'm doing the world a favor when I kill her.

Nevertheless I assure her everything is the same, and that I plan to keep it that way. I can't risk losing one of my next targets so easily, no matter the situation.

"You do like it, right?" Brendon whips is head to look at me, shocked that I would even ask that. A mask is crucial right now.

"Like it? I love it. Are you really worried I wouldn't? I'm not a materialistic asshole."

I nod. It is just a ring from my keychain — I found it in a coffee shop a few years ago, and I thought I'd be able to make good use of it someday, so it was kept on my keys until now. "It's old. I didn't know if you wanted something new or sentimental. If you want a different one, I understand. We can go to a jeweler tomorrow."

"I don't care about that, I care about what it represents. The sentimentality is an added bonus, okay? I don't care what it looks like, I care that it's from you."

He's so stupid. I forgot that I told him it was a ring passed down from generations to generation until it got to me in my shitty speech, so that will stay a secret. "I'm glad you like it."

He grabs my hand and squeezes three times. The ring is cold and unforgiving. "Love you."

"Love you too."

🔪

Hayley does call me later. The realization had finally hit her that I don't really love him, and what I've done is most likely just a destructive step in a master plan like would be formulated by psychopaths and sociopaths alike. She's not wrong, but she's not right, and I won't admit the first one wholeheartedly. I argue with her like I care.

"It's five years in the making of a full fledged relationship. What was I supposed to do, break up with him? I've known him my entire life, and I love him. The media would have a field day with that."

"Hmm, let me think! You could have not proposed because you don't love him?! He's going to die when the press finds out about your habit for killing living things and manipulating everything in your path! You're literally the worst fucking human being I've ever met in my entire life, and all my exes are the spawns of Satan. All two of 'em."

I wouldn't really care by that point, only because I never have. "Okay."

She's silent for a moment as it sinks in, then she tells me to go to hell, and she hangs up. Brendon pushes in through the crack in the door just as the conversation ends. It started pouring rain earlier, and the wind only makes it worse. The forecast predicts snow in a few hours.

He squints at my phone in my hand. "Who were you talking to?"

"Hayley. She wanted to say congratulations again. She's really excited."

"Aw. Well, we can find her a front row spot at the reception, I'm sure. That's a ways away though, so we probably shouldn't promise anything now."

"I actually promised Jenna a front row spot. And Taylor. Maybe Josh and Tyler too."

Brendon pinches the bridge of his nose and slowly counts to ten under his breath. "We can't have just one front row, Dallon. We have to reserve them for people we know well, not special effects makeup artists. She does a good job, but we've known her for a solid month, honey."

I hate when he calls me that word. Honey. It makes me sick to my stomach. "She had glue in her hand. I was being threatened." He smiles and next thing I know, he's all over me. He's still living in his own perfect dream world.

"I forgot for a while." He mutters against my shirt and his hands clasp together behind my back. He's so cold.

"Forgot about what?"

"You," he says and maybe I was wrong, "and the bird under the bed and everything weird you say. I forgot about it until now."

I was definitely wrong. "...And does that change anything?"

"Are you worried that it would?"

I don't care, really. "No, honey, of course not. Maybe. A little bit."

He pulls back and grabs on to my hands. He's looking at me in that strange loving way again. I am not a fan of it. "Not at all. I love you for you, and I have since I met you. I wouldn't change a thing, even if you do drive me up the walls sometimes."

Interesting.

I don't know if I should classify this as Stockholm Syndrome or not. I'm technically not keeping him hostage; he can leave me whenever he wants and I couldn't give a shit, but I could act like it, so I guess it's not. He's just blind and oblivious.