Far Too Young To Die // brallon

eleven

Brendon sits on the kitchen floor, eyes red and cheeks soaking wet from tears. There's blood on his arms and hands and thighs and on the ground. He even has a little bit of blood smeared on his cheek. He's wearing nothing but boxer-briefs, and eventually he stops cutting and looks at the blood. Brendon wipes his legs and then smears blood all across his neck and upper chest. He's numb and he's slowly going insane, he knows it. His phone is blowing up with texts and calls from Spencer and he glances at his last text, blood accidentally getting on the phone.
 
   
    
Brendon: I love you. All of you guys. I'm sorry

Spencer: What do you mean?

Brendon: Goodbye

Spencer: Wait what?

Spencer: Brendon you're scaring me what are you doing?

Brendon: Finally killing myself

Brendon: I'm alone, so why not?

Brendon: love you guys
 
   
  
He doesn't pay attention to the other texts, not even bothering to read them or respond. He eventually leans against the counters, closing his eyes. There's a loud ringing in his ears. He's drowning. This has gone on long enough, he can't handle it anymore. He hasn't cut enough to die, but he's so tired and weak and drained that he can hardly pick up the knife.

Brendon bursts into tears, legs coming up and pressing against his stomach and chest, blood transferring onto his clean skin. He sobs hard, gripping his hair painfully as his phone rings. Dallon left not too long ago, it'll take him a bit to get back. He's too scared to kill himself now. Brendon's fucking terrified.

After a while, he gets up and cleans everything so that there aren't any signs of blood, ignoring his still ringing phone, then changes into some jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Blood begins to bleed through the fabrics, but he doesn't care and instead walks into the bathroom. He closes the door and turns on the light and fan, then starts the shower.

There's blood all over him, tears mixing with blood on his cheeks, and his eyes are glossy and slightly red. Brendon steps in and sits in the tub, the water spraying on him. The shower head is on the ceiling, and so the warm water falls onto him almost like rain.

Brendon continues staring at the floor of the tub as his hands lay weakly together above his crisscrossed legs, arms completely weak and tired. Blood starts to rinse off above and below his clothing. The front door opens and slams closed and the bathroom door opens, but Brendon doesn't move. Dallon stops, reassured by the fact that Brendon isn't dead and is alright. He notices the blood, though, and with that simple sight, he decides.

It's time.

He takes his shoes and socks off, then jacket and hoodie, then takes everything out of his pockets until he's just wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans. Brendon finds it hot when he wears it, especially today now that he's wearing his glasses as well.

"Are you okay?" Dallon asks. Brendon shakes his head. He's never looked so sad. "Are you gonna live?"

"Sadly," Brendon barely chokes out. Dallon's heart sinks and he sighs, then steps into the tub. He sits right in front of Brendon, legs also crisscrossed and knees touching the raven-haired boy's. Brendon doesn't look up but it's obvious that he had been crying. There's a bit of blood on his neck that hasn't been washed off. Dallon raises his hand and rubs it off.

"Now, is there a reason we're sitting in the shower?" He asks softly. Brendon's eyes shift up at him and then down again.

"I hate this."

"Hate what?"

"Everything. Life. Myself," Brendon answers. "Everything is... it's so much. It's too much. I want it to be over, I want to-... fuck, Dallon, I wanna die," he says, swallowing and inhaling shakily.

"Will this make you feel better?" Dallon asks in a low and calm voice, leaning close. Their noses brush together. Brendon doesn't pull away, nor does he speak. "Yeah?" Dallon asks again. Brendon blinks twice and nods.

"Yeah."

Dallon pushes forward and gently presses their lips together. Their hearts jump out of their chests as chills run up their spines, both men feeling absolutely wonderful. Everything has changed for Brendon. It's no longer burning thoughts about Dallon hating him. It's no longer constant doubt that Dallon doesn't even wanna hang out. It's no longer Brendon crying himself to sleep with the thought that he's never gonna be loved by Dallon. It's passion and love and care, and it's them sitting in a bathtub underneath a running showerhead together, kissing.

They pull away and Dallon kisses Brendon's nose, then forehead, then pecks him quickly on the lips.

"You're my boy," Dallon says sweetly with a small smile. Brendon blushes and looks down. Dallon leans down and plants a short, sweet kiss on his lips, deciding that he doesn't wanna stop just yet. Brendon's hands go up to the side of Dallon's neck, kissing him again. Dallon's hands fall onto Brendon's waist before they pull away, faces close.

"I love you, okay?" Dallon says. Brendon nods. "Now, why don't we get out of these wet clothes, I'll bandage you up, we'll dry off, and we can call Luks and Spencer and explain that you're alright while I make us some food?"

Brendon hesitantly nods. It all comes rushing back, the anxieties, the depression, and he misses how it was a few seconds ago. He has no appetite and he knows he shouldn't eat. Dallon stands up and turns the shower off, immediately taking off his shirt. Dallon steps out of the shower after undressing, though Brendon's been looking down at his hands entire time. Dallon wraps a towel around his waist.

Did that just happen?

"I'm gonna go get us some clothes, okay?" Dallon asks quietly. Brendon nods. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Brendon says way too quickly. Dallon smiles sadly then hurries upstairs.