Chapter Text
"How about you just come over?"
"And your mom?"
"Stop worrying so much Bran, she thinks we're like brothers, or whatever she said."
Brandon sighed through the phone, perhaps debating whether or not to accept the offer.
"Fine."
"So I'll see you?" He combed his fingers through his brown hair, smiling at the thought.
Even though Brandon's tone was filled with frustration, he was secretly looking forward to the hangout, or whatever it was.
"Yeah, see you" He hung up, already getting dressed.
Owen carefully walked into the living room, tip toeing as if trying not to wake up a monster.
"Mo-" he stopped himself before the words came out of his mouth, to him, it felt weird saying it, calling that woman mom, he never did these days.
"Brandon's coming over."
"The blonde one?" His mother's voice came from one of the several hallways that led to the living room.
"Yes."
"Fine, I'm going out. But remember, no alcohol, no girls, and his not staying the night."
"Yes."
Growing up with the devil disguised as your mother, teaches you lessons you didn't intend to learn, how to lie, steal, tend wounds, sneak in boys and so on, Owen, for one, was especially skilled at lying, perhaps it ran in his blood, all told, he lied about Brandon being a friend, stole his mother's keys so she'd have no choice but to knock, snuck is his boyfriend inside the house and the one thing undone, he'd be finished with once his mom found out about any of this mess at all.
It'd been hours since Bran arrived, and quite a bit since they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, without a care in the world as the woman stood by the door, aggressively slamming at the wood like it was the very cause of all her misery, assuming her son, would've opened up if he'd heard her by then, she bent down completely, lifting the doormat to grab the pair of keys hidden underneath. She'd already decided to blow up at Owen by the time she took off her shoes.
He was alarmed in every situation, it took a water drop falling onto the bathroom floor to wake him up. He caught the faintest sound of jingling, he shot up on his bed, looking at the door, waiting.
"What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"
"Bran-" though before he could mouth another word, the door slammed open, his mother standing at the entrance glaring at him, it took her two steps to be standing right beside Owen's bed. Brandon violently shot his eyes once he heard what was going on, laying underneath the bed, hands glued over his mouth.
Owen held his cheek with his palms and looked up at the woman. The pain, yes but the shock never got old, he never got used to the way he froze when she, or before that, his father, laid a hand on him.
"Can't you hear me knocking you useless piece of shit?"
"I was asleep!" He reasoned, she wouldn't buy it.
"Yeah? Next time you'll be sleeping for good."
She turned around and walked out, leaving the door wide open. Brandon crawled out from under the bed the second she left, Owen ripped his eyes off the entrance and on him, his face was wet with tears, eyes just slightly red, his brows arched in a mixture of amusement and anger.
"Hey, it's okay, I'm used to this...oh please Bran don't cry." Brandon came closer, like he wanted to hold him, he stopped in an instance, hearing footsteps getting closer from down the hall.
"Go!" He whispered just loud enough for him to hear, Brandon hesitated, his eyes fixed on him, not moving, before turning around and climbing out the window.
"I don't wanna see your face tomorrow, got it?" He lazily shook his head and looked away from the woman standing at the door once again, he didn't either, the difference being he didn't want to see her ever again, not just the next day. She shot the door behind her, leaving him to finally breathe again.
It was a normal enough work day. Iris had half an hour left until lunch break, which she planned to spend with June, or at least spend it thinking of her, both would work. As for the coffee shop, one employee was absent, quite usual, though this time it was Brandon, who wouldn't ever skip his shift, she mentally noted to call him whenever she had the energy to interact with people.
The sky was unusually sunny for the end of November, though not any less freezing, she stepped out of her work place with her 'lunch box' in hand, passing by strangers with clumsy, lazy steps, heading to her usual spot by the bridge, she perched on the edge and took her phone out of her shoulder bag, June had canceled last minute, saying something about her dad and that she couldn't make it today, and she'd been understanding, or rather pretending she was, Iris scrolled through her contacts, tapping on 'Brandon C' waiting for him to pick up, he didn't. She tried a second time same as the last, then gave up and opened the container, taking out her toast and jam, then immediately dropping it, her thoughts had circled from Brandon to Owen, and how the blonde had reacted when she questioned them knowing each other, it clicked. She wasn't sure if it did, not yet, so calling Owen to confront him, as well as scolding him for not telling iris anything, seemed to be the only remaining option.
Once again, her call was unanswered, then the second one, the third and forth, making the pit in her stomach ache, what if something had happened to them both, why else would neither be answering their phone? She called Brandon again, then the other, before the third call, the thought of how paranoid she must seem convinced her to go about her day and ignore the feeling. Her lunch sat, untouched, looking quite the opposite of pleasant, she frowned and grabbed it, instead of taking a bite, she threw it into the rushing river under her feet, watching as ducks, golden to the eye under sunlight, gathered around it, a white one taking the biggest bit.
She'd say she's not angry, just disappointed, if anyone asked, though no one ever would, and perhaps that was the thing bothering her most, June, who always seemed so far away, now was almost completely out of reach, Ares was too busy with her stupid boyfriend, Owen hadn't talked to her in weeks and more importantly hadn't told her about his alleged relationship with her co-worker. She knew, life gets busy, some things are hard to talk about, yes, but why leave her on her own? That part didn't make sense no matter how much she tried to make it do.
"Well, according to the test results, it's estimated there's ninety six ounces of ethanol in the patient's blood,"
June looked at the nurse as if to say 'so what?' and crossed her arms in a defensive way.
"Is that...bad?" She said as politely as she could, which wasn't polite at all. The woman gave her a skeptical look and raised an eyebrow.
"That is almost five times more than an adult could handle, we should be great full he is alive."
She couldn't say the same thing herself, so instead she watched the nurse walk away, then dropped onto a metal chair, texting iris that she couldn't make it to their date without explanation, and turned her device off completely, looking at the white, square shaped lights over her head and breathed in the hospital air, thinking of what she'd do, if that man actually died this time, or how she'd feel, definitely not sad, maybe she'd grieve, or go insane, she'd have to wait and see, either way, as much as it made her hate herself to admit, life would be easier without him around, at least then she could forget.