[the only good chapter is the last one and that's the tea]

Brendon and I pay for a ticket to fly Hayley out to see us. She finished her finals and she's free for a couple of weeks, and she begged to spend at least one of them with us. She's lucky Taylor funded her hotel room too, even if it's only for a few of the days.

He headed out an hour ago to go pick her up from the airport, and both Pete and Taylor wait with me patiently in my room, on my bed, eating my snacks, sifting through the photo album Brendon insisted on bringing because it's heavy and he can effectively smack me with it if I snore too loud.

"Aww," Taylor coos, "look at you guys on the swings together! You were so little and cute, I want to squish your chubby little cheeks. I can't believe you've known each other for so long."

"We were in kindergarten." I know exactly what picture she's talking about. It's framed and mounted on the wall back home. "The teacher took that one."

Pete points to one in the corner. "I like this one. It has a dog in it. It is a little blurry though."

"That's Brendon in second grade with his dog. It's blurry because I took it."

Taylor looks like she's on the verge of tears as she continues to flip through the pages of the album. "You have them memorized?! That's the cutest thing I've ever heard in my entire life!"

I memorized them because it's a humanizing factor, not because I wanted to. I thought it was stupid, but I did it so Brendon would quit harping on me to do it. I remember his family was coming over the next week, but I don't recall what followed afterwards. It must've been good.

"I guess." I say and Taylor is immediately confused, and she goes to ask why, and I cut her off. "Do you have any photos with your boyfriend?"

"They're all on my social media. I'd have more, but I got a new phone and I didn't transfer all the pictures and whatnot, and I also didn't bring my Polaroids."

I don't look at her social media. I don't care about it in the slightest. "Oh. Cool."

She and Pete share an odd look. They're glancing at each other to ensure the conciseness of everything I say is normal and not imaginary.

"Are you okay?" Pete asks. His voice drops volume significantly.

I turn to face them both and the immediately direct their attention to the nearest thing in reach. "I am fine. Why does everyone always ask me that?"

"Because you sound like Dallas Parsons after he's brought back to life as a zombie, you emotionless twat."

Josh and Tyler said they picked us to play the parts because of our striking resemblance to their characters. I understand now.

Before I can fire back anything, the door swings open and Hayley curls up on the bed without saying a word. Brendon stumbles in behind her with two suitcases and a very large and overstuffed backpack hanging off his shoulder.

He drops everything in one pile and collapses to the floor beside them. "When I pack for a week, I bring one suitcase, and that holds everything."

Taylor sits up on her elbows and watches Hayley bury herself underneath the pillows. She looks at her like Brendon looks at me, which I don't understand but I can recognize. "I have three suitcases."

Pete stays quiet. He stares at the ugly pattern on the blankets and picks at the seams between the patches sewn to hold it together. I want nothing more but to burn it and toss it out the window with a body bag, and I don't want things very often.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything. You all just went quiet after the suitcase thing." Hayley sits back up and Taylor immediately tears her eyes away to the equally gross wallpaper. "How's filming?"

"It's on hold. Josh and Tyler are trying to sort everything out after they fired, like, everyone."

"I thought Joshua Tyler was one person?"

"No. They're two people with a weird psychic connection and polar opposite personalities, and they wrote a book together."

Hayley paused for a moment, but she accepts the descriptions quickly. "Yeah, alright. Sounds plausible."

🔪

We buy Hayley a Lunchable for dinner and Brendon and I share a bucket of chicken from KFC. She chugs the little bottle of Kool-Aid in fifteen seconds and polishes off the sandwich in less than a minute, because it can fit in her hand and it squished down incredibly far.

It's nice and quiet until Brendon slams down his chunk of chicken. "Oh what the hell. I think Taylor has a crush on you."

"Oh yeah," she nods, "I know. I like her too. She's not single though, so that's a problem."

Then he looks at me like he expects me to steer her off the path. I'm not exactly sure what that path is, and again, I don't care. "What do you want me to say?"

"Taylor likes you too, idiot! I was talking to both of you."

"Good. She'll trust me and it'll be easier to kill her." I don't realize what I said until my head is covered in an empty bucket of chicken grease and I feel like I'm riding Space Mountain again.

Brendon whips off the bucket and hits me an extra sixteen times with it, all while hollering at me to knock it off and to never ever say that again. Hayley sits back and watches, and films the last seven whacks with a smile.

He's out of breath but as he sits down, he grabs his water bottle, unscrews the cap, and splashes as much as he can into my face. "Don't say that or act on it! You're so fucking creepy sometimes, it freaks me out!"

Hayley shrugs. "I think it's alright as long as he doesn't kill anyone—"

"Yeah, well you don't sleep next to him at night! That's so unsettling to hear, and it's even worse because I know you'd do it." Brendon locks eyes with me. He's fuming, angry, and I bet he could rip my head off from my body fifty different ways with the KFC bucket if he put an ounce of thought into it. Maybe I should try that sometime. It sounds fun.

"I wouldn't kill you, Brendon. I told you that already." I did, multiple times, throughout his life. I had to tell him on more occasions than usual, but that's fine. The more collected and cool he is, the less likely it is that he'll rat me out to the nearest cop and have me arrested for various of degrees of murder.

He's been reaching his breaking point quicker and quicker recently. I only take note because he glares at me again, grabs his coat and few chunks of chicken, and leaves with the keys to our car.

Hayley takes his spot and starts munching on the pieces he left behind. "What's got his panties in a twist?"

"I killed a bird and left it under the bed until he found it and yelled at me, and I just said I could kill someone."

She nods. "That would be a problem. Have you tried... not doing that?"

"I tried. It doesn't really work and I am not consistent with it anymore. I've been losing my touch."

"That sounds like a problem."

It is. It definitely is. "I am aware. I'm not sure what to do anymore. He's the only one that knows how to work the thermostat."

Hayley frowns and glances across the room to eye the troubling thermostat. It's encased in glass and the key is barely keeping itself together by a single piece of linty duct tape. Brendon's the only one that can wedge it in without breaking it in two.

"Why don't you make a romantic gesture? Like make a picnic lunch or something, decorate your room, get the whole crew in on something. It's good for your relationship and the media, and you have the possibility of getting some good-ass expensive food."

It sounds like a decent idea, especially if any photos leak to the public. If they don't on accident, they'll get a whiff of it through any social media posts from either me or Brendon. I don't see myself posting much, but I know he'll forget about everything I've done and live it up.

"Sounds good to me."

She smiles and grabs my hand to give me a high five. "Cool. I'll plan it out for you because I have nothing better to do. Michigan sucks."

"I told you that. That's why I said you didn't need to come out here to visit. I think the extent of interesting things in Michigan includes snow, cold, and that's it. Maybe the hot chocolate."

"Yeah, well I did anyways, and now I'm helping you out. You should be glad I'm here. And the hot chocolate sucks."