Back in late June

Tonight, Brendon, Audrey and I have found ourselves at a college party at some frat at UCLA. The reason she and Brendon came here anyways was to visit her older sister who's a student here. Her sister was cool enough to get us in but then quickly deserted us to be swallowed up by all of the strobe lights and slightly older partiers than we're used to. Due to the events of the night before last, Spencer has decided to sit this one out and stay at the motel. Even though he was laughing in the moment, those punches really came to hit him once he was sober.

Before Audrey's sister abandoned us, she gave us some orders: Don't stir shit up, and don't mention your age unless you're on the verge of statutory rape.

Seems simple enough.

I'm still a little bit shaken about Spencer, but he insisted that I go out. In fact, we're all being more cautious tonight; we aren't drinking or doing much, and Brendon and I are probably not going to try to sneak away since we don't have anyone to watch Audrey. None of this means that the party is any less pleasant though; Brendon and I have found a nice spot at a plastic cocktail table to talk and drink a little, and we are in perfect view of Audrey who is dancing in the large crowd of people surrounding the DJ's stage.

"We need to find new music to party to soon," I say to Brendon as he takes a sip from his cup. I move to the other side of the table after being shot in the eye with a green laser light one too many times. "These songs are all starting to sound the same."

I see Brendon's eyes crinkle at the corners over the cup. "I would say that you sound like an old man if I didn't agree with you." We both laugh and then he says, "So, what, are you getting sick of this trip yet? It's been what, a month now?"

I think for a second. "Yeah, about. But I've spent longer away from home. Until 6th grade, my dad would send me to Jesus camp for two months out of the summer."

His eyes widen at me. "Oh, wow."

"We're not really religious or anything," I go on, "it was just the longest summer camp that was available so he wouldn't have to deal with me. The last year I went they found out that that Father Harris had like a shit ton of child pornography in his possession, so they sorta shut the camp down." When my dad came to pick me up after getting the emergency early camp shutdown call, the first thing he said to me on the drive was, Those crazy fucking Christians. All they were feeding you was bullshit anyways.

Brendon's eyes widened even more, "Oh, wow."

"Yeah," I feel guilty smiling at that pathetically horrible memory. "I've always been more of an agnostic."

"My parents were raised Mormons," Brendon nods.

"No shit. Are y-"

"Oh, fuck no," he laughs out loud. "They raised my siblings and me with little to no religion because they hated how tough their families were on them about the faith. We'll pray at the table and stuff but only out of my mom's habit." He takes another sip of his drink. "So, just to bring it back to your story, was this awesome little Jesus camp near where you live or..." He waits for me expectantly.

I just smirk and shake my head. "I'm not saying it."

He overdramatically slouches his shoulders and pouts. "Come on. Why not?" Brendon whines.

"I'm not telling you where I'm from. It's a shithole and I don't want to think about it or even utter its name." Spencer and I have been bothering both Brendon and Audrey about this ever since we met them. We both agreed that the likes of Vegas would never leave our lips during this trip.

He gestures up into the air in frustration. "But, Ryan, that's so weird!" He downs the rest of his drink. "Okay, so I know that it's not on the coast because the ocean fucking blew your mind and that you think it's a shithole. Is it... Memphis, Tennessee?"

"No."

"... Detroit, Michigan?"

"No."

"... Cleveland, Ohio?"

"Nope."

"... Anywhere in Florida?"

"That's on the coast, idiot."

"Oh, right... Tucson, Arizona?"

"Please, just stop," I laugh at his desperation. "You're not gonna get it."

He chuckles but his motion is very suddenly stalled as he locks his eyes with something past my head; his expression switching from pleasant to anger. "Hey! Don't touch her like that!" Brendon barks past me. I haven't known him long enough to have heard him like that and it scares me for a second- the type of tone almost reminds me of my father. However, it's not me that Brendon is talking to.

I quickly turn to where his eyes are threatening and I spot Audrey, six feet from us, with an affronted look of disgust. She's backing away from this guy who's about as tall as me but a lot more stocky, the hair on top of his big head forced into a phony style with too much product. His teeth are entirely too white and his skin unnaturally tan for his boringly Caucasian features. Fittingly, he sports a douche polo shirt and tan khakis that are purposely tighter in the groin area. Looks like a complete asshole and it seems like you'd be right to judge this book by its greasy cover as he keeps trying to be grabby with Audrey.

The two of them (and a few surrounding others) look in the direction of the alarming call. The guy stupidly mouth breathes at us for a few seconds before spitting, "Why don't you mind your own damn business."

I can feel the heat wafting off of Brendon when he stalks past me and the few others to get to Audrey. I follow, trying to mirror some of his decisiveness. I act as distance widener between the pillar of Axe body spray and Brendon while he checks in with Audrey. "You alright?" His voice becomes more soothing.

"I'm alright. It's just some people need to learn that 'Surprise Groping' isn't a dance move," Audrey unsettlingly laughs, clearly pissed.

Brendon turns to the guy, "You're kidding me, right?!"

The guy scoffs and Brendon's eyes flare up dangerously. "Another White Knight trying to get laid." I almost laugh at that but now really doesn't seem like the right time.

Brendon steps in closer. "Keeping desperate scumbags from sexually harassing girls just to get their baby dicks wet isn't White Knighting, it's a public service," his voice is dripping with venom.

Audrey shrieks when the asshole takes a swing at Brendon and gets him in the side of his face. I instantly move in between them and shove the guy back to get him away from Brendon. It's only when the guy traps my arm in his gross sweaty hands that I remember how much larger he is than me, but I only get a second with this thought because his fist is making painful contact with my chest. His grip loosens and- having the wind knocked out of me- I almost fall to the floor, but I stumble back into Audrey. And I see it was because of a punch that Brendon buried into his stomach that the guy faltered and dropped me. Then, he gets him square in the face, hard. It leaves the guy incapacitated just long enough for us to find our way out of the frat.

We get to the car which is parked only two blocks away and get in. I'm in the backseat, Brendon in the passenger, and Audrey has the drivers. "Oh shit, Bren." Audrey reaches over and grabs the side of his face but backs off when he hisses in pain. "You're bleeding badly."

I lean over on the center console in between them to get a better look. There's a small gash in his right brow that's bleeding steadily onto the rest of his face, and another smaller cut along his upper right cheekbone. Brendon moves over and scrabbles through the glove box, bringing out a wad of napkins and applying them to his eye area. He hasn't said a word since we left and it's starting to make me worried. "Is that gonna need stitches?" Audrey asks shakily, this close to going into hysterics, almost like when what happened to Spencer happened.

"No- no, it's not that deep," I rest my hand over the one Brendon has to his face and carefully lift it to get a better look. This is the second time in the past 72 hours that I've had to act as a medic. Spencer let me fix him up because he knows that I have an extensive history of nursing the mystery wounds of my dad when he returns from his midnight escapades. I notice Brendon's eyes; they won't look at me or Audrey. I rest his hand back down. "We just need to clean and bandage it. We have some supplies left over from Spencer but I think we're going to need more gauze and antibiotic shit for this."

Audrey nods and starts the car. I lean back and hiss from my own pain. It's centered around the very center of my chest. Nothing's broken or I'd be choking on my own blood, but damn it still hurts.

Audrey looks over her shoulder, "Oh, right. I think I have something that can help with that."

~~~

"Ow- Shit!" Brendon muffles from my lap, as I dab a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol against the cut in his brow. We're in the back of the car while Audrey gets food, and the way that we're set up is Brendon lying across the back seats with his head resting on a hot pink neck pillow on my crossed legs while I try to doctor the cuts on his face with the contents of our plastic CVS bag. The car currently smells strongly of spice because before Audrey left the car for food she threw me a small glass jar of something called 'Tiger Balm'; something that Audrey described as Vicks Vapor Rub, but Asian- and now it's all over my chest and kind of clearing my sinuses, but it is helping with the chest pain. I'm doing pretty okay on Brendon with the accompaniment of the dull yellow interior lights and the flashlight that I have on my phone which is currently being held up by my mouth.

Brendon continues biting down on his shirt sleeve and so I apply it faster to get it over with. "I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I rush out, trying my best to not slobber up my phone speakers and charging port. His body loses some tension when I stop; a small crease persists in his forehead but his fists are no longer clenched.

I lean back and remove the phone from my mouth, discarding the used cotton ball into a cup holder. "Okay so it looks like the bleeding stopped, and I don't think we should put a bandaid over it since your eyebrow hairs are kind of everywhere, so I'm just gonna get Neosporin on it and pray you don't get an infection."

Brendon hums a response but still retains the bitter expression that he's had on his face since we got in that fight. I stop rummaging through the bag, "What are you feeling right now?"

"My face hurts," he responds smartly.

I sigh and tower over him more. "Seriously." He looks at me for the first time since we talked at the party. "You successfully defended Audrey's honor and made that dickhead see stars." I've resumed getting the stuff from the bag and am now spreading the clear ointment across the cut with a Q-tip. "You're still brooding."

When I'm done he immediately sits up, keeping his slouched back and pensive shoulders to me. Finally, he speaks. "He's probably going to do it again," he says in a low, detached, voice.

"What?" I ask confused, not entirely sure that I heard him correctly.

Before I really know what's happening, Brendon has exited the car and is storming off somewhere. Goddamnit. I quickly lean over to the driver's spot to get the keys from the ignition, then follow him out of the Denny's parking lot. I almost lose him, but I hear the sound of footsteps down an alleyway and spot him pacing near a harshly lit backdoor.

"Brendon!" I call out to him and he, while he does notice my presence, continues to pace. The way he's acting doesn't have me mad or anything, but I am finding myself feeling a bit frustrated and perplexed. I am kind of scared to get too close to him because he looks so worked up and agitated. "What are you doing?"

"That pervy douchebag is probably going to do it again!" he sputters out angrily. "He just thinks that it's okay to treat girls – people – like that! It's fucking bullshit!"

He has his back to me again and I try to put my hand on his shoulder. "Hey, come on," I start to say, but when I do- and when my hand makes contact with his shoulder- Brendon swings around and squints his eyes at me.

"What? What?!" His body seems electrified. "Am I not supposed to be mad about this?"

I stay kind of quiet, not finding it in me to match his energy, "You should be mad." I shove both my hands into my pockets. "If you don't calm down, your cut might start bleeding again," I say objectively.

He does calm down a little, realizing that I'm not who he's mad at. He walks over to the steps of the random backdoor and sits down. I dig into the pocket inside my jacket and bring out a joint and offer it to him. He looks a little taken aback by it so I add, "Some girls by the bathrooms were really smashed and gave it to me when I went by. Think they thought I was their friend or something." He takes it and I sit down next to him, making sure to avoid any weird stains on the steps.

He hums. "You know they probably gave it to you because they wanted to be your friend," he raises an eyebrow – the one that's not cut – at me.

I chuckle at that, appreciating his attempt to seem more settled than he actually is. "Either way they weren't my type and I'm up a silly cigarette." I pull out my lighter and light it between his lips, and after a moment he lets out a puff of smoke.

"I'm sorry," he says blowing more smoke at the ground and then passing it to me.

"You don't need to be sorry."

He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair. "It's just that he's obviously not the only one doing that shit, the planet's crawling with pricks like him. It's just fucking upsetting. And seeing that shit happen to your best friend – not for the first time by the way – well, it makes you kinda pissed at the world. Audrey – and nobody else for that fucking matter – should be treated like," he pauses to take in a hit. "Like meat," he spits out bitterly through gritted teeth, tightening his arms around his knees. "I know you're kind of new to being with guys so I wouldn't really expect you to understand this kind of garbage. I mean, same thing goes for girls, but again, something about you tells me that you wouldn't find yourself in that sort of position." He's right. If girls are interested in me they'll be flirtatious, but none of them go straight to being touchy with me because I kind of have a resting unimpressed face around them. All the guys that I've been with so far have all told me how they patiently waited for me to approach them. And I'd obviously never do what that guy did because, like Brendon, I see that as incredibly rude and sleazy.

I also find myself wondering why he feels so passionately about this. Audrey seemed upset but not like this. Before she threw the medicine at me and left the car for food she had a moment with Brendon where she just held onto him and thanked him and was actually assuring that she was okay, far more concerned with him than herself. I was expecting it to be the other way around because of the situation but clearly, I'm missing something. The most accurate word I could use to describe Brendon right now is melancholy and I'm not exactly sure how to help. The way his brows are furrowed in deep thought, the right one more consciously relaxed than the left; his lips slightly pursed and frowning; his eyes fixing on the ground. The scratch on his cheekbone has started to swell a little bit and I can see the beginning of discoloration.

I clear my throat after a long silence, "I don't know, and I agree with you that it's upsetting that those people are out there, but what you did tonight was – what I think – exactly what you were supposed to do-"

"No," he shakes his head. "No, it wasn't. It won't change anything." He stands back up, anger seeming to return in his steps as he starts walking away from me again.

I throw the joint stub into a nearby trash puddle and go after him. "Bren, where are you going?"

"We shouldn't have left that party. I should have stayed and made sure that that piece of shit learned to never do that to anyone ever again." He looks so angry and determined and he's walking very fast.

"Listen," I yell, "it's just like you said! It's not him it's what he stands for; there's millions of pricks like him all over the world and kicking the shit out of just this one isn't going change to that." I stop to breathe. "I'm sorry." I catch up to him and he turns to face me. He's still upset and is having a hard time looking at me. I don't say anything when he uses his sleeve to wipe his nose, it could just be running from being worked up, not necessarily from crying. But then he's going in to rub his eyes, and out of instinct, I put out my hand to stop him from making contact with his eyebrow cut. When I touch him, he smacks my hand away.

"Don't," He barks, pointing at me threateningly. He looks at me in a very similar way that he did when facing the greaseball, but I can see a far more defensive side this time.

I step towards him because I don't know what else I'm supposed to do and he shoves me away from him. It's not entirely unexpected but for a millisecond after it happens I almost run away. I stay. I stay and he continues to throw himself at me, becoming more and more frustrated each time, and it hurts like hell against my chest, but I stay.

He pushes me one last time and then just looks into my eyes with so much resentment then throws himself at me again but this time it's to kiss me. I move right with him because he's got his hand holding the side of my neck, guiding the both of us. It's firey and strong, the way our mouths move, like he's taking out his anger on my mouth, and I let him because he needs this. I let him move me back against the gross alley wall and hold onto me, feeling my hips, my ass. I hold onto his waist and make his movements more steady.

I part our lips and stare into his softened eyes, deep and apologetic. I raise my hand to his cheek and lightly graze the bruising area of skin with my thumb and he tilts into it, his lashes landing on his flushed skin and furrowing his brows slightly in lost pain. Something pings in my heart at the sight of him that I don't really know what the make of. He just looks so vulnerable, and... human. He's not just some trivial mirage of this trip, a string of fortunate coincidences, a nearby fuck. How could I have thought that of him for even a second? I might have seemed a little wary when all of this started but that was only because I wasn't entirely comfortable in my own skin yet, but I got more used to it and fell right back into that groove of thought. That's how it was just yesterday — shit — five minutes ago. But right now, I have absolutely no clue.

I start to get nervious that he can feel my heart rate speed up; that he can also sense that something has changed. But the moment is, instead, interupted by Brendon's phone, which I can feel vibrating in his back pocket. He doesn't seem bothered when I pull his phone out and answer it for him with him still just hanging off of me. "Hey, Audrey."

"Where are you guys? I'm standing by the car with like five types of pancakes and three types of syrups," She responds through the phone in a lighthearted manner that just doesn't match the mood that Brendon and I are currently living in.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. We went out for a smoke."

She huff exaggeratedly. "Without me? How could you two?"

I laugh lightly, "Sorry, just needed to calm down. But we'll see you by the car."

We hang up and I hand Brendon back his phone and we make our way back to the car.