I'd sat there with him all night until he'd eventually tired himself out so much he fell asleep, still gripping my shirt for dear life.

Pete had come by a couple hours ago, wondering where I'd been for the past 2 hours. I heard him near sprinting down the hall and crashing through the door like a football player 10 yards away from the end zone.

"It's literally been 2 hours-" he barged in with his eyes shut and yelled at the top of his lungs, and as soon as he opened them he stopped, realizing why I was still sitting on the couch and why I didn't dare move. And his eyes scanned over the mess of a living space, the sleeping mess on my chest, and he didn't even want to check the bedroom for the fear of the entire situation becoming worse than it already was.

The only thing still untouched or thrown across the room was the mint blue Polaroid camera and all the photos Patrick had insisted on taking. They were all scattered on the counter liked he'd been flipping through them. I could see them from where I was stuck; the first one where he fell asleep on me, another when he insisted he needed to be carried to class, and my other favorite where we'd drawn on his face with a neon pink sharpie. When Brendon woke up, he loved the crudely drawn mustache for some reason and didn't try to take it off until we forced him to go into the bathroom and wash his face. Even then he didn't do it right and still left the dorms with it only slightly faded across his upper lip.

Pete eyed the Polaroid, and then looked back at us with a glint in his eyes before picking up the camera and loading it with another picture template.

"Why in the world are you taking a picture right now?" I whisper yelled at him, and he shushed me with a finger to his lips.

"Look like you were sleeping. I'm gonna use all these pictures," he pressed a button on the side causing the flash to go off, and lowered the lens to the floor, waiting for the photograph to develop. "To show him that he got better. Because he's going to get better."

..:..::..:::..::..:..

"I need to go to the store. I broke literally everything." Brendon sighed, passing me, of all people, the list of replacements. It was filled to the final line of the paper with the tiniest readable print.

"Even the espresso machine?" Pete gasped, reading over my shoulder and tying off a garbage bag containing the sad little plastic chair broken in two. Brendon claimed he had swung it against the wall and it cracked in half and flew across the room, but Pete and Patrick doubted it. 'No matter how bad you want to be the Incredible Hulk, it's not gonna happen'

"Especially the espresso machine."

He told us more than once his 'tantrum' could've been worse, and I guess that was true for the few surviving appliances teetering on the brink of destruction, but it could've been better. According to Patrick, everyone needs to break something every once in a while and Brendon just hadn't destroyed anything in a while. Understandable, but the espresso machine didn't deserve its untimely fate.

"I need to go to the store." Brendon said again and started wandering out the door, no car keys in his hand. I guess he assumed we were going to follow him out, and if so, he was right because Patrick grabbed the list of things that needed to be replaced and Pete snatched Brendon's credit card off the desk. And there was nothing for me to take along, so I shut the door behind everyone and stayed in the back for the wild ride.

..:..::..:::..::..:..

"Next up is the pet shop."

"Brendon, we came here for more plates."

"Yeah, and now we're here for the pet shop." He smiled cheekily and took off for the entrance to a small building with a dog sticker in the window. He smushed his face against the glass and called us over to check out the tiny cats.

"They're pretty cute." Pete admitted sheepishly and watched the animals with the same childlike wonder as Brendon. Patrick agreed too, leaving me to be the only one with some sense as to the rules of Seacoast. #3 was no pets allowed, and as soon as I reminded them of that, a mischievous glint sparkled in Brendon's eyes. He looked at me then Pete and then Patrick carefully before bolting through the swinging glass doors and effortlessly sliding a display case in front of it so we couldn't enter before any of us could even blink.

"Is he allowed to do that?" Pete questioned and tried to open up the door with no success.

We were forced to watch helplessly as Brendon bought a kitten on his own free will, regardless of all the rules set by Seacoast about having pets.

"Oh my god he's buying a cat." Pete whispered and slammed his hand frustratedly on the door again, trying desperately to signal to the cashier to stop him from buying the animal.

"Is there an exchange policy on cats?" Patrick near yelled with his voice growing higher and more stressed. He sighed as Brendon picked through the kittens in the window to our right, deciding on a small black one with a single white patch on its back.

"Dallon, break down the door."

"I'm tall, not the Incredible Hulk."

Pete sputtered in an attempt to retort with a snarky response, but instead narrowed his eyes and glared into the store. "I recognize that guy ringing him up."

Patrick and I both looked to him for an answer and we only learned the guy's name when Pete started shouting.

"Tyler! Tyler Joseph, open this door or so help me!" He yelled and waved his arms frantically once we were spotted. Patrick and I followed his poorly set example and pointed with large actions at the case blocking the door, hoping he'd take the hint and let us in.

Tyler mentioned something to Brendon, who watched us try to grab his attention, and shook his head no. They did not free the doorway.

"See, if Josh was on duty, he'd open the door for us. Josh is the real MVP." Pete muttered sadly with his eyes narrowed, watching the disaster snowball.

Brendon wandered around the store for a good half hour, with the cat in one hand and a basket filled with toys and a huge case of food in the other. I wasn't sure why he'd thought it was a good idea to buy a kitten. It was probably an impulsive decision thought up immediately and implanted in his head so he couldn't reject the thought. I wasn't blaming him though; once I bought a full sized trampoline to fit in the backyard and when I made it home, I realized the lawn could barely fit a couple of foldable chairs let alone a trampoline. It had been too expensive to just throw away so it was kept in the garage until I moved out, and it was decided to shove the trampoline in a storage unit.

Brendon carefully removed the display stand from the entrance way making sure not to disturb the cat dozing off on him, pushing open the door with his back and holding the animal in two hands, although it could've fit on one it was so tiny.

"How fucking stupid do you have to be to buy a cat? What idiotic, impulsive, pointless thoughts were running through that pretty little head of yours that compelled you to buy a cat on the spot without thinking about how you're going to provide a place for it to live when you can't even bring an animal on campus?" Patrick shouted at the top of his lungs, attracting the attention of a few passerbys.

"His name is Pesto." Brendon said simply, and ran a finger over the cats head.

Patrick and I watched in horror as a strangled noise of delight made its way out of Petes mouth as Pesto reached out for his hand, grabbing into his ring finger with a tiny paw.

"How fucking brilliant do you have to be to name a cat Pesto?" Pete whispered happily and cupped his hands together when Brendon dropped the little animal into his grip. And it looked up, and we all immediately melted. Except for Patrick, who apparently had a heart of stone when it came to Pesto. I didn't even like cats, but this one would grow on me.

I think the reason so was because it reminded me of Brendon. Pesto had a little tuft of fur on his head that seemed to grow quicker than the rest of his fur and it flipped up and looked like it had been twisted into a messy quiff. And his eyes looked like coffee swirled with some cream that hadn't mixed with the drink properly and was left with lighter streaks throughout.

Even though the cat was the cutest cat I'd ever seen in my entire life, I knew we couldn't keep him no matter how much Brendon wanted to. I would've reminded him how strict Seacoast is when it comes to pets, but he looked so pleased with himself I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"We have to keep him." Pete sniffed, on the brink of tears. Patrick seemed to be the only one besides me with an ounce of common sense left, because he kept telling us that we couldn't keep Pesto if we wanted to maintain our steady path towards graduation diplomas that was just in our reach.

"Damn it, guys. Don't you remember Kenny and Dan's bird?" He protested as we started wandering back to the car.

"Kenny and Dan also had a fucking parrot that screeched like a little kid being murdered at 3am sharp every day." Pete said, overwhelming affection for Pesto replacing the snarky reply thrown at his friend soon after it was said.

"Half those times it was you trying to out-scream their parrot, Pete."

"I was trying to give them someone to blame the screaming on, but they were ungrateful." He shrugged and passed the cat carefully back to Brendon, who placed him gently on his shoulder and carried him around like that.

Patrick threw his arms up in exasperation and wildly gestured without a sound towards Pete. "You were the one that got them caught in the first place! They hated you!"

"Maybe they shouldn't have owned a parrot."

Patrick defeatedly sighed and reluctantly unlocked the car, flooring it as usual the entire 4 miles on the return to Seacoast. Brendon was in the back seat with me, which I thought was stupid because I was the tallest and therefore should be riding shotgun. However Petes argument of "I'm the cutest" proved to be much more appealing to Patrick. Brendon called it bullshit, I called it heavily influenced favoritism, but in the end Pete was still sitting in the front seat.

"How are we going to sneak in Pesto?" Brendon asked as Patrick pulled into his parking spot just outside of Seacoast. We climbed out, grabbing bags upon bags of groceries, kitchen appliances, duct tape, and supplies for the cat hidden underneath a bunch of decoy lady products.

Pete snapped his fingers and took a bag full of boxes of instant pudding, which ironically wasn't instant, but instead took an hour to prepare. "Stupid and false advertisement," Brendon had told us as he scooped up as many as he could carry and dropped them in a flood into the cart and on Petes chest.

"Dallon, put him in your bomber jacket pocket."

Everyone turned to me and there was no way in hell I was stuffing a cat with a quiff named Pesto into my jacket pocket so we could sneak him in and break the third rule of Seacoast, which could potentially cost us all a happy graduation.

"Pete, you do it."

He shook his head and smiled slyly "the security guard is gonna check my pockets. I got caught with 17 packs of cigarettes freshman year and apparently the guard has the memory of an elephant because I can't pass through those gates without getting the pat down."

Patrick sighed and bit the inside of his cheek, adjusting the bag straps hooked around his arms. "I'm not part of this so don't look at me."

"Please, Dallon, we have to keep Pesto!" Brendon pouted, and that stupid cat perched on his shoulder meowed, probably in agreement to being dropped in my cozy jacket.

The next thing I knew, there was a kitten in my pocket, and bags full of cat supplies covered up by pads hanging off my arms. Pete was the first to pass through the gate, getting patted down by a guard who I couldn't distinguish was a guy or a girl; the mustache kinda threw me off. Patrick went through next without so much as a suspicious glance, and I could only hope for the same. Pesto shifted in my pocket as Brendon skipped through the gate, nervously watching my jacket.

The security guard with an unreadable name tag stared me down for a second and I could've sworn I was about to either burst into flames because I was a liar, or that stupid cat would meow and ruin the whole plan I was risking my entire career for. They nodded solemnly and my brain couldn't process me passing on to the campus safely.

Once out of earshot, Brendon stopped me and peeked in the pocket to check on Pesto.

"He fell asleep," he whispered and giggled at the sight "he fell asleep in your pocket." Sure enough, I felt the cat purr gently, the soft vibrations rumbling against my stomach.

"He's lucky he's so cute," Patrick grumbled, obviously still upset about the fact we just broke the rules. If I hadn't known Pete and Brendon, I would never have decided to break a rule in the first place. I wouldn't have taken the initiative to actually answer in class or find the motivation to do homework without them.

Brendon carefully lifted Pesto out without waking him and placed him on his shoulder again. He reminded me of a pirate with a softer, more friendly companion than a talking winged spawn of Satan.

"He looks like you." I told Brendon, who smiled and scratched his cats head with his finger.

"Yeah, I guess he does."

[2450 words, ]