Part Six

Thursday had come too fast and not fast enough at the same time. The school day hadn't gone much better than Wednesday's. Brendon was still anxious as hell and every time he saw Ryan or Smucker in the hall, he had had the urge to punch something. The only thing that had really gotten him through it was the thought of seeing Dallon - even though they never seemed to cross paths at school and didn't have a single class together. Just thinking about getting to talk with Dallon again made his stomach flutter with familiarly and his heart pound. And that feeling felt a hell of a lot better than anything else he'd endured that day.

But now that the school was over, the pressure was really on. The party was only hours away and Brendon somehow found himself at Pete's house. The two were going through Pete's closet, looking for something to wear like a couple of teenage girls.

"What about this?" Pete held up a navy blue blazer. The two were about the same size, with the exception that Pete was a little shorter than Brendon.

"That's way too flashy," Brendon proclaimed. He huffed a sigh and moved back out of the closet to sit on Pete's bed. "Why are we even doing this? I'm just going to wear some jeans and some kind of jacket. It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it matters!" Pete cried. "Hello, you have to show up and make them throw up at how damn good you look!"

Brendon laughed as Pete attempted to do a catwalk strut, "Could you be any gayer?"

"No gayer than you are for Dallon," Pete teased. He found himself getting hit in the face with a pillow at that comment.

"I'm going home to get ready," Brendon told him, standing.

Pete tossed the pillow back on the bed, "Fine, but you can't complain when you look like a bum next to me."

Brendon rolled his eyes, "I'll try to hold my tongue."

He headed down the stairs, waved goodbye to Pete's mom, and left. That day was a little nippier than the last couple, so Brendon wrapped his arms around himself as he began the trek home.

Pete didn't actually live that far away from him. His house was two blocks from Pete's - which was one less than his house from the school. He made his way down the broken sidewalks to get to his house.

Before he went in, however, he heard what sounded like yelling coming from inside. His stomach immediately dropped.

He debated going back to Pete's, but knew he wouldn't have an explanation as to why he couldn't go home. He debated just walking around the block, but it would be dark soon and Brendon had to get ready for the party. It was not something he could miss.

So he straightened his shoulders and went inside only to be met with the stale smell of alcohol and the ear-splitting sound of screaming voices.

His parents were going at it. His mom was standing halfway up the steps while his father stood at the bottom, waving an empty vodka bottle around.

"You're the reason we can't buy a car!" He screamed at her. "You filthy whore!"

Brendon's mom, tough as nails and unafraid of some cheap talk, marched back down the stairs, "The only reason I'm a filthy whore is because you're a lazy son of a bitch."

Brendon could only watch helplessly, praying his presence would go unnoticed and they'd move away from the stairs so he could make a dash for his room.

But his father only got more enraged by her remark. He shoved her backwards, causing her back to slam into the wood-paneled wall. Brendon flinched, making a move like he was going to step in, but his mother was back on her feet in a second. She grabbed at his father's shirt, hauling him backwards so he'd stumble. She stormed up the stairs now that he was no longer blocking it, uttering curses under her breath.

Brendon's father acted like he was going to follow her, that was, until he saw Brendon.

"What are you looking at!?" He shouted venomously.

Brendon quickly shook his head and looked away, "Nothing."

"What!? Speak up!"

"Nothing!" Brendon shouted, frustration rising in him. He moved to go up the stairs as well, but was in such a rush that he accidentally knocked into his father with his backpack.

His dad immediately shouted in offense, grabbing Brendon's bag and hauling him off the steps, "You think you can push me around like her!? Huh!?"

"N-no," Brendon cried. But his father was too deep in his rage to listen. He roared, throwing his empty, glass bottle. It shattered against the wall just next to Brendon, sending sharp shards everywhere.

Brendon felt a sting in his upper arm and looked down at it to find blood staining his shirt sleeve. He'd gotten cut and badly.

His father didn't seem overly alarmed by what had happened. He stared at Brendon for a moment then grumbled, "Clean up," before brooding off into the den.

Brendon ran upstairs, trying to conceal his emotions. But he couldn't help the tears that started to form in his eyes. He didn't want to feel or appear weak. He didn't want this to break him. Sometimes it was all just too much.

The pain in his arm when he pressed a wet towel to the cut seemed to feel numb. He let hot tears spill down his face, but didn't make a sound. Not a sob, or a whimper. His mind was screaming, but he had no will to express it. It was like he was imploding from the inside out.

And it was something he realized then that he couldn't stop. He couldn't prevent these feelings anymore than he could prevent his parents from fighting, prevent his father from drinking. He couldn't stop his own downfall and destruction.

There was only one thing left he thought to do. How else would you effectively drown in your own misery beside standing around numbly?

You go to a party.

The party itself didn't smell much better than Brendon's own home. You'd never expect such a lavish looking mansion from the outside to be so dark and dingy on the inside. Brendon would have resembled it more to a poorly planned rave than a highschool party. It was, to be frank, dark with minimal theatrical lighting coming from what Brendon guessed was a DJ booth of some sort.

It was exactly how a nightclub set up by a seventeen year old boy would've looked. And Brendon was already unimpressed and ready to leave.

"This is epic!" Pete cried over the music beside him. The kid had gone with a zebra print blazer and leather pants for the occasion. Brendon wasn't, in the least, surprised by his friend's fashion choice.

"I wouldn't go that far," Brendon said. He cautiously moved through a small hoard of people jamming out to the dj's music. He followed the light coming from what he assumed was the kitchen, pulling Pete with him.

Loud laughter could be heard from the floor to ceiling marble kitchen. Seriously, that room alone was bigger than Brendon's entire house. Okay, maybe not his entire house, but it was the biggest kitchen he'd ever seen. Spread out around the countertop were a few members of the soccer team, a couple preppy guys Brendon was vaguely familiar with, Spencer Smith, and...

"Brendon!" Dallon smiled brightly as he looked over at him. Brendon felt his face immediately flush now that all eyes were on him. He couldn't even look at Dallon, the bastard looking absolutely stunning in his simple striped shirt and tight, skinny jeans, "You made it."

"Uh, hey," Brendon gave a little, awkward wave. He couldn't tell what was louder in that moment- his heartbeat or the music.

"What's up, man?" One of the soccer players said, nodding his head all bro-like to Brendon. Brendon politely gave him a nod back, feeling too awkward to say anything.

"Can I get you boys anything to drink?" Spencer asked, giving him and Pete a kind smile. He definitely looked the part of a rich kid - clean cut, stylish clothing, a Rolex on one of his wrists.

Brendon was about to decline, not really feeling the whole drinking scene as of late, when Pete piped in loudly, "You make screwdrivers?"

"Yeah, man, we got it all," Spencer said, reaching for the orange juice.

"All right!" Pete cheered, moving over to mingle like the social butterfly he was.

Brendon took a different route and moved to the other side of the counter where Dallon stood. He leaned so artfully against the countertop, drink in hand, looking calm and cool. Brendon envied him.

"I'm glad you came," Dallon said to him casually. "Don't tell Spencer, but it's been kind of a snoozer."

"I heard that!" Spencer yelled from across the room.

Brendon chuckled as he watched Dallon's brilliant smile grace his gorgeous face. Damn, Brendon felt way in over his head.

"This is a cool place," Brendon said, trying to seem causal. He was in the presence of some of the most popular kids in school. He really didn't want to blow it if only for the sake of getting closer to Dallon.

"Well, Spencer's parents are rich as fuck," Dallon chuckled.

"Yeah, which means everyone decides my house is party central," Spencer added, moving to stand closer to them.

"Don't act like you don't love hosting these things," Dallon teased him. "It ups your street cred."

Spencer scoffed and waved a dismissing hand, "Street cred isn't important."

"It is when you're a preppy, pompous ass," Dallon said, but there was no malice in his words. The two simply laughed, Spencer elbowing Dallon playfully. Brendon figured they must be pretty close friends. That felt a bit intimidating.

"So do you mind if I give Brendon a tour?" Dallon asked Spencer.

Spencer shrugged, "Yeah, sure, just stay out of the liquor cabinet," He winked.

Dallon chuckled, "No promises!" He motioned for Brendon to follow him.

Brendon anxiously followed him. Off to the left of the kitchen was a large archway that entered into a nice little sitting area where a few people were hanging out. It was a little quieter and definitely more formal.

"So this is the living room area, I think," Dallon said, waving his hand at the room. "But, honestly, who knows 'cause the Smith's have twelve other rooms that look like this."

Brendon chuckled a bit at that. He watched as Dallon gave head nods to some of the people in the room before they continued on.

Dallon continued to walk him through the main floor of the house, but in all honesty, Brendon wasn't really paying attention to it. His eyes were fixated on Dallon's lips while he talked.

His voice was lyrical in Brendon's ears. It almost had a more mature sound and was smooth as hell, unlike Brendon's deep, occasionally raspy voice. He was tall and slender, unlike Brendon's shorter, more masculine frame. His face was sculpted evenly, unlike Brendon's more jagged edges. He was everything Brendon wasn't and everything he wanted to be, right down to the beautiful blueness of Dallon's eyes.

Before Brendon knew it, he was following Dallon up the grand staircase in the foyer. Brendon had passed it earlier. It led up to a catwalk overlooking the raging party down below. Some couples had been up there making out or dropping things down into the crowd below. Brendon shrunk in on himself a little as they passed the people, not wanting to be noticed.

Dallon must've noticed the change in him because he suddenly felt Dallon's hand grip his. Brendon nearly flinched away, not expecting it, but Dallon held it tightly and pulled him the rest of the way over the catwalk. They came to a hallway with numerous large French doors leading into different rooms.

"This is the guest wing of the house," Dallon told him. Brendon was all too aware that he hadn't released his hand yet. "It's usually pretty quiet back here."

"You come to parties here often?" Brendon asked in an attempt to distract from his ever sweating palms.

"Whenever we get the chance, which is kind of often, I guess." Dallon said. "But I hang out with Spencer a lot outside of those. I know his family pretty well."

Dallon moved to open one of the French doors at the back of the hall. He pulled Brendon inside, revealing a lavish bedroom. Like every other room in the house it was massive. A king sized bed sat against the far wall in the middle of the carpeted floor. It had pillars at each corner, making it look like the bed of a prince. A few scattered lounge chairs sat over by a window and off to right was an en suite bathroom. Brendon didn't doubt that that was probably very large in size too.

"Wow," Brendon said, marveling at it.

"This isn't even the biggest guest room," Dallon chuckled. He had finally let go of Brendon's hand, moving over to the electric fireplace and switching it on.

Brendon watched him curiously and quickly wiped his damp palms on his jeans. Was this the end of the tour? Brendon could suddenly hear his heartbeat again in the quiet room. He jumped when the crackling of the fire started.

Dallon causally moved over to the bed, taking a seat and leaning back on his elbows. Brendon just stood there, awkwardly rubbing at his arm.

"Doing okay?" Dallon asked, cocking his head. His smile was still brighter than ever.

Brendon opened his mouth to give the usual, 'yeah, fine' response, but decided against it this time. They were all alone and Brendon felt comfortable enough with Dallon to say something a little braver.

"Can I ask you something?" He said.

"Anything," Dallon said. "I'm an open book."

"Are you gay?"

Brendon was pretty sure he knew the answer without having to ask it. Well... at least mostly sure. He'd never met someone as brazen as Dallon. Maybe he had been mistaking his outwardness for flirting. Either way, Brendon didn't regret the question. He wanted to know.

Dallon, to his surprise, looked completely unphased by it. He sat up a bit and waved a dismissing hand, "I don't prefer labels. I'm pretty much just anything I want to be."

Interesting choice of words, Brendon thought.

"What about you?" Dallon said.

Brendon stiffened. Did he trust Dallon enough to give away one of his biggest secrets?

"Yeah, I'm gay."

Evidentially, he did. But he paused to think about his next words.

"You can't tell anyone, though," He urged. "Pete's the only other person who knows."

"You don't have to worry about that," Dallon told him with a kind look. "I know all about the homophobic assholes at school. This will stay between us."

Brendon felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt so much lighter, more relaxed.

"So are you going to stand over there this whole time or...?" Dallon said a bit teasingly.

Brendon allowed a little chuckle to leave his lips and steadily walked over to sit beside Dallon.

Dallon leaned back again, watching Brendon for a moment. He was the epitome of serene, "So you take pictures, you have great music taste, what's something I don't know about you?"

Brendon thought for a moment as he tried to get into a comfortable position like Dallon, "I play the piano... and some guitar."

Dallon looked intrigued, "That's pretty cool. I actually play a little bass myself."

"Really?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Dallon chuckled. "I can be athletic and musical. I bet I could even score a goal while strumming out like Smoke On The Water or something."

Brendon laughed, "Okay, that I'd like to see."

The conversation was flowing so naturally. Brendon hadn't talked so easily with someone like this in a long time - if ever even. It was like his mind had shut off and his mouth was on autopilot, but not in a weird, anxious way. It felt freeing to say the least.

They had been so into talking, in fact, that Brendon hadn't noticed Dallon's hand resting on his leg. When he looked down at it, his stomach did flips. There was silence for a moment as a break in their conversation arose.

"You're really cute, you know that?" Dallon said after a moment.

Brendon's face flushed a deep red no matter how hard he tried to will it not too, "You're not so bad yourself, Weekes."

Before Brendon could process what was happening, Dallon was moving up to kiss him. His lips were much softer than Brendon anticipated. But at the same time, they felt like a heat that Brendon craved. Like he was freezing to death and Dallon's lips would save him. That warmth washed through him and he felt it in every part of his body.

Dallon moved like he was going to pull away and Brendon quickly gripped his shoulder, wanting him to stay put, wanting him to keep warming the smaller boy's body. He hadn't felt this alive for so long. It was as if Dallon was not only saving him from the cold, but awakening him and making him feel new again.

Dallon didn't seem offended by Brendon's action, because he immediately moved his hand to grip Brendon as well. He held the back of Brendon's neck and deepened the kiss once more, this time using his tongue to trace Brendon's lips.

Brendon allowed entrance and Dallon expertly began to explore his mouth. He hoped he tasted good for the tall boy.

When the two finally had to break apart for air, Brendon was slow to open his eyes. Dallon was smiling as he always did, but his eyes held something new. Something like desire, Brendon recognized.

"Damn, you were into that," Dallon said. "I thought I was going to have to coax more out of you."

Brendon blushed again, but grinned. He watched Dallon scoot closer to him, his hand a little heavier on his leg, "What else can I coax out of you?" He asked seductively.

Brendon understood how Dallon could easily be such a fuckboy. How he could've easily had a threesome with two other guys. Everything about him was intoxicating from his charming, laid-back personality, to his rousing kiss and sexy voice.

Brendon felt his dick twinge just at his mere words.

"Kiss me again and find out," Brendon said, his mind now running on the kind of adrenaline only titillating exchanges could give you.

Dallon's lips were back on his, moving in time with Brendon's perfectly. It was so goddamn perfect that Brendon felt like a fucking rom-com cliche, but he didn't care in the least.

Dallon's hands came up to his body a moment later. They wandering up under his shirt briefly, scratching a bit at his cool skin. They landed down on the hem of Brendon's jeans, moving to unzip them.

Brendon was starting to sweat, starting to get rather hard. His mind was running purely on the situation at hand and any and all thoughts screamed a simple 'yes'. It was green lights all across the board.

Not that Dallon needed to be told that, he seemed to be more than willing to take what he wanted and that only turned Brendon on more. He felt his jeans being tugged on.

"Get up," Dallon said breathlessly, having to abandon Brendon's lips.

Brendon obeyed, sliding off the bed. He eagerly pushed his jeans off his body. But when he moved to get back on the bed, Dallon stopped him. He stood as well, towering over Brendon by at least half a foot. He seemed much taller though in the close proximity.

Brendon could only stand there while Dallon's hands once again wandered aimlessly. They caught Brendon's hips, gripping in a manner that seemed to say 'mine'. Brendon nearly said aloud, 'all yours'.

They started kissing again, each boy fighting for dominance now that they were standing. Dallon, of course, had the upper hand, but that didn't mean Brendon didn't like to play. Dallon, however, was playing to win. He grabbed Brendon's upper arms and pushed him back into the nearest wall.

A sharp pain suddenly shot through Brendon's arm and he let out a pained grunt against Dallon's mouth. Dallon retreated back a bit and looked at Brendon.

"What?" He asked in a husky voice.

Brendon swallowed a lump in his throat as the pain still burned. Dallon was gripping the large gash in his arm. He quickly shook him off by stepping away from the wall. Dallon obliged and released Brendon, looking confused and concerned.

"Did I push too hard?" He asked.

"N-no," Brendon stuttered. He felt a little sick to his stomach as he felt his arm grow a bit wet. He quickly discarded his shirt to look at the poorly wrapped wound. He couldn't miss the size of Dallon's eyes when he spotted the bloody bandage around Brendon's arm.

"Oh my god, what..." He was almost at a loss for words. "What the fuck happened?"

Brendon winced a bit, poking at the spot, "It's a long story."

"Fuck, Bren," Dallon cursed. He hastily grabbed Brendon's unscathed arm and pulled him towards the bathroom. Brendon had been right. That room was huge too.

Dallon forced him to stand in front of the vanity as he went to rifle through the cabinets. It was the first time Brendon had seen Dallon as anything but cool and collected. He wasn't sure he liked worried Dallon so much.

"Sit," He told Brendon, pulling out some fresh bandages and a small spray bottle of some kind. Brendon, once again, did as told and sat on the top of the toilet lid.

Dallon's previously rough hands were now gingerly working the bandage off Brendon's arm. It was practically soaking with his blood and Dallon discarded it quickly. He took the spray bottle and gripped the uninjured part of Brendon's arm firmly, "Hold still."

Brendon cried out in pain at the stinging sensation the spray caused. He withered, wanting to pull away, but Dallon kept his arm in place. The pain subsided after a moment.

"That will stop the bleeding," Dallon sighed, coming back around to his collected self. He set the bottle aside and grabbed a cloth to gently wipe the excess blood away from the wound.

"Thanks, nurse Dallon," Brendon huffed a bit. He hadn't appreciated getting sprayed.

Dallon returned his comment with a smug smirk, "You'll appreciate that when it heals faster. You gonna tell me how you got a nasty cut like this now?"

Brendon bit his lip. The secret of him being gay was one thing. It was part of who he was and wasn't necessarily something he liked to have to hide. But the secret of how his family was? That was a whole different story. It was both upsetting and embarrassing and not something he wanted to talk about.

So he just shrugged, "I'm clumsy, okay? I hit it rolling out of bed."

"On what?" Dallon questioned. "Cause that's a pretty deep cut."

Brendon shrugged again, "My nightstand? I don't know, I was paying more attention to the searing pain in my arm than what I hit it on."

Dallon gave him a skeptical look, but seemed to buy it for the moment. He took the clean bandages and wrapped Brendon's arm ten times better than he himself had earlier. Soccer star, part-time musician, booboo fixer. What could Dallon Weekes not do?

Brendon watched Dallon, finding the boy had gotten strangely quiet. He didn't say anything as he washed his hands and put things back in the cabinet. Brendon felt self-conscious about it and also very aware he was nearly naked still. He opened his mouth to say something, but Dallon beat him to it.

"You busy this Saturday?"

Brendon was taken aback by the question and took a second to think about it, "No, why?"

"You want to hang out? Maybe go to the arcade, have dinner?" Dallon asked, looking at him.

"You mean... like a date?"

Dallon smirked, but neither confirmed nor denied his question, "So that's a yes?"

"Yeah, sure, sounds fun," Brendon said, outwardly chill, but inwardly bouncing around.

"Cool," Dallon grinned. "I'll text you tomorrow about details." He moved close to Brendon, reaching to take his hands and pull him up. "We should probably head back downstairs before we're too missed."

Brendon frowned, the disappointment evident on his face, "Oh... so we're not gonna-"

"What?" Dallon asked, cutting him off with a smug smirk. Brendon recognized his game from a mile away and lightly punched him in the arm.

"Asshole," He said under his breath. Dallon continued to smirk in response, but his eyes shifted back into their lustful desire. Brendon gasped when Dallon suddenly pulled his boxers down, revealing Brendon's dick. He wasn't nearly as hard as before, but that didn't stop Dallon.

"Guess I could give you a little taste of how Saturday evening will go," Dallon said seductively before moving down onto his knees in front of Brendon. He was so tall that he still had to duck his head in order to put his mouth on the shorter boy's member.

Brendon's whole body spazzed at the touch and he reached for the counter, needing to grab something. Dallon chuckled lowly, his hot breath on Brendon. God, was this a pretty picture that Brendon wanted to snap and save for himself.

It had felt like so long since Brendon had felt the touch of another. But even then, that summer fling he had never touched him like this. In their relationship, Brendon had always been the one on his knees. This was certainly a nice change of pace.

His body twitched when Dallon wrapped his mouth around him fully. Brendon's dick was definitely hard and aching now. He could feel his hips move as if they had a mind of their own.

Dallon continued to suck on him, coating his throbbing member with his saliva and groaning around it. Brendon knew he wouldn't last long, especially with the eyes Dallon was giving him.

It was only moments later that the release flowed through him. His body shuddered as he came in Dallon's mouth, grip on the countertop trembling.

He hadn't even realized Dallon pulled off after a few more moments until the tall boy was standing over him.

"Shit," Brendon cursed under his breath. He was afraid to try and stand up straight. He could only look at Dallon with an astonished gaze.

Dallon chuckled deeply, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "You're cute when you're speechless."

"I wouldn't say speechless," Brendon retorted weakly. "But that was..."

Dallon smirked, seeing as Brendon was at a loss for words, "You don't have to tell me. I know how amazing I am."

"Amazing and cocky as hell," Brendon said.

"It's not cocky when you know how great you are," Dallon responded. His glowing expression was blinding.

Brendon tested his legs to give Dallon a little, playful shove. Dallon just laughed in response. The sound of it bounced off the tall walls of the bathroom and Brendon felt like he was in Heaven. Like the world outside the bathroom didn't exist and this was some sort of safe haven, just him and Dallon, where everything could feel nice and painless.

But he knew it couldn't last forever.

"We should really get back to the party now though," Dallon said. "As much fun as that was."

Brendon noticed for the first time that Dallon was a little hard behind his tight jeans.

"Maybe next time, I can return the favor," He said without thinking, eyes seemingly glued to Dallon's crotch. He had to force himself to meet Dallon's eyes and instantly felt his face flush with embarrassment, "I-I mean, if there is a next time?"

Dallon seemed amused by his stammering, "Oh yeah, I think there will be a next time. Don't you?"

"I... yeah. Hell, yeah!"

Dallon chuckled, "Good. You should really pull those pants up now before I get hungry for seconds."

Brendon felt like the wind was knocked out of him when Dallon winked. He left the bathroom to walk back out to the bedroom. Brendon couldn't help but be stunned into silence for a moment. Was this the universe's way of finally paying him back for all the shit he'd endured? Was this some kind of reward? He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve it, but, hell, he wasn't complaining.

He could've spent the rest of his life in that moment, but he should've known life wasn't that kind. Life was a roller coaster and he was strapped in tight for the ride ahead.