The winds were already picking up as Brendon rushed to his car from the local supermarket, riding his cart as far as he could propel himself. The sky was coated in swirling gray clouds that looked ready to unleash limitless water at any moment. The air smelled of the incoming storm that couldn't be more than a few hours away.

Brendon hopped of his basket, having to lunge to grab it as it continued to move with the wind. His hair blew around, smacking his forehead as he held to his cart and opened up the back seat of his car.

Thunder clapped in the distance. The storm was drawing closer.

Brendon unloaded his cart into the backseat, not caring about the state of how they landed. He needed to get out of the crowded parking lot. He needed to get back to where he would wait out the storm.

He could hear loud arguments across the parking lot. Rations were running low this close to the storm. The smart people had prepared, or evacuated, when the warning first went out.

That had been days ago.

Brendon left his cart beside his car and practically leapt into the drivers seat. As he stuck his key in the ignition, small droplets began to fall on his windshield.

"Shit." He muttered. It would only get so much worse from here. He needed to get home.

He pulled out of his spot, narrowly avoiding someone who was running towards the store. Once out of the lot, he hit the gas.

Hurricane season came every year, but Brendon's preparation never got any better. At least as a kid, he had his parents preparation to rely on. Now, just reaching his twenties, he had to figure it out for himself.

A short time later, with the rainfall still, thankfully, light, he reached his home. Rather, it was his parents home, but they were on vacation. Lucky Brendon had been chosen to make sure the hurricane preparations were in place since he still lived in town. In return, he was allowed to wait out the storm there if he wanted. His parents lived on high ground. Brendon did too, however, his second floor apartment could still leave him trapped if flooding was too big of an issue.

"Dallon!" Brendon yelled over the wind. It was definitely picking up. "Dallon!"

The windows were boarded up. Sandbags surrounded the front door and garage. Brendon felt they had done a decent job of hurricane proofing the property. They just needed to finish boarding up the front door, or figure out another way to secure it.

Brendon hurried up to the door. He pushed it open, stumbling forward a bit due to the force of the wind. "Dallon!" He called out again, shutting the door behind him. The sound of the wind grew eerie as it encased the house. "Tall one, do you copy?"

"Don't call me that!" Dallon yelled from somewhere inside the house, making Brendon grin.

Brendon walked through the living room and down the hall. Outside of the room at the end, Dallon sat on the floor. He had a small lantern on the floor in front of him and a walkie talkie in the hand that stuck out from the blue blanket he was wrapped in. He smiled up at Brendon.

"Hey. How'd the store trip go?"

Brendon sat down beside Dallon. "Well, I managed to get some more waters. I got five packs of batteries that would have been six but I traded one for a pack of oreos."

"Brendon!"

"I only traded one pack!" Brendon exclaimed, "We'll need snacks to survive."

Dallon rolled his eyes. "If this storm isn't the death of us, you will be."

Brendon just pressed a quick kiss to the other man's cheek. "You wouldn't regret it."

A fresh smile broke out on Dallon's face. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but the walkie in his hand chose that moment to chime into the conversation.

"Status update? Will B-boy and the Weekes be joining us? Over."

Brendon raised an eyebrow. "B-boy and the Weekes?" He asked before his brain caught up to the second half of the message. "Wait. Joining who where? Is that Tyler?"

Tyler Joseph, one of Brendon and Dallon's closest friends, had devised the walkie system back when his group was in middle school. They could work from a distance where phones sometimes wouldn't. It was a safety line to keep the friends connected. Whenever news of a storm was even mentioned, Dallon kept the walkie on him.

"Josh and Tyler found a safe place that's practically abandoned." Dallon frowned. "That old elementary school they shut down on Fourth and Fremont. Remember when they would made it a storm shelter when we were kids?"

Brendon nodded silently. He had never seen a storm thanks to that school's gymnasium. It felt built to withstand anything nature could throw at it. Unfortunately, it had been closed and replaced with a newer school that had been deemed a more preferable shelter and education center. It was long after his time of walking the long halls, but seeing it standing empty always left a small feeling of that same emptiness in his heart.

"They already roped Pete and Patrick into staying there through the storm." Dallon said, looking down at the walkie in his hand. "They... They wanted to know if we were interested."

A grin hooked the corner of Brendon's mouth. He hadn't been to that school in years. It held countless memories that he could practically feel calling out to him.

"Brendon, we're safe here, aren't we?" Dallon pulled Brendon away from his thoughts with his nervous question.

Dallon suddenly looked so small where he sat huddled in the blanket. The glow of the lantern cast shadows that almost made him look younger, when the fears of the storm became all too real for him.

Brendon reached out, pressing his palm against Dallon's cheek. "There is safety in numbers." He flashed a sad smile, hoping Dallon wouldn't see through his want to go back to that place. "We know it would be safe."

"Why couldn't they come here?" Dallon continued to frown. "We could make room-"

"In this dingy little hallway?" Brendon frowned. "Babe, this house always leaks like crazy after a storm. I'd hate to know what it's like to be here during it."

Fear flashed across Dallon's expression, and Brendon hated himself for it. Why couldn't they stay here? The house always remained standing; it had lasted for generations. Why would this storm be any different?

"We could combine our rations." He tried to reason, leaning forward to kiss Dallon softly. "I bet at least Patrick packed practical."

Dallon brought his hand up, wrapping it around Brendon's. "Is it still safe to go outside?" He asked.

Brendon nodded. "For the time being. We'd need to hurry to be safe, though." Just as he finished his words, another call came through the walkie. It repeated the same message as before.

Dallon shut his eyes. Brendon knew how much he hated the storms. He should have just given a negative over the radio and allowed himself to ride out the storm with Dallon in this dingy little hallway.

However, something held him back from telling Dallon it was alright to say no. Part of his wanted to go back. Part of his wanted to reexperience a storm in that school, one last time. Not only that, their friends already waited there. How could they just leave them in the storm?

"Promise you won't do anything stupid?" Dallon finally asked.

"It's like you don't even know me." Brendon grinned.

Dallon wasn't amused. "Promise."

Brendon sighed. "I promise, babe. I won't do anything stupid."

Dallon nodded, looking back down at the walkie in his hand. He let out a slightly shaky sigh before bringing it up to speak into.

"B-boy and the Weekes are a go. Over."