Paper Hearts [Brallon-ish]

195 days

Once Brendon had figured out I wouldn't pack up and leave in the middle of the night, I basically became his cuddle buddy past 11pm and whenever he needed it.

Each time he fell asleep first, leaving me to wonder what I did right that put me in this position where I had the one person I wanted holding on to me for dear life but was also the one person that couldn't reciprocate those feelings. I was the luckiest guy alive yet somehow the unluckiest, but the pros outweighed the cons and I convinced myself I was the luckiest each time his fingers twisted into my shirt and arms draped around my neck.

"We should take those pictures of them. One of those old Polaroid cameras so they look fancy and retro." Pete nodded approvingly, elbowing Patrick to catch a glimpse of Brendon half asleep on my chest. His arms were wrapped around my chest, the even breaths slipping from his lips and keeping in perfect rhythm with mine.

I wondered if this whole setup was temporary, and if Brendon would label me as another one of the 56 but wouldn't count me as number 57 so I'd float in memory limbo, where I'd stay until he made a decision as to where I would fit in. Maybe he'd feel bad that he couldn't give me his last paper heart and try to push me away. I'd prefer the first option.

"Do you think Walmart carries them?" Patrick asked and Pete shrugged. "Well, I'm going to check because there's nothing better to do and I don't feel like finishing physics homework at the moment. So be right back, and Dallon don't you dare move."

"Okay, mom." I called after him and his laugh echoed through Brendon's semi-apartment even after he had left.

"When did you get here?" Pete said, peering into the kitchen sink and frowning.

"Little over an hour ago. He was knocked out by the time I'd gotten his text." I responded. The only reason my homework in zoology wasn't finished was because Brendon had sent me a text saying he didn't want to be alone, so I dropped everything and walked down to his place where he was curled up in a ball on the couch and covered with 3 huge blankets.

"Did you check the sink, because..." Pete held up 4 empty bottles from the kitchen, lowering them back down once I realized what they were, and they clicked loudly against other ones. "Holy shit, there are like 7 of these in here. I could've sworn he was steering away from old habits."

"What do you mean old habits?!" I felt my cheeks warm up in anger and Brendon huffed out a quick breath from his nose and rubbed the side of his face against my shirt like a cat would.

Pete threw up his hands in exasperation, dropping a hand on his hip and hiding his face in the other one.

"I should've told you earlier, man I'm so sorry I forgot about it. Remember how I told you after 23 he kinda broke like an old wind up toy? Yeah, last year he discovered alcohol made him forget, and a drinking problem became a thing. We'd convinced him to slow down with the drinks and he tried to take it easy for a while but I guess not."

"It's never too early to try 'n forget"

I'd always felt like it would be a problem, because it always did after heartbreak but I never thought (or hoped) it was a dilemma with Brendon. I'd never dealt with it nor had any experience with it other than trying to find the correct amount of Advil to help cure headaches the next morning. The only way I'd even known a thing about it was from tv and even then I still didn't completely understand why someone would willingly do such an awful thing to themselves.

"If it's been over an hour then he's hopefully not going to die," Pete tried to reassure me but ended up sounding like he was trying to comfort himself more than anything "and when Patrick gets back we can call up Ryan or something. He's good with this type of stuff."

Brendon breaths just kept growing deeper and deeper and I could've sworn at some point he'd been taking in oxygen for a solid 10 seconds. Pete struggled to search for any other glass bottles in the recycling bin or garbage can or any other places he could've hidden them without anyone noticing.

"Shouldn't the head of the school have a problem with this?" Pete shrugged at my question, quickly dismissing it, and pulled out an empty 6 pack from behind a bag of broccoli in one of the cabinets.

"Fucker thinks he's sly. Jokes on him though, because he's in a slightly drunken haze 24/7 and can't remember where he puts things." He found another 3 behind some expired edamame beans, and about 10 drained ones hidden from view by a huge stack of pasta.

I couldn't remember a time when I was more disappointed or angry because I was fuming even though there was nothing I could do about it.

The door swung open and Patrick bounded in, picking at the tabs on a cardboard box depicting a mint blue Polaroid camera on the sides. The smile across his face twisted into a shocked 'O' as he caught sight of the bottles Pete was still piling up on the countertops.

I guess the alcohol had either started to wake him up or begin the slow process of killing him from the inside, because Brendon started to curse nonstop under his breath and claw at my chest. ((Don't you dare put your goddamn sexual innuendos in this paragraph))

Pete and Patrick arguing and near shouting into their phone for Ryan to come quick because he'd done it again and it was worse than last time.

"How many?"

"Like, a lot!"

"Wow, that's like a lot more than last time-"

"Oh my god, Ryan just get over here." Patrick yelled into Petes phone and anxiously ended the call.

I felt awful because 1. I couldn't do anything even though 2. I was expected to and 3. I had no concept of the effects of multiple bottles of alcohol but 4. Pete and Patrick thought I did, which 5. I didn't.

Ryan arrived and started checking out nearly everything a doctor would, and I was informed he was studying in the medical field. I assumed he'd gotten much more practice than he should've, being friends with Brendon.

"Y'all are overreacting. He's had like 2 drinks over the past hour." Ryan laughed ironically, which did not fit the severity of the situation, and stood up, removing his two fingers from around Brendon's wrist where his pulse was strongest. He's showed me how to do it, just in case I ever needed to use it. "He's just getting a little weird from lack of sleep and dehydration."

"So he's just been hiding everything from us," Pete sighed "just great. How did he even get this many? Isn't his car broken? He's like drunk all the time how does he even sneak all these behind our backs?"

"I'll admit, he did a pretty good job at it too. None of us had any idea." Ryan added with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Patrick reached for the unopened Polaroid camera box and pulled out the mint blue device, following the instructions as to how to load one of the undeveloped prints.

"To end the moment on a slightly happier occasion that he didn't attempt drink himself to death once again." He explained before Pete could open his mouth to question it. He trained the camera lens on me and Brendon, who turned at almost the last second so he faced my chest and his legs were pressed against the neon green taped armrest. The flash went off and the black photo slid out of the slot in the bottom, Pete snatching it and waving it above his head just out of Patrick's reach. As soon as the shorter one was able to grab it back, the picture had fully developed. They showed it to me from across the room, and even though I couldn't see it too well, judging from their smiles, it was a good picture.

"1 down, hopefully many more to go."