Last First Kiss [Brallon+Completed]

7: Clever

Spencer wouldn't answer his phone. In fact, he wouldn't acknowledge I existed until I was forced to go to his shitty apartment, and rasp my knuckles across his wooden door. I had just gotten done in English and Astronomy, but I couldn't keep my mind off the night before. Stuff had escalated quickly, and I'd been sexually active for (as embarrassing as it seems) probably the first time in my life. Spencer, being my best friend, was the first one I wanted to tell. When he swung the door open, his face contorted into an angry expression.

"What."

"I participated in sexual activities and liked it." I hurriedly muttered. I looked around the apartment establishment hallways, which were an off-white color not nearly as pretty as Brendon's house walls. Spencer gave me a long look, before inviting me in, and closing the door sharply.

"You had sex?" He asked, almost as soon as I'd taken my rightful seat on the horribly-patterned couch, and looked up at him. He followed right after, his anger seemed to be lost, instead replaced with interest. I felt myself darkening at his question.

"No, I gave a blowjob." I admitted. Spencer smiled, half heartedly nudging me with his shoulder as he loafed back on the couch beside me. "Oh really? What was it like?" I bit my lip, which was something I had a habit of doing whenever I was put into this specific type of situation. I turned my eyes away from my best friend's face, suddenly very interested in his broken TV (which he had accidentally broke when he tried to throw a boot at me, and I managed to duck out of the way).

"Yeah. I liked it, I guess. I'm gay, after all. It was new. More worrying is if the other enjoyed it. They seemed to." Thinking back on it turned my cheeks pinker than the pink lemonade sitting in a glass on the coffee table in front of me. Spencer liked pink lemonade. Not even the pink lemonade could distract me from the memory of Brendon's fingers entangled in my hair. Which I'd discovered just last night that I had a thing for. "Who was it?" Spencer asked.

I looked over at him for a full minute straight, before answering.

"Brendon."

His entire demeanor changed completely. His smile fell from his face, and his features hardened into the Spencer I'd caught last night. He straightened up.

"Dallon, what did I say about him? Adult or not, you need to stay away from him!" He snapped, moving to get off the couch. Instead, he swiped the glass of pink lemonade off gm the coffee table, and downed a few mouthfuls of it. I sighed. Another scolding was sent my way.

"What's so bad about him?" I blurt out, raising my head with genuine curiosity. Spencer eyed me.

"He's not a good person. The last thing I want hurt is you." Spencer vaguely insisted, which only sent anger through me. I got to my feet as well, throwing my hands in the air. "You haven't even given me a reason to stay away!"

"I would think what he did last night would be enough." Spencer retorted. I thought back to last night, in the slammer. I thought about how the alcohol felt as it soaked into my pants, and the glare Spencer had given Brendon after the incident.

"I'm sure that was an accident!" I defended Brendon, my arms crossing in a pout. I wasn't gonna give in so easily. I wasn't one to do so. Spencer only rolled his eyes, making his way over to the kitchen counter, which he pulled his jacket from, and clad himself in the clothing.

I followed him as he walked right out of his house, and locked the door behind us. "Whatever, Dallon. I have places to take care of, counters to clean." With that, he disappeared down the hallway. I sighed, leaning back against his door in frustration.

He was definitely still angry at me.

I returned to my dorm, but as I approached the door, I found a tiny piece of paper taped over my dorm number. I tore it off the number (which is 321, by the way) and flipped it open, squinting at the paper.

You give great blowjobs, Poet Boy. I must say, I like your poetry. You left your notebook at my place, so I slid it under your door. Good luck with English

- B (672 • 493 • 2209)

I folded the note back up, a smile on my face. I quickly unlocked my dorm and slipped in, closing the door, then leaning over to lift up my composition book. There were sticky notes sticking out of the pages in many places. I smiled to myself, and flipped to the first one. It was a poem I'd written about the stars, and how we could all be a cluster of stars, connecting together to burn brighter, and build something bigger. On the sticky note was Brendon's messy handwriting.

Clever. But you've got to break before you glow, like a glow stick. :)

I read over that line a few times in my head, and looked up and around my apartment. Just reading over words written by Brendon left me feeling warm inside. I licked my fingers and flipped the pages back to the page in which I'd been working on for English. Inspiration had hit me.

I sat down on my dorm couch, pulling a pencil from the coffee table to start writing more lines down.

I write poetry about the stars and the moon.
I write poetry about the people who blossom too soon.
I like to write about the sun and the clouds.
Even the minors who sneak out, though not allowed.