Brandon. Yes, THAT Brandon.

Drama Queen

I'm not scared of Michael. I'm not.

        In fact, I'll never even have to see him. So there. So he's in town. Not my problem.

        What I am scared of? Logan's reaction when I call him tonight. He never replied to my message. I should've called him earlier.

        The strong scent of Lysol dominates my sense of smell as I step into my house. Something is awry. My mother baptizes the house in cleaning products when she's upset, but doesn't want to speak up about it. "Hey mom?" I try. I don't even see her.

        "Brandon! My son how are you?" she answers from my upstairs bathroom. I finally hear her scurried footsteps on the stairs. "Did you have a good day?" she kisses my cheek.

        "Yes, ma'am. Um... did you have a good day?" I ask cautiously. She nods, her blue eyes wide with fake excitement.

        "Isn't it crazy that Aiden will be living with us? Another body in the house. Another person." She and her apron trot off to the kitchen. "It's amazing, huh?" she rambles. "Taking care of another human being. Amazing."

        "Amazing isn't my first choice word, since Aiden is a pothead... " I nod slowly and follow her. "How about you sit down?" I ask.

         "Why do I have to sit down? I'm fine and able to do everything just like normal. I can clean the house like any thirty-four year old woman," she smiles.

         "...Mom? I don't think you're alright. Wanna tell me--"

         "What do you think of the name Brenleigh? Or Bradley? Do you like those names, sweetheart?" she asks and scrubs at the already spotless countertop. I don't mean to make my shoulders drop so noticeably. My face wasn't supposed to show that disgusted expression.

        "You're pregnant?!" I exclaim. She jumps a little.

         "Don't tell Stefan yet."

* * * * *

Logan pick up the phone.

         A sibling? My parents can hardly handle me. I can hardly handle my own life. A freaking baby? The flow in this house was already disturbed.

Ugh, Logan pick up the phone.

        They told me they only wanted one kid: me. I'm not worried about the attention or anything like that. Just... a baby. A little screaming child.

        "Bonjour," Logan sighs.

        "Can you come over?" I instantly ask. The line is silent. "Logan?"

         "So, you want to actually see me?"

         "I'm sorry about lunch, okay? She just... she wanted to work things out or whatever." I pick at my nails. Satan-Roger has his head up, staring at me intensely.

         "She still believes you two are together."

         "Yes, but I'll tell her. Tomorrow, I will. I promise." I throw my pillow across the room in frustration. "I mean, I won't tell her everything, but I'll tell her we're not together anymore."

         "Tomorrow is your game. Do you really want to do that?" he asks. Goddammit. Nothing seems to go my way anymore. "Exactly."

         "I hate my life."

        "Bloody hell, Brandon. You drive me nuts. I'll be over in ten." I hear the beep and immediately toss my Galaxy to the snake. Satan-Roger doesn't even look at it.