Brendon didn't bother closing the door lightly when leaving his apartment.
Coffee in one hand and keys in the other, he made sure everything was locked, taking sips as he walked down the long hallway until he reached the stairs.
He passed by the other apartment doors that held life behind them. Music beating through the wood like it was nothing, but Brendon hummed along when his feet brought him to walk by. He knew the tune. Other sounds weren't as family friendly and the man felt himself purse his lips in discomfort when failed muffled moans entered his ears.
He only walked faster.
Finally, his boots played softly against the steps as he walked down, making it to the bottom and seeing one of his neighbors with a bag full of dirty laundry. She was on her way to the dry cleaners. She went every Sunday.
Brendon waved, lips still in a hard line but he made an attempt to lift it into a smile.
She nodded her head with a grin.
That was enough for him, his heart was already beating fast enough.
He was so bad with people.
The man walked out the doors and made his way to the lot where his car had been parked. A Prius that was used prior, which brought the price down quite a bit since it was worn down, but Brendon loved it.
I mean, it got him around, did it not?
He opened the car door after a nervous shuffle of keys, falling onto the seat that had ripping covers with a huff.
The door was now closed and he was confined within the vehicle. Hands gripping the steering wheel for a moment, he bored his eyes into whatever was in front of him and just sat there.
He saw someone shift uncomfortably when they noticed Brendon's eyes on them.
It wasn't intentional.
He's embarrassed.
Brendon decides it was time to leave. He shoved the key into the ignition and backed out of the lot. He didn't think much of the person and instead paid attention to soft drops of rain that landed on his windsheild. A tunic pitter patter that his heart beat could match.
He pops a CD in labeled 'It's Raining Again'. The rain made him feel some type of way. Like he could stretch his arms out and be free for a while, breathe in the cold air that was so fresh and relieving. But at the same time, he felt so restrained. The rain was keeping him from doing things-- distracting him.
The songs matched those feelings, somehow.
At a stop light, he looked over to his left to see someone pressing the crosswalk button over, and over, and over again in aggravation. A hood covering their frame and a shivers to rack up their spine.
Brendon felt bad for them.
He wanted to help but a flash of green lit up in his dark eyes and he knew he had no time, so he continued driving with a wave of disappointment to wash over him for a few moments.
He sips on his coffee and sings along to music as he drives downtown.
Soon enough he was parked in the lot of the destination he needed to be. Brendon pulls his keys out, shoving them back into his pocket. Making sure his coffee was in hand, he opens the door and steps out.
Raindrops fall against his boots and nose when walking closer to the decently large, pink building.
Walking inside he was met with a few friendly faces. One specific person turned around with a huge smile that could potentially harm her cheeks. "Hey, Sweetie!"
"Hey, Lu." He walked over to the woman named Lucy, waiting for her to give him the visitor clip on his shirt.
"Lunch is going to be served in about ten minutes, you bringing her down today?" The woman asked, shuffling through some drawers to find that specific thing she needed to clip on his clothes.
"Hopefully. You know how stubborn she gets, so I don't really know." Brendon sighed a bit after the statement, taking off his glasses to wipe the rain off of them. He watched her finally pull out the small visitor name badge, snipping it onto his shirt. "I'll see you soon."
"Okay, darling." She ended with, turning back around and walking over to someone else who walked in.
Brendon takes the stairs, the steps creaked with each step and it made him weary.
His eyes drifted to the small diamond shapes on the floor, making sure his feet fell in the middle of each one he passed. If he stepped on the line, he'd step back and continue in the center.
Brendon looked up from his shoes after he counts twenty-two diamonds, watching one of the caretakers help an elderly lady onto her wheelchair. She was sitting in the game room, which consisted of boardgames and a pool table; she was just finishing playing chess.
The man cowards away with a sip of coffee to cover his face when the much younger lady, who had been helping the old woman into her chair, made eye contact with him.
Again, he's horrible with people.
His feet moved one in front of the other. He knew exactly where he was going, he'd been here every weekend for three years now.
Brendon doesn't bother knocking once he finally reaches the room, a sigh of hell erupting from his chest as he turned the door knob and walked into the room. It smelt like cinnamon spice as usual.
Brendon fucking hated cinnamon spice.
After closing the door, he walks further in, setting his drink on the table.
"Mom?"
She wasn't in the living room as she usually is, watching America's Funniest Home Videos or Cash Cab, his eyebrows furrow.
"Mom?" He asks again, opening the door to her bedroom.
There she lay with hair curling into her flushed, sweaty face, covered in blankets and too many pillows. She must have gone to sleep later last night.
"Mom, get up." Brendon says, not whispering but just above that. His patience runs thin around her, he tries to keep it steady always, though. "Lunch is going to be served soon, we should get you down there. Wanna see Carina?" Her eyes fly open at the name. Carina was the daughter of one of the ladies in the homes, sweeter than candy and couldn't be rude to a soul.
Brendon was quite fond of her.
She was really the only person he could call a friend.
"Get me my shoes." Grace says, sitting up on her own.
Brendon's glad she remembers at least one person, and he's happy it's Carina. She's hard to forget though, it's not an every day thing to see a walking angel.
Well, heavenly.
The son walks at the edge of her bed and grabs some lavender tennis shoes.
She sticks her feet out and Brendon breathes, already irritated and it hasn't even started. He puts her shoes on with much difficulty, tying them enough for her liking.
He helps her up and soon enough they're out of her revolting apartment.
Although it may sound heartless, Brendon's glad the trauma isn't done to her physically. He doesn't think he'd be able to push a wheel chair constantly or have to help her with every move she made. Maybe it's better or worse, he can't tell. Being physically helpless was one thing, but not being able to remember your own daughter's name is a whole different kind of mental poison.
Brendon's pliant.
"Mom, use the stairs." He mutters when she heads for the elevevator. There's people in greater need who use that.
Grace rolls her eyes, reluctant at first but follows.
She's like a child.
Once at the bottom of the stairs, he scans around the dining room with plenty of chairs and tables, to find that striking blue hair.
He smiles once seeing it, grabbing his mother's hand and guiding her over to sit down. He pulls out her chair, making sure she was comfortable or else she'd complain about it the entirety of lunch.
"Hey," he says, sitting down beside Carina. She grins widely.
"Hi! I'm so glad you two came down today."
"Me too, sweetheart." Grace says, employees going around asking people what they'd like for lunch. "What are we having today?"
Brendon grabs the small paper which was supposed to be a menu, reading through it thoroughly, already knowing his mom would hate it. He silently prepares himself for her small fit, clearing his throat. "Chicken panini, turkey sandwich or mushroom soup."
Grace sighs. "They always serve the worst things on Sundays."
There it is.
Brendon bites the inside of his cheek, foot tapping on the floor.
"What seems best?"
"None."
"Mom,"
She crosses her arms, eyes shifting to her son, who was more of a parent than she was.
"Turkey sandwich. . ." She mutters.
Brendon nods, leaning back into his chair. He's lucky his mother wasn't being too rowdy as she usually is, this isn't that bad, he can deal with it, he'll be okay.
Carina purses her lips in a small frown, grabbing Brendon's hand in empathy. He's told her multiple times how hard it is to be around his mother, not just because of how difficult she makes it, but what it does to him mentally. He isn't able to process that this is how it really is; his mother depends on others to live and there's nothing he can do to change that.
Brendon wants his mom back.
He'll have to deal, though.