Shit.

Brendon looked over at Ryan. The other boy hadn't awoken from Brendon's movement next to him. He was still sleeping soundly; he wouldn't notice if Brendon slipped away.

Carefully, so as not to wake Ryan, Brendon maneuvered himself off of the bed. He then tiptoed across the room to the window.

"Later, Ryan." Brendon whispered as he climbed out of the window. He made sure to quietly close it before moving through the gate and running down the street.

It was only a few minutes of running that Brendon slowed his pace. He had no idea where Dallon was. He swore lowly, pulling out his phone and bringing up the contact.

Where are you?
Brendon

It felt like ages before he received a response.

M treee huse
Dallon

"Doable." Brendon nodded to himself before pocketing the phone.

Dallon's dad had built a treehouse in his backyard way back when they were kids. He had spent countless days and nights in there since, including small parties once they had come into their high school years. As Brendon ran towards Dallon's, his thoughts flashed back to nights that he and Dallon had spent in that tree house. Nights where they would pass a joint back and forth, crawl out onto the small deck to look up at the stars through the branches, or curl themselves under a thick blanket to...

Brendon shook his head, nearly running into a telephone pole as a result. He didn't need to focus on that; those days were over. They could never go back...

Brendon's pace slowed. Dallon's house was just down the block. Brendon wiped involuntary tears from his eyes as he continued towards Dallon's house. It took a few minutes, a hop over the fence, and a mad dash through some sprinklers, but Brendon was soon climbing up the wooden planks that had been nailed into the wood of the tree.

"Dallon?" Brendon called out, "Hey, Dallon!"

A strange giggle was Brendon's response. He tilted his head, but continued up the ladder. A few seconds later, he was crawling up onto the small deck. Light poured out from the tree house, inviting Brendon to crawl inside.

"Dallon?" Brendon looked around the small space, finding it just how he remembered. Old album artwork lined the walls along with posters different SciFi shows and other artwork. There were crates set up along the walls as makeshift tables, holding lanterns for light, some cans of soda, and some dark bottles.

Dallon was laying on the ground near a crate with nothing on it. Instead, his foot was stuck through it.

"Brendon!" The taller boy exclaimed when he saw Brendon looking at him oddly, "How'd you get here?"

"You called me." Brendon said, flicking his eyes around the room again as he spoke. He had a feeling he knew what those dark bottles held. "What were you doing?"

Dallon blinked a few times before the question really seemed to register. "Oh. I was up here with Ken, and..." His brow furrowed, "I can't move my foot."

"It's stuck in a crate." Brendon rolled his eyes. He moved closer to where Dallon was, but halted his movement when he caught the scent of alcohol. So, Dallon was drunk. He wasn't only able to move on quickly with Kenny, he was willing to try things he was too afraid to try with Brendon.

"I feel funny." Dallon started giggling, "Whatever was in that drink Kenny brought was great..."

"It was alcohol, Dallon." Brendon said, shaking his thoughts away and continuing towards the crate stuck on Dallon's foot. He sat down once he reached it, but didn't try to help right away. "I thought you didn't want to try it."

"I didn't." Dallon shook his head, all traces of his giggling gone. "Ken had brought over some funny smelling Gatorade for us and then he brought out some other stuff after." He smiled dumbly at the ceiling as he spoke.

Brendon turned to look at Dallon. "You idiot, you drank a spiked drink!" He turned away from the drunk boy's face to focus on getting his leg out of the crate, "If it smells funny, it's probably rummy..." He tugged at Dallon's leg, getting a slight reaction from the crate, but not much.

"I didn't know!" Dallon argued, "S'why we fought and he left..."

Brendon froze. We fought and he left. "So... What does that mean?" He asked, quietly.

Dallon started giggling again. Brendon forced himself to move again. It didn't mean anything. Dallon and Kenny were both drunk, who knew if they'd even remember this in the morning.

Brendon worked at the crate for about ten more minutes before Dallon's leg was free. The taller boy slid himself up into a sitting position while Brendon wiped sweat from his brow.

"Alright, you've been freed." Brendon grinned at Dallon, earning a goofy smile in response that made his heart skip.

Dallon drew his legs back and leaned towards Brendon. "You, you know what, Brendon? You, you're doing the Heathers thing, right?"

"You mean, our theater assignment?"

Dallon nodded vigorously, sliding himself closer to Brendon. This floor was always so damn smooth. "We-we could do a song too."

Brendon raised an eyebrow before laughing. Despite the current rhythm of his heartbeat, he knew this wasn't fully Dallon talking. "You're drunk, sweetie." Brendon shook his head, "Can you make it down or are you going to end up sleeping up here?"

Dallon shook his head. "Yooou make my balls so bluuue!" He sang sloppily before falling to the floor.

"Dallon!" Brendon hurriedly dropped himself to Dallon's level, getting met by absent blue eyes. The drunk boy grinned up at Brendon.

"My balls are in you're court!" He sang before pushing himself up, bumping Brendon's head, and connecting their lips.

Brendon was taken aback by the connection. He wanted to pull away, but part of him melted into the alcohol induced embrace. He had missed the taste that Dallon's lips allowed him to experience. Now, mixed with god knows how much alcohol Dallon had in him, Brendon could feel himself getting drunk off the feeling that was rushing through him. He couldn't pull away.

Brendon's hands gripped Dallon's shirt. Dallon's hands found places to grip Brendon's hair. Soon, they were both on the ground. Dallon shakily passed Brendon a drink. Brendon drank three. They giggled. They kissed sloppily. Soon, things lead down a road the boys hadn't traveled down together in ages.

Soon, the alcohol lead them both to sleep, already working to make the details of their night fuzzy.