Wednesday morning Brendon woke up earlier than usual, even before his alarm. He drags his feet along the floor and walks to the kitchen, stomach grumbling roughly in hunger.

His back still aches from the couch at his mother's, his mind sitting on the fine line between overwhelmed and ease.

Confessing to her-- or whatever else it could be called-- was alright. It was nice talking about Tyler, no matter how short lived it was. Their name needed to breathe, and it hadn't been able to until then. The only times he'd talk about them was with Josh, but that wasn't enough.

It's never going to be enough.

Not until he tells Carina. Not until he tells Luke.

Brendon opens the refrigerator, seeing only condiments, eggs, and lunch meat.

He sighs, reaching for the eggs.

He should have gone grocery shopping by now; all that's left in the cabinets is bread, a few more bags of ramen noodles, macaroni and cheese, and a box of white shells and cheddar.

Brendon knows he procrastinates too much. He does it with everything, from cleaning his apartment, and getting groceries, to bigger things like texting Tyler, or even telling his friends about them.

He's not proud of it, either.

Brendon wanted nothing more than to be open about his life. Confident. Tell people whatever he's thinking solely because he can.

But he doesn't. He won't, no. Not until he's comfortable, not until he understands.

He'll have to get groceries after work.

Brendon pulls out a small frying pan and butter, eggs will just have to do.

Pulling an one out, he remembers Tyler last Friday teaching him how to crack it with one hand. Reminiscing makes him blush, recalling how close they were together, hands and bodies pressed together. He clears his throat, shaking his head, and carefully hitting the egg against the pan. Lift your fingers, the whisper remains hidden in the shell of his ear. He does, watching the yolk fall into the pan with no shell.

He's smiling in a small manner, proud.

The next ten minutes or so he stands at the stove with drowsy eyes and swollen lips, making himself scrambled eggs and cracking each of them with one hand, not bothering with salt or pepper.

Deciding to put everything away once finished eating, he sits down at his small, foldable table.

There is two chairs, and one person.

Two chairs, with three people who will need seats.

Brendon's home is a lot different than Tyler and Josh's. Brendon's home. . . Isn't a home. He doesn't have pictures hung up of his family, or even a telivision to entertain guests. There's no food, no seats, no room, no love.

There's Brendon, and what little he has.

Looking across the table, he doesn't get to see anybody.

Nothing to look at, and no one to view. He sits alone at his table, yearning for Friday to arrive already.

He's giddy to see Josh again, and especially Tyler. He can't help but feel content where they had left off. Tyler's frame was weak but their hold was strong, and it's all Brendon needed to know everything is okay, everything is good.

Everything is as good as it can be, at least.

Brendon takes his time getting ready this morning, aching, but bandaged.

***

It doesn't take long for Brendon to notice Lukas wasn't coming into work. The first half hour he thought maybe he was just late, but the longer he sat there, and the more hours that passed, he knew his friend wouldn't be here today.

He never realized until then how boring work is without him.

There might be light cascading across the entire floor, but not to him, because Lukas is the person who always brings light into the workplace.

He's never thought about it like that.

Brendon breathes, sitting up from his chair.

Going to the break room alone was intimidating, he hadn't done it in a while. He walks in without any food, because he's grown accustomed to Luke bringing him some. So, instead of eating, his spends his time texting Josh-- Carina as well-- making sure they're okay, wondering what they're doing today, being curious.

Josh has yet another photoshoot, which isn't surprising, it's his job.

Still, Brendon has never seen any of his work. He wonders if Josh will show him soon, or if he'll just have to ask.

Photography is an easy thing to be interested in, and especially if Josh is the one taking all the pictures.

Maybe Brendon's bias. He doesn't care.

***

Thankfully, work is over. The day felt like it had dragged on for too long.

Not having Luke to keep him company kept him on edge, afraid Debby might have come around to pester him, or someone would look at him longer than he was comfortable with.

It's safe to say he's more anxious than normal right now.

He hadn't noticed how much he has grown attached to Luke; it was so strange without him. Even though the only times they would ever really talk is in the breakroom, it was still nice to know he was just on the other side of him if he needed anything.

He hopes everything is alright, he thinks about this while getting into his car.

Making a grocery list might have been a good idea, but Brendon doesn't think ahead. He instead makes his way to Wal-Mart blindly, planning on grabbing the essentials.

Brendon has never been fond of grocery shopping. If anything, it might be one of his least favorite things to do. There's too many people, and most are blatantly relentless, staring, pushing, mumbling.

It's a lot.

Having people to go with was always easier. He's out of luck, though.

Once he parks and makes it inside, he grabs a cart, starting off from the back so he could make his way to the front.

He needed more things than groceries. Sundries, toilet paper, toothpaste, and so on. He first grab all of these things, keeping his head low, making sure to stay to himself.

He's purposefully avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Brendon allows his feet to do the talking, they're the most interesting thing to him right now. His heart races pathetically; it's nothing he could control.

This is probably something he should have gotten over by now, yet, it's not. If anything, it has gotten worse.

When he was younger, there would always be people to go back to once he was done shopping. Just being around his family would calm him down, but now he'd go back to an empty apartment, the only other person he could listen to would be Frank Sinatra on record.

It's not the same. He misses comfort.

He and his family used to be close, very close.

There was never a day he didn't want to be around them as a child, he'd look forward to going home after school and making dinner with his parents, playing card games with his siblings.

After awhile, though, things changed.

The disease ruined everything.

It tore all of them apart subtly, until it wasn't subtle anymore. Once their father became distant and it was only Grace, Brendon, and Mason left in the house, it was clear what had been happening.

Brendon is sure if they all stayed together, this would have been a lot easier on everyone.

Instead, he's the only one that has been continuously loyal.

He closes his eyes to breathe, nearly forgetting he still needs to grab many things.

Brendon can admit he doesn't enjoy thinking about his family life. There's too much, and somehow, too little to think about. He can't help but feel like the bigger person, satisfied knowing he's never given up on her unlike everyone else, even her own husband.

It's the least he could do; she'd done so much for him.

He doesn't forget how important cherishing family is. They're his blood, they're the people who helped him at some of his hardest moments in life. They were there, and he's incapable of letting it all go at the blink of an eye.

Sometimes, he wants to ask his siblings everything they've felt.

He wants to ask everything they're feeling, hopeful that they could potentially mend it together.

Maybe it's all a misunderstanding.

He'll never know, though, because he'll never have the guts to ask.

Brendon passes the electronics section, seeing a wall of televisions playing the same thing over and over again. It's taunting, knowing how much he bores himself, knowing how empty his livingroom is.

Another time, he might buy one.

For now, he's focused on filling the kitchen again.

There's cheese, ramen noodles, milk, frozen sausage patties, cereal, and a few others things in his cart. He decides to lay off the condiments, already having plenty at home.

Brendon suddenly thinks about Friday once again, wondering if he'd need to buy anything.

The s'mores.

He only liked smores with the cinnamon graham crackers, and he was positive Tyler and Josh didn't have them.

Yes, it's probably a picky choice, he doesn't care.

Brendon makes his way over to the cracker section, already tempted to buy snacks, because when he's high all he ever wants to eat is Cheez-Its and chips.

He quietly grabs just that, throwing them into the cart.

Then, he looks for the cinnamon graham crackers. They're on the top shelf, and his shirt lifts when he stands on his toes to reach them.

"Brendon?"

He drops the crackers, turning swiftly at the voice.

It's Luke. He smiles.

"Hey," Brendon plants himself back onto the bottoms of his feet. "Where were you today?"

It's then when he notices the state his friend is in. Eye bags prominent, and nose rubbed raw. He's being swallowed by sweaters, hood covering the majority of his face.

Luke shrugs. "I've got a cold."

He's holding a case of Seven-Ups, reaching for saltine crackers.

"Oh." Brendon frowns. "Well, it's really boring without you. . . So, uh, you should get better soon."

Luke snickers, nodding. "I'll try."

Brendon picks up the graham crackers from the floor, placing them into the cart with all his other food. He's gotten everything he needs, all that's left is to check out.

"S'mores?" Luke pipes up.

Hesitantly, he nods. "Yeah, I'm staying over at Josh's on Friday, um, we're making them."

Brendon still couldn't believe he was spending the night at their house. Sleeping where they sleep. It's odd. He hasn't stayed anywhere except his mother's since he was in school, it will be very new for him.

He just hopes he wouldn't have to sleep on the couch.

"Staying the night?" Luke raises his brows, then wiggles them with a smirk.

Red, Brendon's always red. "Oh, my god. No."

He didn't think so, at least.

Now he's nervous for Friday at the thought. It didn't seem suggestive, and Josh told him they would take it at his own pace, yet his heart is still racing rapidly at what Lukas was hinting at.

"I'm joking, Brendon." He laughs. "Calm down."

Sex is a scary thing, he'd say.

His lip shakes and his hands tremble at the thought.

"Yeah. Yeah. Sorry." Brendon chuckles nervously, gripping onto the shopping cart handle until his knuckles go white.

Luke dismisses the conversation when seeing the reaction Brendon has, he sniffles instead. "I'll see you on Monday, okay? I took the next few days off. Hopefully I'll be alright by then." He sighs. "This fucking sucks."

Brendon agrees. "I'll see you then." He says, pushing his cart out of the aisle. "Feel better soon."

For once, Brendon just wants to be home. He watches the worker scan all his items, hair as gray as smoke clouds and glasses resting at the tip of her nose. He wants to smoke weed, he wants things to mean so little to him.

He hates how easily frazzled he gets.

Brendon's biting down on his cheek when packing all the shopping bags inside his car.

He's tired of marijuana being the only escape he has. Medicine didn't work for him, it only made it worse. Maybe he really did need a therapy animal, because just thinking about having Jim around him makes his cheeks lift. Running his hands through his fur calmed him down, focusing on his breathing made Brendon focus on his.

He spends his time at home putting all the groceries away while stoned.

His life is dismal.