Saturday and Sunday went as smoothly as they could. It was slightly disappointing going from Tyler and Josh's house to the retirement home. Well, not slightly, it was just horribly dissapointing. It's the little things like Josh or Tyler not being able to tell him random things like they would when he'd be over. It's the little things like Jim not being able to snuggle him when he felt off.

The little things were becoming big, and fast, too.

His mother wouldn't comfort him fully if he needed it, she'd glance his way and say "everything will be okay, honey." Maybe that's true, but when his mind is racing and his chest feels like it's falling in on him, it's not enough.

He can't help but remember how well Josh did helping him through times of need.

Especially now, getting to enjoy things for awhile, only to flee from them was starting to really damage Brendon in a way that was foreign to him. Every second he spends in the retirement home, it's another second thinking about how much better it would be to have Tyler and Josh around.

It used to be that he had nothing to look forward to, and being with his mother was just something he'd do during the weekends, but now that he has something, something so, so good, waiting for him when he leaves, it's tearing him apart.

The time spent at the retirement home turns into guilt and regret.

The time spent at Tyler and Josh's house is filled with solace and acceptance.

To Brendon, there's no place he'd rather be.

Still, though, he sits beside his mother in her room and complies when she asks for anything, because she needs him more than he needs anyone, right?

He's fallen into a cycle that he feels incapable of fixing, and all he does is complain about it.

Brendon feels horrible, and even then, he feels selfish to think so.

***

Monday, Brendon's alone at work once more. He assumed Luke was still sick-- even though he said he'd be back by Monday-- which meant no one sits across him at lunch. He eats his bagel by himself, sipping on coffee he made in a rush, and texting Josh.

It's really eye-opening how much you rely on someone when they're gone, it has also made him realize he still doesn't have Luke's number.

This seems to be a common theme when it comes to Brendon.

He isn't able to check up on him even if he wanted to.

He could only hope he was doing well.

When someone sits beside him, and another sits in front of him, that's when Brendon slowly lifts his head from his phone, wearily looking to his left and seeing Ryland, then looking forward, and seeing Ryan.

He turns his phone off. "Uh, hey."

"Mind if we sit here? Debby's not in today, and I guess Luke isn't either, huh?" Ryan mutters, taking the lid off the container to his sandwich.

Brendon smiles carefully, nodding. "Yeah, yeah, um, that'd be fine." He says, although the pounding in his heart and the churning in his stomach says otherwise. He completely ignores the subliminal pleas to say no. Even if it's sad to admit, he could use company right now.

The two get comfortable, Ryland taking a long sip of his coconut LaCroix.

"Where is he? Luke." He asks.

Brendon bites his lip, trying to ease his way into the casualty of this. "He has a cold."

He knew if Debby was here, they wouldn't be sitting with him today. Or any day. But, she's gone, and he supposed the barrier is as well.

This will have to do.

"I guess its been going around." Ryland shrugs, pouring ranch onto his salad. "My boyfriend's been sick, too."

Brendon pauses from taking a bite of his food, eyes widening. "Your-your boyfriend?" He gulps. He wasn't sure why this is so surprising to him, yet it is. It's immediate shock, but immediate comfort.

Ryland chuckles from the reaction. "Yeah. Shane."

Brendon blinks, once, twice. "Oh. I just didn't know you're, uh,"

"Gay?" He finishes for him.

Brendon bites his cheek, curling his toes. "Yeah. . ."

It's quiet for moment.

Truthfully, Brendon wasn't certain of his own sexuality. He's never exactly had limits, because anyone is enough for him. Maybe it's pathetic not knowing himself well enough. Having a label doesn't seem that important to him though. If he's attracted to a person, then he's attracted to a person.

He likes men, he likes women. He likes. . . Tyler.

What would that even be?

Ryland's eyes shift. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

Brendon shakes his head quickly. "No, no. Not at all. Did it seem that way? I'm sorry. I was just-- I was just surprised."

As a response, there's a small laugh. "It's okay." He reassures. "Well, yeah, Shane and I have been together for almost two years."

Brendon smiles in a small manner. "That's awesome."

Ryan scoffs. "So not awesome. I have to hear about everything, and I mean everything."

Ryland gasps, reaching across the table to swat his arm. "Ryan!"

He snickers, continuing to eat his bologna sandwich with a smirk pulling at his cheeks. Their dynamic is clear. It's playful, it's loving. Brendon hasn't had a relationship like that since high school, with his ex-girlfriend. Sarah.

Sometimes, he still misses her after all these years.

He'd never say that aloud, though.

He hasn't spoken to her in so long, but really, it's probably for the best. He was so unbelievably attached to her, and when they spilt up, it also split his heart.

It was hard for Brendon to become casual with someone. It was hard for Brendon to trust someone. With Sarah, though, it came naturally. She took care of him, and he took care of her. They took care of each other, and weren't afraid to share their thoughts. That's what any great relationship should be like, anyways. It was such a good thing, and of course, all good things end.

When she got accepted to her dream college, while Brendon stayed local, they both knew it'd never work out.

They are the type of people that need physical contact, physical love, physical validation. It'd never, never work, and when they both came to that conclusion, they spent countless days trying to end things on a positive note.

They did, of course they did. They loved each other.

He hopes she's doing her best, because it's what she deserves.

There's no doubt about that.

"Anyways, speaking of relationships." Ryland continues with a sigh. "How are things going with, well, whoever started this whole mess between you and Debby." He chuckles almost awkwardly.

It feels okay to say, "Josh. His name is Josh."

Ryland and Ryan both look suprised.

"So you're gay too?" Ryland questions.

Brendon purses his lips. "Um, no. Not really."

"Oh." They say in unison. Neither of them push after that, seeming too cautious to go further.

"Are you two a thing?" Ryan asks instead.

Brendon wants to laugh, full of happiness, but also so much fucking dread. "I guess you can say that. We're not, uh, we aren't official or anything. Just. . . Getting to know each other before anything really happens."

He's only trying to will himself to open up to Tyler and Josh. Expose himself. Not a big deal, no, not at all.

"Hey, that's really cool." Ryan smiles. "Honestly, I wish my relationships went like that. It's usually just one and done." He snickers momentarily before inhaling, then casting his eyes downwards.

Brendon clears his throat. "Yeah, it's been really nice. He's really nice."

He trails off, but small upturns on everyone's lips stay put.

Ryland takes another sip of his drink, grinning around the lid.

"Shane and I started off really slow too, and now look where we are." He pauses, maybe for a dramatic effect, or maybe to gather his thoughts. "He's the best thing that has ever happened to me--"

"Hey! What about me?" Ryan cuts in.

Ryland rolls his eyes, passive. "I really hope you can experience it too. It's so fucking amazing, Brendon."

The latter's mind spins with so many thoughts; plagued with sickness but cured by affection. It's funny how life has been unraveling. He has friends, he even has love interests. Two. Not just one. Two people who have decided he's worthy, when he himself can't do the same. Brendon has never felt more torn between feeling lucky, and feeling overwhelmed.

It's all so much, and at the same time, has broadened every horizon.

He shifts in the seat, readjusting his glasses. "Thank you, thank you, really. That-that means so much to me."

Ryland places a hand on his shoulder, gently enough to be a feather. "You're a really good person. I'm sorry Debby caused so much shit, I really am."

Brendon's heart beat picks up at his touch. "It's. . . It's okay. It will pass."

He doesn't believe himself, but he hopes Ryland and Ryan find some sort of sincerity in his voice.

All he felt capable of doing is pray that the tension between he and Debby would pass, because her welcoming him instead of casting him dirty looks throughout the day would definitely benefit the both of them.

Brendon isn't sure whether he'd like them to be friends again, or just on good terms.

He'll figure it out. One way or another.

After a moment, Ryland says, "God, I hope so." And pulls his hand away.

The three of them sit together for the rest of their lunch break, conversation seemingly steady and pleasant. Ryan and Ryland are nice to be around, not because it reassures him that Debby's own friends were on his side, but because they're completely different than what he's used to. It isn't a bad thing, at all. In fact, Brendon feels his heart relax the more personal every sentence becomes.

For once, being social isn't menacing.

For once, he doesn't hesitate to express his feelings towards something, because he knows the two of them would accept it.

***

On Tuesday, Debby's back at work and Brendon sits alone, Ryan and Ryland sneaking him small smiles when they see him during the day, and by Wednesday, Luke is finally back in his cubicle.

"D'you miss me?" He teases as he takes a seat in front of Brendon in the breakroom.

"Maybe a little." Brendon grins.

Lukas slides a Cup 'O Noodle to his friend, handing him a fork to go along with it. He's still sniffling slightly, but all around is looking much better than he did the last time Brendon saw him. He's thankful.

"Now you know how it feels." He jokes, referring to the time Brendon left to eat lunch with Josh.

The latter rolls his eyes, still smiling big and wide; overcome with happiness to finally have Luke back.

"It sucked." He mutters, blowing on his noodles. "Ryan and Ryland did sit with me on Monday, though."

Luke seems incredibly suprised by this, sitting back to let it register that yes, Brendon is getting closer to friends of a person who has completely destroyed him. "Wow," he breathes. "Hell really has frozen over."

Brendon purses his lips. "They're. . . They're not that bad-- they're not like her."

Always defensive. Always trying too hard.

Luke nods. "I believe you. If that's really the case, I just don't understand why they hang around someone like her." He shakes his head in aggravation. "She's such a fucking cu--"

"Yeah. Yeah. I know."

There's a pause between the two of them, Luke decides to speak up. "So, what'd you guys talk about?"

Brendon finishes chewing his food.

"Uh, Ryland was mostly just talking about his boyfriend." Brendon's eyebrows furrow. "Did you know he's gay?"

Luke has to look him deep in the eyes to realize he was genuinely asking him, not detecting a single smidge of sarcasm in his voice. He cackles, loud, amused. "Dude." He laughs even more. "You didn't know? It's so obvious."

Brendon sinks further into his seat. He's so oblivious.

"Hm," he lets out, soon clearing his throat. "Well, uh, anyways, they asked me if I was seeing anyone, and I told them about Josh."

Eyebrows raised, Luke takes a sip of his water. "You told them about Josh?"

Brendon shrugs. "Yeah." He trials off before continuing. "Does that seem alright? I-I've only ever told you and my other friend, Carina."

Luke smiles, shaking his head with a mouth full of ramen. He swallows. "Why are you asking me that? It's your decision, Brendon. You tell them whatever you feel comfortable with, and if that's Josh, then that's Josh."

The eldest hums. "Yeah. You're right."

Telling people about himself is so uncommon for him, he'd tell Carina and he'd try to tell his mother, but as of lately, there's more people to tell; more people to confess to, if he wanted. Lukas, and now Ryan and Ryland. It is baffling how quickly he's building relationships.

It's unlike him.

"Speaking of Josh," Luke starts, smirking. "How'd s'mores go?"

Brendon hums again. "It was really good. I had to leave early in the morning on Saturday, but it was nice to spend time with the-- him." Once again, he slips. He's not sure how much longer he can keep everything a secret, not only because of messing up, but because the aching in his chest.

Tyler's name needs to breathe.

And still, Luke doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm really glad you had a good time, even if I was dying in my bed." He titters.

"Yeah, me too." He murmurs, suddenly getting sidetracked when remembering Josh and Tyler were coming over on Friday and he still had yet to clean his horribly messy apartment. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Me too, man. Me too. It was all bad." He shakes his head. "I had used tissues literally covering my bed, it was so gross."

At the thought, Luke sniffles.

Brendon, on the other hand, stays silent. Biting his cheek instead of food now, worry building up quickly. He only has so much more time to clean, to figure everything out, to make sure his home is as perfect as it could be for the two people he's starting to cherish more than anyone else.

In less than two days, they're going to witness it all.

Brendon's heart is sinking.

"Hey, are you okay?" Luke catches onto this fast.

Brendon frowns, staring at his hands while he fiddles with them.

"Josh is. . . Josh is coming over to my apartment on Friday. I haven't had anyone over in ages. It's a mess, and I-- and I still need to clean, but I keep procrastinating, and oh my God." He gulps visibly. "I'm scared of what he'll think. He lives in such a nice neighborhood, and his house is so fucking nice too, and my place is such a dump compared to his." Brendon shakes his head, hands now running through his hair and tugging harshly at the strands, willingly letting Luke see him panic.

Lukas stays calm, it's a nice contrast to Brendon's state.

"Brendon, I can understand why you're worrying, but the truth is, if he really does want to be with you, he wouldn't even blink an eye." He says, nodding along as he goes. "The whole point of building a relationship with someone is to accept them, and if Josh doesn't accept that maybe you don't live as well as him, well. . . Well fuck him, okay?"

Brendon doesn't respond.

"Okay?" Lukas asks one more time.

It takes a moment, but Brendon nods as well. "Okay."

And maybe it would really be okay. That's all he wanted out of Friday, that's all he wanted out of this entire relationship.

***

After work on Thursday, Brendon decides it's finally time to clean his apartment. The livingroom, dining space, kitchen, bathroom, and even his own room. Surely the three of them wouldn't go in there; he chooses to clean it for himself.

He changes into clothes that are more comfortable than his current attire, and starts with his bedroom.

The mess of this room specifically started when he didn't feel the need to throw dirty clothes into the basket anymore, and was too unmotivated to put away his clean clothes. Dirty clothes on the floor, clean clothes laying on top of his dresser.

Nearly there, but not close enough.

There's also trash covering the bedside table: beer bottles, chip bags, candy wrappers, useless papers.

Looking around, Brendon is completely ashamed of how he's become. It's preposterous.

He clears his throat to dismiss this settling feeling, beginning to fold clean clothes and he doesn't stop until everything is laid out on his bed, organized by socks and underwear, then pants, and finally shirts.

Once they're all stored into his dresser, he then tosses all the dirty items of clothing into the basket beside his record player stand.

The only times the basket was even used was if he was headed to the laundromat.

It would be a lot simpler to already have everything ready to go, but Brendon supposed he wasn't so simple.

Definitely not.

After the floor was clean from clothes, he grabs a trashbag from beneath the kitchen sink and piles all of the junk from his bedside table into the bag.

In just a few swipes, the mess is gone.

Looking around his room, he deems it good enough and then begins cleaning the bathroom.

It's not until he reaches the livingroom when things start to spiral, and quickly at that.

It's fine for a while, isn't it always? He stores all his shoes scattered around the floor into a small bin in the corner of the room, and hangs his sweaters and jackets elsewhere. He lays a soft blanket on the back of the couch and disposes of all the wrappers along the arms of it.

Then, he has to clean his coffee table.

It's just as unorganized as everything else in this apartment, including himself.

He tosses most things into the trashbag he's been holding for a while now, but his throat quickly starts to feel tighter when his eyes come across the narrow orange container full of weed, and right beside it, a wax pen.

He takes a moment to force out a trembling breath, dropping the trashbag and instead grabbing the container and pen.

Brendon stands up with a lump in his throat, rushing into his bedroom and storing them under some of the clothes in his dresser.

He's paranoid, always.

There was no way Tyler or Josh would find it, and it was reassuring, but that what if still stands. It's shoved down his throat and fed to him for desert, and all he could do was say thank you.

When would he tell them, though?

Eventually, he'd have to. And, he'd like to do it on himself instead of the two of them finding out on their own.

But the question is, will he? Will he have the courage to just be honest for once instead of feeling sorry for himself and holding back? Will he finally open up to the two people who have given him nothing but their hearts?

There's too many factors to his worry.

**Trigger warning: panic attack.**

Brendon tries multiple times to swallow the hurt building up, physically and mentally, but it feels impossible. There's a type of ache like no other resting at his chest, and it's not helping how much his heart races.

It becomes surreal what's happening, and Brendon does nothing. He feels incapable.

He tries to continue cleaning, he can delay this.

His jaw tightens, his throat only closes more.

The feeling of guilt is stronger than anything, even love. Negativity is stronger than anything, in the long run. Brendon's hands begin to shake too much to do a simple task, now. He can't even wash the fucking dishes.

There's nothing worse than feeling unable.

Maybe that's why every secret he holds is another blow to his stomach. Josh and Tyler are supposed to be the people he trusts, and yet he can't trust himself, either. He feels pitiable. Always and forever. He doesn't deserve a single thing; he doesn't deserve anything Josh and Tyler have to offer. What's the point if he doesn't do it in return?

He's contemptible and selfish. He's disgusting.

Brendon bites at the back of his hand. He deserves pain of any form. He deserves the way the cabinet digs into his back uncomfortably as he slides down to the floor, and how badly his chest hurts in the moment.

It shocking how anyone could find him desirable. The only thing they should desire is to never see him again.

A disgrace to the human name, and an ignominy to be seen around.

Brendon bites down harder onto his hand, tasting the salt of his tears as the slide down his cheeks.

Every struggle is so earned it's agonizing. Every day he spends awake is another second waiting for the the next catastrophe to come.

This is Brendon. This is pain. This is heartbreak.

He finally lets go of his skin, teeth marks red and white. Teeth marks appropriate and suitable.

Brendon whimpers into his knees, the storm has come full blast. Unfailingly. He truly is Mother Nature in a questioning state of man, in a derogitary term for queer. He rocks back and forth and forth and back, eyes closed so tightly he thought he might be able to hear the lack of colors he sees.

This is normal, which is the worst part of everything. Brendon thought he might have been able to hold it back this time, but he forgets he can't control the way his body handles things.

Hysteria is violent, Brendon learned at a young age.

Losing whatever self-confidence he had ever built up happened fast. Right before his eyes. He didn't feel like himself anymore. He felt alienated. He felt insane.

He feels alienated and insane.

Brendon's embarrased to be himself; he just wished he could trade with someone sometimes, but he'd never want to put that kind of pain on anyone, no matter how wrong they had done him.

He's stuck. Stuck where there's no escape.

His own mind is terrifying.

Brendon thinks that's why he has a hard time letting anyone in. Tyler and Josh shouldn't have to witness it, yet they're volunteering to do so. Why? What have they found worthy in him?

Two people have made a fatal flaw in logic when it comes to him, he'd say. That's the only thing that could possibly make sense to him.

Two people like them don't need to endure in seeing the state he and his own home is in. Maybe Friday was a bad decision, he doesn't know why he agreed to any of this. He'd never be prepared, he'd constantly let himself down until he's immune.

Brendon bites his lip while sniffling, shakily sliding his phone from out of the pocket of his sweatpants.

He can't do this.

He never could.

Bredon lets out a loud cry when pressing on Josh's contact to call him. He brings his phone to his ear, using his other hand to repeatedly wipe away tears. They just keep coming.

The ringing sounds distant when it comes to the heart beat in his ears, it takes a few times before Josh picks up.

"Brendon? What's up?"

The latter pushes out a deep breath, it stutters, full of sorrow. "I-I can't do Friday."

It takes a moment, Josh has to process everything quickly. "What's wrong?"

Brendon practically mewls, rocking faster and shaking his head. His pulse is just as sporadic. "I can't do it. I'm so, so sor-sorry. It's-- I can't." He sobs, it's too much for him, and it's probably too much for Josh, too. He feels horrible for this to happen again. It shouldn't be Josh's problem that he can't control himself.

Tyler must be there as well, because Josh is mumbling something inaudible to someone.

"Take a few deep breaths for me, okay? I can't hear you that well." He replies.

Brendon ignores this, crying harder.

He still doesn't know what he would even cook for them, or what they'd do if they came over. There's not enough seats for the three of them to sit down and have dinner, and Brendon doesn't have enough time or patience to fix any of the problems.

There's shuffling through the line. "Hey, Brendon."

It's Tyler. Tone soft and not so dull for once, his heart skips a beat.

He swallows. "Hey," his voice cracks.

"Do you think you can tell me what's bothering you? I know we can figure this out." They whisper the last part. Reassuring him, maybe with some hesitance.

Brendon has to will himself to confess, and still, he doesn't know exactly what he should say. There's so much. Too much. But since Tyler is asking, it means more to him. Honesty does.

"I'm so. . . I'm so scared for tomorrow. I don't think I ca-can do it." He frowns to himself.

Tyler pauses momentarily. "What are you scared about? You've come to our house plenty of times, and its gone really well, don't you think it will go the same way?" The telivision plays in the background while they speak, reminding Brendon of something he's lacking.

"There's nothing to do at my apartment. And-and-and I don't even have three chairs so we'd have to sit on the couch to eat. Tyler, I don't want you guys to see. . . To see everything. It's so bad. I'm sorry." Brendon sniffles again, tears falling silently now.

He tries to believe what Luke said yesterday about Josh-- in this case, now, Josh and Tyler-- accepting him for who he is, it's difficult.

Brendon, himself, doesn't like who he is.

"That stuff doesn't matter. We aren't coming over to judge everything you have, we're coming over to spend time with you, Brendon." Tyler tells him, like it's obvious. It probably is. "Josh and I don't care whether you have enough seats for the three of us or not, we don't care if you don't have a TV. It's not important. It's nice to just talk, sometimes."

Brendon realizes how much Tyler is talking to him right now, it makes him go hot. He's so used to them being quiet. He's so used to the observing.

He nods. "Yeah."

"Do you trust me when I say that? That it doesn't matter what little you have. We're going to have a good time." Tyler's quickly becoming snow during a heat wave.

Brendon closes his eyes again, eyelashes clumped together. "Yes. I. . . I trust you."

They both let out a sigh of relief in sync.

Tyler says, "Good. Because I really want to see you again."

Brendon imagines them smiling, and that's what makes the ache in his chest turn into something a little more beautiful. Coming closer and closer to something.

"I really want to see you, too." Brendon bites his cheek afterwards.

Tyler chuckles airily. "We'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

They're asking more for Brendon than Josh and them. Making sure he would be okay if they still came over tomorrow for dinner, despite Brendon not having any sense of direction.

"Okay." He mutters.

"See you then."

"See you then." Brendon says, Adam's apple bobbing.

Once Tyler ends the call, he feels alright. Not well, and not horrible. It will have to do, because he's led by hope for a brighter day. His hands still shake and his head still spins, but his breathing has come to a steady enough pace, and so has his heart beat.

It takes a while until he finally stands back up from the floor, he has to find a rhythm again, but soon enough he's silently cleaning the rest of the house.

Everything would be okay, Tyler said it would.

He cleans until he's comfortable with the outcome, until he doesn't feel so ashamed to live in the apartment. He cleans until his hands and arms ache, until he's satisfied.

Unsurprisingly, he sleeps well that night. He'd been drained since he came back from work, but cleaning and then falling into a terrible state of mind didn't help either. His conscience, though, had been cleared, speaking about his worries and making sure his home was clean helped so much.

Maybe, he should do it more often.

Living in self-hatred wasn't doing him any good, no matter how much he'd tried to ignore it.