25 Brandon #2
“Insurance,” Jon says. “Art stuff. It’s boring.”
“He told us all about it,” Brandon says quickly, feeling like he’s helping someone lie.
“What hand-to-hand combat technique includes moves like Irimi Nage and Ikkyo?”
“Aikido,” Jon says quickly.
“Guns, martial arts, fake IDs,” Victor says. “You know a lot.”
“Not as much as Tom does about drugs,” Brandon says, forcing a laugh, like it’s a joke and not just an attempt to divert attention. But Victor keeps staring at Jon.
Jon shifts so that Brandon has to move away. “I just like spy movies. I think I’m going to go get another beer from the fridge,” he says, before downing what’s left in his bottle.
“Oh, great, I’ll go with,” Nicole says, standing. Brandon’s shocked she even heard anyone talking, she was so in her phone. “I could use one, too.” She’s drinking a vodka tonic, and Brandon has never known her to be a beer drinker.
“I can just get you one,” Jon says.
“No, no, let me stretch a little. I sit down all day.”
“Okay,” Jon says, and they leave together. It’s just Brandon, Ollie, Safiya, Victor, and Tom now.
“So how did you and Ian meet?” Victor asks, turning on Tom.
“Oh, I liked their show at the Wreck Room.”
“Should I pick a category instead of Jon?” Brandon asks. Ollie is staring out the door Jon and Nicole just left through.
“So you just went to talk to them after the show?” Victor asks Tom, leaning closer to him.
“Yeah,” Tom says brightly, apparently unaware of Victor’s interrogation.
“Sure, you pick,” Ollie says to Brandon, distracted. “I’m sure everyone will be back soon.”
“Porn stars, then,” Brandon says. “Only one I know.”
Ollie picks up the card and sighs. “Of course, it’s when Nicole is out of the room. But…these two porn stars have worked together in over twenty films, starting with The Birthday Cake and most recently WLW 17 .”
The room is silent.
“So none of us are into girls except Ollie?” Safiya says after a minute. “Feels unbalanced.”
“So what did you talk to Ian about after their show?” Victor asks Tom.
“Just fan stuff. How funny they were. One thing led to another, and…now here we are. How do you know Ian?”
“We were together for a year,” Victor says. “I’m with someone else now, but I still care a lot about Ian.”
“Where’s your someone else?” Tom asks, sounding a little nervous again.
“Working.”
Brandon stares at Ollie, who stares back and then looks at Safiya, who shrugs. Not how anyone wanted the night to go.
“Well,” Ollie says, “maybe we should wait for everyone else?”
“I’ll go see if they need help,” Brandon says, popping up, eager to leave. What is taking Ian so long in the bathroom, anyway? Brandon smiles at Ollie, who sits next to Safiya as Tom and Victor stare each other down. Brandon hopes it doesn’t come to blows; Victor might kill Tom.
He leaves the game room and walks out into the hallway. White carpet, white walls, but all gray because the hall lights are out. He makes his way over to the stairs and hears voices. It sounds like Nicole and Jon.
“…I know what you’re—” Nicole is saying.
Brandon speeds up, almost tumbling down the stairs into the kitchen.
“Hi!” he says loudly, interrupting and smiling at Jon, who won’t meet his eyes, then glaring at Nicole.
They’re facing each other in front of the fridge, like a standoff interrupted.
Nicole’s jaw is clenched, her hand curling tightly around the corner of the counter.
“You missed the lesbian question, Nicole. No one knew it.”
“Shocking,” Nicole says, eyes still glued to Jon.
“What are you two talking about?” Brandon asks.
“Just getting to know each other,” Nicole says, using her strangely emotionless professional voice.
“Cool,” Brandon says, staring at Jon. “Well, want to go back upstairs? I just wanted to get a seltzer.”
“Yeah,” Jon says, “I just need to grab something from my bag.” He nods across the living room at the den, where Brandon put his backpack earlier. He walks over to the hidden door and opens it.
“Were you interrogating him?” Brandon hisses at Nicole.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Brandon, I get you like this guy, but come on . He’s dangerous, and he’s lying to you.”
“We don’t know that,” Brandon says quickly. “Jon could be his middle name that he goes by now. And he could work in art insurance. The head…” He has a sudden flash, a bowl of peaches, closes his eyes, shakes it off. “It might have been wrong time, wrong place.”
“Well, that’s all I’m trying to find out,” Nicole says. “I’m looking out for you.”
“I can look out for myself.”
She laughs and takes a swig of the beer she’s holding. “Sure.”
Brandon crosses his arms. “You’re just jealous I’m actually getting some.”
Nicole licks her lips, about to say something, when Jon’s voice comes from the den:
“What are you doing in here!?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Ian says, half running out of the den, Jon following them. Ian suddenly falls to their knees on the rug, like they tripped or—
“Whoa!” Nicole shouts. “Do not push my friend!”
“He didn’t push them,” Brandon says quickly. Jon wouldn’t have.
“He didn’t—” Ian says, getting up, just as Ollie and everyone else come downstairs. Victor takes one look at Ian getting up, Jon behind him, and runs over, standing between Jon and Ian.
“What is going on?” Victor asks, eyes on Jon. “Who even is this guy?”
“He’s my—” Brandon starts, then stops himself.
“Oh Jesus,” Nicole murmurs.
“It’s fine,” Jon says, one hand open and up, the other holding his beer. “I just found Ian in our room and asked them what they were doing.”
“I just got turned around,” Ian says quickly. They’re standing up now, and Brandon watches them tuck something deeper into their pocket.
“Okay,” Ollie says. “So it’s all fine! Let’s go back upstairs and keep playing. You missed the lesbian question, Nicole.”
“I really need more lesbian friends,” Nicole says.
“No, I want to know what this guy was doing to Ian,” Victor says.
“Victor, relax,” Tom says. “You just said—”
“I look out for my friends,” Victor says, voice rising dangerously. “And that means protecting them from drug dealers and whatever”—he spins on Jon—“you are.”
“I’m not a drug dealer,” Tom says, laughing in a nervous way.
“And I’m just a guy,” Jon says, backing away. “Relax, man.”
“Victor—” Ian says, putting their hand on Victor’s shoulder.
“Watch yourself,” Victor says, reaching out and shoving Jon’s shoulder slightly, causing his beer to splash up all over his face. Brandon grits his teeth, annoyed. Even Victor is ganging up on Jon now? Why can’t any of them just let him be happy for at least a little while?
“Fuck,” Jon says, then pauses for a moment again.
“What the hell, Victor?” Brandon asks, shoving himself between him and Jon. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“He pushed Ian!” Victor shouts back, a little spit flying from his mouth and hitting Brandon’s face. “I’m not letting this guy hurt anyone.” He’s weirdly angry.
“He’s not going to hurt anyone,” Brandon says, his voice much louder than he means for it to be.
“Just cool down!” He says it at Victor, but he means it for everyone—they’re all so keen to see the bad in Jon instead of just letting Brandon be happy for, like, five minutes.
One good game night—that’s all he wanted.
One night to show Jon that his friends were cool, and his friends that Jon was cool, and then after, tomorrow, he’d have asked Jon about the…
other stuff. Jon made him so happy today, just shopping and joking, and flirting and kissing and nerding out about DSLWLS.
He felt like home—like Heimweh—but now it’s like everyone is trying to take that away instead of trusting him to handle this.
“‘Cool down’?” Victor shouts back. “Fuck you, ‘cool down’!”
Brandon rears back. Victor would get mad at stuff, he and Ian could rile each other up, seemed to delight in it, but Victor has never been mad at him.
They’ve always been friends—Brandon was sad to cut him out of his life.
But now he’s huge, looming, eyes bright and bloodshot.
He’s almost scary. So Brandon does the thing that seems most sensible for making someone snap out of it: He throws his drink in Victor’s face.
And then, as the liquid flies through the air, he realizes what he’s done. And how very, very stupid it was.
The liquid hits Victor’s face with a soft splash, and his eyes go wide, staring at Brandon. Brandon stares back, wondering if he’s about to die.
“Cool down?” Brandon says again, hoping it’ll work.
“Okay,” Ollie says, waving his arms. “Let’s all just relax.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” Ian says, looking at Brandon with disbelief that Brandon understands—he has no idea why he did that either. “What the fuck, Brandon?”
“He shoved Jon!” His voice comes out very high. It’s a weak defense.
“Jon shoved Ian,” Nicole says. “C’mon, Brandon—”
“No, I didn’t,” Jon protests.
“He—” Ian starts.
“Please!” Ollie shouts again, but then Jon starts explaining the situation again, Brandon talking over him.
“He just went into the room to get something, and Ian was there and then they left and Ian tripped!” Brandon says, pointing at Victor, who has been telling his own side of the story, all their voices overlapping.
Nicole is rolling her eyes, Ollie is holding his hands up, and Ian is trying to talk to everyone. But it’s just a mess. No one listens.
No one ever really listens to him, Brandon realizes.
They always make fun of him and his love life, ranking their favorite mistakes of his, joking about how quick he is to fall in love.
Like they’re better than him. But they always give each other chances—no one is telling Ian they shouldn’t have invited Victor.
No one is telling Nicole not to flirt with her boss or the coffee girl. Why is it always Brandon?
“Why don’t any of you give Jon a chance?
” he asks, just as there’s a lull in the overlapping arguments.
It sounds so sad when he says it. He looks at Ian, then Nicole, then Ollie.
None of them will meet his eye. “I really like him and you’re all here snooping”—he points at Ian—“or interrogating”—he moves to Nicole—“or trying to be smart and find stuff out but just embarrassing yourself,” he says, hand landing on Ollie.
They all think he’s such a mess, he can’t be trusted with his own love life.
They’re supposed to be his friends, but they seem so intent on making him unhappy.
“I’m just trying to solve the case!” Ollie protests, but it sounds weak.
“Case?” Tom asks, but everyone ignores him.
“He’s trouble, Brandon,” Nicole says. She’s gotten closer to them from the kitchen but still hovers on the periphery, like she’s too good to actually wade in. “Can’t you see that?”
He closes his eyes, takes a breath. He can see that—tomorrow. Tonight he just wants to be happy, and they won’t let him. They won’t even talk to him about it.
“Oh, like you would know, with your nose in your phone all night. Texting your boss? Yeah, you want to talk about bad romantic decisions, how about that one? Or you”—Brandon turns to Ian—“bringing the guy you say is ‘too nice’ but is clearly a drug dealer and the ex you were hate stalking until today to the same party?”
“Fuck you,” Ian snaps.
Brandon sticks his chin out. Maybe he’s being mean, but they started it.
“It’s like the moment I find something that makes me happy, and not just the butt of all your jokes, you need to do everything you can to take it away from me,” Brandon screams at the room. Tears are running down his face.
“Hey,” Jon says, taking Brandon’s arm softly. “Hey, it’s okay.” His voice is like a hug.
“He’s dangerous,” Nicole says, now her turn to point, at Jon. “Look what he did to Ian!” It suddenly sounds so sad and desperate to Brandon.
He turns away, looking at Jon. Jon, who actually wants him to be happy.
“Let’s clean you up,” Brandon says, marching Jon toward the den, getting between him and Victor. “I think we’re done for the night.” He says it as hard as he can make it. Then he pulls Jon back into the den and slams the door.
Outside the den, he hears some murmurs, but no one calls for them to come out, and Brandon sighs as Jon peels his shirt off.
“Sorry,” Brandon says. “I don’t know what all that was.”
“It’s fine,” Jon says with a shrug. “Your friends are…protective. But I’ll win them over tomorrow. I’ll make breakfast. That usually works; I can cook a nice omelet. Victor won’t be here though, will he?”
“He’s Ian’s ex, so I don’t think so.” Unless they get back together.
That’s what Ian really wanted, probably.
“We haven’t seen him in a year. I think maybe he was feeling…
I don’t know. Not that I’m excusing what he did.
” He hates that this is how everything happened.
He wanted to impress Jon, not have him attacked or fight with everyone or… It’s just been a disaster.
“It’s fine,” Jon repeats.
“Are you sure? I mean—”
“Brandon,” Jon interrupts, unbuckling his belt, “I’ve met a lot of people, and I’ve been in fights and I’ve been accused of things, and you know what? This was nothing. Just some drunk guy feeling protective. So I’m fine. Are you fine?” He pulls down his jeans, revealing sleek black briefs.
Brandon admires his body, all thoughts gone for a moment. “Uh, yeah.”
Jon grins at him, shrugging off his various bracelets and laying them with his shirt on the bed. “I’m going to wash off. You want to join me?”
“Yes,” Brandon says quickly.
Jon grins and takes Brandon’s hand, pulling him for a long kiss. He tastes like beer and salt, and Brandon melts into him. Jon’s thumb rests on the tattoo on Brandon’s hip. Heimweh. He’s so perfect.
Jon turns on the shower in the den bathroom and gets under the water as Brandon struggles out of his clothes, tripping on his underwear briefly before joining him in the shower, closing them in the bathroom, like their own little world, far away from the chaos that just exploded in the next room.
Jon kisses him deeply, pulling his naked body into his. Brandon lets his hands trace Jon’s body, his hips, his abs, his ass. He’s so gorgeous. He’s into DSLWLS. He’s got a real grown-up job. It’s ridiculous that he’d want to be with Brandon, but here he is.
Although Brandon is sort of lying to him. Maybe that’s the catch.
They kiss, tongues in each other’s mouth, steam and hands wrapping around Brandon. He moans slightly as Jon kisses his neck.
“Wait,” Brandon says, pushing Jon away for a moment. Jon smiles at him, water pouring off him, his expression all sex. “I need to tell you something.”