(press space to mute music <33) Chapter One Wilson: It was a hot summers day and Bran and I had been out for all of it. He was driving me home now and I never wanted it to end. Our drives were one of my favorite things ever. Something about him singing at the top of his lungs, me laughing, the sunset peeking over the trees, the way that, no matter what, we always had at least one thing to talk about and, of course, the best thing, Bran. He's one of the greatest things that ever happened to me. He saved my life. And when I say "saved my life" I dont mean it like when two people get married and suddenly they're "saved", no. I mean he literally did. Middle school wasn't fun to say the least. I got picked on no matter what I did. Laughed at, pushed, shoved, kicked, one time even punched. Until, one winter day, I was having a sleepover with Bran, my phone rang and it was a random number. I answered and it was a group of guys. Maybe a year or two older than me. They threatened me. Things I dont want to repeat. I didn't tell Bran until the morning and, when I did, he stopped eating breakfast and stormed out of my house. I told him it wouldn't help, that he would only make things worse, but he didn't listen. He ran to one of their houses and told him to call his friends, that he wanted to talk — he was respected, unlike me, so of course, he listened — and then he beat the crap out of every one of them. He nearly broke an arm fighting for me. And when I saw him laying in a hospital bed, I finally realized why I was hated for just being me. Its because I liked Bran in a "I want to run away with you and live happily ever after" type of way, not a "yeah sure I'll go to a football match with you" type of way. I loved bran and I still do. Because, at the end of the day, he was always there for me. From bullies to when my dog died. No matter the occasion Bran was always there for me to hug, cry to even. We'd never had an actual fight. Yeah we'd had disagreements but I'd never yelled at him or talked about him behind his back. Well, even if I wanted to, I dont have anyone to talk to except Bran himself. Or my sister, but I doubt she'd be very interested. Uh, where was I? Oh yeah, the car ride. I leaned forward to fiddle with the AC as Bran changed the song to our favorite song, Heather by Conan Gray. I dont really know why he liked it so much. I know I had my reasons. I had my own personal Heather to be jealous of. He didn't, he could get any girl he wanted. I kept my head down, still pretending to fiddle until the chorus came up and we screamed it so loud that a few passers by yelled at us. But we didn't care at all, because it was me and him. Just like it seemed to have always been. The song finished just as we pulled up on my drive and I got out the car, I ran to the door, waved bye to Bran and opened it, ready to go in. He didn't wave back. He looked miserable. Bran hates his home — if you could call it that — his father was rarely home and when he was he was always drinking and yelling, smoking and blaring the TV while Bran tried to sleep. I've never met his dad, and I'm glad. I couldn't walk in the door, just couldn't. It began raining and I quickly grabbed my coat, threw it on and ran back to the car, Bran still staring into the nothingness. "Bran!" I yelled. The rain was loud, pounding on the windshield and the music was still booming. "Bran!" I repeated, he still didn't break the stare. "Brandon!" I screamed. I hated to do it. He was only ever called Brandon by his mother. I saw his eyes flicker, as if the memories were flooding through as I said it and I immediately wanted to take it back. He loved her more than anything in the world and he'd give up anything to have her back. He opened the door quickly, not looking me in the eye when he said, "What is it? I dont want you getting cold" "Uh," I said, "do you wanna come in? I know that your dad's usually home on Tuesdays so I figured- well..." my voice trailed off, thinking of how he would react. to my surprise, he smiled. "You sure? I dont really think your family likes you that much. I dont fit in." His eyes twitched and he itched his neck awkwardly. I knew in the back of my mind he liked my sister. Who wouldn't? She's kind and gorgeous and smart and funny and popular and all happy and likes meadows and wears short skirts and has long, flowy hair and... well, she was a girl. That would always put her a rank above me. But I quickly swept that thought away, I didn't want him going home. He didn't deserve the pain. I loved him too much to let that happen again. "You fit just fine" I said and grabbed his hands, suddenly we were in the rain, holding hands and running to the door. All I wanted was him to stop and pull me in closer and kiss me so hard I go blind. But he doesn't. And he never will.
