Hello welcome to angst city: population me
Henry/Brandon don’t like don’t read
Shoutout to my friends for encouraging me to write n share this
Don’t show/send to anyone mentioned
Brandon knew he was what could be considered “easily disposable.” Get rid of him and his friends wouldn’t care, his videos would function just the same without him even present, no one would probably even notice. So he can’t fathom why someone like Henry, perfect and funny and beautiful Henry, would want someone like him. He works himself up over it. He lies in bed thinking about it. He stresses himself out about it until he’s convinced himself of one thing. Henry doesn’t want him. And of course, it’s so obvious. That’s why it’s so hard to believe. Because it isn’t true. Henry’s obviously going through some kind of sexuality crisis. And he’s experimenting. And testing your gay out on someone halfway across the world is a lot safer than with someone close to you. When Brandon gets this in his head, he can’t get it out. He feels sick. His phone buzzes but he doesn’t pick it up. He just goes and lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He ends up laying there for two days. His phone buzzes one last time and then no more on the nightstand. He assumes it’s because it’s died, but the darker part of his brain whispers that it’s because people just stopped caring. He can’t bring himself to check. It’s the sixth day now. He’s only gotten up for water and an apple, before heading back to his room. It’s dark and silent. He almost begins to cry, but he hears a noise that distracts him. The door is opening. His front door is opening and he doesn’t know why. But again, he can’t bring himself to move and try to see what’s happening. It’s right when he’s starting to panic that a familiar voice pulls him away from the fear.
“Hey Brandon! Babe! What room are you in?”
He doesn’t answer. It’s Henry. Fuck. The footsteps get closer to his door, and it cracks open slowly.
“Baby? I uh. I hate to drop in so suddenly but. Well. We were worried.”
And that tone breaks Brandon. The gentleness in it. Tears start pouring down his face, flooding him.
“Henry. What are you-why are you-why did you…”
“I was worried about you baby.” Henry climbs every so carefully into Brandon’s lap, cradling his face like he might break him. “I was worried you had… that you had done something drastic.” And he kisses him. He presses a kiss to his lips and Brandon melts. “I’m glad that you-that you didn’t do anything Brandon I love you. Fuck. I love you.” It all comes crashing down around Brandon.
“Y-you don’t.” He whispers, softly. “You don’t and that’s okay. I’m just… you’re figuring yourself out. That’s fine. You don’t need to love me. It’s okay.”
“But Christ Brandon I do love you. I love you when you’re making me laugh in your vids. I love you at two in the morning when I wake up to tell you goodnight because it’s when you should be getting ready for bed, I love you when you’re happy, angry, sad. I love you all the time darling.” The way he whispers it, breathless, causes Brandon’s heart to ache.
“But. But I’m not-no one cares about me and I’m just-I don’t deserve you.”
“Baby. It’s not about deserving. It’s about just, accepting. Let me love you sweetheart. Darling. Lovely.” He’s rubbing Brandon’s back, causing his eyes to drift shut, falling into a deep sleep. And when he wakes up, however long it’s been, he doesn’t feel completely okay again. But he feels better. And knowing that Henry is in bed beside him, hand clasped in his, that makes him all the happier.
