Brendon doesn't believe that he has drinking problems. An univited visitor thinks otherwise. Can Brendon get sober?
A/N: A one-shot based on a dream I dreamt last night. Have fun reading!
Update I might make this more than a one-shot. ^^
Brendon threw the empty booze bottle in the sink carelessly. It broke with a loud scrunching sound and the smallest shards of glass danced down the drain. Brendon decided that he wouldn't bother with cleaning it up just yet. He just wanted a couple hours of sleep first.
It was one of those nights where Brendon had downed a couple of drinks because he felt bored. He was alone in his big house and had a loaded liquor selection which cried for him to drink some of it. Brendon found nothing wrong with it as he was a grown man. Fully allowed to drink alcohol.
What he tried to suppress was that the drinking occasions had started to happen more often.
Brendon wasn't exactly drunk. He felt fuzzy, warm and invincible but didn't splutter or have a problem with his balance.
He inhaled the dry air and parted his lips. "Bye sun." he breathed and gazed through the window at the orange sunset with his dark eyes. Brendon couldn't tear his eyes off of the sun but snapped out of the spell as soon as he couldn't see the flaming ball of helium anymore. What if someone mooned on the moon, he thought and giggled. It was amusing to think that the satellites circulating the moon would photograph a naked butt. And even funnier to think about what the scientists' reactions would be.
Brendon walked into his bedroom and undressed. The black t-shirt and his blue skinny jeans was thrown onto a chair. His new black boxers was allowed to stay on as he crawled underneath the soft covers and sighed happily.
Being a little bit intoxicated drowned his feelings of being alone and left out. He shifted in the bed to find the perfect position to sleep in.
As Brendon laid on his side he felt a strange pressure to his left. Like someone was lying right next to him.
He pushed the thought out of his head and grunted as he relaxed every muscle in his body. The relaxation didn't last for long though as Brendon felt a pair of arms wrapping around his waist. I haven't invited someone, have I?, Brendon thought. No, he then answered himself. Brendon immediately became tense.
Someone was spooning him and breathing into his ear.
Brendon didn't have time or sense enough to be afraid. He turned to face the uninvited spooner and gasped. It was himself.
Or well, himself with paler skin and dark circles underneath his eyes. The pale Brendon reeked of alcohol and sweat and he was shaking slightly.
"What the fuck?" Brendon blurted out and jerked. He knocked a lamp on his bedside table over in his outburst and his covers were partly removed. The intruder was wearing nothing but unfresh black boxers with a big hole on the side.
"Surprised to see me?" the pale Brendon asked and grinned. His teeth were yellow and he had wrinkles on his forehead as he smiled.
Brendon couldn't understand why a shabby imitator of himself would go so far that he actually broke into his house. This guy must be insane, Brendon figured. "Yes. Who are you? Why are you disguised to look like me?" Brendon asked with fear in his voice.
The intruder laughed merrily and shook his head. Greasy locks of hair fell onto his face. "Don't you understand?" he then asked without really answering Brendon's questions.
Maybe this is a dream, Brendon thought and everything clicked. Of course it was a dream! There was simply no other explanations.
"Yeah, I do. You are only in my imagination. I'm dreaming." Brendon stated and smiled as he thought that he had figured it all out. "Just a bad dream." he repeated quietly for himself.
The intruder sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he sat up in the bed and scratched Brendon's cheek with the long nail on his index finger. Brendon wailed and touched the place where the intruder had penetrated his skin. Brendon froze as he saw blood on his hands. The wound stung like a bitch.
"Still think it's a dream?" the pale imitator asked calmly. No, Brendon thought. This is real.
Suddenly he felt anger bubbling up from within and he balled his fists up. No one had the right of coming into his house in the middle of the night! "You fucker!" Brendon screeched and punched the intruder across his face.
An electric shock went through Brendon's body and he felt rippling pain on his face. A power made him jolt back and fall off of the bed. Blood ran down his face from where his eyebrow had split open.
The intruder got out of the bed and sat down next to Brendon who was lying splayed out on the floor. "Get it now?" he asked softly.
Brendon coughed and groaned. He had no idea about what was going on. All he knew was that it was something wrong with the imitator and that he was dangerous.
"Don't kill me." he whispered to recieve a scoffing laugh from the pale version of himself. "Think Brendon. Think."
Brendon didn't feel invincible anymore. He tried to focus on everything that the intruder had said.
When Brendon had tried to hit him, he had hit himself instead. He was slowly starting to get it.
"You are me..." Brendon whispered and closed his eyes. The pale Brendon clapped his hands. "Bing! Score! Finally..."
Brendon grimaced. "But you look terrible."
"Thank you for that nice compliment!" the intruder said sarcastically. "Now, come on. I have to show you something." he continued.
The pale Brendon got up to his feet and grabbed Brendon's hand and helped him to stand up. The intruder led Brendon into the bathroom and stopped in front of the sink. "Now tell me what you see." he ordered.
Brendon looked into the mirror and was shocked to see his own reflection. He had long greasy hair, pale skin, dark circles underneath his eyes and small wounds on his face. "This can't be true." he said in disbelief and watched his yellow teeth and trashed boxers. He turned around as he had so many questions to ask himself.
But the intruder was gone and Brendon was all alone to realize how bad his situation really was.