Brendon and Spencer have a fight.
As if on cue, there was a knock knock knock on his door. Brendon smiled, and sighed "Come In." Spencer approached him cautiously, again with that bomb's-gonna-go-off-any-second-now look on his curious round face. Spencer looked around at the damage; broken pictures, ripped posters, stuffed animals strewn across the room, missing a few limbs. Spencer's eyes rested on the only picture that was still intact; a picture of Brendon and Spencer laughing and gazing into eachother's eyes. A faint smile danced on his lips, then disappeared as he apprehensively sat beside Brendon on the bed. "Looks like a tornado went off in here." He chuckled. Brendon's eyebrows furrowed and he rolled over, facing away from Spencer. Spencer sighed, an laid down next to Brendon. "I'm sleeping in here tonight." He declared. Brendon turned over again, an raised an eyebrow. "It... It's gonna be out lag night for the summer you know. Might as well be together." Spencer explained. "Because we're friends!" He added quickly, seeing the amused look on Brendon's face. Brendon's childish grin faded when he said, "I'm not going anywhere." Spencer shook his head sadly. "Bren...you have to. I know you don't want to, but you HAVE to." Spencer pleaded. A look of fury spread across Brendon's face. "So you want me to go?! Is that it?!?" He asked, sitting up. "No! I mean, that's not what I meant!" Spencer cried. "I get it. Brendon's just too emotional for you, and you want him out!" Brendon shouted. "Bren, Please listen-" Spencer was onthe verge of tears. "GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" Brendon shouted angrily, pointing at the door. Two big fat tears rolled down Spencer's chubby cheeks as he ran put of the room. Brendon regretted his outburst the moment he'd said it, especially when he heard sobs coming from Spencer's room. Tears streaming down his face, he picked up the picture of him and Spencer of his nightstand, and gazed at it for several hours, which seemed like minutes. Finally, he clothed the picture close the his chest and drifted asleep.
The next morning was the worst. Spencer Wasn't there to greet him, or make him breakfast, or anything. Btendon walked downstairs to find a note taped to the fridge:
Won't be home for a while. You need to go to that camp. I know you're super issued and think I'm trying to get rid of you, but you're dead wrong. Just.... Please. Bus comes at noon. I have your stuff backed in your duffel.
Brendon stared at it. He couldn't believe it. Spencer actually wanted him to go to that fucking camp with a bunch of freaks. "WELL FINE THEN, YOU DICK!" Brendon shouted, crumpling up the note and tossing it into the fireplace. He watched it burn, and he felt that familiar stinging in his eyes. He wiped his them furiously, refusing to cry. He stormed upstairs and snatched his duffel. He saw the picture of him and Spencer lying on his bed. They looked so happy. Brendon picked it up and threw it at the ground. He heard the glass shatter, but stomped on it twice for good measure. He tore out of the room and threw himself onto the curb outside, where he waited for the bus.
When it finally came rolling up, Brendon struggled to get the tear stains off his face. The big yellow monster stopped right in front of him, and with a whooshing sound, the door flew open. Out stepped a man who looked like he could be a mummy; he was certainly old and shriveled enough. He looked intently at Brendon from glasses twice the size of his face. The old man licked his chapped lips and said "You Brandon Ur?" in a raspy voice. Brendon was to focused on not crying to correct him, so he grimly nodded. The old man seize his duffel with great difficulty and threw it in a compartment in the side of the bus. "Well?" He said. Brendon gazed back to the house, half expecting Spencer to be standing on the porch waving at him. But he wasn't. Brendon slowly stepped into the bus, and the doors whooshed closed again. The engine roared to life and began taking Brendon away from home, closer to Hell.