Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > I hope you like dancing in the rain.
Brendon had never liked being indoors.
The air always smelt different, less woodsy and a little stuffier, like the moth eaten cushions on the basement sofa. It was hardly breathable, nearly suffocating. It just felt different.
Sometimes Brendon would feel so isolated in that tiny one bedroom bungalow with its rotting walls and worn down carpet that he would stumble outside frantically, even in the icy frost of winter with his chest heaving and tiny snowflakes crystallizing themselves on his cheeks, and just breathe in all that fresh air. Brendon could compare the differences, the crispness and sounds of the snow crunching under his shoe-less feet and cane; those kinds of things made living worthwhile.
Now however, he was stuck inside.
“Mom, why can’t I go out? I promise I won’t leave the backyard.” Brendon said, pushing his big white rimmed sun glasses up his nose.
He was sitting in the kitchen, propped restlessly on one of the mismatched chairs that circled the plastic table. His mom sat across from him, drinking her morning cup of coffee and trying to figure out the day’s latest crossword puzzle at the same time. She wasn’t very good at multitasking. Little soggy brown rings from her mug smudged the ink and any hope she would have had at attempting it.
Pencil behind her ear, Brendon’s mother pulled her hair up into a ponytail, away from her face. She frowned at her son.
Not that Brendon saw, of course. Yet instinctively he knew what her reaction was leaning towards. It was always the same. She was as protective as ever towards him, and Brendon was getting tired of it. He wasn’t six anymore. He didn’t need supervision just to go out into the back. Hell, it’s not as if he could get into much trouble out there. The most dangerous thing that could happen would be him accidentally stepping on a bunny rabbit (or maybe running into the fence.), and he was very careful to avoid that. He would never forgive himself if he damaged one of his furry little companions, particularly his favourite one of the bunch, Bob.
‘Cause Bob was especially special.
“Brendon. Honey,” she sighed, “it’s too cold out. The weather channel said it would be storming by mid-morning. You’ll catch a cold if you get caught in it.”
“No, I won’t.” Brendon pouted, poking at his pancakes with his fork. He heard them squish together like a wet sponge oozing out water, as he’d nearly covered them in syrup, but that didn’t make him feel any better. His mom worried too much, and he really wanted to go outside and sit under the apple tree for a bit.
He wanted to feel the rough texture of the bark, dry and cracked with age, under his fingertips. To listen to the leaves as they clashed together from the wind. He wanted to sit in the grass, prickly beneath his ankles, and covered in early morning dew. He wanted to feel the sun on his legs; firing rays down until they made his skin tingle with warmth.
Oh how he wanted.
Brendon heard his mom’s exasperated sigh once more, but his ears perked up happily as she finally relented, albeit grudgingly.
He bounced up energetically, grabbing his cane and feeling his way over to his mom so he could give her a kiss on the cheek, leaving his half-eaten breakfast behind.
When he heard her anxious, “Be careful! Make sure you put on a scarf and a hat, and don’t forget shoes!” Brendon just smiled his ever sunny smile, and waved his consent in the general direction of her voice.
He knew his way around the house, so it wasn’t much trouble finding a suitable scarf (his favourite woolly one.) and a decent hat that his grandma had knitted for him. He reluctantly stepped into some sneakers on his way out, and wrinkled his nose. He didn’t like how constricted his toes felt. He liked feeling nature and all of its holy greatness under his feet, and how was he supposed to do that when he was all covered up? It just wasn’t fair.
Brendon decided to go out the front door, since he would have to go through the kitchen again to get to the backyard, and he didn’t want his mom changing her mind at the last second.
A rush of cool fall wind hit his cheeks upon stepping out, ruffling through his hair, and Brendon sighed in bliss. He could finally hear all those amazing fall noises. It was enough to catch him off guard though, and screw up his trajectory of the location of the stairs. His foot missed the step, and his arms flailed wildly as he tried to find the railing. His cane clattered down the steps, and Brendon let out a yelp as he toppled to the ground fast.
He let out a shaky breath, heart racing madly. His face was parallel to the pavement, cold and grating. His body was twisted, pretzel-like, but thankfully Brendon wasn’t feeling any severe pain in his legs. The only thing he noticed with undeniable certainty was that his hands felt like he’d just stuck them in an oven, blazingly hot and stinging. He’d braced all of his weight on his fingers as he fell, and they’d scraped against the pavement when he skidded. He could vaguely feel warm liquid running down his arm.
Shit.
This was when Brendon started to panic. Where was his mom? Hadn’t she heard him yell?
He pushed himself up, using the muscles in his legs as leverage. He hadn’t noticed before, but his thighs were shaking from the scare. It was much more terrifying to trip and fall when you couldn’t see where you were going, Brendon knew.
Leaves crunched under hurried footsteps nearby, and Brendon’s hands instinctively flew to his face, where his sunglasses rested. Immediately color rushed to his cheeks. Someone had seen him fall on his ass?
“Fuck, are you okay?”
It was a male voice, close to him. Brendon could hear the breathless inhale and exhale of laboured breathing.
“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I just, uh... tripped.” Brendon murmured shakily, looking down and pushing his frames up again. His face felt flaming hot. How could he have been so stupid, why hadn’t he just gone to the backyard where he couldn’t be seen?
Silence filled the air, with the exceptional whooshing from the wind in the trees. The male stepped closer to him, yet Brendon couldn’t tell if he was on his right or more to his left. He
was glad he had some shades to hide his eyes, since they were darting around everywhere.
“Your hands are bleeding!” the male gasped, and Brendon flinched as the boy grasped them. “Sorry. Do you want to go to a hospital? It looks really rough, you might need stitches.”
Brendon shook his head frantically, retracting his hands like he’d received an electric shock. He stepped back, nearly tripping again on his wobbly legs. “I-I don’t need that. I have band-aids in the house.”
“It’ll get infected... You should really go and get some medication. “
The stranger spoke as if he was approaching a spooked animal waiting to bolt, and in a way, that was exactly what Brendon looked like.
To be honest, Brendon hadn’t had a lot of a social life recently. Well, more like he had never had much of a social life ever. His mom and dad had always babied him, gone to the park with him when he was little, not letting him go on anything but the springy animals (but Brendon did enjoy those.) by the sandbox.
He didn’t go to public school; his mom had insisted that he be homeschooled. She thought he’d have a hard time at a school for disabled kids, and that it would cause too much emotional trauma for him to be around other kids who would ask questions and point, and just generally overwhelm him.
So Brendon hadn’t been around many people other than his parents, and he really didn’t know how to act around others. He was hesitant. He knew what nasty things people could throw at you, insults, jokes and things that just hurt. His mom had been very thorough when she’d warned him. Honestly, Brendon was surprised the male hadn’t noticed his... differences earlier and called him out on it.
It made him a little uneasy.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, tilting his head up towards the sky, but only dark patches with a tiny hint of light shone through. Brendon wondered how long it would take for this weirdly stranger to figure out he was a freak. “Besides, the cuts aren’t that deep. I-I can take care of it.”
Well, his mom would take care of it.
“If you’re sure...” the boy said worriedly, backing away. Brendon could feel his eyes on him.
The leaves crunched as the male walked away, and Brendon bit his lip to keep his response in. For some reason he didn’t want the male to leave. But, why? He didn’t need anyone else to talk to but his parents. That’s what they’d always told him. So why did he feel like he wanted company other than them for once? Why all of a sudden, did he feel lonely? It’s not as if that boy wanted to get to know him or anything, so what the hell?
The wind gusted hard, and Brendon closed his eyes.
Nothing would ever change. The boy would forget he ever talked to him. His hands would still burn, his eyes would still be dark, and his only friends he’d ever have would be his parents.
Why did being blind have to mean he wasn’t allowed a normal life?
The air always smelt different, less woodsy and a little stuffier, like the moth eaten cushions on the basement sofa. It was hardly breathable, nearly suffocating. It just felt different.
Sometimes Brendon would feel so isolated in that tiny one bedroom bungalow with its rotting walls and worn down carpet that he would stumble outside frantically, even in the icy frost of winter with his chest heaving and tiny snowflakes crystallizing themselves on his cheeks, and just breathe in all that fresh air. Brendon could compare the differences, the crispness and sounds of the snow crunching under his shoe-less feet and cane; those kinds of things made living worthwhile.
Now however, he was stuck inside.
“Mom, why can’t I go out? I promise I won’t leave the backyard.” Brendon said, pushing his big white rimmed sun glasses up his nose.
He was sitting in the kitchen, propped restlessly on one of the mismatched chairs that circled the plastic table. His mom sat across from him, drinking her morning cup of coffee and trying to figure out the day’s latest crossword puzzle at the same time. She wasn’t very good at multitasking. Little soggy brown rings from her mug smudged the ink and any hope she would have had at attempting it.
Pencil behind her ear, Brendon’s mother pulled her hair up into a ponytail, away from her face. She frowned at her son.
Not that Brendon saw, of course. Yet instinctively he knew what her reaction was leaning towards. It was always the same. She was as protective as ever towards him, and Brendon was getting tired of it. He wasn’t six anymore. He didn’t need supervision just to go out into the back. Hell, it’s not as if he could get into much trouble out there. The most dangerous thing that could happen would be him accidentally stepping on a bunny rabbit (or maybe running into the fence.), and he was very careful to avoid that. He would never forgive himself if he damaged one of his furry little companions, particularly his favourite one of the bunch, Bob.
‘Cause Bob was especially special.
“Brendon. Honey,” she sighed, “it’s too cold out. The weather channel said it would be storming by mid-morning. You’ll catch a cold if you get caught in it.”
“No, I won’t.” Brendon pouted, poking at his pancakes with his fork. He heard them squish together like a wet sponge oozing out water, as he’d nearly covered them in syrup, but that didn’t make him feel any better. His mom worried too much, and he really wanted to go outside and sit under the apple tree for a bit.
He wanted to feel the rough texture of the bark, dry and cracked with age, under his fingertips. To listen to the leaves as they clashed together from the wind. He wanted to sit in the grass, prickly beneath his ankles, and covered in early morning dew. He wanted to feel the sun on his legs; firing rays down until they made his skin tingle with warmth.
Oh how he wanted.
Brendon heard his mom’s exasperated sigh once more, but his ears perked up happily as she finally relented, albeit grudgingly.
He bounced up energetically, grabbing his cane and feeling his way over to his mom so he could give her a kiss on the cheek, leaving his half-eaten breakfast behind.
When he heard her anxious, “Be careful! Make sure you put on a scarf and a hat, and don’t forget shoes!” Brendon just smiled his ever sunny smile, and waved his consent in the general direction of her voice.
He knew his way around the house, so it wasn’t much trouble finding a suitable scarf (his favourite woolly one.) and a decent hat that his grandma had knitted for him. He reluctantly stepped into some sneakers on his way out, and wrinkled his nose. He didn’t like how constricted his toes felt. He liked feeling nature and all of its holy greatness under his feet, and how was he supposed to do that when he was all covered up? It just wasn’t fair.
Brendon decided to go out the front door, since he would have to go through the kitchen again to get to the backyard, and he didn’t want his mom changing her mind at the last second.
A rush of cool fall wind hit his cheeks upon stepping out, ruffling through his hair, and Brendon sighed in bliss. He could finally hear all those amazing fall noises. It was enough to catch him off guard though, and screw up his trajectory of the location of the stairs. His foot missed the step, and his arms flailed wildly as he tried to find the railing. His cane clattered down the steps, and Brendon let out a yelp as he toppled to the ground fast.
He let out a shaky breath, heart racing madly. His face was parallel to the pavement, cold and grating. His body was twisted, pretzel-like, but thankfully Brendon wasn’t feeling any severe pain in his legs. The only thing he noticed with undeniable certainty was that his hands felt like he’d just stuck them in an oven, blazingly hot and stinging. He’d braced all of his weight on his fingers as he fell, and they’d scraped against the pavement when he skidded. He could vaguely feel warm liquid running down his arm.
Shit.
This was when Brendon started to panic. Where was his mom? Hadn’t she heard him yell?
He pushed himself up, using the muscles in his legs as leverage. He hadn’t noticed before, but his thighs were shaking from the scare. It was much more terrifying to trip and fall when you couldn’t see where you were going, Brendon knew.
Leaves crunched under hurried footsteps nearby, and Brendon’s hands instinctively flew to his face, where his sunglasses rested. Immediately color rushed to his cheeks. Someone had seen him fall on his ass?
“Fuck, are you okay?”
It was a male voice, close to him. Brendon could hear the breathless inhale and exhale of laboured breathing.
“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I just, uh... tripped.” Brendon murmured shakily, looking down and pushing his frames up again. His face felt flaming hot. How could he have been so stupid, why hadn’t he just gone to the backyard where he couldn’t be seen?
Silence filled the air, with the exceptional whooshing from the wind in the trees. The male stepped closer to him, yet Brendon couldn’t tell if he was on his right or more to his left. He
was glad he had some shades to hide his eyes, since they were darting around everywhere.
“Your hands are bleeding!” the male gasped, and Brendon flinched as the boy grasped them. “Sorry. Do you want to go to a hospital? It looks really rough, you might need stitches.”
Brendon shook his head frantically, retracting his hands like he’d received an electric shock. He stepped back, nearly tripping again on his wobbly legs. “I-I don’t need that. I have band-aids in the house.”
“It’ll get infected... You should really go and get some medication. “
The stranger spoke as if he was approaching a spooked animal waiting to bolt, and in a way, that was exactly what Brendon looked like.
To be honest, Brendon hadn’t had a lot of a social life recently. Well, more like he had never had much of a social life ever. His mom and dad had always babied him, gone to the park with him when he was little, not letting him go on anything but the springy animals (but Brendon did enjoy those.) by the sandbox.
He didn’t go to public school; his mom had insisted that he be homeschooled. She thought he’d have a hard time at a school for disabled kids, and that it would cause too much emotional trauma for him to be around other kids who would ask questions and point, and just generally overwhelm him.
So Brendon hadn’t been around many people other than his parents, and he really didn’t know how to act around others. He was hesitant. He knew what nasty things people could throw at you, insults, jokes and things that just hurt. His mom had been very thorough when she’d warned him. Honestly, Brendon was surprised the male hadn’t noticed his... differences earlier and called him out on it.
It made him a little uneasy.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, tilting his head up towards the sky, but only dark patches with a tiny hint of light shone through. Brendon wondered how long it would take for this weirdly stranger to figure out he was a freak. “Besides, the cuts aren’t that deep. I-I can take care of it.”
Well, his mom would take care of it.
“If you’re sure...” the boy said worriedly, backing away. Brendon could feel his eyes on him.
The leaves crunched as the male walked away, and Brendon bit his lip to keep his response in. For some reason he didn’t want the male to leave. But, why? He didn’t need anyone else to talk to but his parents. That’s what they’d always told him. So why did he feel like he wanted company other than them for once? Why all of a sudden, did he feel lonely? It’s not as if that boy wanted to get to know him or anything, so what the hell?
The wind gusted hard, and Brendon closed his eyes.
Nothing would ever change. The boy would forget he ever talked to him. His hands would still burn, his eyes would still be dark, and his only friends he’d ever have would be his parents.
Why did being blind have to mean he wasn’t allowed a normal life?
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