Denouement.
Act 3, Scene 4 (3/3) | Typed | 411 words | PG
AN: So it's over. These chapters have gotten progressively shorter.
It's..yeah. I don't think there's anything else I could add to this that wouldn't add like another 20 chapters.
Three days after they set out from Chicago, the group finally made it to Las Vegas. Jon was blasting the stereo in the front, finally able to get good reception for a good channel, and the rest were all piled into the back of the van. Brendon was leaning against the back of the seat, knees tucked up to his chin, shaking slightly, while Emily rested her head on his shoulder, cooing gently and trying to get him to calm down. Bill and Nick were sitting with their backs resting against the sides of the van, long legs tangled together in the middle, engaged in a heated staring competition.
Jon drove through the Strip, ignoring all the advertisements, as tempting as they were he had to get Brendon back home. As he approached the suburbs, Jon turned the music down to a reasonable level, and started to keep an eye on the street signs, looking out for a certain one. He turned, quickly and suddenly, jolting his passengers into disarray, as he almost missed the street. He counted the houses on the left, 3, 5, 7, until he got to the 15th, and pulled over, turning off the radio and the engine.
Brendon peaked his head over the back of the seat, looking around at the street, hair messed up and glasses askew. He straightened his glasses and ran a hand through his hair.
"Uh, Jon, this isn't.." He started before getting cut off by a shout in the street.
"Fucking finally!" A body bolted down the path from the house they were parked in front of and wrenched open the back doors of the van, everyone's heads turning to see who the hell it was.
Brendon's eyes widen and he launched himself out of the van and into the waiting arms of his band mate, Ryan. He clutched at the boys shoulders and buried his head in the taller boys neck, breathing heavily and trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to wrack his body. Ryan's hands roamed Brendon's body, making sure he was okay physically until they stopped, one hand threading through the hairs at the base of his skull and the other circling his chest, holding him tightly.
"Don't ever do that again, okay Bren?" Ryan whispered in his ear, ignoring the others, "You scared me so fucking much. So lucky Jon called me."
Brendon shook his head, repeating a litany of I'm sorry's into Ryan's neck.
AN: So it's over. These chapters have gotten progressively shorter.
It's..yeah. I don't think there's anything else I could add to this that wouldn't add like another 20 chapters.
Three days after they set out from Chicago, the group finally made it to Las Vegas. Jon was blasting the stereo in the front, finally able to get good reception for a good channel, and the rest were all piled into the back of the van. Brendon was leaning against the back of the seat, knees tucked up to his chin, shaking slightly, while Emily rested her head on his shoulder, cooing gently and trying to get him to calm down. Bill and Nick were sitting with their backs resting against the sides of the van, long legs tangled together in the middle, engaged in a heated staring competition.
Jon drove through the Strip, ignoring all the advertisements, as tempting as they were he had to get Brendon back home. As he approached the suburbs, Jon turned the music down to a reasonable level, and started to keep an eye on the street signs, looking out for a certain one. He turned, quickly and suddenly, jolting his passengers into disarray, as he almost missed the street. He counted the houses on the left, 3, 5, 7, until he got to the 15th, and pulled over, turning off the radio and the engine.
Brendon peaked his head over the back of the seat, looking around at the street, hair messed up and glasses askew. He straightened his glasses and ran a hand through his hair.
"Uh, Jon, this isn't.." He started before getting cut off by a shout in the street.
"Fucking finally!" A body bolted down the path from the house they were parked in front of and wrenched open the back doors of the van, everyone's heads turning to see who the hell it was.
Brendon's eyes widen and he launched himself out of the van and into the waiting arms of his band mate, Ryan. He clutched at the boys shoulders and buried his head in the taller boys neck, breathing heavily and trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to wrack his body. Ryan's hands roamed Brendon's body, making sure he was okay physically until they stopped, one hand threading through the hairs at the base of his skull and the other circling his chest, holding him tightly.
"Don't ever do that again, okay Bren?" Ryan whispered in his ear, ignoring the others, "You scared me so fucking much. So lucky Jon called me."
Brendon shook his head, repeating a litany of I'm sorry's into Ryan's neck.