Hush || Jon/Brendon || R || 21,600 words || Part Three
Part Two
114 degrees, 2038
A siren’s scream permeates through the air like a thick fog on a winter's day. There's a buzz in the air that makes Jon's skin involuntarily prickle with goose bumps, and in the distance he can hear a gunshot.
"So this is the world ending," Pete mutters bitterly. Three families are all hiding in the basement at William's house, Jon's mother nervously clinging onto his father. His chest is racing, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. A constant patter of footsteps vibrates against the cement walls, and it makes Jon's knees feel weak. He sits down and focuses on the television, the channel set to the local news. Everyone is running around ramped and crazed, startling expressions permanently etched on every face.
William's fingers trace absently over Jon's hands making him focus on his knee. He turns his palm up, allows the slender fingers to fall in between his and sighs. They are warm and comforting, and considering the noise from above and on the screens in front of him, he needs that right now.
--
132 degrees, 2040
Since he put the blanket over the window to cover the sun, Jon sleeps for three days straight. When he wakes up, his hair and skin feel greasy and sticky. He stumbles into the bathroom and brushes his teeth with the last of the toothpaste and takes a cool shower. After the shower Jon hears the piano playing softly, and he starts to dress quicker.
Jon opens the door and begins to walk out into the living room area where the small upright figure sits. Brendon's topless as usual, back slick with sweat dripping down to the top of his jeans. There's a small wet line at the top of them from the amount of sweat that has settled there, but Brendon seems unaffected by it all. His hair is as soaked as his skin, head tilted to the ceiling, softly singing.
You don't know me, you don't even care,
She said
You don't know me, and you don't wear my chains... oh yeah
Jon closes his eyes and bites his lip, a wave of memories rising above and pouring over him. He feels his legs begin to tingle from the weight of it all, the chains of reality tugging at the bottom of his stomach. It's almost too much to handle, to listen to Brendon finish the song, and when he does, Jon feels his knees give out and he falls to the floor.
Brendon turns around quickly, his eyes wide and immediately he gets up from the bench and rushes over. His arms snake protectively around Jon's waist, leaving him surprised at how someone as tiny as Brendon can hold on with such ease. Jon wraps his arms around Brendon's neck, pulling him close, heart racing to a beat of thumpthumpthumthump, pounding so loudly that it makes Jon's chest ache.
It's then that despite the fate that they both face, even though everything will eventually go away altogether, Jon feels something that he hasn't felt since he was a boy.
Safe.
He pulls back and cards his fingers through Brendon's hair, pushing back the wet bangs against his forehead. His cheeks are lined with pink, which means he must have been outside. Brendon's eyes are searching, silently pleading for an explanation and the only thing Jon can do to give him an answer is lean over and kiss him. He feels Brendon moan against his own, fingers splaying over his ribs. Jon's skin tingles at the touch, leaving him to kiss more aggressively. He flicks his tongue over the seam of Brendon's mouth, coaxing it open. Brendon opens easily, and the taste Jon is filled with is heady and sweet.
There's a difference in the way Brendon kisses than the way William kissed. Jon always felt as though William held back, that if he gave himself away completely he wouldn't be able to keep anything to himself. Brendon gives everything, throwing all caution to the wind and letting Jon do whatever he wants. His body is almost putty against him, and when they break apart for air, his hair is mussed and his lips are swollen and red. Brendon licks at them again, gliding the bottom one through his teeth slowly, his eyes focusing on where his fingers trail over Jon's chest.
Jon watches carefully, his own fingertips tracing over Brendon's collarbone and down the middle to the button at the top of his jeans. He looks up at Brendon, peering into a pair of half-lidded eyes, and sees him give a small nod. Jon leans over and starts to kiss him again, his fingers working the button through, and slowly guiding the zipper down. He slides his hand into the jeans, and it's somewhat difficult but he gets it in there nonetheless, and immediately feels the hard-on against his palm. Brendon breaks apart from the kiss a little, his forehead resting against Jon's cheek, a staggered breath escaping between his lips.
Brendon helps Jon tug his pants down, a small dark chuckle rising in the air after Jon lets out a groan of frustration in his attempt to do it himself. He does it easily, and Jon feels slight envy at how elegant Brendon can pull down the sticking fabric. His thoughts quickly diminish, however, when he sees Brendon's dick released from the confines of the jeans. Jon instantly reaches over and grabs at the base, his free hand sitting at the small of Brendon's back. Brendon's eyes flutter shut, mouth going slack, sharp staccato gasps hot against Jon's neck.
Jon continues to move his hand faster, the palm rough against the skin, and the faster he goes, the more pliable Brendon becomes against him. The breathless gasps quickly turn into moans, louder as the tempo rises. When he grazes his thumb over Brendon's slit, he arches his back, fingernails digging into Jon's shoulders, a loud broken groan accompanied by his climax.
Brendon's breathing is hard and uneven. Jon helps him sprawl out on the floor with him, his hand absently wiping at the wooden floor. Brendon lies next to him, head resting against the palm of his hand, a tired smile on his face. He traces his fingers over Jon's chest, moving down to his jeans, and cupping over the bulge. Jon grabs at Brendon's wrist quickly, looks into his eyes and shakes his head.
"You don't have to," he whispers.
Brendon nods understandingly, deft fingers pulling down the zipper of Jon's jeans. "I know," he says softly, eyes never leaving. "I want to."
Jon nods and swallows hard, his eyes fluttering shut as Brendon's fingers work their way inside.
--
Jon grows accustomed to Brendon coming into his room, sliding against him and pressing their bodies together. He starts to understand the difference between the warmth in the room and the warmth of Brendon, becomes more aware of everything about him. Sometimes they lie together in the semi-darkened room and whisper to each other about their lives before.
"My family was always very close," Brendon says softly, his fingers tracing in aimless circles over Jon's chest. He's looking at the light that is shining through the side of the blanket against the window, a sad smile on his face. He chuckles a little and turns to look at Jon. There's a small crease on his cheek from where the pillow has pushed against his skin, and Jon reaches up to brush the pad of his finger against it.
"Do you miss them?" Jon asks quietly, his eyes turning to focus on Brendon.
Brendon shrugs, and looks back at Jon. "Sometimes. Before everything. You know." Jon nods. Everything was different for everyone before the government demanded their involvement in its citizen's lives. It was different before everyone realized that The End was near. "We got into a big fight. Really big."
"What happened?" The words fall out of Jon's mouth quickly, and he doesn't even realize that he's asking. He clamps his mouth shut, and feels his eyes grow wider. "I'm sorry," he whispers immediately. "I didn't mean--"
"No, it's okay," Brendon interjects. "I want you to know." His hand stills against Jon's chest, an intense expression settling on his face. He laughs shyly and closes his eyes, curling his arm and resting his head against it.
Jon waits, watching as droplets of sweat drip over Brendon's cheek and onto his arm. He takes a deep breath and exhales for a long time. "I never really wanted to be what they wanted me to be. I was the youngest of a group of five and all of my brothers and sisters were the cookie cutter image that my parents painted for them." He smiles and opens his eyes looking over at Jon. "I didn't want to go to college. I hated school and I wasn't a really good kid, you? I was always hyperactive and getting in trouble. Aside from my sister that was taken away when I was young, I was pretty much the black sheep of the family."
Jon turns on his side, arm curved over Brendon’s waist. "Did you ever get to talk to them before everything happened?"
Brendon sighs again. "A little. I came home one night and told them that I was leaving and I did. I never got over the government taking Kara away, I couldn't deal with it anymore. They didn't say anything when I left, not even goodbye." He turns on his back, eyes focusing on the ceiling. Jon continues to watch him, looks at the way Brendon's eyes flutter shut and the way his tongue flickers over his lips. "I saw them two weeks before they announced The End. They came over to my shitty apartment, and my mom started to cry. It had been three years since I seen or heard of them. They were asking me if I wanted to come to my niece’s birthday party."
Brendon swallows hard, lets out a shaky breath. "I was on my way over when they announced it on the radio. Everyone on the road stopped immediately, to see their families one last time. By the time I got to the house it was empty. I guess they’d gone to the ocean."
"Jesus," Jon whispers. "What was the last thing they ever said to you?"
Brendon laughs, and opens his eyes and looks at Jon. "My mother told me that she always knew that I wouldn't be like my brothers and sisters, and that I was meant to be a musician. My father wished me luck, and they both said that one day they would come see me play. I was actually on my way to go find them when the car broke down. I walked to this neighborhood, and stayed in the houses since."
Jon moves closer to Brendon, aligns his body with his and pulls him close. He doesn't know what to say, and he opens his mouth a few times to try to articulate what he is feeling right now. Nothing comes out, though, and he continues to open and close his lips, hoping the words will come to him.
They don't.
"Please don't leave me," Brendon whispers against the silence. He drapes his arm over Jon's side, nestles his face in the crook of Jon's neck. "Everyone always leaves."
"I'm not going anywhere," Jon promises. "I won't leave you."
--
Something shakes Jon awake and he opens his heavy eyes to see a scared look on Brendon's face. He instantly wakes up, the grip on his arm tightening. "What is it?" he asks in a soft voice.
"Someone's in the house," Brendon whispers, and he turns his head to the sound of footsteps walking closer.
Jon protectively wraps his arm around Brendon's waist and pulls him closer, his eyes focused as the door opens a little. There's a man on the opposite side, a hoodie over his face. Jon feels his skin turn cold, and his heart is pounding against his chest so hard that he feels light-headed.
"Shit," the man says, and pulls the hoodie off of his head to reveal a face with a smile on it. "I didn't know this house was occupied. I promise I'm not here to hurt anyone," he adds quietly.
"What do you want?" Jon finds himself asking, his voice uneven. He pulls Brendon closer to him, and he can feel him shaking.
The man raises his hands in defense. "Swear to god, man, I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm actually on my way to the coast, but I was wondering if you could be kind enough to give me some water? All of the other houses that I've been to don't have any running water."
Jon swallows against the dryness in his mouth. "Show me what you have in your pockets," he commands.
The man nods, and pulls his pockets out to show nothing inside of them. "If you wanna do a strip search, be my guest. But I gotta warn you, I haven't bathed in at least three days so you might not like what comes out of it."
Jon lets out a sigh of relief and nods. He pulls the sheets back and searches for his pants on the floor, the last thing on his mind being modesty. When he turns back to the man, he sees an outstretched hand.
"My name is Gerard," the man greets, his voice calm.
Jon takes it, and they both give a single shake. "Jon."
--
Gerard, Jon finds, is from the opposite side of the country, and is trying to find his brother that was in California when the world heard the infamous announcement. He tells Jon about his journey, about the different cities and how everything now is pretty vacant, each town desolate.
"There are some cities that have people, but they are few and far between," Gerard explains. "Mostly everyone is just really scared and trying to prepare."
"What's there to prepare for?" Jon asks aloud. He's not really directing it to Gerard, but it's out there in the open for anyone to answer.
Gerard shrugs. He still has the hoodie on, and while there's sweat dripping off of Gerard's face, he doesn't remove it. "We're a generation of preparers. When there's a war, we prepare. When there's a natural disaster, we prepare for it. Everything is a deadline, and it's ingrained in us." Gerard gets up and goes into the kitchen, pouring himself another glass of water and gulping it down in one go. "This shit is amazing," he gasps after taking the drink. "I haven't had cold water in forever."
"What have you been drinking in between?" Jon asks.
"I've mostly been stopping at various places that have water and boiled it over a fire," Gerard explains. He sets the glass down on the counter in the kitchen and walks back into the living room, sitting back down on the floor. "So are you guys from around here?"
"I'm not. But I think Brendon is."
"Ah, okay." Gerard says and nods. "Were you trying to get to the ocean?"
"Yeah, we both were at one point, but we kind of just stopped. I ran out of gas and was looking all over for cars to siphon out of but they are mostly gone. There's only a few left in the surrounding area and they were already dry."
Gerard chuckles. "You know, I would've never guessed that I would be running to the goddamn other side of the country to get to the ocean, you know? It's just so surreal the way this has all worked out." His eyes trail over to Jon's wrist and he raises an eyebrow at the sight of the counter. "You still wear yours?"
Jon quickly looks down at his wrist and bites his lip. "I don't worry about the count anymore," he says softly. "I just keep forgetting it's even there."
"Maybe it's time to let go," Gerard suggests.
"What do you mean?"
Gerard smiles, his eyes crinkling at the sides. "What I mean is that maybe it's time to give up everything before you don't have time anymore." They continue to look at each other for a moment and Gerard's smile fades a little. "Do you know how much time we have left?" he asks softly.
"Two weeks."
Jon turns around to see Brendon standing in the living room, his hair wet like he just got out of the shower. His eyes are red, and his cheeks are damp, but it’s not the dampness that comes from sweat or water.
"Two weeks?" Gerard repeats. "Well, fuck." He leans forward and rests his elbows on his crossed thighs, clasps his hands. He continues to look in front of him, concentrating. Jon waits to see if his eyes even blink, but he doesn't, and when Gerard looks up at Brendon and Jon, he raises his eyebrows. "Anyone know anything about cars?"
"I've been working on one for a while now," Brendon answers. "I just got it to start a few days ago."
Jon looks over at Brendon in surprise. He didn't know that the car is working again and he feels a pang in his stomach at the fact that Brendon never bothered to tell him in the first place.
"Look, I don't know when you guys are leaving, but is there a chance you can look at this car and help me out?" Gerard asks. "I really gotta get to Los Angeles and find my brother."
"How do you even know that he's there?" Brendon asks.
Gerard pulls himself off of the floor, brushing his legs off. He straightens and looks at Brendon. "I don't," he says evenly. "But I'm going to do everything I can to find him. Two weeks isn't a long time, but I'd rather try to find him than not find him at all."
Brendon and Gerard continue in their staring contest, their eyes steady. Jon watches Brendon swallow hard, and sniffs before nodding. "Alright," he says quietly, and turns to leave. "I need to get a shirt and we can go to your car."
--
55 degrees, 2031
Little pamphlets came into the mail discussing the need for the counters. According to the government, the restriction was placed as a part of the national program to have no crime. Unlike the movies that Hollywood had released so many times before, there weren't any oracles to predict the future. The only way they could predict what would happen was through the video cameras and the counters.
Everyone had to go to the city hall over a three day period, the order chosen by social security numbers. William and Jon were able to go together. They stood in line in silence, watching as the counters were snapped onto their wrists.
It was all for the best of the citizens. Everything the government did was for the betterment of everyone.
When Cassie comes over to his house three days later and sleeps in Jon's bed with him, he realizes that everything she said about change is true. Everything is changing around him, so fast that it's making him dizzy. He just wishes that he had a better chance at adapting.
--
132 degrees, 2040
"Dude," Gerard says and shakes his head. The hoodie still stays in place, and Jon can see the sweat pour over his pale skin, the sunglasses mirroring Jon and Brendon's reflection. "It's fucking hot outside."
"Glad to know that you've finally figured that out," Brendon responds dryly. Gerard laughs a little and begins to walk faster. Jon wonders how the hell he's able to walk in the middle of the deserted road to his car with long sleeves on. The heat is scorching, and Jon is grateful for the umbrella that Brendon provided. He watches as Gerard stretches his arms out, singing softly. It resonates louder than it should against the silence, and the tune is dark, but Gerard's voice is different and it works.
Jon looks over at Brendon for a moment, notices the way his jaw is clenched. Sweat is running quickly down his cheeks, but he's not wiping them away at all, just staring ahead and following Gerard.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Jon asks quietly, eyes in front of him. Gerard lifts one of his legs and twirls around, one hand outstretched as he sings. He almost falls, but catches himself and starts to laugh, clearly amused by his antics.
"Tell you what?"
"About the car, Brendon. You told Gerard you had it fixed a few days ago."
Brendon shrugs. "If I had, what would you have done?"
Jon stops and Brendon walks ahead a few steps before he falters to a halt. "What do you mean what would I have done?"
Gerard is still walking ahead of them, but his pace has slowed down. He must be dying from the heat by now. Brendon had given him an umbrella too but still hasn't opened it yet, and Jon is curious as to why. "Would you have gone with me?" Brendon inquires, breaking Jon away from his trailing mind. "Would you have gone with me if I told you that the car was fixed?"
"Yes!" Jon exclaims, his voice louder than he intended. Gerard stops walking and turns around to look at them. "Why do you think I wouldn't?"
Brendon gives another shrug. "It's not that I thought you wouldn't--"
"Well clearly you did because you didn't bother to tell me anything," Jon says.
"--It's just that I was nervous you would say no," Brendon continues, ignoring Jon's remark. He looks at him and his eyes are shimmering. "We have two weeks. Two weeks, Jon. If I leave I want you to come with me. I don't want to do this by myself."
Jon walks closer to Brendon, raises a knuckle to his cheek and catches the droplet that fell from his eye. His skin is instantly soaked from all of the surrounding sweat, but the tear rests in the crease of his fingers. "I told you I wasn't going anywhere. I meant it."
Brendon nods and sniffles again. "Sorry," he whispers, looking down at the ground. "The world is ending and I'm turning into a girl."
"Better now than never, right?" Jon offers and Brendon chuckles.
"Come on, we better get going. Gerard is going to get more ridiculous from this heat if we don't."
--
When they get to Gerard's car, Brendon does a few of the typical checks and proceeds to try and turn the car on. When it doesn't kick over, he nods his head.
"Your battery's dead. That's not a big deal, we can just get one from another car."
"I had a feeling it was that," Gerard says as he opens the pink umbrella. He looks at it above his head and grins. "Did you do this on purpose?"
Brendon grins back. "Maybe."
"Don't think I won't be owning my pink umbrella, motherfucker," Gerard retorts, but the grin is still on his face. "Pink is my favorite color."
"And to think I knew you hated black," Jon drawls, and wraps an arm around his waist as his other hand still holds onto the umbrella.
"Whatever would've given that away?" Gerard asks, eyes wide and innocent.
"Dude, I still don't get why you're walking around in a fucking black hoodie. Didn't you ever do that experiment in elementary school where you took a potato and tried to see what color would cook it the best? You're wearing the number one attraction to heat aside from solar power panels."
Gerard giggles, and pulls the hoodie down to reveal a head of wet hair. He shakes it, sweat flying everywhere. "Didn't you know that black makes you look thinner?"
--
When they get back, Brendon helps Gerard find another shirt to wear, and they both began to look for a car that has a battery from the other houses. Jon decides to make something to eat, the heat and anxiety of the day suppressing how hungry he was until he got back to the house. He ends up making several different peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and even opens another can of ravioli in case Brendon or Gerard are hungry when they get back.
As Jon eats, he walks over to the second bedroom, glancing through the letters on the wall. He traces his fingers over the diaries, and picks on up to read the most recent entry.
If you should find this, don't be discouraged to read. I have left these behind in case someone would find them. May they open your mind like they have for me.
-RR
Jon sets the half-eaten sandwich down on the desk, and flips through the dairy. It's mostly filled with poems and lyrics, small samples of thoughts and feelings in between. Each entry is signed with two loopy R's.
He continues to look around the room, finding more photos of the previous tenants, Ryan and Spencer. He also discovers a photograph of Ryan and a girl sitting next to each other, looking out into the sunset. When Jon flips the photograph over, he sees the words etched on it 21st birthday with Keltie. Best day of my life.
When Brendon and Gerard come back into the house, their clothes are soaked. Gerard asks kindly if he can use their shower, and Brendon shows him where the bathroom is. When Brendon comes back into the living room, he plops down next to Jon, wiping away the sweat from his face.
"What's that?" Brendon asks as he brushes the towel through his hair.
"Ryan's diary," Jon mutters absently.
He feels Brendon lean against him for a moment, his lips brushing against Jon's shoulder before pulling back and discarding his shirt. "Isn't that invasion of privacy?" he asks in a causal voice. When Jon looks at him, he sees his eyes are avoiding.
Jon shrugs. "Not if he puts a note in one of the books encouraging someone to read it."
"Ah, okay." Brendon says. Jon continues to watch him play with his shirt absently. They don't talk for a while and Brendon stands up and rubs his eyes. "I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap."
"Okay."
Brendon leans over and brushes his lips against Jon's temple before leaving to the bedroom.
--
135 degrees, 12 days
When Gerard leaves, Jon feels sad. He lets Brendon walk him to his car, and watches through the windows as Gerard drives away. When Brendon turns around, Jon notices that his lips are turned down and there's a crease at the corner of his mouth.
"What's wrong?" Jon asks and instantly feels dumb. He knows that Brendon wants to go to the ocean and that he's been avoiding the subject since Gerard showed up.
"Gerard said that most of the main roads are blocked off and that it would probably take us the whole time left to get to the ocean." Brendon pauses, almost for dramatic effect. "He said we should leave now if we're going to."
"Gerard could be wrong," Jon reasons.
"But he could be right, Jon!" Brendon yells, his fists clenching at his side. "He could be right about the roads. What if they are blocked off? Don't you want to see your family? Don't you want to know where they are?" His voice is trembling and Jon hears something that makes his body coil in response.
Fear.
--
137 degrees, 11 days
Brendon starts to take small boxes to the car next door full of food and other resources that he think he'll need on the car ride. He doesn't talk to Jon or look at him. When they go to bed later that day, Jon hears the other bedroom door open and close, and he reaches out to the pillow next to him and pulls it close to his face.
It smells like Brendon.
--
140 degrees, 9 days
Jon walks into the other bedroom, and instantly he freezes. Brendon is sprawled across the bed the sheet hanging low on his naked hips. Jon licks his lips and walks over, sitting down at the edge of the bed. He lets his fingers trace over Brendon's hip, and squeezes the bone there until Brendon wakes.
"Jon?" Brendon asks, his voice raspy with sleep. Jon leans over and begins to kiss him feverishly, tasting the sourness of sleep in Brendon's mouth. Jon doesn't care, continuing to lap his tongue in Brendon's mouth, and shaking at the moan that emits between them.
He pulls back and begins to strip away his shirt, and looks down at Brendon beneath him, looks at the way he's panting with half-lidded eyes and a surge of heat spreads through him like something he has never felt before. Jon leans over and begins to kiss him again, moving down to his neck and collarbone, nipping until the skin changes color. Brendon hisses and gasps all at once, and it's so, so overwhelming.
They fumble a little, and when Jon is above Brendon, his spit-slicked fingers edging around the inside of Brendon, he lifts eyebrows to make sure. Brendon nods his head, his eyes fluttering shut as he whispers, "Please."
--
"I want to go with you," Jon breathes against Brendon's lips as he pushes inside. Brendon continues to moan, arching his back at the intrusion, but his eyes never fall shut. Jon rolls his hips slowly, finding the right pace and is surprised when he groans against the crook of Brendon's neck.
"I want to go with you because I think that I--" He stops speaking and pulls back, his eyes wide and unsure. His heart is racing in his chest and Brendon continues to brush his fingers up and down Jon's back.
"Me too," he whispers, cupping Jon's face and pulling him down to have their lips connect again.
--
142 degrees, 8 days
They pack everything up and leave the next day. Jon takes all of the diaries and as many letters as he can hold with him to the car. He doesn't know where to go and he doesn't know which roads to take, so he lets Brendon drive. The windows are tinted dark, a habit that most people got into when the weather started getting worse and the sun never went down.
When they get to the end of the driveway, Brendon stops the car in front of the house and looks at it for a long time. "I'm going to miss it," he whispers.
Jon looks down at the diaries in his lap and nods. "Me too," he whispers back.
Brendon turns and looks at Jon, smiling. "I'm glad I came here."
"Why?" Jon asks, and glances up at Brendon.
"If I hadn't, I would've never met you."
--
They continue to drive, Brendon humming under his breath. Jon finds it calming, and he continues to read the diaries one by one.
--
Brendon pulls over, deciding to take a break before continuing again. They both eat and drink as slowly as possible, wary of the amount of water and food they brought.
"You know," Brendon says though a full mouth. "I don't know if I'm scared or not."
Jon looks up and raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"
Brendon shrugs, pulling the crust away from the sandwich, small bits of jelly leaking over his thumb. "I mean, everyone talks about how if they want to die they want to die with those that they love, right?" He finishes swallowing and looks up at Jon. "I kind of agree with that. I'm not too hung up on dying."
Jon's cheeks rise with heat and he grins. "Me too," he admits. He sighs and closes his eyes for a second, before continuing to speak. "William was afraid of dying. He wanted me to die with him."
"Oh?"
Jon nods. "Yeah. We both fell asleep and when I woke up he had already...you know."
"Fuck," Brendon whispers.
"Yeah."
"Do you miss him?"
Jon bobs his head from side to side, giving the question careful consideration. "I used to." He looks up at Brendon and grins. "But they also say that when you love someone it's easy to let go of your demons."
Brendon smiles.
--
148 degrees, 6 days
It's harder to get to the coast when most of the roads are blocked off with cars that ran out of gas. Brendon takes different detours, and it makes them go more southeast than intended.
When they run out of gas, they siphon it from a few road-blocked cars and bring it back. When they get enough to get the car running again they keep moving.
Jon looks down at the counter on his wrist and rips it off. He opens the window and throws it out onto the street, watching as it smashes against the asphalt.
He's free.
--
150 degrees, 4 days
"Jon?" Brendon whispers. "Are you nervous we're not going to make it?"
They're in the backseat of the car, sprawled out as best as they can, their skin sticky. The car smells like sex and sweat, but Jon doesn't care. He keeps his eyes closed and finds Brendon's hand, lacing his fingers through.
"If we don't make it, I won't be mad."
Brendon settles back down on Jon's chest. "Okay. Neither will I."
--
155 degrees 2 days
The car runs out of gas and they stay still in the middle of the road.
"What should we do?" Jon asks Brendon. Brendon's knuckles are white from holding onto the steering wheel so hard. He keeps looking at the road. Tears start streaming down his face.
Jon reaches over and pulls him close to his chest, and lets Brendon cry.
--
158 degrees, 12 hours
"Tell me something about your past," Brendon whispers. His voice is shaky and he's clutching onto Jon tightly.
Jon mulls for a moment, and realizes that moments like this are non-existent. "I once knew a girl named Cassie who was taken away. Her family was a part of the underground movement your sister was in. She was smart and beautiful and had a great smile. I thought I was in love with her the first time I met her, but I wasn't."
"Was she brave?"
"Very."
"That's good."
--
160 degrees, 3 hours
"It's getting hotter," Brendon notes.
"I know."
Brendon pauses and sighs. "I'm kind of scared."
"Don't be."
"Okay."
--
180 degrees, 1 hour
"Brendon, let’s go outside," Jon suggests, and he pulls himself up off the backseat.
"Should we?" Brendon asks, his eyes wide. "We're naked."
Jon shrugs. "No one will see us. We only have a little bit of time left."
Brendon nods, and disentangles himself from Jon's body. They both put on their shoes and walk outside. The sun hurts, but Jon doesn't care. He walks over to Brendon and pulls him close. Tears prick his eyes and his shoulders shake.
"I'm so glad I found you." Brendon's whispers are muffled against Jon's chest. "I'm so glad that you're mine."
"I love you," Jon says softly, the words falling out of his mouth before he can stop himself.
Brendon pulls back and smiles, bright and maybe a little sad. "I love you, too."
Jon closes his eyes, and when he opens them, everything goes white.