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Brandon Marsh didn't have a girlfriend. Most Phillies players were taken in some regard, whether girlfriends or wives, fiancées or lovers, but Brandon Marsh was alone; at least, he appeared to be. Although he would never admit it, Marsh was something of a romantic. He dreamt of old barn weddings, late nights staying up with movies, shared beds, and holding hands. Maybe it was stupid, which is precisely why he kept it stored in the back of his mind, reserved only for his restless nights where the only things awake were the moon and his thoughts.
He almost found it embarrassing to be thought of in such a way that went directly against his rugged appearance. He knew none of his teammates cared about his relationship status, and they wouldn't care if it changed, but Marsh would. Despite his love for the romantics, the thought of losing those feelings ached him to his core, or worse, his partner having lost those feelings for him. For just those reasons, he kept people he felt that connection with at arm's length. Never close, but never out of sight. The perfect level of discomfort.
Sometimes he thought there was something wrong with him. He rarely worried that keeping people at a distance might hold him back from happiness, but sometimes it crossed his mind. In his late-night conversations with himself, he pictured himself with the one he loved, and he had to admit it felt nice to imagine. But the idea was never convincing enough for him to believe that things would go right. There was always a "what if" that held him back. It was like that for every single person he'd ever felt something for.
Maybe it was because of his current shortcomings; he'd felt so judged for everything that he was currently doing, so why saddle it with more judgment? This month of Phillies baseball certainly hadn't been his best month, and people had made sure that he knew that. It put a pit in his stomach to disappoint people like that, but he wouldn't dare say anything; he wasn't the type to let things get to him, he was the type to shrug it off and power through. It was who he had always been. Somehow, brushing it off always made it just a little bit better. Especially when it came to his feelings about others.
So why was it that whenever he looked at his teammate, his roommate, he felt a pang in his chest that he had never felt before? A simple feeling that disturbed something in him so deeply that he had to sit in the bathroom for a solid five minutes just to keep his composure; to get rid of the nausea that he thought for sure was enough to send him kneeling over the toilet. He hated it, the knowledge that just locking eyes with a single person could send his stomach twisting and turning. Although when it first happened all he wanted was for it to be a passing phase, as weeks passed and nothing changed, he knew it was something that he couldn't disregard.
God, he hated it. He hated every car ride home where instead of talking his ear off, he would now blast the music on the radio as loud as he could. He hated waking up earlier in the morning to get his morning run in just so he could go alone, unburdened by constant peeking over his own shoulder just to make sure his sleepy roommate was keeping up with him. He hated going to sleep early so he wouldn't have to sit side-by-side with him on their couch. He hated that he would accidentally stare at him at batting practice and be forced to muster up a crappy critique on the fly to cover for himself. He hated that he thought of his best friend in any other context besides his best friend. He hated that he hated everything that he used to love. He couldn't seem to let these feelings of his go, and he hated it.
"Hey, Wally," a voice snapped Marsh out of his thoughts, and luckily it was just Bryson. "C'mon, you're up to bat man. You're not at batting practice to lean on the fence. But I know it's gotta be fun to watch me hit it out of the park." He popped his arm back and made a stupid swinging motion, accompanied by a little "pop" from his mouth. It almost made Brandon smile.
"I wasn't just leaning I was thinking about…gains."
"Th…the gains? Scratch that, don't wanna know. You're up." Stott hit the back of Marsh's head a couple times. He might've scrambled his brain back into place if it weren't for the cushion of thick hair acting as a layer of protection. He grabbed his bat and flipped it a couple of times while he made his way over to the batting cages, his head down as he walked.
He knew he would be there. Teammates usually stood by the batting cages as they waited for their turn up, it was nothing unusual, but Marsh wished it so. He refused to look up until he was facing the outfield, although it did nothing to shield him from what he was so obviously avoiding. It was bad enough hearing his voice on repeat in the back of his mind but hearing it in person had Brandon's heart beating a little too quickly for his liking. He wondered if he was talking about him.
No, he couldn't be doing this right now. He had a job to do, and he wasn't going to let a stupid crush distract him. He stepped up to the plate and changed his stance, bending his knees slightly and staring directly at the machine that would fling a pitch to him.
The pitch machine was nothing new to him, and he hated to admit that he liked the consistency of it. It felt more natural to him than any pitcher, although he knew it wasn't. It was just a comfort to him, to know that he could still hit despite his slump. But just as he was about to swing, a familiar voice echoed in his ear from behind him, distracting him so well that he didn't even remember to look at the ball.
That was the familiar voice of his roommate, the one and only Alec Bohm. Brandon thought he'd be used to this by now, and he should've been, but there was something about Alec's voice that flooded his mind like waves every time he heard it.
"Hey, Marshy, you know you're supposed to swing when the ball comes, right?" Bohm said, coupled with laughter from a few other teammates. Brandon could imagine the stupid grin on Bohm's face. It made his stomach twist into knots and his face flush a shade of pink. There were very few people in the world who could get into Brandon's head like Alec could, just another thing he seemed to hate.
He didn't say anything, just planted his cleats into the cold, morning dirt, and swung his bat over his shoulder with a small huff. He seemed to make it his personal mission to find a way around the lingering ache in his chest that found its way to him whenever he was around Alec. Anything besides confronting the problem at large would do, so for the most part, he ignored him. He wished both for Alec to notice and to not. It was a double-edged sword that he swung mercilessly, aware but unfazed by the apparent consequences.
He readied himself as he saw the timer on the pitch machine go down from five, and as it hit zero, quickly swung his bat and made contact with the ball. He felt relief flow down his spine momentarily, before the realization set in that, in any instance other than batting practice, his current hit would be nothing other than a double play. He grunted out of frustration and looked at his bat, whispering to it as if it would give him some sort of power. But alas, it didn't, and he swung and missed four out of his next ten pitches.
Dejected, he left the batting cages with a frown on his face, head down and gripping the bat like it were his lifeline. Slowly and wistfully, he made his way back to the dugout and gently placed his bat back in with the others, sitting on the bench to grab a drink of water. He wished so badly to get out of this funk he was in, to be able to make the plays he wanted to make in big moments like he had done just months ago. The only thing holding him back was the guy walking up to him from the batting cages.
"Hey, dude," Alec smiled and sat next to him, taking a quick sip of his water bottle. He had his hair up in this little ponytail, and his curls spilled out just above his neck. Marsh had never seen him wear that haircut before. It was different. He wondered if maybe he had done it to get him to notice, and suddenly Marsh didn't know if he wanted to walk away or scoot closer.
They sat there, and Marsh realized that he had never really been this quiet. He hoped Alec understood, maybe thinking that he was just having a bad game instead of having a crush on his roommate. Marsh hoped that wasn't a reasonable conclusion to jump to, but with his recent actions, maybe it would've been obvious to anyone. Nobody had approached him yet, but there was no telling who had been watching from the sidelines.
"Are we on for watching movies tonight?" Alec asked, putting his water bottle on the ground and turning ever so slightly to face Brandon. Aw man, he felt his face heat up. He hoped the redness from practicing in the blazing sun would disguise any redness from the blood rush to his head. He leaned away a bit, grabbing a water cup from the edge of the fence and downing it all in one sip. There was something wrong with him, and all he wanted was to be able to face his best friend like a normal person again.
"Sorry, man. I'm staying late with Casty tonight to work on catching." It wasn't a complete lie, but it was a lame excuse if nothing else. Thursday nights were their usual day off, so every Thursday Marsh and Bohm would sit in their living room and play stupid movies until they both passed out. It was a tradition they had kept since they moved in together, but since Marsh's newly found feelings had arisen from nowhere, movie nights had been put on pause. Realistically, Marsh knew there was no way around this for long, but a couple of weeks of late-night practice and he could delay the inevitable confrontation for just that little stretch. Maybe if he could control his feelings, they could go back to their stupid movies on the couch. Marsh would rather avoid it completely than admit that he missed it.
"You've been staying late a lot lately," Alec said. There was a pause before his sentence like he wanted to make sure his words were right. There must've been a lot on his mind, Brandon thought. It was moments like these where he thought there could be something between the two of them. He desperately waited for Alec to say anything else, but he didn't. He just stared into the field; eyes fixated on something off in the distance. It was then that Brandon realized that the only time he could get himself to even look at Bohm were the moments that Alec was looking away.
"It's just this drought that I'm in, ya'know? Just trying to fix it is all." Marsh adjusted his sitting position a bit, maybe moving farther away from Alec subconsciously. Arm's length.
"Yeah, I know. It's just…," but the words never came right for Alec, and so he kept his mouth shut with a little huff of frustration. Brandon Marsh was torn between curiosity and fear, wanting to know what Alec was thinking but also scared of the consequences. He didn't want to ruin his friendship with his best friend, although it seemed like that was exactly what he was doing. Truth be told, he was saving his friendship by keeping him at a distance. If Alec knew, things would just be awkward, which is exactly why he couldn't know. Eventually, Marsh would get over his stupid little crush, even if it took weeks. He was willing to wait it out. It was worth it to see Alec's stupid smile again and not want to jump off the four hundred level of Citizen's Bank Park.
"It's just…?" Brandon felt himself lean in a little bit. He felt as though he looked a little obvious, with his eyes wide in anticipation and his leg bouncing beneath him. He didn't want to press, but the thought of him having the chance to learn anything about the way Alec thought of him was too good to pass up. No matter what it was, he had to know. There was bliss in ignorance for most people, but not for Brandon Marsh, so he sat with his tail wagging like a puppy waiting for a treat as he waited patiently for Alec's response.
Alec looked opposite Marsh. "Nothing. I'll see you tonight." With that, he got up, grabbed his water bottle, and walked back into the locker rooms.
Brandon's heart dropped as he turned his body to watch Alec mope indoors. Sometimes, he wished he could just yell how he felt and have it be over with. He needed to know what Alec was going to say, to have some closure over his feelings, something to depend on at that moment. But there was nothing, and Alec Bohm had left him on the stupid benches of the dugout. Who's to say that Marsh hadn't done this to Alec plenty of times, just trying to avoid him? He felt an ache in his chest at the thought of it.
Hours later there weren't many people left at practice. Bohm had left about half an hour ago, much to Marsh's delight. He loved Bohm, but there was no possible way for him to be normal around him with his current feelings toward him taking up all his thoughts. Whenever he was around Alec, he felt trapped in his own mind, a feeling that wouldn't leave until Alec had left. He overthought every little thing he said and did like he wanted to be this perfect version of himself whenever he was around. It was ridiculous and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do to restrain himself.
He leaned against the back of the batting cages, far from any risk of getting hit, chatting it up with his fellow outfielder, Nick Castellanos. He had gotten along well with Nick, albeit he might be a little weird, but so was Marsh. They understood each other, despite being on opposite sides of the weird scale. Their conversation was going fine until they were interrupted by the sound of someone running towards them. Confused, Brandon turned around, just to be met with the annoyed face of Bryson Stott.
"Hey, Marsh. Can we talk?" Brandon didn't get a word out before Stott started talking. "Thanks, see you in the dugout." And as fast as he came, he was gone. With a small sigh, Marsh made his way back over to the benches to talk to his friend, a small, genuine smile on his face, thinking nothing was wrong. Something that quickly wiped from his face as he saw his friend's borderline-pissed expression.
"Whatever you did or said to Bohm, you gotta stop and go apologize." He was serious, something that Bryson hardly ever was with Marsh. It shook him up a little, to hear his annoyed voice in a quiet tone. It sounded like the quiet roll of thunder when the storm first started, almost like a warning sign to his ears. He didn't like to hear Bryson in this context, but what could he really do about the whole situation?
"Listen, man, I don't know what you're talking about." Brandon grabbed a little snack of beef jerky from the Gatorade side of the dugout and quickly shoved it down his mouth, trying his best to distract from the obvious shakiness of his leg.
"C'mon, man. I see how you're avoiding him," Stott interjected, grabbing the beef jerky wrapper from Marsh's hand and shoving it into his pocket. "It's not cool. He's been hung up on it all week, and he won't say anything about it to anyone. Just talk to him or something."
Brandon looked down. This is exactly what he'd been dreading. He didn't want confrontation about this, if he could just stall for a little bit more, he'd be able to control-
"I'm not playing around, Brandon. He's been worried about you. You're roommates for Christ's sake. Do you know how bad it is if you're not talking? No, you don't because you're ignoring him. And now you've got me involved, and now I'm stressed out because I have to be the one to deal with this. What is going on with you man?" Bryson was rambling, but it struck Marsh harder than any of his own thoughts. He finally realized how unfair he was being, both to Alec by ignoring him, and to himself by disregarding his own emotions. He gulped as he looked at Bryson, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat, but it didn't work.
Brandon was used to crying in front of his friends, but it was never about things that truly mattered. Usually, he'd find a stupid reel on Instagram about a sad puppy or something of that sort. He wasn't used to showing his raw emotions, and it felt suffocating. In an instant, he felt surrounded by his own emotions, drowning in his guilt. He had been holding everything back for so long, and it all suddenly rose to his mouth like word vomit. Or actual vomit. He wasn't sure which one would come first.
He looked down and tried to wipe his eyes quickly before Bryson could notice he was crying. Bryson always had some sort of way with people, it was as if he had a civic duty to comfort people. Right now, Brandon Marsh wished he didn't, because he was unable to stop the tears from flowing down his face, and he knew Bryson Stott was reading him like a book. He wasn't ready to even admit it to himself, let alone tell one of his closest friends.
"Hey, what's wrong man?" Stott's voice softened after seeing Marsh's cheeks tinted red from the tear marks as they only got worse, and small sniffles came out from behind the arm Marsh was using to cover his face. "You can talk to me. There's no one in the locker room, we can talk in there, 'kay?"
He desperately wanted to say that he was fine, to put on a little smile and to be overlooked, something that he seemed to get away with every time. It was a routine that he was used to, to be upset with something that seemed arbitrary to everyone else and then bury it deep down. He let it out in cries over his stupid sad Instagram reels and kept it in whenever appropriate. He hated being in this situation, where his true emotions were on display for Bryson to see. And as Bryson led him to the locker room with a hand on his back, all he could do was drop his head down and cry.
"Now, tell me what's going on with Alec." Bryson sat on a bench, looking up at the very obviously distraught Marsh.
He could feel his throat tighten with every breath he took; every expansion of his lungs pained his chest just a little bit more than the last. He didn't know what was wrong with him, and he didn't know how to fix it. Truth be told, he never was quite good at fixing things, just providing a distraction. Stott was always better at fixing things, at comforting people. He didn't know quite why he was so bad at making things right.
He took a deep breath. "I'm in love with Alec." It felt bad to say, although it was true. He felt his chest tighten with the stress of anticipation. After a few moments of silence, he wished he had never said it.
"…Alec? Like, Alec Bohm? Alec Daniel Bohm?" He paused for a second, and Brandon Marsh felt his throat sting even more than before. Just a little bit, he thought he was going to die. "There's not some other dude you've been seeing on, uh, Tinder, right?"
"Nope… just my roommate and best friend." He wanted to shoot himself. One more embarrassment and he would dive from the Ben Franklin Bridge. "And I, uh, haven't really told him…?" He nearly choked on his own spit, desperately trying to wipe away his sobs, but once they started, he knew that they had no chance of ending. He buried his head in his hands, hoping if he couldn't see Stott, he would just leave. Sadly, this was Bryson Stott, Friend of the Year candidate. Sometimes he hated that.
"I'm sorry, man." He slid his hand up and down Marsh's back gently, leaning down next to him. "I can't imagine being in that situation…" But Brandon Marsh couldn't muster a response. He couldn't afford the embarrassment that came with hyperventilating over a man in front of one of his closest friends. He took a deep, shaky breath and ran his hands over his face in an attempt to keep himself stable.
"You've gotta talk to him," Bryson said, still rubbing Marsh's back for comfort. He had always been good at this, at talking and comforting, something Marsh wasn't. He could make you laugh in situations like these, but he would never be able to fix the problem like someone like Stott could. He was envious, despite his own abilities, that he would never be like Stott. To him, it almost felt like Stott was better than him at just about anything. At baseball, at comforting, at being a friend to Alec. It stung something in the left side of his chest to think about, and although he would always give Stott his flowers, sometimes he wished for his own. But he knew he didn't deserve any flowers right now. There's not exactly a trophy for being a shitty best friend and breaking down in tears in the team locker room.
"…I know," Marsh replied in a hush, his voice nearly cracking. He leaned against Stott just a bit for both comfort and support. Support specifically because, well, Brandon was exhausted. He never knew how much this secret was putting pressure on his shoulders until he finally took the weight off. His shoulders hurt, his back ached, and he was in physical pain from keeping this to himself, for loving Alec Bohm in silence. He knew Bryson was right, that he did have to tell Bohm eventually, but he really wished it could be after he got his shit together.
Bryson took the next few moments of silence to let Marsh catch his breath. He looked like he was going to explode if he talked anymore, and Marsh was glad for the momentary silence.
"He's gonna take it well no matter how he feels. You two are best friends, Brandon. He wouldn't give up on that." This was the first thing to come out of Stott's mouth that Marsh didn't believe. Or at least, didn't want to believe, in a way. He knew that no matter how Alec took it or what he said, he would still be viewing Marsh in a way that he hadn't before, and that scared Marsh. He liked being in control of how people viewed him, from his outward appearance to his personality. He kept a certain image because if he could make certain people think of him in a certain way, nobody would be able to surprise him. The thought of anything stopping that sense of control disgusted him.
"I know it seems hard to believe," Stott started, and Brandon was sure that he could read his mind sometimes, "but you two have been through a lot. You can work through this."
Bryson Stott had a way of saying things that just made his words sound true. There was a sincerity in his voice that not many people had like he truly believed everything that he said. Brandon wasn't sure if it was that or the fact that he wanted Stott to be right that he believed him. Maybe he just wanted out of the stupid situation he was in, and his brain had finally found reasonable belief for an escape, but Stott being the one to point it out sure helped.
Despite being the same age, Stott ruffled Marsh's hair like he was a little kid, and it was comforting in an uncomfortable way. In moments like these, Marsh wished that Stott could've been the one who had to reject him instead of Bohm. Bryson knew what he wanted to say, he knew how to tell people bad things in a way that didn't hurt their feelings. He was very in tune with not only his emotions but others' emotions as well. It would be so much easier to be turned down by Bryson Stott rather than Alec Bohm, but maybe that was Brandon's need for control taking over.
"I'll tell Casty you're gonna head out and I'll drive you home, 'kay? I would just send you out, but I think your eyes are too fogged to drive." It was something of a joke, and it made Brandon take a little breath in, at least being able to find some humor in the situation.
"What about my car?" Marsh sniffed as he asked, turning his head to look at the keys in his locker.
"It'll be here tomorrow. You can just catch a ride with Alec." Bryson smiled and patted the top of Brandon's head reassuringly.
With a tiny smile, he moved away from Stott and stood up, the downpour of tears that were coming down his face now nothing but a few teardrops here and there. He kept his head down, of course, as he stood up and started to rummage through his locker, hearing Stott's footsteps walk towards the field mere moments after. Somewhere, deep down, he thought that things might be okay between him and Bohm. If Stott were to take that news so well and not think of him any differently, then why would his best friend? It was something he could get over, and he knew it, but he couldn't keep hiding it. Bryson was right, bottling up his feelings wasn't doing him any good and it was only making things in his and Alec's friendship worse. He had to come clean.
Moments later he sat in Stott's car, eating a tiny bag of fruit snacks that Stott had offered them on their way out. He was perfectly content to sit in the passenger seat, as he usually did whenever he and Alec carpooled. Well, at least at this point he did. In the early days of their friendship, Brandon would often offer to drive, just to swerve at nothing to freak out Bohm. That didn't last for long. Thinking back on it, Brandon never realized how much he had done just to see Alec laugh or get some type of reaction out of him. He realized that, even back then, he had felt something towards him that he didn't necessarily feel towards anyone else. He swallowed back the thought.
"Alright, you live pretty close, so I don't need GPS or anything." Bryson turned the volume up just a little bit, only to fill the silence in the car. Listening to the generic pop music made Brandon think of car rides with Bohm, but really that was nothing new. To be perfectly frank, most things made him think of Bohm. He just didn't like to admit that to people. Alec seemed to have found a way to invade his mind, and it embarrassed him endlessly. He hoped that he was wrong about Bryson being able to read his mind.
He fidgeted with the empty fruit snacks bag and listened to Bryson ramble the whole car ride home, something he wouldn't usually do. He was never very quiet. His mind was never empty, and he felt uncomfortable keeping all those thoughts in. It was even hard to keep down his feelings for Bohm, but that was a necessary action that he felt he had to take. There were so many times when he wanted to tell him. So many times, he would find themselves standing next to each other in the dugout, arms crossed over the fence, elbows nearly touching. He would stare at Bohm while Bohm watched something in the outfield, and all he wanted to do was push his hair behind his ear to see more of his face. But he would never let himself get too close. Letting their elbows touch was already too much.
He let go of the thought and focused more on what he was going to say to Bohm when he got home. It was still relatively early, and movie night wasn't completely out of the picture. Brandon wasn't completely sure that he could handle rejection during Brandon and Bohm's movie nights, but he knew he should say something sooner rather than later. Or, perhaps, he could sleep on it. He had been through a lot in the past few hours, months even, and maybe he deserved a little break. But then again, ignoring how he felt was exactly what got him into this mess.
He almost felt a little stupid, arguing with himself in the passenger seat of Bryson Stott's car. He knew that his internal disagreement stemmed from nothing but insecurity, of the nervousness of having to confess something he had been hiding so deeply. He knew that it wouldn't feel freeing, that the weight wouldn't suddenly lift off his chest the moment the words came out of his mouth. They never would. There would never be a right time to tell Alec Bohm the truth, but he still had to do it, and he couldn't expect anything back from Alec in return. Not even an answer. That's the part that scared him the most.
After about forty-five minutes of Brandon Marsh's half-listening to Bryson Stott's rambles, Bryson pulled up to Marsh and Bohm's shared house. It was nothing extravagant, despite both making well over the average person. If he was being honest with himself, Marsh had no reason to live with Alec except for the comfort of having somebody right next to him. He wondered if it could be anybody or if he only wanted it to be Alec.
As he was unbuttoning his seatbelt, Bryson put a hand on his shoulder. "There's nothing to be scared of man." And with that, he gave his shoulder a little pat and let go, turning his attention back to the front windshield.
Brandon gave Stott a little nod. "Thanks, Bry," he said as he opened the car door, slowly stepping out. He stared up at the house in front of him, at Alec's car parked in the driveway. He had the urge to take the keys, to drive it away and not look back. But he knew that he couldn't do that to Bohm, and he didn't want to do that to himself either. Every step he took toward his own house filled him with a spark of anxiety, which he found stupid. It was his house. There was no reason to be feeling like this. It wasn't like he told Alec that he wouldn't be home at all. And yet, still, the little voice in his head yelling at him to turn back only got louder with every step he took.
He reached into his pockets and searched around for his keys, a small "shit" escaping from under his breath as he came out empty-handed. Looking up at the suddenly giant feeling door, he wanted nothing more than to turn and run. Sweat started to build up in the cracks of his palms as he balled his hands into fists and knocked quietly on the door. Humiliation turmoiled through his body as he stuck his hands back down into his pockets, his head lowered parallel to the ground.
The sound of the door creaking open rang through his ears like the loud screech of nails on a chalkboard. Not necessarily in volume, but in impact. He felt like his ears were bleeding. "D'you lose your key again?" Alec asked, not at all shaken up from the encounter.
"Left 'm in my locker." Marsh shuffled his feet a little, eyes still focused on his shoes.
Alec looked past Marsh, staring off into the driveway for a few seconds. "Dude, where's your car?"
"Oh, Stott drove me home. I was just gonna drive it back tomorrow after the game."
"So, are we just Ubering to work tomorrow?" Alec moved a little bit so that the door was completely open, and he stood in the doorway, one hand leaning on the wall.
Marsh blinked. "Why wouldn't we just take your car?"
"You like to ramble to me in the car after games, and I don't feel like calling you in separate cars."
Something in Marsh broke from hearing that. He wasn't sure which part hit him the hardest, but soon enough he was biting his cheek and shutting his eyes so tight that he could feel his ears pop. The aching in his chest felt like he had been stabbed, and his emotions were piled up too much to hold back. He jerked his hand out from his pocket and swiped it against his eyes, choking back sobs. He couldn't look up at Alec. He knew exactly how he looked at this moment, and he couldn't bear it. It didn't make it any better that Alec wasn't exactly the best at comforting people. He stood there, tears forcing themselves out of his eyes, as Alec said nothing. The silence hung over the two of them like a heavy fog.
"You, uh… you alright?" Brandon wasn't entirely sure what to say. He wasn't sure if there even were any right words in this situation. He knew very well that he wasn't "alright", but more than anything he wanted to lie. Even after his conversation with Bryson, telling the truth would be enough to kill him. There was too much to be uncertain about. But he didn't have time to think about it anymore.
"I need to tell you something because I know if I don't do it now, I'll never do it. I really, really like you, and not just like oh you're my best friend, like, more than that. I don't know. I'm not good with words. You know that. You know everything about me. That's probably part of the reason I like you though. That and the stupid movie nights and the way that you'll still laugh at my jokes even though you tell me to shut up." Words come out of his mouth like vomit. He couldn't hold them down anymore. He felt so incredibly helpless. "And the way you get pissed at me whenever I drive and swerve to try and piss you off. It makes me laugh. You- I don't know. There's just something about you. There are so many things about you, Alec." He stifles a laugh and wipes his eyes with his arm, sniffling as he does. "God, I'm sorry man. I don't know what's wrong with me. I tried so hard to get over it, but I couldn't. I used to sit in the car waiting for you and just think about you. You're really all I think about. It's stupid, I'm stupid. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
Alec did the worst thing he possibly could've done; he stayed silent. He let Brandon stand there, a crying mess and didn't say a word. He took a small breath in. "Oh." His voice sounded too calm, too hard to read. It made him cry harder, feel his heart beating even faster, and feel pathetic for crying on his own doorstep. The worst thing was, the clouds were rolling in, and there was a brief jolt of lightning in the distance. Soon they would have to go inside, and they wouldn't sit on the couch together. It would've been the perfect night for Thursday movie night. He felt sick to his stomach.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't've said anything. I'm sorry, man," He hiccupped, desperately trying to keep his voice from cracking.
Thunder rattled the ground as they stood in silence. Marsh was sure he could feel a few raindrops drip down onto his arms, but he didn't care.
"Do you wanna, um, go inside?" Alec asked. Marsh simply shook his head, still staring down at his shoes. "Yeah, okay… we can just stay out here." Despite staying out there with him, the door still stayed open behind him, and he didn't move from his spot in the doorframe. Marsh could see the light from indoors in his peripheral, and although it was dimmed, he felt blinded.
Alec looked down at Marsh as he choked back a sob, his hands and arms covering his face. He felt frozen almost, taken aback by the sudden outburst of emotions. He had never been in a situation like this, and he wasn't particularly in tune with his feelings. What was he supposed to say to something like that? Were there any right words to be said at this moment? Constrained by his own contradictions, he stood like a deer in headlights, staring at his best friend in his most vulnerable moment.
"I'm sorry, Marsh…," Alec started off, and Brandon could already feel the punch to the gut. "…I-… I don't know what to say… I'm just sorry."
There were no words left to say. Millions of raindrops started to fall around Marsh, but Alec was kept safe from the small roof overtop of the entrance to the house. Brandon watched his shirt start to stick to his chest, but his body was too numb to feel anything. He finally lifted his head up to look at Alec, just to be met with a pitied expression. Alec had taken a step back indoors, his arms crossed against his chest as he and Marsh locked eyes. Marsh could feel more tears fall down his cheeks, but he was frozen in place. He felt like he had taken his last breath as soon as he finished his confession.
Alec looked away from Marsh and towards his own hand, fidgeting with his sleeve. "I'm gonna go lay down. Take all the time you need, 'kay…?"
Just like that, he was gone. They were gone. Marsh wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but this was definitely in his bottom five things he wanted to happen. Even though neither of them explicitly said anything, there would be no more Marsh and Bohm, and Brandon knew that. He knew there would be no more driving together to and from games, no more music blasting on the radio to piss Bohm off. No more Thursday night movies, no more early morning runs, no more of them. It hit him like a train to think about not having his best friend with him anymore. It hadn't even been a full ten minutes and he already missed the life he had before he said anything. He wished that he hadn't listened to Bryson, that he could continue to keep Alec at arm's length, at just the right distance to admire from. Now he wasn't anywhere in his line of sight, and he had the nagging feeling that he never would again.
Brandon slowly and carefully moved himself around so that he could sit down on the soaking wet front step of his home, looking up at the rain clouds as the water pelted towards the ground. The cold rainwater hit his face and dripped down from his eyelashes, masquerading as more tears. His beard was soaked now, sticking to his face and taking away whatever was left of the rugged look he had always attempted. Whatever remnant of outward toughness he once had had been stripped away by his own vulnerability.
He watched the flashes of lightning dance around the sky and resonated with the thunder that shook the ground underneath his legs. His clothes, hair, beard, phone, and whatever else was in his pockets were all soaked now, but he didn't focus on them. He just kept his head pointed straight up at the sky, his arms on top of his knees. Water fell from the tips of his fingers and onto the tops of his shoes. The sky seemed so beautiful, even when struck by the violent nature of electricity clapping against the ground, Brandon thought. Maybe he could sit out here for just a little bit longer, with the sounds of rain echoing loudly, silencing the thoughts that would've blared in his mind if he had gone indoors. Soon it was just Brandon Marsh, the rain, and the midnight sky. Maybe it was better that way.
A few minutes later, after the thunderstorm had passed, Brandon stood up and opened the front door to his house. He looked inside, just to be met with the emptiness of the living room. It was fine. He was fine. He walked into his room and quietly changed into some dry clothes. He stared at his wall for a few seconds, knowing that on the other side, Alec Bohm was sitting on his bed, obsessing about everything that he had said. He had a habit of doing it, and Brandon knew this would be no different. But instead of making the trek across the house to help him, all he did was lie down on his bed, his eyes still fixated on the wall next to him. He wondered…
Balling his hand into a fist, he knocked on the wall twice, the second a little louder than the first. Brandon lay still for a few seconds, staring at the wall in anticipation, but his expectations were met with silence, and then the sound of comforters shuffling on a bed. He turned himself around.
As he closed his eyes, the aching of his heart was the only thing to keep him awake, and he came to a bitter conclusion; he was all alone under a roof that sheltered two, and alone was all he would ever be.