Chapter Text
December 17th, 2005.
Wilson Wright and Brando Hawke have been boyfriends for a month now.
Brando picks up Wilson at his small Texas house. Wilson gets into the truck, cheeks red from the cold, and his coat fully wrapped around him. His hair is all messed up from the beanie he was wearing. It's cloudy outside, but they both agreed on this exact date for a picnic.
They get to the park, set up everything, but Brando leaves one thing in the basket. The trees around them add the perfect amount of scenery, children laugh loudly on the playground.
“Wilsonnn, I have a surprise for you…” Brando says while pulling out around 20 chocolate strawberries.
“Wow Bran… This is aweso—” Wilson starts to say but then notices what Brando pulled out and gasped “You remembered that I love chocolate covered strawberries!”
“Of course I did, Wilson. You said it like a week ago when I mentioned the idea of making a picnic.” Brando says, giggling like a little kid in a toy store.
Brando insists on feeding Wilson a strawberry. Wilson opens his mouth wide and lets Brando feed it to him; he gets some chocolate on the corner of his mouth, right where his smile tugs — the smile Brando loves. Brando smiles back. Wilson notices that Brando is holding back a laugh.
“Brannnnn.” Wilson says, drawing out the last letter of Bran’s name, doing his best to be flirty. “What are you laughing at?!”
Wilson continues, practically giggling after every word. Brando licks his finger and reaches towards Wilson to wipe the corner of his mouth. Wilson stares at Brando, so embarrassed that his face turns a bright red.
“Bran, you could have told me! I would have wiped it myse—“ Brando cuts Wilson off by giving him a small kiss on the lips, short and sweet.
Wilson’s eyes meet Brando’s, looking back and forth between the right and left eye. They both cough and look around, trying to make the moment less awkward.
“Did you really just kiss me…?” Wilson says, hiding a sweet sounding giggle.
“Um,” Brando says, smiling. “Maybe.”
“You did!!” Wilson says, reaching his hand over Brando and practically tackling him.
They both giggle uncontrollably while they try and wiggle out of the other's arms. Wilson somehow ends up on top of Brando, the curls on Wilson's head falling down and covering his face. They both get up and Brando stifles a laugh.
“Do you want to go to the high school football field? It’s right around the corner,” Brando asks.
“Yeah sure! I brought my guitar. I can play some songs that I wrote for you. I mean… I just wrote about stuff in general, they are definitely not just about you…” Wilson says, almost stammering.
“Wil, of course you can play.” Brando says excitedly. “I love hearing you play, even if you don’t do it often.”
It’s something that makes his stomach flip. Wilson looks at Brando, and laughs, a real genuine laugh. Wilson bends over to start packing everything up, while Brando looks at each and every curl on Wilson’s head.
“Come on Bran! It’s almost dark!!" Wilson says giggling, while running to the truck.
Brando follows behind him, looking towards the horizon. Brando gets into the car, sliding into the driver's seat. They drive for about a minute, halfway through the drive, Brando hesitates at first but reaches out his hand for Wilson to hold. Wilson looks up, surprised.
“Brando, a-are you sure? You have been very affectionate today. Is everything okay?” Wilson says, very confused.
Brando slowly nods, comprehending Wilson’s question, the slow nod becoming a faster one the more sure he gets.
“Yes, Wilson. I’m sure, and everything is okay, I promise.” Brando says, reaching his hand out further.
I want to kiss him, but what if he doesn’t want me to? Brando thinks.
After studying Brando’s face, Wilson’s hand reaches out with no hesitation. The more time they sit holding hands, the tighter their hands become; almost like they don't want to let go.
They park the car in the high school parking lot, both of them getting out at the same
time. They walk onto the field, holding hands. This is the first time they felt like a real couple.
“Wow, Bran. It's so cold!!!” Wilson says, astonished.
“Nothin’ beats a Texas winter.” Brando says, while sitting on the freshly cut grass. Wilson sits down next to him, legs crossed. They stare at the sky, admiring the light gray color, then stare at each other. They inch towards each other, hesitant because they don’t know how to kiss.
This will be the last kiss of the night… right? Wilson thinks as their lips meet.
They pull away but Brando looks almost desperate, as he quickly goes in for another one, trying to find a way to hold Wilson. But Wilson is left there, eyes completely open, surprised, shocked, and almost terrified. Brando is almost on top of Wilson now, and he still hasn't moved.
Noticing he didn’t move at all, Brando pulls himself off of Wilson. Brando slowly pushes himself to his feet, whispering “I’m so sorry” before running away. Wilson sits in shock as Brando slams the truck door so loud Wilson can hear it from the field.
Wilson was left there, alone, fifteen minutes away from his house, and that's only by car. He thinks about how long it would take to walk, and he will not walk alone at night. He spots the guitar he brought, still in its case and propped up on the bleachers—the guitar he was going to use to sing the love song he wrote about Brando.
“Fuck,” Wilson says out loud.
He remembers the flip phone he got for his birthday. He starts to cry but calls his mom.
“Mom.” Wilson says, voice breaking.
“Hey bab—Wait Wilson,” Wilson's mom says, worried. “What's wrong? Where are you?”
“Brando left me at the school football field…” Wilson says, wiping his tears, trailing off without knowing what else to say.
“I'll come get you. Give me fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes pass and Wilson sees headlights. He walks to his mom’s car, carrying the guitar. He sits in the backseat. The quiet ride home seems long.
They finally get home and Wilson instantly tries calling Brando on the landline, nothing. Then again. Still nothing. Wilson wonders what he did, or if he was a bad kisser. His eyes teared up again at the thought, but he clears them with his sleeve.
Wilson eats dinner with his mom and dad. Half way through their meal, the phone rings, and Susan gets up. She walks over to the phone and checks the Caller ID. Seeing Brando’s family number, she presses the button to hang up. She presses the button to turn it on and lays the receiver down on the counter to tie up the line..
She makes him hot cocoa, his favorite. “When did he leave you, sweetie?”
“Almost five minutes before I called you” Wilson admits, tearing up.
“No. No. Don't cry” His mom says, rushing to calm him down.
“He kissed me and left…” Wilson says, closing his eyes out of guilt.
“That kid…” Susan says, sharply.
“I’m just going to go to bed,” Wilson says, walking up the stairs and quietly shutting his door. He practically falls onto his bed, covering himself in the blanket, crying himself to sleep.
The next day Wilson wakes up to no calls or emails—nothing from Brando. He stares out the window.
Maybe I did something wrong… What if I kissed him back? What if I didn't sit down the way I did?
Wilson lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating his life. He hears his mom and dad laugh downstairs. A pain in his chest appears, knowing he just messed up his first and probably last relationship.
Wilson’s mind is going through every possible way to get his feelings out.
What am I going to do? Bran left me. Should I write a song?
He goes downstairs and makes a bowl of Lucky Charms, Brando’s favorite. He goes back upstairs and strums chords in between bites. As he got a bit of just oats, an idea for lyrics pops into his head. The song comes together quickly, and he records a demo to post to MySpace.
For the first time since being left at the field, he feels a weight lift off his chest.
It’s hard not having Bran around, but hopefully it's for the best.
Wilson thinks, but his brain is struggling coming up with anything right now. He sits at the computer and listens to the demo he just posted.
The page reads “0 views”. He sighs, hoping Bran might’ve seen it. He opens his chat with Brando on MySpace and types out a message saying:
“Hey. I'm so sorry that I didn't kiss you back, I was just surprised that you did it a second time. I promise I wanted to kiss you. I want to be with you, I just want to take it slow. We can meet up at the cafe on Hill Street tomorrow if you want. I’m sorry Bran.”
But he deletes it.
He tries writing the message over and over, but is not pleased with any words he chooses.
Brando will never ever forgive me. Wilson thinks, thoughts roaming in his head. He leaves the chat open.
He crawls onto his bed, and stares at the light that is coming from the computer on his desk. Brando's status says:
branhawke3: offline