beautiful lie (Brandon)

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"Hey, Charlie!" Dylan called to the bartender. "What time is it?" he asked as he drank his water, letting the alcohol leave his system.

"Six."

"Gotta go! I'll see you all on Monday" he said, grabbing his jacket

"you're gonna get caught, man! you think she won't find out? Wives are sneaky"

Dylan didn't even have a wife. He wasn't even straight. But Charlie didn't know that. Because telling him he was hiding the truth from his son? Oh, he knew it was pathetic. But it was the only way Dylan could think of to get out of there. He ignored the bartender and left, getting in his car. He should have been home a half hour ago, though. Damn. Dylan thought for a moment before driving to a nearby Chinese place. He knew Brandon wasn't too happy with him. Dylan had called up Oceana's dad and the man had pulled her right back to Toronto. But it was the right thing. and hey, maybe some chinese would help.

He came in the house with three bags of food. "I'm home!" he called to Brandon. "I got dinner. Sorry I'm late. Work ran a little late and then I decided to bring dinner. How was school?" he asked, setting the bags on the table. He had no idea that his cover had been blown. He pulled out some fried rice and orange chicken and looked up "Brandon?" he called once more

[Brandon Michalchuk]

He lied to him.

It wasn't so much that his dad became unemployed, or that sometimes he had the responsibility of a five year old, whereas Brandon sometimes felt much older. He had gotten rid of his girlfriend, which enraged him, but he would get over it. He always got over it. Every time they moved, every time Dylan pissed him off, he got over it. Because, despite all the faults and everything that frustrated the blonde teenager, he cared about his dad. And he liked being with him for some insane reason, unbeknownst to him. It was always just him and his dad and for most of his life, he didn't make friends easily. He barely had any, if at all, and so it was always still just him. So, he didn't get why he lied and he loathed that he did. After he had gotten the message, Brandon stayed in the living room, arms crossed over his chest. Where was he then?! If not at work, where did he go? Brandon leaned his back against the sofa, closing his eyes. It was when he heard the door that they snapped open and he stayed quiet where he was. He could smell the food and felt his stomach growl quietly, but that would have to wait. Food was going to have to wait.

Finally, he emerged from the living room after hearing his name again. His arms stayed crossed and he stared at his dad with a look of disapproval and disappointment at the same time. "You shouldn't start a conversation with a lie, dad," he said, quiet and calm at first, but he was ready to explode at him. He didn't like the lying. He wanted honesty. He wanted to be able to depend on him. He felt like he should have known. After all, he never said much about work and all his life, Brandon had known all about it. He grew up right alongside of his dad's career and as much as he really didn't like hockey and he wished that they could settle just once, he did like being involved. Sometimes he liked things a lot more than he led on and right now, he was pissed at him. "You got something you wanna tell me?" He added after a brief pause. Oh, of course he did! He had to. He wondered if Dylan would even get it. Part of him doubted it completely. He probably didn't know what was going through his head right then. But, he should. He should have known he'd figure it out eventually. That wasn't something that someone could easily hide.

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Dylan looked down at the food and back at his son. How was that a lie? The food was right there on the table! Physical, tangible proof. "I didn't" he said as he held up the pint of chow mein. "see?" he asked with a chuckle. "We still got soda, right?" He crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge, whistling. Dylan was in a good mood. He pulled out a mountain dew from the fridge and opened it, taking a swig. As he did, he heard Brandon's question.

"Uhm" he said, searching the table for the answer to Brandon's question. Was something wrong with the food? He searched the bags and then realized it. "I forgot cheese won tons?" he suggested. He really didn't know what he expected. His mind was the furthest place from being on his lie. His son sure looked upset with him though. "It's not your birthday already is it?" he asked, thinking he might have forgotten it. It wouldn't be the first time. Though, that happened years ago. Brandon was like four or five.

[Brandon Michalchuk]

Brandon stared at his father, in a way that probably resembled how he would look if an alien plopped down in front of him and started eating said Chinese food. He shifted his weight, arms folded, staring at him for a long second before replying. "Not what I was referring to," he replied. The food wasn't a lie. And he thought it couldn't be more obvious what the lie was, since, Dylan would know full well where the lie in this conversation was. Of course, he also figured he couldn't guess that he knew he was unemployed. As he walked to the fridge and returned, Brandon was silent and annoyed that he had to search for the reason he was talking the way he was. But, at the mention of a forgotten birthday, Brandon frowned, almost pouting.

"No, it's not my birthday. And shut up, I'm still mad about when you did." He retorted, sounding extremely childish for a moment. Of course, he'd just been a little kid, but it wasn't something easily forgotten. "You both did." He murmured under his breath. And quickly shook it off and resumed his glaring down Dylan, even trying to stand a little taller than he had been before, as if that was somehow going to help him reclaim authority. "I'll give you a hint, it's not the first time you've lied about it. In fact, you've been lying about it for a while now." He didn't want to come right out and say it unless he had to. Of course, he may just have to with as forgetful as he was being... He sighed, glaring him down again and waiting for a response.

[Deleted]

"---don't tell me to shut up" he said, shaking his head. That was just rude. Of course, Dylan was well aware that there were far worse things that Brandon could be saying to him. When he heard him mutter the word both, he cringed. He didn't want to talk about Brandon's dad. It had been years since either of them heard from him. He didn't want to think about him. And he sincerely hoped that the conversation would not be about him.

The hint left him stumped. He wasn't thinking about the working situation, because he thought he was uncatchable there. There's just no way he could have gotten caught. He looked at his son, thinking about it. What else had he lied about? He really couldn't think. "How about we play 20 questions? That might help" he suggested. Hey, it sounded good to him

[Brandon Michalchuk]

"You brought that up. I'll say shut up if I want to." Brandon replied. He wasn't feeling like he had any reason to tell him what not to do right then. He didn't tell him what to or not to do very often. And when he did, Brandon tended to forget that he was the one that was supposed to listen. He spent a lot of time lecturing his dad and trying to be the more mature one. So when the roles switched back to normal, he forgot that he was the kid and answered to him. But, in this case, he was owed the answers completely.

"Oh sure, twenty questions. I'll go first, when were you going to tell me you didn't have a job-- Oh wait, that's not how 20 questions work. Sorry, do over." He said, completely sarcastic and irritated, enough that he finally just told him what was on his mind. He couldn't play dumb with that. And really, he had to wonder if he was playing dumb or really didn't know what he was going on about. If there was any question before, there shouldn't be now.

[Deleted]

And, obviously, he was wrong. "....oh." he scratched his head. How the hell had he found out? Dylan had been careful. He had come home at times ranting and raving about a nonexistent coworker. He hadn't exactly filled in details, but he always made sure to remember what he said. Where had he gone wrong? He really didn't get it. But, he had no time to sit and analyse the situation. The look on Brandon's face was far from happy.

"Well....I lost my job. There--I told you. Let's eat!" and with that, he grabbed a plate from the cupboard. Did he think it would be that easy? Of course not. He was in trouble and he knew it. He was just trying to prolong the inevitable. Besides, it wasn't that bad. He could have done something much worse. So Brandon was silly to get mad. Yeah, that's right, he was silly. And he would tell him that. But not now. Now, Brandon looked ready to have a fit.

[Brandon Michalchuk]

"...Are you serious?" That was it? He confronts him and he answers like he really did just forget the damn won tons? He looked at him in frustration, glaring at his dad with an impressively cold look. "Are you fucking serious?" His voice got louder, more frustrated and he unfolded his arms really wanting to just strangle him. Well, not really but the feeling was... infuriating. "That's it?! That can't be it! Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded. He wasn't letting that be the end of it. There was no way he could do that.

"You owe me an explanation!" He felt like he was the parent again, yelling at a kid to tell him what happened. Even if he was far from a parent in this instance, he felt like he had every right to know. He needed to. He dragged him around and said it was because of a job, but if not, he didn't see the point of leaving. Especially not when he was happy somewhere and finally had a place. But it always worked that way, didn't it? The moment he settled, he had to leave. But at least there were valid reasons before.

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Dylan rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic." he insisted, when he swore at him. As a parent, he really should have gotten after the boy, but he didn't. Instead, he scoffed and picked up a carton of sweet and sour chicken. "You're just made because I sent your little girlfriend home." Technically, her mother sent for her. All he did was put her on the plane. But still, he figured that was what it was. He was angry that he couldn't be with her.

Actually, Dylan knew that Brandon hadn't wanted to move. The boy had put up a fight. But. Dylan was the one in charge. Despite what the boy thought. "Wah, I moved away from my girlfriend, wah she followed and my dad sent her home. I'm a drama king, wah" he mocked him. The yelling was getting rather annoying, so he thought the mocking was warranted.

[Brandon Michalchuk]

"You're avoiding the topic!" He exclaimed when he mentioned Oceana. Of course it hurt, because he missed his girlfriend. And he didn't see why he needed to remind him that she was gone. He didn't even complain that much about it. Her mom wanted her back and wanted her away from him. He hated it and didn't want to listen, but he didn't blame Dylan. He blamed him for leaving and making it seem like it was for a job that didn't exist. They could still be in Toronto! Then, the mocking started and he glared at him.

"Stop it! You don't have a clue what that's like!" He yelled back at him. If he did, he wouldn't be mocking him about her that way. "No freaking idea." He said, still glaring at him. "You're just avoiding the subject! Running away, again and again. Like always." He was upset and he wasn't going to calm down or just quiet because he was mocking. He could have a temper and he was perfectly fine showing it to Dylan.

[Deleted]

"Yeah, well...so?" he asked with a shrug. He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to eat. So, he grabbed a fork, picked up a piece of orange chicken, and popped it in his mouth. All the while giving Brandon a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it look. Yeah, he was defying him, but he didn't care. Then again, he shouldn't have to care. Because, he was the parent. But that fact escaped his mind. Brandon had put him on the defence, so he was acting according to his defensive age...which was apparently sixteen or so.

He swallowed his chicken and rolled his eyes when Brandon told him he had no idea. "You gonna cry now?" he taunted him. "Life sucks. Toughen up" He thought those were good, solid words of advice. Of course, his son might not agree. But Dylan was annoyed. And all he really wanted to do was eat dinner. Opening the carton of egg rolls, he took one out and started looking for sweet and sour sauce. He couldn't eat egg rolls without the sauce. Because, egg rolls were important while his son was yelling at him.