Chapter Text
Brendon runs out of excuses much faster than he would have liked. They've been home for a month, and he's been busy. Busy organising and hiring and--and decorating, for God's sake, decorating children's rooms because Spencer asked him and as long as it meant he was too busy to go rooting through all of his possessions, no job was too small. But he's run out of excuses, now, and it was inevitable, really. At first, he'd told himself, "too soon." The onslaught of memories brought back just by Ryan's mention of the Christmas Present That Had Ended It All (as he liked to refer to it, now) had been daunting and Brendon didn't like being reminded of his own mistakes. He remembered all too clearly how unsure he'd felt, that first night with Ryan, and how that had morphed into resentment that Brendon had tried to hide with contentment. His excuse of 'too soon', however, had quickly proved to be a lie Brendon couldn't even fool himself with. He had a son, now, for crying out loud, and Brendon-- well. He was improving, both as a father and person. 'Too soon' was long past. This was not to say that Brendon didn't try other excuses, though, running through them in his mind-- too busy, can't find it, must have lost it, no point in looking, don't want to get hurt, don't want to see the object that made me lose my mind-- day after day, until they sounded stale and cowardly even to him.
Against all odds, when Brendon does find the box, it's an accident. He stumbles upon it in his search for Isaac's newborn clothing, things that he's promised Spencer as a donation for the orphanage. Nevermind that he's already donated his life to the orphanage, he grumbles unfavorably, before catching himself and mumbling that he's happy to have done it, because he is, he's just cranky right now. Behind him, someone chuckles.
"My knees hurt," he whines shifting his weight from one to the other before settling back on his haunches. He's pulled out countless boxes in his search, Spencer and Jon going through their contents in the middle of the hallway only to inform him that most of them contain his clothes. Jon, he can see, is thoroughly annoyed, and Spencer's lips quirk up at their bickering.
"I just--" Brendon flails a bit, exasperated, "I can't remember where we put his baby clothing. If it was in a closet or in the attic, the basement, the garage..?" he trails off thoughtfully, ignoring Jon's annoyed grumbling about too many goddamn closets. With a huff, Brendon is digging through the seemingly never ending closet once again, wondering how in the world he managed to acquire so much stuff, and that-- that is when he finds it. With one hand supporting him on the wall and the other having shoving aside a bag of something (flip flops, he thinks, and would smile at Jon's obsession if he weren't so preoccupied), it takes a minute before he can register exactly what it is he's seeing, but when he does, he sits back abruptly, clearly shaken.
"Find something?" Spencer asks quietly, moving closer to peer over Brendon's shoulder. "What's this?" he chuckles, reaching for the small box. "Looks like someone lost a present. Do you know who--"
"Mine," Brendon cuts in. "It's mine."
Sitting in the middle of the hallway, Brendon turns the box over, his hands shaking with the reality that he's finally going to see exactly what Ryan had wanted to surprise him with all those years ago. Uncomfortably aware of his best friends' stares, Brendon looks up with a reassuring smile and ready to deliver a half-lie as explanation, but Spencer beats him to it.
"Isn't that..?" he purses his lips, eyebrows drawn together, as if trying to remember something important. Before he can come up with anything, though, Brendon's pushing himself up to his feet.
"I'll.. be in my room," he announces, turning away before either of them can say anything and shutting himself in his bedroom. He knows that, despite their curiousity, they know when to leave well enough alone and won't come looking for him or require answers to their unasked questions. Sitting on the bed, Brendon opens the small box before he can think about it too much. He's bound to turn it into something it's not; something frightening, instead of what it actually is; a fairly innocuous gift.
What he finds inside surprises a smile out of him, but the knot in his throat tightens despite his relief. Picking up the small leather string with trembling fingers, Brendon brings the pendant closer. The Lover's Knot, he thinks, swallowing heavily. He knows Solomon's knot well, having seen it on paper and in old architecture, and he remembers having read it's symbolism somewhere. Brendon tries to ignore the memories it holds; a time he's come to think of as his worst. Before he can decide against it, Brendon slips the leather around his neck, and takes a deep breath. He can do this. He's just a few years late. He takes another breath, stands up, and walks out of his room.
"Okay," he says, smiling at Spencer and Jon, still standing in the hallway and speaking softly to each other. "Where were we?"
Spencer's eyes flicker down to the necklace around Brendon's neck, but he doesn't say anything. Just smiles, says, "find me some baby clothes!" and that's that. Brendon grins and gets back to work. He'll call Ryan later.