Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Brandon sat in class, watching Rupert as he went on about photography. If Brandon was being honest, he couldn’t care less about photography as a whole. He really couldn’t be bothered to care about much. But it was Rupert that piqued his interest. Brandon had his pen in his mouth, biting it every time Rupert said something that set him off. Most of what he said was normal, what was expected of him. And yet he still found ways to sneak in his buried persona underneath, snippets of the truth slipping into his vernacular almost effortlessly. No one really listened to him besides Brandon. No one knew exactly what he was really talking about besides him. All the girls had too much of a crush on him to really listen. Because Rupert Cadell was exceedingly handsome. His eyes were an inviting light blue. His hair curled at the ends, at least anyone who saw him without it slicked back would know. And it was a lovely chocolate brown. His smile could disarm anyone. Rupert Cadell was perfection itself, everything Brandon ever hoped he could be. And so he watched intently as the master worked on his façade, keeping up appearances as he taught their photography class.

“Alfred Hitchcock famously called film ‘little pieces of time’. But he could be talking about photography, as he likely was. These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and in our sorrow; from light to shadow; from colour to chiaroscuro.” He paced around the room, looking at each student expectantly. His eyes might have lingered on Brandon for an extra second or two. He bit down on the pen cap, watching his teacher from the back table, behind Victoria Chase. She always liked to sit closest to Rupert. Desperate whore. “Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?” If Brandon was cheeky he would say Rupert. But he couldn’t do that, so he just waited, his eyes watching with almost a hunger in them as his teacher leaned back against the table, waiting on a response. “Anybody? Bueller?”

Victoria’s hand shot up, and she didn’t even wait to be called on before giving her answer. “Diane Arbus.”

Brandon’s phone went off. A text from Nathan. He was going off about something like the paranoid freak he was. At least Brandon was able to contain his fucked up brain. It was a string of incoherent babbling, and Brandon simply replied with ‘take your meds and get back to me in 20 minutes’. Because if Nathan just took his meds he wouldn’t be such a fucking lunatic all the time. Or, he just needed to get better at hiding it, which is what Brandon did. Everyone at school knew that at least one of the Prescott children was fucked in the head, but what they didn’t know was that both of the brothers had inherited the mental illnesses prevalent to their family line. Bless their mother’s genetics for beating out both of their fathers and reigning supreme. But that was another touchy subject, the half-brother status of Brandon to the rest of the Prescott family. It was so touchy that at school and in most of his life he still went with his birth father’s last name, Shaw. Everyone knew he was Nathan’s brother, but no one really acknowledged it if they didn’t have to, especially the Prescott parents.

“There you go Victoria! Why Arbus?” Rupert said, pulling Brandon’s attention back to his teacher. He had said it with such gusto it felt forced. But maybe it was because he was just toying with her. It was obvious to most everyone what a crush she had on him, but the joke was on her, because even if she was legal, Rupert couldn’t care less about her or any girl at this school. At least not sexually.

“Because of her images of hopeless faces. You feel like totally haunted by the eyes of those sad mothers and children.”

“She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly, it’s bullshit.” He began to look around. “Shh, keep that to yourselves.” Rupert looked around at the class, but his eyes were faraway, thinking of something else. “Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner and capture you in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn’t that too easy? Too obvious?” He slammed his hand against the table he still leaned on. “What if Arbus chose to capture people at the height of their beauty or innocence?” Brandon was going to chip a tooth if he bit down any harder on his pen cap. Fuck, he was almost getting hard in his seat. And Rupert probably knew that, pointedly not looking at him. Not giving him anything.

But his big speech was interrupted by someone bursting in suddenly, slightly out of breath, looking like the definition of a nerd, only missing the glasses. He was wearing a short sleeved dress shirt with a sweater vest over it, and his face looked like he had barely gone through puberty, still retaining baby fat as it was all smooth, no sign of a jawline to be seen. He looked around, holding a disposable camera in his hand and gripping his messenger bag strap with the other. “Um, I’m sorry, this is photography class, right?”

Rupert tilted his head at the intruder, taking him in a bit. Brandon eyed him too, trying to guess his height. From here he didn’t look very tall. He was the definition of meek. Slight. Small. “Yes, are you supposed to be in this class?”

He nodded a bit. “Yes, I’m Phillip Morgan. Um, I was in the wrong classroom. I finally figured it out when they pulled out economics textbooks. Sorry I’m late.”

But Rupert was a nice guy when he wanted to be, so he just nodded and gestured to the tables. “Well, don’t make a habit of showing up late and we won’t have a problem Mr. Morgan. Please, sit, join the conversation.”

He nodded and made his way towards Brandon, one of the few open seats being right next to him. He settled down into it and looked almost sheepishly over at Brandon. When Brandon met his gaze, he waved, this smile ever-present on his face. Like he only found joy in life. It was frankly weird. And then Brandon looked at the disposable camera in front of him. Out of any and all cameras someone could possess, he came into a photography class with one that probably cost less than ten dollars at the pharmacy. Not that Brandon cared about photography, again, he was here for the man behind the shutter, but still. Even he had something halfway decent. Across the room Max Caulfield’s camera went off, taking a photo of herself, pulling Rupert’s attention to her. That started a question on the chapter. And of course Victoria the wishes-she-could-kiss-Rupert’s-ass spoke up when Max didn’t know the answer. Brandon rolled his eyes, pulling his pen from his mouth, over all of this and ready to move on with his day. They kept going for a bit, but then the bell went off, and they were free.

As everyone started to put their things away and leave, Rupert stood from the table, speaking quickly before everyone left. “Guys, don’t forget to submit a photo in the ‘everyday heroes’ contest. I’ll fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you’ll be feted by the art world. It’s great exposure and can kickstart a career in photography. So Stella and Alyssa, get it together. Taylor, don’t hide, I’m still waiting for your entry too. And yes Max, I see you pretending not to see me.” Brandon couldn’t be bothered to care about a career in photography, but going to San Francisco with Rupert, no one around to stop them, it fuelled him to do well in this. He had already submitted his photo, and it was nothing special, but hopefully everyone else would avoid it like it sounded like they already were. He would be a shoe-in as long as no one put any actual effort into their entry.

Brandon gathered his things and took off, knowing that Victoria was going to bother Rupert, so he figured he could just leave now and get something productive done. As he left though he felt himself being watched. He turned to see the sweater vest waiting at the door to the classroom, but he was looking at Brandon as he left. When he saw Brandon looking he waved at him, with that easygoing smile on his face. Brandon didn’t wave back, only staring. Then he turned, rolling his eyes as he checked his phone. More nonsense from Nathan. Brandon texted him to take his meds again and headed outside. And he was barely down the front steps when the fire alarm started going off. He turned back to watch students begin to file out, and then Nathan emerged, looking like the noise was overwhelming him a lot more than anything else.

Brandon cut him off, not touching him but holding his arms out. “Nathan, relax, the noise isn’t going to hurt you.”

But Nathan shoved Brandon away, pressing his hands to his ears, “just shut up and leave me alone Brandon!”

“Well, I try to be nice and this is the thanks I get? How generous of you, brother. Next time you have a problem, take your fucking meds and get over it.” He walked away, heading to the other side of the fountain in front of the school, settling down on its edge to read a little bit of philosophy. He was partial to Nietzsche, but that wasn't saying much. He lit a cigarette and began to read, letting the afternoon sun pass across his face as he was partly in shadow from a nearby tree. Smoking wasn’t really allowed on campus, but Brandon didn’t care. And besides, his family practically owned the place, so they weren’t really going to do anything about it if he was caught.

Then Principal Wells' voice came over the loudspeaker, calling Nathan to his office. Ooh, maybe he had pulled the alarm. Probably for attention. God he was so annoying without his meds. Hell, he was annoying with his meds. But either he was a loud annoying or he was a walking dead annoying. Brandon continued to mind his own business, getting absorbed in Nietzsche, but then he heard the telltale click of a disposable camera. He looked to the source of the noise, seeing the poindexter from photography class as he held his camera up, the clicking noise coming again. But he lowered it when Brandon met his eyes.

He waved, as if he wasn’t just taking photos of him for no reason. Brandon closed his book and put out his cigarette. “Can I fucking help you Phillip Morgan?” He wasn’t going to be nice to him. He didn't see any reason to. The easiest way to control someone of his size would be intimidation. But it was as if Phillip didn’t hear the malice in his voice.

“Well, not anymore, you moved.” He approached with what looked like a genuine spring in his step. “See, I’m taking photography as an elective, I’m really a music guy, piano specifically. And so I’m trying to get better at photography. I really like taking candid photos, capturing people in their element. With the way the sunlight was on you and how laid-back you looked I couldn’t help myself. But I can give you the photos when they develop if you don’t want me to have them.”

Brandon watched him speak and he wondered how someone could just ooze joy. It almost made him nauseous. But he buried his disgust, giving Phillip a fake smile. “Well, isn’t that sweet? Sure, I’ll take the photos. And in the future, stop taking them of me. Now if you don’t mind I was actually doing something productive, so why don’t you go find a way to do the same.” He pulled his book back up, but Phillip stayed hovering above him. He tried to ignore him, but then he spoke again.

“If you don’t like photography then why are you in the class?”

Brandon's eyes peered over his book at Phillip. “None of your business.”

The smallest semblance of a frown seemed to pass over his face, which was something considering Brandon thought he was incapable of not smiling 24/7. “I’m sorry, have I offended you?”

“You’re offending me by continuing to try and hold a conversation with me.” Phillip put his camera into his messenger bag and began to twist the straps of his bag with his hands. Brandon’s eyebrow twitched. He slammed his book down on his lap. “What?!”

“I…never got your name. I’ll need it to give you your photos in the dormitory.” He hesitantly held out a hand as if to shake, and his smile tried to drift back onto his face, hopeful he would get some sincerity out of Brandon. Unfortunately for him Brandon was anything but sincere, in everything he did.

But he humoured him, if only for a moment. He held out his hand, grabbing onto Phillip’s in a tight grip. “Brandon Shaw, otherwise known as the bastard son of the Prescott family.”

“I’m Phillip Morgan, and Max Caulfied is my twin,” was his reply.

Brandon scoffed. “Are you sure about that? Aren’t twins supposed to have some kind of resemblance to each other?” Max looked frankly nothing like Phillip, besides the fact they were both pale white people.

“Well, Irish twins, in a way. We’re step siblings, but we were born on the same day and same year, so I always called us twins.”

Brandon let go of Phillip’s hand, not hiding the eye roll this time. “How quirky. People must love your sense of humour.”

Phillip just stared at him for a second, trying to gauge something in Brandon. Whatever he was looking for though, Brandon ensured he would never find it. Then Max Caulfied was passing by the fountain, and Phillip’s attention was gone from the boy sitting on the ledge. “Hi Max, where are you off to?”

“I have to head to the dorm and grab a flash drive for Warren,” she responded, putting away her phone as she sent off a text.

“Oh, I’ll tag along, I think I can get enough shots at the dorm to finish the roll.” He turned to leave with her, but then he just as quickly pivoted back to Brandon. “Do you stay in the dorms or should I bring the photos to your house?”

“Bring them to the dorm,” Brandon said, standing to leave.

“Alright. Nice meeting you.”

Brandon didn’t respond, only scoffed as he put his book away, heading in the opposite direction to Phillip. God that guy was pathetic. But there was something about him that Brandon could maybe grow to like. Because if he was this eager to possibly befriend him, Brandon could use that. Be nice to him, lure him in, get him to do his homework. Or he could just beat the shit out of him for fun. Make his soft face a little hard with a well placed bloody nose.

He passed a bulletin board filled to the brim with posters. Missing person posters of the one and only Rachel Amber. Everyone wondered what had happened to her. But only two people could tell you what had transpired, and Brandon Shaw was one of them. In truth it was an accident, one that Brandon paid for by not being able to sit down for a week. But in the end, it had only solidified Brandon in his beloved’s eyes. It had been a pain in the ass, literally, to deal with. But it was done, and they moved on, and her binder was complete. Hers wasn’t the best, but it was the biggest. Brandon hoped that his could surpass it soon. Maybe he should hit Rupert up tonight. Give him something to look forward to this weekend. Besides, Kate wasn’t going to be such an easy target anymore, after that video had gone live. They needed to move to someone else. And neither of them wanted to move to Victoria.

Brandon knew that Rupert had his eye on Max Caulfield for a while, apparently she was a great photographer. She seemed like a pushover. She was skinny as hell. Brandon could easily overpower her, almost as much as he could Phillip. But Brandon had no desire to flirt with her. Besides, she seemed like kind of a dyke anyway. That was always the most annoying part, Brandon getting close to whoever Rupert wanted, so they could get them alone and back to the Dark Room to be photographed.

Brandon had been wandering, and he found himself at the diner. He went in and ordered a coffee, knowing that he would need his energy up if he was going to reach out to Rupert tonight. The things he did with him, whether for his grand plan or for fun, they always involved a delicate balance. And now that Brandon was a legal adult, at least they didn’t have to be as subtle. But he was still his teacher, so at school nothing could be out of the ordinary. Although, with how much he teetered on the edge of saying what he really wanted to, Brandon figured they could get away with it. Unless Victoria was around. He drank his coffee and pulled out his burner phone, sending off a text to test the waters. It had been a hot second since Rupert had picked anyone to photograph, and Brandon had a feeling that he would bring it up tonight if they did get together. He had to be ready to feed his ego as well as his appetite. Brandon was never one to stroke anyone’s ego besides his own, but that was Rupert for you. He was the only exception, always. So much so it almost shocked Brandon how much he would be willing to do for him, and already had done for him. But he couldn’t explain it, he just had something within him that drew Brandon close. Left Brandon craving more. His phone buzzed, and Rupert had responded. He was in. Brandon smiled as he paid for his coffee, heading back to his dorm to drop off his stuff and freshen up for tonight.

As he headed back to the dorms though, he ran into Nathan getting escorted somewhere by security. He had a scratch down his cheek from someone’s sharp nails. Brandon let out a chuckle, starting to walk backwards to keep pace with them. “And who did that to you?”

Nathan only growled at him. “Stupid fucking Caulfield with her stupid fucking nails.”

At the mention of Max Caulfied Brandon stopped, letting them pass as he watched them go. He traced his hand down his own unblemished cheek. Maybe Max Caulfied was tougher than he first assumed. No matter, when it would come down to it he could take her. He continued on to the dorms, opening his door and letting his bag be thrown onto the couch. But as he exited he was met with none other than Phillip Morgan exiting the room right across from him. And he waved excitedly, despite being no more than five feet from Brandon. He just stared until he stopped, then was on his way. God, what was this guy’s deal? Brandon was back outside, getting off campus as he headed to the designated meeting point Rupert would usually pick him up from.

As he pulled up in his car, Brandon rose from the bench he was sitting on and tapped on his window, prompting him to roll it down. Brandon leaned on the sill, like he was a prostitute trying to turn a trick. “Got room for one more in there?” He smiled, a charming smile, an illusion that Rupert could see right through. They could both see through each other like glass, and it thrilled Brandon. He bit his lip as he waited for his reply.

Rupert reached up, running his thumb over Brandon’s lip. “I think there’s some space. Or I could just shove you in the trunk.” He gestured with his head, guiding Brandon around the car as he slid into the passenger seat, immediately adjusting it back, letting his body drape over it, almost waiting to be photographed already. They started to drive back to the Dark Room.

“So, I can tell you’re ready for a new subject,” Brandon said, watching the sun set over the bay, the sky turning red. “The question is, who?”

Rupert laughed a bit, driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting over the gear shift. Brandon watched his hand as he rubbed across it, his fingers tracing it seductively. He bit his lip again before he peered across at his teacher, waiting. “Funny you should ask. I think I’ve decided on the perfect subject. But I’ll tell you about it after, we have more pressing things to take care of.”

“Oh yeah? How pressing?” Brandon reached out, grabbing Rupert’s hand on the gearshift, pulling it off as he guided it across to where he was sitting, settling it onto his quickly tightening pants.

Another laugh, Rupert squeezed a bit, eliciting a pleased moan from his student, then he pulled the hand away, scruffing up Brandon’s perfect hair a bit. “Please, I’m driving. Can’t you be patient?”

Brandon scoffed, turning away, looking back out at the passing landscape. “With how you talked in class today you’re lucky I didn’t rip your clothes off in front of everyone and take it over the table you sat on. I’m running out of pen caps to bite.”

“Well, you know as well as I do how sensual and passionate Daguerre was.”

Brandon laughed now, not quite fake but never genuine. “Oh shut up.” He fixed his hair as they pulled up to the beloved privacy. The Prescott family bunker, converted for use by Rupert for whatever he wanted. At first it was just a private place to hook up, but once he told Brandon of his grand desires, he had to oblige him. And oh what a treat it was to watch him work. His eye for it all fascinated Brandon. He felt enraptured every time they brought someone new down there. But tonight was all for him. Because Brandon loved to be selfish.

They barely made it through the door before Rupert had picked him up, carrying Brandon downstairs as their mouths attacked one another, both rough and sloppy. They both loved perfection, but this was the one time they really let themselves go. And that shared understanding only made their passion burn brighter. They turned into animals when they fucked. And Brandon relished every second of it. The only downside was that he was the one who took it instead of giving it. Brandon would argue that he should always be the one on top, in sex or in life, but he couldn’t argue with Rupert. Not unless he wanted to be denied what he wanted most. So he settled to take it, but only for him.

Brandon gripped the couch tightly in his hands as Rupert went at him, each thrust eliciting a groan of pleasure. Brandon was bent over, Rupert’s hand in his hair, and his mouth hung open in unending pleasure. Another particularly good motion, and Brandon moaned, closing his eyes as he saw stars in his vision. Holy fuck what secrets had this man learned to find exactly the right spots inside of him? “I’ve decided,” he suddenly said, pulling Brandon’s attention.

“Oh yeah?” He turned to look back at him as he kept pace, digging his nails into Brandon’s hip. Another perfect feeling.

“That one who came in late. He looked like the purest thing I had ever seen. I need to get him here as soon as possible. And I need you to do it. Can you do that for me Brandon?”

Brandon was confused. A tug against his hair, exposing his neck as Rupert began to kiss at it, their sweaty bodies pushing flush against each other as Brandon approached a climax. “I could, but why him? I thought I was the only guy in your life.”

Rupert chuckled against his neck, moving his mouth up to Brandon’s ear. “Are you jealous?”

“Maybe I am. How are you going to make it up to me if I did this for you?”

The final push, and both of them felt it. Brandon cried out, wailing in pleasure as Rupert’s arms wrapped around him, steadying him as they both leaned over the couch a bit. Rupert still hovered around his ear. “I’ll let you participate. Take some photos of your own. See if you’ve been absorbing what I’ve been teaching you.” Oh god, that was music to Brandon’s ears.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, almost shooting a second load just based off of that comment. He reached up, running a hand through Rupert’s hair. Then he felt him reach over, for the needle.

“Ready to be my muse in the meantime?”

He nodded, tilting his neck to the side, letting himself be injected, letting himself fall limp in his arms, letting Rupert take as many photos as he wanted, even though Brandon knew he was no picture of innocence. He was everything opposite to Rupert’s vision, he was the pinnacle of corruption, but at least Rupert humoured him. And with this session, maybe he would finally overtake Rachel Amber’s binder.

Chapter Text

Brandon woke up and was brought back to the dorms, before classes started. He headed to his room only to find something that had been pushed under his door, stepping on it on the way in. He picked it up and opened the envelope, revealing the photo that Phillip had taken of him yesterday. All things considered, it was a nice photo. The way his face was partially in shadow, the smoke he was letting out from his mouth catching the light just so. The book in front of him, held up with almost perfect posture. Brandon almost felt offended with how good of a photo it was, considering it came from a disposable camera, and from someone who wasn’t even a photographer. But everyone got lucky once apparently. Brandon went to toss it onto his desk, but he stopped himself. Then he sighed, hanging it up on his corkboard wall, since it was pretty sparse otherwise. He didn’t care to decorate his room, since he usually spent his night elsewhere, not always with Rupert but usually with him. And besides, he should be staying at the Prescott manor, but the bastard nature of himself kept Sean from letting him in half the time. He changed the locks just as fast as Brandon could acquire another key.

But as he pinned the photo he looked in the envelope again, not seeing anything else. That wasn’t right. He grabbed his things and went across the hall, knocking on it and remembering that this was Rupert’s next target, so he would have to be nice to him now. He could do that, but he would be annoyed about it. The door opened and Phillip stood there rubbing one of his eyes, presumably having just woken up. He was only in pyjama bottoms, and he was just as frail as Brandon had correctly assumed. He seemed like he was five eight or five nine, and maybe one hundred and thirty pounds if he was being generous. Brandon started to calculate the dosage he would need to knock him out, since Rachel had been his fault Brandon made sure his math was right after that. He wouldn’t disappoint Rupert like that again, ever.

“Hi Brandon, what’s up?” Phillip yawned, running a hand through his messy hair. It seemed to curl at the edges.

“I got your photo.”

At that Phillip smiled, his entire face lighting up, even this early. All signs of tiredness seemed to disappear in an instant. “Did you like it?”

Brandon held his hands behind his back, clutching them tightly as he fought the urge to hurt him. “I distinctly remember hearing two clicks, meaning there were two photos taken of me. I’d like the other one.”

“Oh, that one didn’t turn out good, I didn’t think you would like it…”

“Give it to me,” he said sternly, not in the mood to play around. Even if he was supposed to be nice to him, all he had to do was invite him for drinks in his room. Surely this kid would bite for underage drinking. But they had to wait for the weekend, when he could be plausibly drunk. Brandon just had to wait out the week. Phillip nodded, turning and moving back into his room. Brandon stepped in after him, seeing how he decorated it.

His bedsheets were blue, and scattered across them were torn pages of a sketchpad. So he was an artist in music and drawing but not photography…sure. He had sheet music pinned up on his corkboard and more scattered pages littering his floor. Apparently Phillip Morgan was the type of person to be either a perfectionist or simply very indecisive. Because even though he had all these rejects strewn all across his room, nothing was thrown out. All of it remained. Phillip began to dig around on his bed, and Brandon raised an eyebrow to that. Had he been sleeping with the photo? Was he developing a crush on him or something? Brandon thought about it for a second. Maybe he could use that. He smirked. Oh, this would work out perfectly.

Finally Phillip stood up, and in his hand was the photo that didn’t turn out well apparently. He held it out and Brandon took it, moving back to the light of the hallway, since Phillip hadn’t turned on anything in his room, and he looked at the photo. It was nearly the same as the first one, except Brandon was looking right at him, and the photo was taken in haste, as he must have flinched from Brandon catching him. It was an interesting shot, but it was warped. Brandon stared at it for a few more seconds before he brought his gaze back to Phillip. “Why was this on your bed?”

“I was using it as reference, to practice. I want to be good enough to draw my family by Christmas. So it’s another reason I’m trying to get candids, it feels more natural than drawing someone just posing for me on purpose.”

“So you’ve taken my photo and drawn me now?”

“Oh, well, it’s not finished yet, but…” He paused. “...yes.”

Brandon held back the eye roll, his eye simply twitching instead. Then he held out his hand. “Show me, now.” There was that stern tone again. Phillip reached back and pulled up the sketchbook, passing it to Brandon as he stepped closer, making them only a foot apart at best. Brandon almost ripped it from his hand, looking over the drawing. It was part of the original photo, focused on Brandon’s face, shaded like the photo. And he had tried to emulate the smoke coming out of his mouth. It looked fairly decent all things considered. Brandon immediately ripped it from the sketchbook before tossing it back to Phillip. “Next time, ask.” And he turned, heading back into his room and closing the door, immediately wanting to rip it all apart. But he didn’t. Instead he hung them up on his corkboard and stood back, wondering how Phillip had so perfectly managed to capture him. The way he had drawn his eyes, it almost startled Brandon. Did they really look that piercing?

As he left to head to breakfast, he kept thinking about it. Then suddenly Phillip Morgan was sliding into the booth across from him at the diner. “Mind if I join you?”

“Yes.”

His smile faltered. “Oh. I’m sorry. There’s just nowhere else to sit.” Brandon looked around him, seeing the diner packed with other people here for the early bird special.

He sighed, loudly. “Fine, you can stay.”

The smile was back. “I’m sorry you didn’t like the drawing-”

“I didn’t say that,” he quickly retorted.

Phillip blinked a couple times, not expecting that. He was wearing the same thing again, a short sleeved dress shirt and sweater vest. “So you liked it? Really? I stayed up all night drawing it.”

“Let me guess, the paper scattered around the room were all unfinished drafts of that drawing?”

“Not all of them, but a good amount. But I got it in the end. You’re easy to draw when you know where to start.”

The waitress brought Brandon his coffee and then got his order, Phillip giving his afterwards. “We’re on two separate tabs,” Brandon said as she left. Then he looked back to Phillip, playing along. “And where do you start?”

“Your eyes, they’re the easiest part to do, since they’re always the same.”

Brandon’s eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

Phillip put his head in his hands as he looked across the table to Brandon. “Well, you hardly ever blink, so I got a pretty good idea what your eyes looked like yesterday.”

At that Brandon did blink, because what do you mean he didn’t blink a normal amount? He never really noticed when he did, because it was such an unconscious thing. But to be told he didn’t blink like a normal person was forcing him to notice now. Every movement of his eye was being studied by his brain under a microscope as he stared at Phillip in confusion and frankly offense. “What?”

“I don’t mean to make you self-conscious, but yeah, you blink a lot less than most people. But I don’t mind. It makes me feel like you’re really paying attention to me, and not a lot of people do that, give me their undivided attention. It makes me feel better when I ramble.” And he smiled at him, as if that was supposed to make Brandon feel better. It didn’t.

“I don’t like you.”

Phillip frowned. “I understand. I’m a lot. You seem very reserved and quiet, and I’m kinda quirky and in your face.” Their food arrived and Phillip seemed to divert his attention to that, not continuing the conversation. Brandon was grateful for it. But he would have to apologize. Make things right. Because he needed Phillip to be within his grasp for the weekend.

“I don’t like you now, but I have a feeling if we both loosened up a bit I could find a reason to tolerate you.” Brandon took another bite of his omelette, letting his words hang in the air a bit. “Do you want to come to my room to drink on Friday night?”

“To drink what?”

Brandon chuckled. “Alcohol, what else?”

“Oh, I haven’t tried any before. I hear it burns going down.” Brandon stared at the boy across the table from him. Holy shit Rupert was right, he was perfect. This kid probably didn’t even know what internet porn was. Or maybe just porn in general. He looked up, meeting Brandon’s gaze, and he smiled. A sort of red came across his pale cheeks. “What?” He giggled a bit, waiting for Brandon’s answer.

He tilted his head a bit, still analyzing. “Nothing…” Oh, Brandon was going to get him. Rupert would reward him with anything he asked for when he got a look at him under the lights. He looked deep into those chocolate brown eyes Phillip had, his breakfast all but forgotten. And Phillip kept looking up and away again.

“Do you play anything?”

Brandon was pulled from his inaction, blinking three times, because his brain was still invested in that facet of his face now. “What?”

“Do you play anything?” He repeated, taking a final bite of his waffles.

“Well, I played football when I was younger, and soccer. But I don’t really care for sports anymore. I keep up the physique though.”

Phillip began to chuckle, having to hold a hand up to his mouth so he didn’t spit out his food. He laughed like a fucking pixie. Brandon was shocked he didn’t sparkle or have pointed ears. “No, I meant like an instrument.”

“Oh. No. Music isn’t for me.”

“So you’re only interested in photography?”

Brandon chuckled a bit now, finishing his coffee. “Photography is only a passing interest at best. I just needed the credit.” He only cared about the teacher, nothing more. But this weekend he might be able to find the joy in photography. His subject sitting across the table just didn’t know it yet. The irony of Phillip photographing Brandon without his knowledge, how the tables would turn.

“So, what do you like?”

Brandon tried to think about it, but his mind was blank. He blinked a couple times, almost trying to will an answer to appear in his head. But nothing happened. He didn’t really indulge in anything worthwhile. All he did with his time was think about Rupert, or he was helping him, or they were fucking. Other than that, Brandon just found things to fill the time. Reading philosophy was something, but reading wasn’t quite what he would describe as a hobby. A hobby was something you enjoyed. He would read philosophy, try to apply morality to his life, but he didn’t like reading about all these what-if’s without any tangibility. Speaking philosophy felt like spewing hot air from his body. There was no substance to the words, only an effort to fill the space. The waitress returned with their two separate bills and they paid. Brandon quickly got up and left Phillip after that, still without having answered his question, because he didn’t have one. And that fact upset him.

Hell, his hobby was lying. He lied every second of every day. He lied about who he was, his personality, all of it was pretend. And yet Phillip seemed to be able to see right through it. Not like Rupert though, because Brandon couldn’t see through Phillip. Because there was nothing hiding, he was an open book of joie de vivre, and it was pissing Brandon off exponentially. Phillip wasn't made of glass, he was solid as a rock in who he was. And it never wavered. Even when Brandon would make him frown, he would just find a way to smile again.

By the time photography class rolled around, Phillip was there on time, and he sat next to Brandon once more. Brandon just tried to focus on Rupert, and not chipping his teeth, and blinking a normal amount. Which he had looked up, and it was fifteen to twenty times a minute. An agonizing amount, but he was trying to match it. Which meant he wasn’t really paying attention to Rupert but rather looking like he had something caught in his eye which refused to leave. And he could feel Rupert looking over at him. Or rather, looking at Phillip next to him. That didn’t help, the jealousy. Brandon removed the pen cap from his mouth, knowing he was going to bite it too hard now. He set it down, folding his hands in front of him, their grip almost white-knuckled as he just tried to find some semblance of peace. How could this boy derail his day so much? Why was he ruining everything?

Brandon glanced over to Phillip as he hunched over his notebook. And he found that he wasn’t writing notes at all, like he had assumed. He was drawing. Not Brandon this time though. He was drawing his ‘Irish twin’ Max. And he was pretty good at it. Although she wasn’t hard to capture. Her face was simple, surrounded by that stupid bob. Her eyes were dark, from lack of sleep or makeup, maybe both. She had freckles that were big enough to distinguish. Brandon looked from the drawing to Max, then back. And then he got mad again. What couldn’t this guy do? Play sports he would wager, but more than that. So far he seemed like the most genuinely good person Brandon had ever met, and that was the problem.

Brandon Shaw was used to everyone around him being the worst person alive. He was used to the fighting and the discord and the frustration. But this guy frustrated him by being so nonchalant and nice and just…good. But Brandon would ruin that for him. He would ruin it very soon. By Friday night Phillip would get a taste for alcohol, and then it would be over.

The rest of the week was more of the same, Phillip somehow finding Brandon wherever he went and trying to learn about him. His favourite colour, he didn't care to pick one. His favourite season, he didn't care about seasons. His favourite movie, he didn’t care. Favourite author, he picked Nietzsche so Phillip would be satisfied with an actual answer. Favourite song, Brandon didn’t listen to music, which seemed to hurt Phillip more than if he would ever hit him. After that Phillip left him alone all day Wednesday and Thursday. But Brandon could see the state of his room in the dorm, with a lot more paper on the ground as of Friday morning.

Brandon waltzed into photography class and Phillip entered, slightly disheveled as he packed paper back into his bag. When he sat down Brandon looked over to him. “Are we still on for drinks later tonight?”

Phillip’s mind seemed to be elsewhere. He turned suddenly, finally tuning in to him. “Hmm?”

“Are we still on for drinks later tonight?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely. But I have something I want to show you first. Meet me in the student lounge after dinner. It’ll only take a minute or two.”

Brandon gave Phillip a once-over, then blinked like a normal person would. “Alright.”

“You’re blinking a lot more. Sorry.”

Brandon sighed. “It’s alright. I’m sure before you I was weirding people out but they were too afraid to say anything.”

“Well, I mean, it isn’t you. You’re so focused on perception now that it’s taking away from the fact that you’re not in the moment. But you don’t have to force yourself to blink to try and be normal. You’re your own normal, and that’s all that matters. Not what I think or what anyone else should. But I know words hold power if you let them, so I’m sorry for using words of power against you.”

Brandon stared as Phillip just spit out this nonsensical word vomit at him. “You’re very strange.”

“So I’ve heard before.”

“Clearly not enough, if you still act like this.”

“Well, because that word doesn’t hold power over me.”

“Right…” Brandon pulled his attention forward, to Rupert, and he was giving him glances all throughout class. And everything felt right again in the world. As class wound down and the bell finally rang, Rupert asked Brandon to stay back, since he needed to talk to him about his entry for the stupid contest. They waited for everyone to file out, and then Rupert gave Brandon the drugs to take care of Phillip.

“Where should I park?”

“The dorm parking lot. I’m going to get him to think he passed out from doing shots with me.”

Rupert smiled at him, and Brandon bit his lip a bit. “Good boy.” Then he was being shooed, since Victoria had wanted to talk to him as well, and she loomed outside. Brandon brushed past her somewhat hard, hitting their shoulders, uncaring that she scoffed at him. She could try all she wanted, but Rupert was his and his alone. And so he waited until supper time, then he made his way down to the student lounge. When he walked in Phillip was scribbling something down as he leaned over the piano.

Brandon cleared his throat and Phillip looked up from his work, smiling wide immediately. “You’re here!”

“Yes, well, we’re getting drunk after this anyway, so I figured I would humour you.”

“Right,” he said, as if Phillip had entirely forgotten about it. He just looked excited to spend any sort of time with Brandon, and this was no exception. He held out his hand, gesturing for Brandon to come closer. He did, sidling up to the piano as Phillip sat down in the seat, spreading out his messy pages of sheet music.

“Let me guess what’s about to happen. You’re going to play me your favourite song in the hopes that I somehow learn to like music. Am I right?”

“Nope.” Phillip stretched his fingers out in front of him, cracking a couple of them. Then he gave Brandon another huge smile. “I composed something for you from scratch.”

Brandon’s eyes widened. And then Phillip was playing, the notes all being low and dragging at first. It was dark, intimidating, the way he hit certain keys evoked a biting intensity. And then his right hand started to dance cautiously on the higher notes. The left hand responded, each high key being punctuated by a harsh jump back to low. Then slowly, the hands inched closer, the notes mellowing, matching, becoming one. As he finished his little dance of keys and fingers, he actually crossed his hands over each other, the hands ending far from where they began, the final notes echoing across the otherwise empty student lounge. Phillip looked up to Brandon, trying to see how he felt about the music. Brandon’s face was slack, his stare blank, vacant, like he wasn’t present at all. Phillip threaded his fingers together, and he looked away.

“Um, it still needs a lot of work, I know. I definitely messed up a couple times. But I thought you would like it…” He seemed to truly deflate, all of his confidence gone as Brandon just stared. And then Brandon yanked Phillip up by his stupid fucking sweater vest, and he crashed their lips together. Phillip made a sort of muffled noise of shock, his eyes widening as Brandon pressed their mouths together as if he was trying to devour him whole. Then he reached out, his own hands digging into Brandon’s shirt, bunching up at the shoulders.

“Come on, back to my room,” Brandon spit out quickly, trying to drag Phillip along. He reached back, grabbing his sheet music, the paper crumpling in his hands as he was pulled up to their hallway. Brandon slowed his pace, letting Phillip go as they entered, lest the other boys suspect anything. But they moved with purpose until they arrived at Brandon’s door, and almost as soon as they were inside the papers were dropped and Brandon pulled Phillip to him again. “How did you come up with all of that in two days?”

“Well, it was meant to be like how you and I are together. You’re the lower notes and I’m the high notes. Together, I feel like I bring you some light, and you keep me humble.”

Brandon scoffed. “Humble? All I've done is be rude to you since the moment we met. Anyone else would have taken the hint and fucked off by now and left me alone.”

They were so close they could feel each other’s breath tracing across their mouths. Phillip smiled. “No one should be alone. Not even you and your intensely pretty eyes.”

“Are you flirting with me, Phillip Morgan?” Brandon teased, pulling them closer, their mouths just centimetres from each other.

“I just composed a song for you. I don’t do that for all my friends…because it would take too long.”

Brandon laughed, and it didn’t feel entirely forced for once. Phillip Morgan was amusing. But…Brandon had a job to do, and he wasn’t going to let this odd feeling of fleeting affection stop him. So Brandon pulled Phillip in slowly this time, letting their kiss draw out. Phillip put his hands back onto Brandon’s shoulders, steadying the both of them as they sunk down onto the couch. When Brandon pulled away this time, he leaned back, grabbing the vodka bottle. All he needed was to get him buzzed. He could fake the rest. All he needed was for Phillip to remember that he took at least one shot.

“Shall we?” He said, removing the cap and taking a swig for himself, to encourage Phillip to do the same. Vodka was an acquired taste, and Brandon hadn’t yet, no matter how much he had tried. But he could hide the disgust as well as he could hide the emptiness inside. He handed the bottle to Phillip.

He eyed it, nervous, hesitant. “Ok, but if I throw up I’m sorry in advance.” He closed his eyes and tilted the bottle up, drinking a good amount before it hit him. He threw his mouth open, coughing as the bottle shook in his hand. Brandon took it back and quickly re-sealed it, reaching for the needle waiting to be used in his back pocket. “Oh my god, it burns. And it tastes like hand sanitizer.” He coughed a couple more times, his eyes watering. “Oh, that was evil.” But then he laughed a little bit as he wiped his mouth. “I didn’t like that at all.”

“I can tell, by how much you’re telling me about it.”

“Right, rambling. Sorry. I’m just a little nervous.” He had his hands back on Brandon’s shoulder, and he had flushed cheeks. Not the drunken glow, but simply embarrassment or affection. He was avoiding Brandon’s eyes, then suddenly he looked right into them. Right though them. “That was my first kiss.”

Brandon’s eyes widened. Dear god Rupert was going to have a field day. But he quickly recovered. “A lot of firsts for you tonight then. A first song composed for a friend, a first drink, a first kiss.” He ran his free hand over Phillip’s face, caressing his cheek, trying to get him to lean into the touch. “I wonder what other firsts could happen tonight?”

Phillip’s hands fully wrapped around Brandon’s neck, pulling them slightly closer. “I don’t know if- If I’m ready for that. Is that ok? Can we just…take it slow?”

Brandon smiled the slightest bit, tilting his head, getting Phillip to follow him, mirroring his action. “Of course. We’ll take it one step at a time.” Brandon moved closer, prompting Phillip to close his eyes as he leaned in as well, and then Brandon struck. He jabbed the needle into Phillip’s exposed neck, in the exact right spot, with the exact right dosage. His eyes shot open.

“Brandon-!” He gasped out, but then his eyes flickered, rolling back into his head as he slumped against him. He felt even lighter now than he looked, Brandon easily picking him up and into his arms. And he simply walked him out of the dorms and into Rupert’s car, putting him in the trunk and settling in the passenger seat as they took off towards the bunker.

Chapter Text

Rupert was almost giddy as they drove to the bunker. His hand traced the gearshift again, and Brandon had to resist the urge to take it to his crotch again. He had to contain himself, at least until Rupert got his pictures. On the way he kept asking about him, and Brandon told him exactly what he wanted to hear. How Phillip might just be the purest subject he’d ever had, even more so than his Irish twin Max Caulfield. They arrived and Rupert carried him downstairs, his slumped form looking delicate in Rupert’s arms. Brandon followed, his eyes on Phillip the entire time. He hadn’t stirred yet, which was normal, but ever since Rachel Brandon would get worried between the injection to the partial clarity. Because if they never woke up, then this was a failure. And Rupert wouldn’t be able to handle another failure. Not so soon.

He set Phillip down on the floor as Brandon grabbed the supplies. Tape, the camera, the extra dose when they were finished, and then he was moving the lights into just the right spot. All under Rupert’s directions. But as he reached to tape up Phillip’s wrists, Rupert suddenly stopped him. He had been staring since he set him down. There was this sparkle in his eyes that Brandon had never seen before. “Take off his clothes,” he said, almost whispering it.

“Why? The girls always had their clothes on.” At least, most of them. But they never revealed too much skin, their genitals and breasts were still covered. It wasn’t a sexual thing Rupert did with them. Brandon didn't get why he wanted to do this now.

“If he’s what you say he is, I need to see it in all its glory. So take off his clothes, strip him down to his boxers. I need to switch out the lens.” He got up, and then Brandon was kneeling over Phillip, his sleeping form smooth and peaceful. Brandon reached his hands out, putting them onto him, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest, and he pulled at the sweater vest. The stupid sweater vest. He got Phillip free of it, and then he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. All of this felt clinical, like he was performing an operation on him. One wrong move, or any move too fast, and Brandon was worried he would kill him. But Phillip still breathed, for now. The shirt was unbuttoned and pulled off, and then Brandon went for his pants. He swallowed, not realizing until now how much saliva had been in his mouth. Why did all of this feel…wrong? Usually he was giddy to set up the girls, put them in the right spot and sit back and relish in it all. But with Phillip… He was left in just his underwear, and Brandon stepped back, putting his clothes on the table.

Rupert returned, and he began to bind Phillip’s hands and ankles. Then he was moving him, adjusting his latest masterpiece. When he was satisfied he turned on the lights and crouched down, getting to Phillip’s level. “Come here Brandon. I’ll show you how it’s done, and then you can try.” He patted the ground next to him, and Brandon listened, settling next to him, staring with his unblinking gaze as Phillip seemed to stir. Partial clarity, he hadn’t killed him. That at least let Brandon breathe out slightly. Phillip’s eyes squinted open, the light too much. He didn’t move otherwise. All of his actions were slow. His breathing, his blinking, his body almost catatonic. He looked like any other victim they had brought down here, and yet Brandon had never felt so upset looking at one. Rupert began to take photos, focusing on Phillip’s face. His childlike face, not quite hardened out and sharp like someone his age should be. The flashing was disorienting him more, and Phillip groaned. But he didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“Good Phillip, very good.” Rupert spoke calmly, adjusting as he got a different angle, hovering more above him now. Phillip’s eyes followed him, but they were unfocused, the pupils very dilated, an open window to his soul. “Never did I think I would find someone who screamed such utter purity, but him…” More photos. “He’s perfect.” Brandon’s eyes drifted from Phillip to Rupert, and a familiar pang of jealousy hit him. He was the most corrupt individual Rupert had ever met, and now here was Phillip, the most pure. The most innocent. Maybe if Brandon ruined him Rupert would move on to the next. Maybe that’s what Brandon wanted. The longer he looked at Phillip on the ground, the more Brandon didn’t want to see him. The more his hands clenched into fists. Then Rupert was handing Brandon the camera.

He turned Phillip from lying on his side, moving him onto his back, his arms stretched above his head, revealing his ribcage as it pressed against his skinny frame. “Go on Brandon, get a top down angle, try to capture the ribs in it.” He held out a hand, guiding Brandon forward as he took it. He was straddling Phillip, and he peered through the lens. “Now, focus on the eyes. That’s the most important part. Especially now. He can see you, he just can’t understand what’s going on. His eyes are drawn to you, to the camera, let him meet your gaze. Let yourself capture him in his rawest form.” Phillip groaned again, trying to move his hands, but Rupert reached out, gripping against his arm tightly, right at the elbow. “Phillip, behave yourself.” A whine, but Rupert was able to move him back into position. “Go on then Brandon.”

Brandon swallowed again, breathing out slowly as he held the camera up to his eye, peering through it at Phillip below. Phillip, who was lacking his trademark smile. Phillip, who was lacking his trademark sweater vest. Phillip, who was lacking all that trademark joy in his eyes. Whoever this Phillip was, he wasn’t who he was supposed to be. He was cowering in fear in the back of his own mind right now, unable to know what was happening, because they were always made to forget. Think it was a bad dream. Brandon began to take pictures, to please Rupert, but he found no joy in it. All of his expectations for what it would be like to do it himself had all soured. Because this boy who had known him for less than a week had cared more than anyone else in his life ever had. Even Rupert. Sure, they fucked, but he never asked Brandon any of those stupid pointless questions. Had never gone out of his way to do anything as meaningful as compose him a piece of music in the hopes that it would sway him to like music in general. Phillip Morgan was too pure for this world, and that was why Rupert wanted him so badly.

Brandon took a few more pictures, then handed the camera back to Rupert, getting off of Phillip and just watching. Watching him be taken advantage of. Watch him try and use his little power to fight against Rupert, to no avail. At one point Phillip tried to turn his head away from the camera, as if to look at Brandon. And it felt like despite all the blurriness in his vision, despite the lack of clarity he was supposed to possess, Brandon would almost swear Phillip was really seeing him, silently pleading with him for help. But the moment was over as fast as it had begun, Rupert’s hand across Phillip’s jaw as he pulled Phillip’s attention back to him. And then, when they were finally finished, Brandon handed Rupert the needle, and once Phillip was out, they got down to business proper. And Brandon let himself be fucked hard and intense, thankful that Rupert preferred him to face away instead of towards him. At least this way he couldn’t see the signs of a new and confusing emotion on his face. For the first time in his entire life, Brandon Shaw felt two things he was told he would never be able to feel. Guilt. And remorse.

Together they put Phillip’s clothes back on, and Brandon was the one to carry him out of the bunker, his hands tightening their grip on him as Rupert reached out and scruffed up Phillip’s hair a bit. He might have glared at him when he did it, but Brandon couldn’t be sure, back to not really paying attention to the state of his face. They drove back mostly in silence, but as they neared campus Rupert broke it. “What’s on your mind? Worried your photos aren’t up to snuff? Because we’ll have plenty of time to practice with him in the future.”

Brandon had his arms crossed, had been mostly staring out at the darkness beyond the car. “No, it’s not that. I don’t know. He just feels…different. More personal. I feel like I have to get used to the whole process all over again.”

Rupert nodded a bit from the driver’s side. “I see. The pinnacle of corruption is overwhelmed by the pinnacle of purity. You can’t envision yourself in his place, so you find it hard to translate what you want from him into your photographer’s vision. But you’ll get around that hurdle. You always find a way to do very well, all things considered.”

Brandon scoffed, because Rupert was very far off. But maybe it was because Brandon was trying to hide from him now too. He wasn’t glass anymore, he was a two-way mirror reflecting back at him while the real Brandon was behind it. He had to hide the discomfort, make him believe everything was fine. Make him believe that he didn’t have a problem with what they were doing, like he had been before. Phillip was changing his opinion, but Brandon couldn’t disappoint Rupert. “Oh please, stop trying to butter me up.”

Rupert’s hand reached over, firmly grasping at Brandon’s crotch. “I can butter you up all I want. It’s not like you’d ever stop me.” He squeezed, and Brandon bit his lip, feeling the heat as it crawled through his body towards his groin.

“What happened to driving being your priority?” He teased, remembering last time they were in this position.

Rupert turned off the car lights as he pulled over, leaving them almost completely in darkness. Only the moon piercing through the trees gave them any way to see each other. Rupert’s hand squeezed again as he crawled from the driver’s side to the passengers. “I think it’s only fair that my diligent delivery boy deserves a reward for bringing me the perfect subject.” Rupert’s other hand reached down, bringing the seat back as he pushed Brandon against it. Then he was moving lower, undoing Brandon’s pants as he slipped Brandon's legs over his shoulders. Brandon tilted back, letting himself go. But as Rupert pleasured him, Brandon’s glance towards the back seat reminded him of their third. That killed the mood a little bit, but once Brandon closed his eyes he got back on track. His hands pressed against Rupert’s head, twisting into his hair as he got louder, letting out heaving breaths as he felt himself reaching Nirvana.

“Fuck Rupert, just like that,” he moaned out, moving his hips in tandem, getting the perfect rhythm as he raced towards the finish line. The moon got covered by a cloud, leaving them in total darkness as Brandon came, letting out a gasp as he exploded. His chest was rising and falling as Rupert’s hand traced down it. He pulled himself free of Brandon’s legs, but then Brandon was pulling him close, their lips crashing together as he got a taste for himself. Feel the warm remnants of his dripping release as he tried to siphon it back out of Rupert’s mouth. “God, I fucking love you,” he said against the teacher’s lips. God how he wished that everything was as it was before. Pretend they were alone. But as their passion died down, Brandon couldn’t ignore the elephant in the trunk. Finally Rupert shuffled back into the driver’s side, and they drove the rest of the way back to campus. Brandon licked his lips a few times on the way, trying to still have a taste for him.

He was dropped off, and he carried Phillip upstairs to his room, setting him down on his bed as he went and dumped the rest of the vodka. When he returned, he turned on his desk lamp, bathing Phillip in the cool lightning. He looked so peaceful. And Brandon frowned. Because he knew this wasn’t the last time he would see Phillip like this, in his room in a drug-induced unconsciousness. Not even close. Rupert would fill page after page with photos of him. Hell, he might even get multiple binders. Brandon sat down in his desk chair, and he just stared.

Then his eyes traced up to the photos on his corkboard. The photos of him, the drawing of him. He took Phillip’s sheet music and uncrumpled it, looking it over again and again, playing the tune in his head. Then he got the urge to crumple it back up, tear it to shreds, break it until it couldn’t be fixed. Because he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve kindness for his actions. What he was doing was reprehensible. Disgusting. Way past fucking illegal. He stared at Phillip for the rest of the night, and he probably only blinked a handful of times. He curled up on his desk chair, and at one point he reached his hand out, cautiously running it through Phillip’s hair. At the touch Phillip almost sighed, and Brandon wrenched his hand away, curling it into a fist as he moved back.

As the sun began to pierce through Brandon’s window, shining down onto Phillip’s face, he finally began to stir. And Brandon turned away from him, pretending to be busy writing something down in his notebook. It was time for a performance. The mask was back on. He heard Phillip let off some sounds of sleep, a little groan as he stretched on Brandon’s bed. “Mmm, wha’ time issit?” He spoke not slurred, but still feeling the lingering effects of the drug.

“It’s almost 7. You really can’t hold your liquor.”

“7? In the morning?”

“Yes. What do you remember about last night?” He tried to make his tone neutral, as if he was just curious. Not because he needed to know what Phillip did or didn’t remember.

“Um…I played you your song. Then we came back to your room. Then…” He giggled a bit, and Brandon crumpled the paper in his hand. He was obnoxiously cute, too fucking pure for this world. “You kissed me, and it was wonderful. And then I drank that disgusting vodka. And then…” He trailed off, and Brandon still refused to look at him. If he did he would fuck something up. He had to keep himself under control.

“And then you proceeded to drink the entire bottle in about twenty minutes, because I am a terrible influence.” He held up the now empty vodka bottle, glancing at him for only a second, peeking over his shoulder. Phillip looked like a fucking puppydog with his chocolate brown eyes, staring over at Brandon with hesitant clarity. “After that you were gone, and you passed out not long after.”

Brandon saw the smile twitch on Phillip’s face as Brandon set the empty bottle into the trash. “Um, Brandon…We didn’t do anything more than kiss, right?” It sounded like he wanted to say more, or ask something else, but stopped himself. And Brandon knew he couldn’t keep up not looking at him. He turned, facing him, and he held out his hands. Phillip took them.

Brandon didn’t meet his gaze at first, looking out the window at the bright sun climbing over the horizon. But he slowly drifted to Phillip. “I told you, one step at a time. Once you were out I let you sleep. We don’t have to do anything more until you’re ready.” His grip tightened on Phillip’s, because otherwise his hands would shake from the anger that wanted to pour out of his entire being. “Now go on, back to your room before someone catches you sneaking out. Though I doubt any boys in this fucking place get up before noon unless they have to.” And Brandon stood, pulling Phillip up with him, letting go of his hands as soon as Phillip was on his own two feet.

He looked down at his hands, then back up to Brandon. “Do you want to meet for breakfast?”

Brandon almost cracked a smile, but he held back. “No, I can’t. I have work to do. I’ll see you in class.”

Phillip nodded a bit, and he went to leave, but then he turned and started to look on the floor. His sheet music. Brandon pulled it from his desk, handing it to Phillip as he continued to stare, trying to hide the anguish he felt looking at him. He smiled at him as he took it, and then he was gone, leaving Brandon alone to wallow in the consequences of his actions, something he never had to do before.

Chapter Text

As the day wore on Brandon just wanted to avoid Phillip. Avoid thinking about him, avoid looking at him, just avoid anything that reminded Brandon of him. So he sought out Nathan, he was a fairly decent distraction. When he did come across him, he was smoking on campus, as one does, under one of the bigger trees. Brandon approached. “Care to share?”

He scoffed, glaring up at him as he took another drag, the scratches on his cheek mostly healed by now. “Fuck off.”

Brandon pulled out his own pack, lighting it as he still stood above his half-brother. “Fine, be a dick. Did you take your meds this morning?”

“What is it with all of you and my fucking meds!?” He shouted, making Brandon hold his hands up as if in surrender.

“I’m just saying if you don’t want to feel so bad, it helps to take them. I would know, because I take mine.” Mostly. When he needed to. But he had control, so he knew when the pick me up was necessary. “Is that Caulfield girl still bothering you?” He asked, changing the subject.

“No, I fucked her shit up, and dad threatened her with lawyers and shit. She’ll back off.”

“Imagine having a rich dad to solve all of your problems. Here in the real world I have to do it all myself.” He took a long drag, letting the smoke envelop him before puffing it back out. He wished Phillip were here to take another picture of it. Then he shut his eyes, sighing, since he was supposed to be distracting himself.

“Did you want something from me Brandy? Or are you just here to be another pain in my ass?”

“I was just trying to spark a conversation with you, but clearly that’s asking too much of Nathan Prescott. So forget it.” Brandon tossed his cigarette and moved on, over all of it. He still had some time before breakfast, so he headed towards the diner.

As he approached though, he saw the fighter herself, Max Caulfield. And she was with the blue-haired punk Chloe Price. They were leaving, but then Chloe pivoted towards him when she noticed Brandon. “Hey, prick!” Brandon looked behind him, seeing no one, then he looked back to her, pointing to himself as he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah you! You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!”

Alright, whatever this was, it was happening. He put his hands in his pockets as he waited for them to come to him, because he sure wasn’t going to put in the effort when it sounded like they were going to yell at him. Chloe closed the distance and got almost right up in his face, Max approaching almost sheepishly behind her. Brandon glanced between the two of them. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing some digging, and we know you were close with Rachel.”

Brandon scoffed. “What?” He had tried, honestly tried to flirt with her. But it hadn’t worked. He needed to coerce her in the end, with some of Nathan’s drugs. She might not have been into Brandon, but she could never say no to some Peruvian marching powder.

“You were the last person to see her alive,” Max supplied, bringing Brandon’s attention to her. How would she know that? Where would she have figured it out? Of course she had last been seen at the vortex party, but Brandon was sure their exit had been swift enough that no one would have noticed.

“Says who, you?”

“The vortex club, they all said you were with her the night before she disappeared. So, that leads us to believe that you know something about her disappearance.” Chloe crossed her arms, staring daggers at Brandon, her voice firm. Aggressive. But Brandon tried to keep his cool, since he didn't really care to deal with this shit today.

“You know Chloe, do you ever think that you’re just chasing some fleeting thing because without Rachel you’re nothing but a bitter empty shell? She filled the void that’s leftover in your soul because of your family issues? Hmm?” Brandon stepped closer, getting into her space as he flicked at her bullet necklace. “I think your problems are going to become a lot bigger if you keep looking into this, because no matter what you do or don’t find, you’re going to be disappointed. So maybe you should focus on getting your shit together instead of wasting my time with stupid questions. I don’t know where Rachel is, she didn’t tell me where she was going, and even if she did, the takeaway here is that she didn’t tell you. So consider what that means and stop bothering me. Now move, I’m starved.” He shoved between them as he headed into the diner.

Well, that didn’t help his mood at all. Now he had to break the news to Rupert that the two of them were poking around into Rachel’s disappearance. He ate his breakfast omelette with a scowl, and by the time classes started he was on autopilot, going through the motions as he tried to find anything not awful to keep in his mind. But nothing was working until he started thinking about Rupert. He bit down on his pen cap as he tried to drown in thoughts of Rupert. Let his excitement fuel him. Even if the excitement was taken from the innocent. The way Rupert had smiled at him, had tried to pull him so fully into his world, it was his moment of glory. If only it hadn’t cost so much. When he finally walked into photography, he immediately pulled Rupert aside, over to his desk.

“Max Caulfield and Chloe Price are getting nosy, and you might need to move your trash out to the curb tonight.”

“Are you sure?” He said, talking softly, not alluding to what they were really talking about. Acting as if nothing was wrong.

“They questioned me outside the diner this morning. I did my best to deter it, but knowing Chloe Price. She doesn’t give up.”

Rupert nodded, patting at his shoulder the slightest bit, making Brandon’s breath catch in his throat. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll take care of it. In exchange, I’ll need you to do something for me. But not now, after that vortex party later this week. Understand?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Brandon didn't know why he thanked him, but that was one less problem to deal with. Now he had something to dread over for the next few days. Yippee. So great. Phillip could see the state he was in when he sat down, and he kept looking at Brandon as class went on. Brandon only looked away, curling up in his arms as he waited for the bell to dismiss him. Could anything else go wrong today? Please, someone fucking hit him with their car or something.

The second class was over, Brandon bolted up from his seat, intent to head out to one of the walking trails that ran through town and wait until he was isolated, then scream. Ok, Rupert was going to move Rachel, good, one problem solved. Brandon wasn’t allowed to know where she was, but he did know that Rupert had buried her somewhere around here. So now he had the task of moving her. And now Brandon had to deal with getting Phillip a second time. He lit a cigarette and began to inhale it urgently. It was almost like he was trying to finish it in one drag. He just needed to de-stress. And then he stopped, because Brandon had never really been stressed about anything in his life. And the fact that this was stressing him out made him upset. Well, there we go, have anger topple the stress. Everything came back to anger. Anger overpowered his other emotions, especially when it came to-

Phillip Morgan was in a car and he drove out in front of Brandon, almost hitting him. His window was rolled down and he stuck his head through, getting into Brandon’s space. “Hop in!”

Brandon didn’t move, eyeing Phillip almost suspiciously. “What?”

“Come on, I’m going on a drive, you should come with me.” He slapped the door of his car. “Hop in!” Brandon could swear that Phillip was shining brighter than the sun at this moment with how joyous he looked.

“Why?” Brandon tossed his cigarette, holding his hands behind him as they clenched together into fists. What was his game here? What was this?

Phillip’s smile turned into a frown. “You seem stressed. I have a de-stress mixtape. I figured we could drive around, see the beautiful view, play some nice tunes, and it might help you relax. You don’t have to talk to me, but I just wanted to help.”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed, and he let out his breath in a huff. “What do you get out of this?” Surely Phillip was waiting until he had all this stuff over Brandon’s head before he would ask for something. Surely he wasn’t just nice enough to keep giving him things.

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Company?”

Brandon crossed his arms, clenching his hands. He had no reason to say no, other than the fact that being close to him would only upset him more. But he couldn’t say no, so Brandon stomped around the car and got in the passenger seat. Then they were driving off-campus, heading to who knows where. Phillip waited until they were clear of the school to roll down Brandon’s window and pull out his mixtape. He popped it into the CD player and Brandon waited to see what kind of music taste Phillip had.

The first song to begin playing was Ballroom Blitz. And Phillip was immediately into it, slapping his hands against the steering wheel as he sang along. He was almost bouncing out of his seat. Brandon just stared from his corner of the car, curling against the wall as he faced him, watching. At several points Phillip looked over to him, his smile widening as he saw the confusion on Brandon’s face. But he didn’t care about his judgement. Nothing could hurt this boy. Nothing that he remembered could hurt him, that is.

“And the man in the back is ready to crack as he raises his hands to the sky! And the girl in the corner is everyone’s mourner, she could kill you with a wink of her eye!” Phillip winked at him as he said it, before diving into the chorus again. Brandon pulled at the door to open it and leap out, but it was locked. So he resigned to accept his fate. He waited out the song, and as it died down he finally spoke.

“So…somehow I’m not surprised in the slightest for your taste in music.”

“You don’t like ballroom blitz?”

“No, because I’m not a fifty-five-year-old man.”

Phillip nodded. “Well, there’s still an entire CD here, so don’t worry. I’ll find the right de-stressor for you yet.” He turned them onto a specific road, the one they had travelled last night. But Phillip wouldn’t know that. Brandon’s arms were still crossed in front of him, and they clenched as the next song began.

“What the hell is this?”

“Oh Yeah by Yello. It’s a one hit wonder. But it’s pretty fun, don’t you think?” He moved back and forth to the incessant bow-bow chik-chicka-chicka of the melody. And Brandon wondered if Phillip was fucked in the head too, to be able to find this enjoyable. “So…what’s on your mind? This is a safe space, you can tell me. Or just,” he waved his hand around, “let it out into the car and I can try not to listen.”

Brandon looked away from him, to the rushes of trees passing by them out the window. He closed his eyes, feeling the wind on his face. “I don’t understand you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? What do you gain from doing this? Giving me music and attention and sincerity? Why me? Because my family has money? I don’t understand.” He let himself boil over, the words pouring out of his mouth as he spit them out the window, still not looking at Phillip.

He turned the awful music down. “I just figured you deserved a friend. I don’t want anything from you. I just like spending time with you…And I think you’re pretty.”

Brandon turned to meet his gaze. “Pretty? Not handsome?”

“I always figured those words were interchangeable.”

“They’re not. Someone like you is pretty. Someone like me is handsome, dashing, hot and sexy and down to fuck.”

Phillip pulled into a lookout point, letting them see Arcadia Bay down below. He threaded his hands together as he looked at Brandon. “You think I’m pretty?”

That got a half-chuckle as he rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Sure, you’re pretty.” Then he frowned again. Because he knew what Rupert wanted of him, and he wasn’t going to disappoint him. “Are you coming to the vortex club party later this week? Because I’m using that as my de-stressor, as opposed to your stupid music. You should tag along, we could have a lot of fun.”

“I’ve heard those are a bad time. Lots of drugs and booze and stuff. And we already know how bad I am at handling alcohol.”

“The drugs and booze is what makes it fun. Besides, if everyone’s fucked up no one will notice that you’re not.”

“Well,” he ran a hand through his hair, his hair that curled at the very ends. Brandon watched his hand with a steady gaze, part of him wishing that was his hand instead. “I’m not a good dancer. I have two left feet. I don’t want you to see that, you’ll laugh at me.”

“I thought you didn’t care what other people thought of you?”

Phillip’s face flushed a bit as he looked away bashfully. “I care what you think, to an extent.”

Brandon leaned forward, reaching a hand up to bring Phillip’s eyes back to him. “I honestly could not be bothered to give a fuck if you’re a terrible dancer. I’d just prefer your company for a few hours and loud music to drown out all of my annoying fucking thoughts. So, what do you say? Would you be my distraction?” He kept leaning in, closing most of the distance between them, Phillip’s eyes sparkling as he looked at Brandon. And for a moment, just a moment, he looked like he had in the Dark Room. And Brandon wanted to flinch away. But he never had before, so his body wasn’t keen to start now.

“Whatever you need, I’ll be there,” he said, and Brandon wanted to rip the smile off his face. Claw into him. Destroy him forever, to protect him. Instead, he let Phillip close the distance, and he let them kiss in Phillip’s car while his awful music played softly between them, all the while his hand still on his cheek, his thumb tracing across it. Smooth, unblemished, pure. Something Brandon had never been and never could be.

***
It was the night of the party. Rupert was going to be parked strategically, waiting. And all Brandon had to do was get Phillip away from the crowd. Let the others see him, get fucked up, and get him out. The only problem was that he caught sight of Max and Chloe lurking around when he walked in. Brandon tried to ignore them, working his way past the already sweating conglomeration of horny teens. He cut through the crowd, but he found himself suddenly blocked from moving as Victoria stepped in front of him.

“So, how long did you think you could hide it?” she said, crossing her arms, a stupid smirk on her face like she had figured it all out.

Brandon just raised an eyebrow to her. “What?”

She pulled Brandon aside, into the corner. Trying to trap him. “I know that you and Mr. Cadell have something going on.”

Brandon chuckled, looking down at her. “What, are you jealous? Everyone in class knows how much you drool over him. What’s with the accusation? Just because he pulled me aside one time to talk about my photo for that stupid contest you think I’m sucking his dick in my off time? Seriously Victoria, what are you on about-”

“Do you think I’m blind? I’ve seen him dropping you off at the dorms before dawn, when I go on my jog in the morning. I thought I was imagining it the first time, but you disappear a lot at night, and somehow you always return in Rupert Cadell’s car.”

Brandon moved, pushing Victoria into the corner, pinning her as he leaned down, getting into her space, probably making her coked-up brain freak out. “Listen here Vicky, because I’m only going to explain this once. I prefer to go home to the Prescott house at night, rather than bum it in these dorms. And guess what? I don’t have a car because my not-daddy hates my guts. So, I asked Rupert if he would drive me to and from, since it’s on his way. And he was so kind as to agree. The reason he drops me off before dawn is because I get my homework done in the morning before class. You can think what you want about my relationship with him, but unless you somehow have a photo of us doing anything romantic your little accusation is irrelevant, like you. Now leave me alone.”

He pushed off from the wall, heading off to find Phillip, so over being here already. Phillip should have been here by now. Brandon double checked his pocket, the needle still there, waiting to be used. God he hated this stupid club. Nathan was surely in the mix here somewhere getting fucked up beyond belief. He loved this shit. Brandon couldn’t be bothered to care about any of this. He couldn’t be bothered to care about anything except Rupert Cadell…and Phillip Morgan. And there he was, awkwardly standing around the entrance. And he wasn’t in his stupid sweater vest for once. Instead he was in some button up shirt that looked like it was part of an arcade carpet from the 90’s. Brandon wordlessly sidled up to him and grabbed onto his hand, pulling him through the crowd as they crossed the room, settling in the best corner to sneak out of. The hallway next to them led to the exit where Rupert waited patiently.

Brandon leaned against it, letting go of Phillip’s hand, just staring. He stared back. “So…should we get some drinks?”

“What, like you’re going to drink one?”

“Well, no, probably not. But I could get you one. If you want.”

Brandon thought about it. Then he nodded. “Sure, see if you can find me something.” Phillip nodded and turned, moving through the bodies grinding on the dance floor as Brandon just watched. Watch these kids get high as hell, get crazy off coke, and take happy tags on their tongue, the edibles hitting a lot faster than anything else. He glanced to the exit, then back. And he unfortunately made eye contact with Max Caulfied as she and Chloe slunk through the crowd. She held his gaze until a cup was being presented to him, Phillip having returned.

“I kind of just made what the guy next to me did, I hope you like it.”

Brandon pulled his attention to Phillip, smirking as he took the solo cup full of alcohol. He took a sip, and it wasn’t awful. Thank goodness for that. Phillip just stood there, sort of tilting back and forth on his feet, as if he was waiting for something. “Well, aren’t you going to dance?” Brandon said, taking another sip of his drink.

“Oh, well, I don’t know…” He curled up a bit, that self-consciousness that felt almost out of character for him rearing its ugly head.

“Go on, no one’s going to care. Dance, for me.” At that Phillip seemed to find his drive, and so he closed his eyes and began to move with the music. And he was right, he did have two left feet, but he was still putting them to work. His dancing strategy seemed to revolve around moving his body just so to whatever the underlying beat was. Each pound of a drum made him twitch his arms or his legs or his chest. He moved in slow circles, no regard for anything in his immediate vicinity. It was just him and the music. And it was adorable. Brandon bit the rim of the solo cup, watching him intently. Phillip’s smile was glowing on his face as he let go, the music carrying him. And then Brandon stopped him, a hand moving onto the back of his neck, freezing him in place. As Phillip opened his eyes Brandon held up his cup, and he pressed it against Phillip’s lips. He didn’t stop him, so Brandon tilted the cup back, giving him some of his drink. He didn’t immediately freak out like with the vodka, drinking it without major issue. And then Brandon slowly brought the cup away, watching how it traced against Phillip’s bottom lip as he pulled it down them. “Like it?”

His face flushed. “Yeah, that was good.” Brandon nodded a bit, his eyes still pointedly looking at Phillip’s lips, his hand still on the back of his neck. Suddenly he didn’t care who might see them, the urge to kiss him was strong. Oh so strong. But he had a job to do, and Rupert couldn’t be kept waiting all night.

So Brandon held the cup back up. “Finish it.”

“But, it’s yours.” He tried to push the cup towards Brandon.

He slid his hand from Phillip. “You don’t want it?” He went to take a sip, and Phillip watched him with rapt attention. Suddenly, his hand moved, pulling the cup down and away.

“I want…that.” He pressed his finger to Brandon’s lips, where the alcohol still sat unswallowed in his mouth. Philip got redder, almost realizing what he had just said. He tried to step back. “Um, I’m sorry, that’s not-” But Brandon’s hand snaked its way back to his neck, fingers threading into his hair, and he pulled Phillip towards him. Their mouths slammed together as they both opened, the liquid transferring into Phillip’s mouth as Brandon tilted his head back, letting it flow down his throat as Brandon set the cup down entirely, the whole thing all but forgotten. His now free hand pulled at Phillip’s waist, bringing them flush against each other. His hands settled on Brandon’s shoulders, bunching up his shirt. That seemed to be the only place he felt comfortable touching him.

“Let’s go somewhere a little quieter,” Brandon spoke against Phillip’s lips, both of them staring deeply into the other’s eyes. Phillip just nodded, and then Brandon was dragging him down the hall, not able to keep Phillip off of him. They kept pressing against each other as Brandon shoved the door open, twisting Phillip around as they were now outside, alone. Brandon pulled away, glancing around quickly and seeing no one besides the lone running car in the parking lot. So Brandon turned Phillip around, beginning to plant kisses on his neck as Phillip giggled, his hands hovering as his whole body felt hot. Brandon’s hand slid over Phillip’s mouth, and then he moved, jabbing the needle in. Phillip gasped, muffled beneath his hand, and within fifteen seconds he was in the trunk and they were leaving. And Brandon’s thumb traced across his lip, biting it pensively. Another betrayal. Another crime. Another night of remorse.

“Well, you certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself,” Rupert said, almost chuckling as they got farther from the school. “Don’t tell me you’re going to fuck him though. Don’t ruin him like that. Not until I’m satisfied.”

“Don’t worry, he wants to take things slow. I doubt he even knows how to fuck.”

“That’s good. Maybe I could ease him into it.” Brandon saw Rupert’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

Brandon looked across at him, the jealousy clear in his tone. “What?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I wouldn’t penetrate him or anything. Just give him a taste of corruption. Nothing he would remember anyway. Besides, pleasure can look like desperation if you know exactly what to do. And I love capturing desperation.” Rupert glanced over to Brandon, seeing the anger in his gaze. “What’s your problem? Don’t tell me you’re jealous. If you want him that bad then you can have at him once we’re done with the pictures.”

“But he won’t remember if I do anything when he’s like that.”

“Yes, and…? Are you upset you have the world at your fingertips? Upset with using the power I’m giving you to do whatever you please with? I’m sure if you were into girls there wouldn’t be an uncorrupted beauty in my collection if I let you at them. Come on Brandon, why the sudden moral conflict?”

“I’m not conflicted. It’s just…he won’t be very lively. I’m used to him when he’s…” Bright, joyful, pure… Brandon looked away, crossing his arms and not speaking for the rest of the drive. When they arrived Rupert picked Phillip up and carried him inside, and Brandon followed behind. Because that was how it always went. He got to undressing Phillip as Rupert set up the shots. He set Phillip up in the corner, not unlike how he had Rachel that one time. He curled his body up and waited. And Brandon stood behind him, watching, his emotions jumping between anger and disgust.

When Phillip finally came to, Rupert wasted no time in getting photos. And this time Philip was louder, more noises of protest coming from him. Brandon had given him the same dose as last time, but it seemed like it wasn’t quite enough, as if his body was prepared for it a bit. This happened sometimes, certain girls having a resistance to it in the past. But Rupert didn’t seem to mind, laughing through the whines and whimpers. At one point Phillip tried to cower behind his tied hands, trying to hide from the piercing gaze of the camera lens. Brandon looked away, his hands clenched so tightly his fingernails might have been making his palms bleed. Brandon had never looked away before. Had never felt anything like this. And yet, he didn't stop it. He just let it happen. Phillip whined again, and Brandon peeked, seeing a tear fall from his eyes. Then he made eye contact with him. His mouth moved, as if to speak, but all that came out was a jumbled mess of incoherent syllables. But maybe, just maybe, he had been calling out to Brandon, again finding a way to plead with him for help. Help that he wouldn't deliver, not tonight. Not this time. He wasn’t strong enough this time. After an agonizingly long time Rupert asked for the needle, and Brandon handed it over. Phillip was put to sleep and then he and Rupert did their usual routine. Brandon had to fake it, but he was pretty good at pretending, like it was his full time job.

Once they had returned to the dorm Brandon carried Phillip to his room, setting him inside and sitting on the floor, watching him sleep again. He picked up the scattered papers on his floor, opening each one in turn, hoping to see another drawing of him. But it was just random things. Then he remembered that he had told Phillip to ask before he did things like this, and of course he was respecting it. So Brandon crumpled the papers back up, and he gritted his teeth. He had to stop this. Keep him from harm. He didn’t deserve this. None of the victims had, but of course it took someone Brandon had a strange affection for for it to finally sink in. He put his face in his hands, sighing. It was all so complicated. Because he still liked Rupert, so much. Still looked up to him, saw so much of his own potential in him. Rupert gave him the attention he craved. But Phillip gave Brandon the attention he deserved. And in return Brandon was taking advantage of him, over and over. Stringing him along. Taking from him things that could never be returned.

A few hours later Phillip stirred, and Brandon just waited for him to be noticed as he sat curled up on the floor. Phillip’s eyes opened slowly, and as he pulled himself up he caught sight of him, and where they were. His eyebrows scrunched a bit as he looked down at Brandon. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. How are you?” Brandon tried to pull any sign of being upset from his face, going neutral.

“I’m…” He pressed a hand to his eyes, rubbing them a bit. “I don’t know. I think there was something in that drink. I feel like I blacked out.”

“Yeah, I almost did too. Whatever you put in there someone had definitely mixed some drugs in. But luckily I was able to drag us both back here before anything happened.”

Phillip nodded a bit, not looking at Brandon, seemingly searching his own memories. Looking for something. “Right…” His tone was unusual, and Brandon’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. How much did he remember?

“What’s on your mind?” He pressed, trying to see if he could coax it out of him, gaslight him into thinking he wasn’t remembering right.

“I thought…I had a weird dream. It was so bright, and you were there, I think. And there was…a monster. But it’s all so fuzzy.” He pressed a hand to his head again, groaning a bit. The side effects were still wearing off.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream, but it’s over now.” Brandon stood slowly, checking the time. It was almost four thirty, far too early, but he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, so he figured he could just go sit in his room for a while and try to not feel like such a despicable person. But Phillip reached out, grabbing onto his arm, stopping him.

“Wait…” It seemed like Phillip was on the verge of tears. “Um, I don’t feel well. Can you stay? Just for a little while?” Brandon’s eye twitched the slightest bit. But he nodded, wordlessly letting himself be pulled down onto the bed next to Phillip. As soon as they were both horizontal, Phillip wrapped his arms around Brandon, pulling him close as he burst into tears. Brandon tightened his grip, his arms closing them in until there was no space between them. “Brandon…why do I feel so awful?”

“I don’t know.” Lying was easy when you didn’t have to look into the sad eyes of your victim.

“I feel like…like I’ve been touched all over. But not in a good way. I feel so gross, and yet nothing’s wrong. I don’t understand what happened.” His breathing stuttered against Brandon, and his hands pressed harder against Phillip. “What happened last night, really?”

Brandon pressed his forehead into Phillip’s shoulder. “I brought you back here, once we started to feel weird. That’s all. Whatever happened after the vortex party in your mind is just a dream. Just go back to sleep. Everything’s alright now.”

Phillip sniffled, trying to look at Brandon, but he avoided his gaze, keeping his head buried against him. And so, after a few more minutes of sobbing, finally Phillip seemed to calm down, and he laid back, keeping his hands on Brandon but with some space between them. And Brandon watched him fall asleep, wiping the tears from Phillip’s eyes until they stopped flowing.

Chapter Text

When it was morning Brandon moved back to his room, careful not to wake Phillip. And then he wallowed in there all day, refusing to go to class. Refusing to see Rupert or anyone else. He just wanted to fix this. But he didn’t know how without it backfiring. Rupert was capable of a lot, and Brandon knew that if he even suspected the betrayal, well, Brandon might find himself on the business end of a gun. He needed to gather evidence. He needed to buy time. He needed to find out where Rachel was. And point Max and Chloe in the right direction. Let someone else discover it, and then roll with the punches from there. That’s it.

Brandon got up and got ready, taking off from the dorms and heading into town, on the hunt for none other than Chloe Price. But as it turns out, when you wanted to find Chloe Price she was nowhere to be discovered. So he had to come up with another plan. He went to the diner, since her mom worked there. He popped in and got her attention. “Hi there Mrs. Price. I was wondering if you could had Chloe’s phone number. I had borrowed something from her and I need to get in contact so I can give it back. Hopefully today.” She pulled out her little notepad and wrote down a set of numbers, handing it over without further question. Brandon smiled at her, the mask fully on. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

He left and immediately dialled. It rang once…twice…three times…and finally- “Hello?”

“Chloe Price. It’s Brandon Shaw, and I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

“How the fuck did you get this number, prick?”

“Chloe, do you want to find Rachel Amber or do you want to be upset with me?”

“Both. What do you know?”

“I’ll tell you down at the beach, away from everything. And hurry, I don’t know how much time I have.” He hung up, and then he was rushing to the beach, to the gently crashing waves along the shoreline. Rupert never liked the beach, so it would be unlikely that he would be around. And besides, he was teaching while Brandon was ditching, so that definitely helped. He stood on the edge of the waves and waited, hands deep in his pockets, his mind racing. But finally he heard someone approaching. He turned to see Chloe Price, and then she wound up and punched him, hard. “Ah!” He reached up to his cheek, glaring at her as she crossed her arms.

“So you do know what happened to Rachel. And you fucking lied to me. Spill before I beat your ass into the sand.”

Brandon almost growled, standing back up straight, his frame looming over Chloe. But clearly size didn’t deter her. He rubbed at his cheek a bit. “I need you to tell me everything you know about Rachel Amber. So I have an idea of what I need you to know.”

Chloe eyeballed him, almost glaring as she scoffed. “Ex-fucking-scuse me? You dragged my ass down here to tell you about Rachel? No, I’m here for answers, not ring-around-the-rosie.”

“Listen Chloe, what I know is complicated, and the only way I can answer your question is to get a better idea of who Rachel is.” He almost said was, but thankfully he caught himself. “I didn’t know her that good, but I could point you in the right direction. You knew her best, so tell me about her. Quickly. Time is of the essence here.” He knew that Rupert would have put her somewhere that was ironic. Somewhere that was hidden in plain sight. Right under their noses. But he needed to know more about her. Because she never opened up to him. Rupert had to handle her half the time. Brandon still had some lingering jealousy. Sometimes he wondered if subconsciously he had overdosed her on purpose. But he could never be sure.

“Um, ok, she was a thrasher. Very punk rock. She was a leo-”

“Where did she hang out when she wasn’t at school?” He pressed. Rupert wouldn’t bury her on the school grounds, would he? That would be too bold, he couldn’t have.

“We used to hang out at-”

“Brandon!” They both turned their heads to see Max Caulfield angrily stomping towards them. He had never heard her voice above a whisper before. She was so quiet usually. But now she looked pissed. “Did you drug Phillip like you drugged Kate?!”

Brandon’s eyes widened. Where the fuck was this coming from? He looked around as if a hidden camera was pointing at him to get his reaction. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“Phillip told me what happened last night. I know what you did. And when I find proof you’re done for.”

“What happened last night? We both got drugged by whatever alcohol was at that party and I had to drag us back to his room. What’s there to know? When could I have drugged him when he was the one who brought the drink to me. You’re delusional Caulfield.”

But she wasn’t giving up, and now Chloe was standing next to her, arms crossed. “Are you behind all of this? Where’s Rachel. Brandon?”

Brandon's hands clenched into fists. “If I knew I would tell you Price, but guess what, I don’t. I tried to help all of us, but I guess my efforts are in vain and I have to take care of things by myself, as usual.” He ran a hand through his hair, and pushed between them. “Just forget it. I’ll fix it by myself.”

They were saying things after him, but Brandon frankly wasn’t listening. He made his way back to campus and closed himself in his room, and he began to write. He spent the next three days in his room, thankfully the weekend only made him miss one more day of classes, and he wrote it all down. Every binder, each picture, he wrote the date it was taken. He described each and every one, because he remembered. He knew it all, and he needed a way to ensure that if Rupert caught wind of this, he couldn’t destroy all of the evidence. He wrote down all of it in its basic form. And then in another notebook he wrote exactly what he did. All of his involvement in it, that filled almost half of the thing. The other half was Rupert’s side. The things he had said to Brandon, everything he had come up with. His philosophy, all the facets of his psyche that Brandon had worked out of him. And finally, in a third notebook, he included every instance of his victimhood. Because at the end of the day, Brandon might have helped Rupert, but he still had his own binder in there. He was underage when they had started this relationship. And despite his consent being given to being drugged, it didn’t really count because he was a minor. It was a power imbalance, a toxic dynamic. One that Brandon used to love. But he couldn’t love him anymore. Not after this.

Once that was done Brandon put the notebooks under his pillow, somewhere sort of concealed but easy enough to find if police searched his room. Then he tried to blend back in, since people had noticed his absence for two days of classes. Especially Phillip. He seemed slightly wary of Brandon, but still like he was trying to care about him. A wasted effort that Brandon didn’t deserve. He tried to wave at him when he came into class, but Brandon ignored him, almost on autopilot. He sat down next to him and avoided any sort of look at Phillip, staring ahead almost blankly.

“Psst,” he heard Phillip whisper. He didn’t bite. “Psst,” he tried again. Nothing. A poke against his shoulder. Brandon finally relented, his eyes looking right through him, hopefully hurting him. Urging him to stay away. But instead of doing any of that Phillip slid a tiny piece of paper over to Brandon. It was a little cartoon drawing of what he guessed was a little cartoon Phillip hugging a little sad cartoon Brandon. “Are you ok?”

“What did you tell Max? She came at me accusing me of doing something bad to you.”

Phillip’s thumbs twiddled as he heard Brandon’s words. “I just told her about my dream. She compared it to something that happened with Kate Marsh a while ago. I don’t know exactly what she was talking about. She just said she was going to talk to you. I’m sorry if she got upset with you.” He shrugged. “It was just a bad dream. Everybody gets those.” Brandon crumpled up the tiny piece of paper in his hand, pressing it against his palm as he turned away again. He felt nauseous, another strange first for him, since he wasn’t sick. He closed his eyes and sighed, and then Rupert came in, and class began.

As soon as class was over Brandon rushed up and tried to get away from everything, but he heard Phillip chasing after him. “Brandon, wait, I wanted to show you something!”

He stopped, turning on a dime as he came face to face with Phillip, almost bumping into him from the sudden stop. “What? I’m having a terrible day Phillip, I don’t have time for…this right now.” He vaguely gestured to Phillip.

And that got the smile to fall from his face. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have time for you and all your joy and smiles and whimsy and just…goodness. It’ll only ruin me further. Remind me of everything I’m not. And I can’t deal with that right now.”

“Then I think what I have to show you is more important than ever.” And he grabbed onto Brandon’s arms, beginning to drag him along, not taking no for an answer. He pulled Brandon along all the way to the student lounge, and he pulled out a bunch of pages from his bag as he set them against the piano. He sat down and looked up at Brandon. “I finished your song.” And without waiting for a response he began to play. The beginning was mostly the same, but after where it had ended originally Phillip’s fingers just took off, playing with this intensity. Each key played had purpose and meaning, and they still blended in a balance of high and low. Brandon watched him play, the smile having returned now that he was in his element. And it hurt him so much. It hurt him how beautiful this was. How wonderful Phillip was. He turned and ran, he needed to get away. He needed to get away from all of it. He left the dorms and just took off into the woods, but he heard footsteps behind him.

He just kept running, the footsteps getting further away. This is why he kept up his physique. He ran between the trees, and finally he stopped, hearing only the noises of nature around him. No one and nothing to make his guilt worse. And Brandon just flopped down where he had stopped, curling his knees to his chest as he buried his face in his arms. Damn it, why did he have to take his meds so often? If he didn’t he knew he wouldn’t feel any of this. Because that was the problem. Why did Brandon Shaw have to discover empathy now? He screamed out into nature, letting his cry blend with the birds he startled.

And then there was a voice behind him. “Did you like the song?”

His head whipped around, seeing Phillip standing there, severely out of breath. “Go away. You’re not safe if you hang around with me. I’m not good for you.”

“I don’t believe that.” He stepped closer, and Brandon rose from the ground, stepping back.

“Phillip, I’m serious. You need to stay away from me, for your own safety.”

“Why? You make me feel safe. I don’t understand.” His face scrunched up in confusion, and still he stepped closer.

How Brandon wanted to tell him. He wanted to scream at him that he was wrong because Brandon was complicit in drugging him, kidnapping him, taking illicit photos of him, and everything else he had done. But his mouth refused to voice the words. Because if he did that, he would lose him, and Brandon didn’t want to lose Phillip. Not like this. Not now. Not after that beautiful music. His hands clenched into fists. Phillip stepped closer. “Phillip, I’m warning you,” he spit out, his emotions sparking and fighting against each other for control. But Brandon was far from in control, and that made him dangerous.

“What happened last week? Is that why you’re upset? Because you can tell me.” He was a foot away and closing in. And so Brandon got him to back off. He swung, hitting Phillip square in the nose. He tumbled back as he cried out, his hand going to his nose as blood began to drip from it.

“I’m not good for you. I’ll only hurt you more. Stay away.”

Some tears appeared at the edge of Phillip’s eyes as he stared up at him from the ground, unmoving. “Brandon… I’m sorry if I did something wrong…”

That was the last straw. Brandon jumped on top of him, pushing Phillip into the ground, making him wince from the pain in his nose. “You’re so stupid, do you know that? It’s not your fucking fault. It’s mine. It’s all my fault. And I’m sick of having to look at your face and be reminded of everything that I’ve done to you.”

“You’ve never done anything wrong-” He tried to say, trying to make Brandon feel better. But he didn’t know. Didn’t understand what he was a part of. Not yet. But once Brandon got Rupert, then they would know, and it would be over.

Brandon shook his head, covering Phillip’s mouth and eliciting a cry as his nose was probably broken or something. “I’ve done so many things wrong that no amount of forgiveness could ever fix it, especially from you. Go get your nose fixed, and just leave me alone.” Brandon rose, not helping Phillip up, and he walked away, leaving him there as he just walked. Wandered until he found his way back to the dorms.

The next day Brandon was somewhat shamed by Rupert for fucking with Phillip’s face. Good, ruin him. Give him something to upset him. Let Rupert be disappointed. Let him see that purity is fleeting and Phillip was teetering on corruption anyway. The next week Brandon tried looking for Rachel. He scoured the walking trails. He looked through her neighborhood. Anything to give a hint at a recently moved shallow grave. But he was coming up empty. And he was pretty sure Max and Chloe were following him, or at least suspected him of something. He had to go see the principal about this alleged drugging incident, but Phillip had defended him, which made Brandon upset. But he was off the hook. The end of the month was almost here, and Brandon knew Rupert was getting hungry for Phillip again. He could see the way he looked at him in class. But Phillip was too busy paying attention to Brandon, despite his best efforts to avoid him, Phillip refused to leave his life.

And the same day Rupert texted Brandon to get his victim, that was the day he finally broke and went to Phillip’s room. He knocked on his door and as soon as Phillip opened it Brandon shoved his way inside, pulling Phillip into his arms. He wrapped his arms around Brandon, and his hand rubbed up and down his back. “I’m sorry. For everything I’ve ever done and everything I ever will do to you. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Where is this coming from?” Phillip asked, peering up at him as he snuggled against his chest.

“A place deep down inside of me that I thought would never be accessed.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Brandon shook his head. “No, all I want is you to myself, just for a moment.” And then he pulled Phillip up to kiss him. He was careful of his nose, Phillip leaning into the touch immediately. Brandon guided them back, onto the bed, continuing to kiss him slowly and pointedly. Trying to remember what each kiss felt like, so he could store it away for later. When he wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. His hand slid slowly down Phillip’s chest, and as it arrived at his waistline Phillip’s hands shot out to catch it, pulling away from the kiss.

“Um, I don’t know if- If I’m ready for that.”

“Right. You’re too pure for someone else’s hands on you. I would only ruin everything.” He wasn’t speaking to Phillip, he was speaking to Rupert, hearing his voice in his head. But something in Brandon’s demeanour, the utter defeat in his voice or his eyes got Phillip to slide his hands away.

“You wouldn’t ruin anything. I trust you.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Brandon pressed their foreheads together, staring into Phillip’s eyes. Those beautiful chocolate brown eyes. And his hand slipped into his pants, slowly, cautiously. Phillip gasped, but he didn’t stop it this time, letting Brandon take hold of him. “Have you ever done this, by yourself?”

“Done what?”

Oh. My. Fucking. God. “Jerked yourself off?”

He slowly shook his head. “No, I’m too busy with other stuff. And I never really cared.”

Brandon frowned. He pulled his hand out of Phillip's pants and got him to sit up. “I need to do this right, so you know what to do. Turn around.” Brandon got behind him and pulled Phillip flush against him. His hands were now acting as Phillip's. Brandon reached into his own jeans and pulled out his wallet, grabbing the condom tucked inside. Then he was reaching into Phillip’s pants, carefully sliding the condom on. One hand moved to hold Phillip’s chest, keeping him steady, then the other was settled where it was supposed to be. “Put your hands over mine,” he said, and Phillip pulled his arms from simply hanging at his sides not knowing what to do, placing them over Brandon’s. Then Brandon started to run his hand along Phillip’s length. It didn’t take much before he started getting hard. He gasped as it happened. His breathing was already fast, but more likely from nerves than pleasure. Brandon kept it slow, waiting to see if Phillip would coax him to go faster. But he seemed unable to do anything right now. “Is that good?” Brandon asked, his head on Phillip’s shoulder, his gaze almost scientific.

He nodded. “Mhmm. Really good.” Phillip bit his lip a bit, and Brandon started to go slightly faster, making him close his eyes, his face flushing a bright red.

“You’ve really never done this before?”

He shook his head. “I’m not… into sex. I just…like kissing and holding hands. This is…” He let out a moan. “This is nice. But,” he spit out a sort of laugh, “if- If I had to pick, I’d rather cuddle than this. With you.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Maybe it was impossible to ruin him. Truly out of Brandon’s capabilities, even though he would be the most likely person to ever be able to achieve it.

But Phillip shook his head. “No, keep going. It feels good.” So Brandon kept going, and not too much later Phillip climaxed. Brandon removed his hand from his pants, wiping some of the sweat from Phillip’s brow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a teenage boy who had never jerked himself off before.”

Philip shrugged. “I just…never really get the urge to. Even kissing is only a sometimes thing. I just prefer other things, more casual sensual touch. Like this.” His hand rubbed against Brandon’s as it held his chest still.

Brandon pulled him close, knowing he was tasked with getting him outside. To Rupert. But Brandon had a plan for Rupert. He was going to stop this tonight. “Want to go for a walk? Stargaze?”

“Is that a hobby of yours? Stargazing?” Phillip sounded so excited, like he was finally learning something about Brandon. But he didn’t want to give him false hope.

“No, but sometimes I like walking through the darkness and staring up at the sky.”

“Ok.” Phillip got up and removed the condom, tossing it as he cleaned up a bit. And then they were walking outside of the dorms, heading off on a specific route that had been picked ahead of time. Their hands were together, and Phillip was swinging them back and forth with every step. And every swing of their hands felt like a stab to Brandon's chest. But they kept walking. They kept walking until they turned the corner and Rupert stepped behind them, jabbing the needle into Phillip’s neck. His hand slipped from Brandon’s as he grabbed at Rupert, but he quickly flickered from consciousness, and they hauled him into Rupert’s car. The ride over was silent, and once they were in the room Rupert got to work preparing while Brandon pulled Phillip’s clothes off.

“Take off his underwear as well.” Brandon’s hands froze.

“Why?”

“I have a very specific vision tonight, and it requires him to be in the nude.” Brandon still hesitated as Rupert approached. “Oh don’t worry, you won’t be able to see anything in the photos, but he can’t be wearing any clothes or it’ll ruin the shot. You’ve been trying to get into his pants all month, what’s the problem?”

Brandon didn’t answer, his hands moving slowly, pulling Phillip’s underwear off, revealing himself in full. Brandon wondered if he should tell Rupert what he had done with him. See if that would hurt him. Affect his vision of Phillip’s purity. Rupert appeared with tape, binding Phillip’s wrists behind him, and he began to move him, positioning Phillip on his stomach, one leg to cover himself in just the right way, his face pressing against the floor. He looked like a hostage. Well, he was. Brandon stepped back, moving towards the table as Rupert got his camera ready, waiting for Phillip to wake up. Brandon grabbed the needle into his hands. And then he pounced. He jabbed the needle deep into Rupert’s neck, startling him as he let him have it.

And then Brandon felt the full unrelenting force of Rupert’s elbow into his eye, and that rattled him. He fell to the ground as Rupert quickly pivoted, leaping on top of him as his hands wrapped around his throat. Brandon gasped, reaching up to try and claw at Rupert, but he was so tall, his arms so long. One hand held firm to his throat while he took the other and began to lay punch after punch to him, Brandon feeling blood accumulate in his mouth as his head kept moving back and forth with each impact.

“Oh, this is cute. You wanna be the white knight? Well, your first mistake was thinking that a dosage meant for someone a third of my size would be able to take me down.” Another harsh blow to his eye. “Your second mistake was letting me bring both of you here in the first place.” The hand on his neck tightened. “And your last mistake is thinking that if you take me down, that I won’t drag you under with me. If I get caught, I’m going to make sure that neither of us ever sees the light of day again.”

Brandon chuckled, blood dripping from the edge of his mouth. “Keep talking dirty to me,” he teased. Rupert Cadell was a man who liked to choke his partner during sex. Not always, but when he did, he knew just the right way to do it. This almost felt like one of those times. Despite the pain radiating throughout his face, Brandon almost felt untouchable. His hands were against Rupert’s wrist, trying to fight off the crushing of his windpipe, but now they reached up, bunching into his shirt as Brandon tried to pull him closer. And Rupert met him halfway, the both of them crashing against each other as they kissed hard. Rupert pulled against Brandon’s hair, Brandon moaned in his ear as he bit at it playfully, leaving blood behind as his mouth continued to bleed. And then Rupert’s free hand reached into Brandon’s pants, the other hand pinning him to the floor again, resuming his choking.

But this time Brandon was all for it. He knew deep down that this was his body’s way of fighting for his survival. This submitting to the desire that radiated from him with the actions Rupert performed. But Brandon didn’t care. As long as he could be a distraction, then Rupert wasn’t currently hurting Phillip. And Brandon would put himself in the line of fire for him, it wouldn’t even be a choice. It was already made. He would do it again and again to make sure Phillip was safe. He let out purrs of pleasure, his vocal chords moving against the hand that enclosed them. Rupert worked away at him, slowly, his oxygen getting smaller with each inch he crawled closer to orgasming. And when he finally reached it, barely conscious, Rupert leaned down to his ear. “Never forget this Brandon. You’re disposable, just like Phillip’s camera. And I think you’ve hit the end of your film roll.” Brandon passed out from lack of oxygen.

When he woke up, he found himself in the Dark Room still. And he noticed several things. One, he was naked. Two, he was laying behind Phillip on the floor. And three, Rupert was taking pictures of them together. “Oh good, you’re awake. If you hadn’t noticed I left your hands unbound, because I’m curious how someone lucid would pose for this.” Then he chuckled. “Well, more lucid than you would normally be in this position. But not lucid enough to run.”

Brandon heard Phillip whimper in front of him, his hands moving sloppily as he fought against his restraints. And Brandon saw the large camera lens staring directly at them. So, Brandon did the only logical thing he could think of. He reached his hand over and covered Phillip’s eyes, shielding him from the monster in his dream. His other hand pressed against Phillip's chest, trying to bring Phillip that comforting touch he craved from Brandon only an hour or two ago. Rupert watched him do these actions, and then he smiled. “Isn’t that precious? The pinnacle of corruption trying to protect the pinnacle of purity. It’s almost poetic. I couldn’t have made this better if I tried. Now stay just like that.”

From over Phillip’s shoulder Brandon glared, any semblance of emotion besides anger gone from his entire body. He felt an overwhelming heat inside his chest, and it burned at the thought of Rupert Cadell behind bars, or dead. Either or. At this point Brandon would take either. Every noise Phillip made, Brandon would hold tighter to him. Trying his best to protect him in this state. But he knew deep down it wasn’t doing much. He could feel the racing of his heartbeat. He was scared and disoriented. Rupert stood and set his camera down, approaching them suddenly. Brandon tried to pull Phillip back, away from the approaching figure. “No…Get away…” He slurred out, then it hit him that he was drugged. Rupert had said it, but until Brandon moved like this, a quick action, a twitch into action, then the room started spinning.

“Don’t be selfish Brandon.” He reached for Phillip again, and Brandon grabbed onto Rupert’s arm. His grip wasn’t that strong though, since Rupert then tugged Brandon fully off of him, tossing him away as Phillip gasped, whining as his body hit the ground. And in the span of twenty seconds Brandon felt rope being pulled harshly across his hands, pinned behind his back as he was unceremoniously hogtied. He groaned, almost growling as he tried to wiggle free. “Quit squirming. I’ll have my turn with you once I’m done with Phillip.”

At that Brandon looked at him from the floor. “Turn?”

Rupert laughed. “Brandon, did you think all this time that I was such a good fuck with just one round? No. The only time you ever relax is when you’re half-lucid at best. That’s when you’re my favourite.” He ran his hands through Brandon’s hair, and he wanted to flinch from the touch, suddenly feeling disgusted. Rupert had never taken advantage of the girls when they were in that state. And yet…Brandon was the exception. Well, his victimhood status just doubled. Hopefully he could live long enough to write a footnote in the notebooks. Rupert pulled Brandon’s head up by the hair and gave him a few more blows, apparently not wanting to waste anymore of his drugs tonight. Then he let Brandon’s head slam into the floor again as he went back over to Phillip, taking so many pictures of him. Too many. And Phillip gazed over to him a few times, his mouth quivering when he would make eye contact. Brandon could feel his nose bleeding, and probably his mouth. He was staining the pristine ground with his blood. But he couldn’t be bothered to care. DNA evidence was important. But his body finally succumbed to the pulsing in his brain, and at some point he passed out.

When he woke back up he could feel something digging into him. His legs were spread awkwardly, and he knew it was Rupert violating him. Because this wasn’t something enjoyable anymore. This was the power imbalance in full effect. And then Brandon noticed his mouth had been taped over, silencing him and his cries of pain as his body was stretched and contorted so Rupert could fuck him around the rope. Brandon let out a grunt, and Rupert pulled at his hair. “Oh good, you’re awake. So, I could kill you now, but I don't have the time. I’ve got a lot of grading to do, and a lot of photos to print. So,” a particularly hard thrust, Brandon’s eyes closing as he groaned in pain, “I’ll be back tomorrow night to dispose of you properly then. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure Phillip is asleep when I do it. Otherwise your death would taint him.” A whimper from Phillip nearby, and Brandon opened his eyes to see him staring on in horror. He seemed more lucid, maybe Rupert hadn’t given him the second dosage. He was also hogtied, but his mouth was free. “It’s a shame he’s going to go missing, just like Rachel Amber. Hopefully Max won’t be too distraught about it. Or maybe I’ll just bring her here too. That wouldn’t be hard. Reunite the beloved Irish twins.” One final thrust, a climax, and Brandon being pushed harshly against the floor. Once Rupert removed himself, he dragged Brandon over towards Phillip, putting them face to face on the ground. “Here, I’ll let you spend some final quality time together.” He leaned down, right next to Brandon’s ear. “I’ll see you tonight Brandon.” Brandon glared at him, side-eyeing him until he left, abandoning them down here.

He stared across at Phillip, watching as he gained lucidity with each passing minute. He tried to speak a few times, but no real words came out. Brandon tried tugging against his ropes, but it was useless. Rupert apparently knew a thing or two about knots. There wasn’t really much either of them could do. They were stuck here. And it was all Brandon’s fault.

“Brandon…?” Phillip finally seemed to fully stir, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the room. Brandon couldn't speak or really do anything, so he just waited. “Where are we?” Brandon looked away, sighing. “What’s happening?” All these questions he couldn’t answer. It was pissing him off. But he couldn’t change how Phillip Morgan worked, so he just let him speak. “This is the place from my dream. With the monster. I’d swear it’s the same place.” Brandon looked back into his eyes. His sad and scared eyes. And he nodded, confirming it. “Have I been here before?” Another nod. “And you were here…” Another nod. Phillip’s lip began to quiver, tears formed at the edge of his eyes. “Brandon, do you know what’s gonna happen to me?” In theory he did. Rupert would use him, and then eventually get tired of him, and then kill him at this rate, since it didn’t sound like he was keen to return Phillip back to the outside world. But you never knew with Rupert, and Phillip was sort of an exceptional case, so he shook his head no. Phillip began to cry, and Brandon pulled against the ropes, wishing he could comfort him. But nothing was going to get his hands free at this rate. So, instead, he inched himself closer, and he pushed their foreheads together.

Phillip opened his eyes, tears still freely flowing, but he held Brandon’s piercing gaze. And then Brandon’s vision got blurry. He blinked a couple times in surprise, and felt warm tears coming from his own eyes. And that was odd because Brandon had never really genuinely cried in his life. But here he was, weeping for the fate of himself and this bundle of joy that had decided to light up his life. Phillip had given Brandon everything he never knew he was asking for, and now all of it would be for nothing. This was the thanks he got, kidnapping, imprisonment, and most likely a lot of touching against his wishes. Brandon tried to breathe in a rhythm, encouraging Phillip to match it. And the hours passed, Brandon never taking his eyes off of Phillip’s. After a while Phillip just began to ramble, trying to ease the tension by talking about whatever he wanted. Anything to distract himself.

“So it all ends with Rachel throwing away her dream job and life in Paris France all because she settles for Ross Gellar, who, need I remind you, was homophobic to his lesbian wife, sexist to his child and just in general, dated a student as a professor, cheated on Rachel when they were ‘on a break’, and is all around the worst person to exist. So that’s why whenever I rewatch Friends I stop at the second-to-last episode, so I can pretend that Rachel is living happily in Paris with her daughter far away from Ross. And this is why Chandler Bing is the best guy friend on Friends." Then he paused. “He reminds me of you sometimes.” And the first semblance of a smile in hours passed across Phillip’s face. Brandon sort of nuzzled their foreheads together, and Phillip laughed the slightest bit. Then his eyes got wet again. He cried probably once an hour, when it all hit him again. And each time Brandon would mirror him, because it reminded him of where they were. Any aches or pain on his face all but disappeared as long as he kept looking at Phillip. But he could see how much it pained him to see the state of his face, however bad it was.

And then something odd happened. They both heard a bang from above. Phillip flinched as Brandon shot his gaze upwards. Someone was in the barn. And they might be someone other than Rupert Cadell. Brandon felt like all of his senses turned into overdrive. Like suddenly he could see and hear clearer. He waited, his eyes searching for another source of noise. Muffled voices outside the safe. Voices plural. Brandon’s breathing was even, calm, anticipating. The door was unlocked. Footsteps. Brandon and Phillip exchanged a glance, but Brandon's eyes were wide, and he shook his head, trying to tell Phillip to be quiet. His lip quivered but he listened, watching as Brandon peered over his shoulder towards the entrance.

“Stocked and ready for the apocalypse. This must have cost a fortune,” the distinct voice of Chloe Price said. Brandon turned back to Phillip and began to nod vigorously.

“Hello? Is someone there?” He called out.

Chloe Price walked into the room, with Max Caulfield trailing behind her. “Jesus Christ!” They froze, taking in the scene of two boys hogtied on the floor, naked, and trapped in a secret underground bunker.

“Max! Help us, please!” Phillip begged, and his voice sounded so childlike it hurt. Brandon breathed a sort of sigh of relief. That was one problem solved. Being found like this means they would trust him, at least for the moment. But once he was free they needed to find Rachel. The final nail in the coffin hinged on Rachel Amber. For both Brandon and Rupert.

The girls rushed over, beginning to try and untie them, and also not look at their exposed bits. “Phillip, what happened?” Max asked, concern evident as she slowly got him free.

“I- I don’t know. The last thing I remember was Brandon and I were on a walk, and then… I thought I was having another bad dream. I saw someone attacking Brandon, hurting him. And when I woke up we were stuck here, like this.”

“Yeah, well, it sure looks like you took a beating Shaw,” Chloe said, working on his rope. He huffed out a breath underneath the tape, which was still over his mouth. They got the two of them free and Brandon ripped the tape off. Their clothes were discarded on the table, and they were handed over as Brandon stood quickly, slipping his clothes back on.

“We don't have much time. We need to get out of here before he gets back. Everything we need to convict is here, but there’s one last matter of extreme importance I need to solve.”

“Before who comes back?” Max asked, handing Phillip his shirt as he finished zipping up his pants. Chloe had drifted over to where the binders sat on their neat clean shelves. Her hand traced across the names as she landed on Rachel. She pulled it free as Brandon sighed, grabbing the other new ones. His, Phillip’s, and Kate’s, and he set them down on the table as he finally answered Max’s questions.

“Rupert Cadell.” A gasp from Max, Phillip looked ready to cry again, and Chloe meanwhile had flipped open Rachel’s album. Max flipped open Kate’s, Phillip put his hand over his own, but it seemed like he didn’t want to unpack that at all. Brandon traced a hand over his. “We have to stop him, for good. This has been going on for far too long.”

“These…this can’t be,” Chloe exclaimed, looking over the pictures of Rachel at her most vulnerable. Brandon knew that the one she was hesitating over was one time Rachel was lucid. The first time they had brought her here Rupert had insisted, just to see what would happen. Her anger and fear translated well. “These are posed…right? This isn’t…”

“Posed sure, but not by Rachel’s choice,” Brandon said flatly. Chloe’s eyes shot up to him. She was pissed. “Chloe, I’m going to ask you one simple question, and then we have to put these back and leave. You and Rachel were the best of friends, where did you spend most of your time?”

“Did you know about this?” She accused. “We’re in your family’s bunker. Were you a part of this?”

She pushed against him, and Brandon held up his own binder, trying to play up the victim while he still could. “Chloe, answer the question, and we can find Rachel. Once we find her, we can bring this to the police.”

She fumed at him, but then she sighed, getting her emotions in check. “The junkyard. We used to hang out at the junkyard.”

Brandon almost wanted to laugh. Of course the trash would end up at the junkyard. Brandon nodded, grabbing the binders and putting them back in order, Phillip’s having remained unopened. Then he took off, prompting them to follow. They left the bunker and hopped into Chloe’s truck, heading in the direction of the junkyard. “The second you have service, call the police and tell them about the bunker and Rupert. If I’m right, this is the last piece of the puzzle.”

“What is?” Phillip asked. Brandon shot him a glance, and it felt like Brandon was feeling genuine sadness for once.

“Rachel Amber.”

“She’s alive?” Chloe gasped. But Brandon’s slow turn towards her only made her clench the steering wheel harder, her foot pressing the gas down further, speeding them along.

They pulled up to the junkyard and Brandon took off, knowing exactly what he was looking for. He darted between the old cars and other general trash of the place, his head on a swivel as he searched for the spot. Then he stopped. There.

He darted forward, beginning to dig at the small circle of dirt without grass. The others caught up and knelt down around him, digging as well. “Come on, come on!” He knew this was the spot. Let him feel vindicated for his actions. Then he felt something that wasn’t earth. A trash bag, buried under the dirt. And inside…The smell hit them all, and they began to gag. “Alert the media, Rachel Amber has been found,” Brandon said, almost spitting the words out. He was so frustrated that he existed at this moment, but he had everything. “Max, call the police.”

“Chloe, look out!” Max called out, as a shot rang off. She yanked Chloe out of the way as they all turned to see Rupert pointing a gun at them, an eerie smile on his face. Brandon reached out, pulling Phillip behind him, his eyes locked on to Rupert’s.

“There’s no need for police here. Because all of this is going to go away. Right Brandon? All of this is just a big misunderstanding. We can talk about it when we’re back in the Dark Room.”

Brandon shook his head. “No, you’re not going to hurt him anymore. I won’t let you.”

He chuckled. “Right. But you didn’t protest for any of the girls. Does his life have more value than Rachel’s did?” Rupert nodded his head a bit, “well, I guess so, since you killed her.”

“You what?!” Chloe blurted out. But Brandon didn’t waver, his eyes never moving from Rupert or the gun in his hand. “You bastard!”

“Chloe, calm down, please!” Max said, trying to hold her back.

“Why do you think I chose to find her? So I could atone for what I did. Make sure that everything we did was brought to the light. Make sure that we go down together, just like you wanted. I don’t care what happens to me, but as long as you never see freedom after this, then I’m ok with my consequences. Because I finally learned to feel bad about my actions.”

The gun clicked, another bullet loaded. “Brandon, let’s not fight. I hate it when we fight. Let’s just deal with the pests and go back to how things were. Let bygones be bygones. I’ll let you have your turn with him, whatever you want. I don’t think even you’re quite capable of corrupting him.”

Behind him Phillip clutched to his arm, he was shaking. The gun moved from Brandon towards Chloe and Max. and Brandon used that. He darted forward towards Rupert. He aimed the gun back at him and fired, but Brandon didn’t even feel it. He charged, using his old football skills to promptly pick Rupert up and toss him, falling on top of him as he wrestled for the gun. And reaching for the needle he knew was in his pocket. He managed to swipe it and he went to jab it into Rupert's neck. At the same time, Rupert swung, and pistol whipped him.

“Brandon!” Phillip’s voice called out. But Brandon was trying to gain the ability to see again. More sounds of fighting. He saw Phillip over top of Rupert, but Rupert had his hand around his neck. He wasn't going to kill his best subject. Brandon jabbed the needle meant for Phillip or himself into Rupert's neck and clawed at him, trying to get him to let go, fighting with him for the gun again. Then Chloe came in out of nowhere and gave the kick of her life to Rupert's head, apparently knocking him out as his hands went limp, allowing Brandon to grab the gun and Phillip to breathe again.

His head was ringing, and Brandon finally registered that he was bleeding from the gunshot wound to his shoulder. But that was apparently the least of his problems as Chloe pulled out a gun of her own, making Brandon hold up his hands in surrender, dropping the one in his hand. But Phillip immediately crawled over top of him, shielding him. “Is it true? Did you kill her you fucking prick?!”

Brandon looked over to Max, on the phone with police, and he turned back to Chloe, still holding up his hands in front of him. Blood was dripping into his eye. “Chloe, please understand, if you kill me, everything I know and can testify against in court dies with me. If you want justice for Rachel, I need you to put the gun down and listen to me. Can you do that?” She didn’t move, unbridled anger on her face. Phillip clutched tighter to Brandon, looking over his shoulder at her.

“Please Chloe, let him talk,” he begged.

Another few seconds of no one moving, and then slowly, the gun was lowered. “Rachel Amber died because of me. But it wasn’t murder. I messed up the dosage I was supposed to give her and she died. Rupert lured her to the Dark Room but her death is on my hands. And I intend to pay for that. But I need to be alive to make sure Rupert pays too. Because as much as I helped him, you saw my binder in there too. I just learned the full extent of what he would do to me when I was half-lucid the other night. I’m sorry Chloe. I understand if you hate me, I would too. But I need to outlive Rupert Cadell.”

Chloe couldn’t look at him, leaving them there as she went back to Rachel’s grave and began to wail in sorrow. Phillip still clung to Brandon, who was beginning to see spots in his vision. In the distance there were sirens going off. “Brandon?”

“Hmm?” Everything was spinning slightly. The sun was too bright. One of his ears was still ringing.

Phillip pressed against him, holding him close. His voice wavered, almost cracking as he asked, “Does this mean you drugged me and brought me to that awful place?”

“Oh Phillip,” Brandon pulled him closer, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I let him use you like that. I’m sorry I wasn't strong enough to stand up to him until it was too late. I’m so sorry.”

“H-how many times did it happen?” Brandon could feel Phillip’s body as it shook on top of his. Everything was hitting him now. All of it was rushing through his mind.

“The night you drank vodka in my room. The night of the vortex party. And yesterday. I lied to you, over and over again, and I wouldn’t want anything to do with me either.” Brandon groaned, his head was killing him. “I’m so sorry I ruined you Phillip. I stole so much from you, and I don’t deserve anything you’ve given me in return. I’m…” His voice wavered a bit. “I’m sorry…” And then Brandon’s eyes flickered, rolling back in his head as he slumped on the ground, his head wound bleeding steadily into Phillip’s hand as he pressed against it.

Chapter Text

A plea deal was the first thing on the table when Brandon got to the police station. A guarantee that he would get either a reduced sentence or at least be put into a prison where he was less likely to get fucking shanked. In exchange for his detailed notebooks and his testimony about his and Rupert’s crimes alike, Rupert Cadell was going to be locked up for pretty much the rest of his life. And Brandon had a while inside himself, but he had the chance for parole in two years if he was good. And he planned on being good. Because he needed to make up for how bad he was before, now that he had a firm grasp on morality, rehabilitation could be what he really needed.

But more than that, he needed Phillip. He missed him, and he had never missed anyone before. He tried writing letters to him, and he didn’t hear anything back for months, which was understandable. To find out the guy you liked had drugged you and handed you over to pond scum posing as a human being to do with as he saw fit, that wasn’t something so easily forgivable. But after months of hearing nothing, finally, there was a response in the mail. When Brandon opened it, it was the photo of him from his room that Phillip had taken. On the back someone had written ‘love at first sight’. Brandon set the photo under his pillow. After that he began to get small letters back from Phillip, but they were very reserved even in written form. He was working his way up to trusting him again, but it was slow. Well, all Brandon had was time. By the one year mark behind bars he wrote a very specific letter to Phillip, asking him if he would be willing to meet him in person. He didn't hear back after that. Until the day a guard approached him and told him he had a visitor.

No one had come to visit him up here, especially not his family. They had all but disowned him, officially now. Which had pissed him off, because he knew exactly why. One of the lawyers in court tried to spin Brandon out to be a psychopath, hence why he did what he did. Brandon had to clarify very quickly that he didn’t do what he did because he was a psychopath, but having psychopathy meant he had pretty much no empathy compared to a normal person, hence why it took him so long to actually face the negative consequences of his actions. Because Phillip had found a way to break through his walls, he developed a sort of protectiveness towards him like a mother to a child, so Brandon's empathy was reserved for him alone.

He approached the visitor area, sitting down and picking up the phone, and he stared at Phillip behind the glass. He looked so different than he did a year ago. It almost made Brandon laugh. “You finally went through puberty,” he commented, eliciting a small laugh from the man across the glass.

His jawline had finally manifested. He seemed taller, more filled out. Still skinny, but not as skinny as before. His hair was slightly longer and combed back. And his eyes were just as inviting as they always were. His laugh sounded exactly the same. And it made Brandon’s emotions stir. In here they had all but disappeared again, no need for them. And besides, he was on different meds here. They numbed him a little bit. But Phillip brought life back to him with just one laugh. “Yeah, I guess I did. Does that mean Rupert wouldn’t want me anymore, now that I’m an adult?”

“It’s not about age, it’s about purity. And if you’re anything like you were last year, I think he’d still foam at the mouth for you.” Phillip nodded a bit, his eyes looking away, his hand beginning to shake a bit as it held the phone. “I’m sorry, that’s not why I wanted you here. Um, I wanted you here so we could do this in person, face to face.”

“Do what? Your letter didn’t say.”

Brandon nodded a bit. “Ask me one of your pointless questions.”

Phillip’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, that action still the same. “Huh?”

“Ask me one of those getting to know you questions.”

“But you never liked those.”

“Please Phillip, humour me? I want to show you that I’ll never lie to you ever again. So, ask me anything.”

Phillip sort of adjusted in his seat. They were so uncomfortable, but Brandon would sit here forever if it meant he could see Phillip for even just a second more. “Alright. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Rosegold, because that’s the colour your cheeks turn when you’re flustered.”

Phillip blinked in surprise a couple times, not expecting that. Brandon had been thinking about these since he had set foot in here. He was ready. His eyes were locked onto Phillip’s as he waited for another one. “Um, wow, uh…favourite season?”

“Winter, because then I actually feel something. Although, you’ve made me feel a lot more feelings than I ever thought possible as well.”

“Favourite movie?”

“They don’t let us watch movies in here, and I never cared for them when I was a child, so I don’t have one right now. Maybe if they let me out you would show me yours?”

There was the rosegold. “Um, favourite author? Or is it still Nietzsche?"

Brandon smiled. “You remembered. But I only said that originally so you would stop asking me questions. Recently though I’ve become partial to whichever of those sisters wrote Wuthering Heights.”

“Favourite song?”

Brandon reached up hesitantly, placing his open hand on the glass, staring deeply into Phillip’s eyes. “Phillip Morgan, I hate music. But my favourite song is yours. The one you wrote just for me. It plays in my head at all hours of the day, over and over, and that is what keeps me going in here.”

Phillip’s own hand rose to meet his on the other side of the glass. Tears were in his eyes. “I want us to be friends again Brandon, I really do, but I don’t know if I can forgive you for what you did.”

He nodded. “You don’t have to. I won’t be upset. I just wanted a chance to tell you all those pointless things about me, give something back to you for once. If this is the last time I ever saw you I would understand.”

Phillip nodded a bit. “You haven’t blinked once since I sat down.”

“I don’t want to miss looking at you for a second, what can I say?” He smiled a bit behind the glass, but he lost it just as quickly. He couldn’t tell where Phillip stood with him. He didn’t want to give himself false hope. But their hands still pressed against the glass.

A small smile traced across Phillip’s mouth, mirroring him. “I’ve been drawing you, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Never.”

“Maybe I’ll send you a couple, show you the progress I’ve made. Everyone loved what I drew them for Christmas.”

“Time’s almost up. Wrap it up Shaw!” A guard called, pulling Brandon’s attention. He sighed, looking back to Phillip, seeing tears finally break from his eyes.

“That’s nice. I’m glad they liked it. I bet it was wonderful.”

“Yeah, it was. Um…Brandon?”

“Yes Phillip?”

“I…I miss you.”

Brandon’s gaze got sharper. He took a deep breath, nodding a bit. “I miss you too. So much. I’m sorry.”

Phillip nodded back, wiping at the tears on his face. “I’ll see you next time.”

“You’ll come back?”

He smiled, genuinely smiled. And Brandon’s breath caught in his throat. “Sure, I have to think of more pointless questions to ask you, so I can catch you off-guard. So before I come back try to figure out your favourite holiday and animal and Friends character.” And before Brandon could question why Phillip needed to know his favourite character on a show he had never even watched but had explained to him in his darkest moments, a guard was leading him back to his cell. But as he was locked in he smiled, because he finally had something to look forward to again. And it was Phillip Morgan.