"that'll be 19.79, please." the cashier days to brendon, who's been fiddling around his pockets looking for his wallet for about 30 seconds now.
pay. grab items. leave. go home. make as little human contact as possible.
his plan was simple.
he made it into the elevator, making room for another man who had walked in.
brendon generally didn't judge based on appearance, but the guy across from him was the only exception.
leather jacket, unbrushed yet oh so perfect hair, stubble, black jeans.
what brendon called "bad news, but the good kind."
"you got a cat? the man said, staring at brendon with the most amazing honey coloured eyes he's ever seen.
" yeah..." brendon could barely even say, as the stranger was imposing and, blatantly, fearsome.
"name's ryan. what's yours?" the man said, clearly addressing the obsessive cat lady vibe that followed brendon like an aura of weird.
"it's.. uh... brendon. yeah." brendon said, laughing at his awkwardness.
"well, if you need a pet sitter, i'm apartment 56. floor 7. here's my number if you need it." ryan said, pulling out a tissue and scribbling a series of numbers on it before winking.
"thanks..?" brendon replied, shaking due to caffeine withdrawals.
"gotta blast!" ryan said, before getting off on the same floor as brendon.
AN:
GOTTA BLAST!
xx leo
🌚🌚🌚🌚
YOU ARE READING
the semi climatic tale of a badass and an introvert
Randomryan rides a motorcycle, brendon reads books. ryan drinks redbull, brendon drinks tea. ryan likes atlas genius, brendon likes lana del ray. two complete opposites, but one apartment building in common. ((lowercase intended))
