((Brendan Wallace continued from False Awakening
Brendan Wallace wished he could think faster, because for all he knew, he could be running straight into conflict...again.
There was no time to think, no time at all, just a mission to accomplish, like in those games where what you'd need to do is spelt out for you on the sceen: Find out what the hell is going on over there.
Brendan had fallen behind the other two, and Jason had even passed him. He stopped momentarily and started to try and breathe again. He wasn't used to running like this, hell he didn't know it was possible for him to run as fast as he did, but it was catching up to him. Taurus still clenched in his hand, he tried to keep up again, and...he finally arrived, and realised why he should not have left his gun out.
It was a clusterfuck, to say the least. People everywhere, and all doing something. The girl with Rapunzel hair, the guy who was trying to help out in anyway he could, the girl on the sand, lying, bleeding, dying...and his two best friends in this place, Sarah trying her hardest to help, and Dutchy, the poor, poor guy, had finally been overcome.
And for a while, Brendan stood there, mouth agap, and realising how it was going to be for the last few days of his life.
Hope gone again.
Stuffing the gun into his bag, he stood there, and knew what he had to do first. He had nothing he could help Kimberly with, hell if he even tried he would probably just muck it up. There was someone he had to talk to.
The poor Scandinavian boy crying in the sand.
Almost 6 months ago, he dared to take a leap. He knew, he had realised by that time, that people like him, like Dutchy, weren't going to be completely accepted until the world stopped becoming a cespool of conservatism and realised that people were different. So that was when he started to date Dutchy.
And boy did it mess up good.
Brendan often wondered why he leant more to guys than girls. He'd come to terms with his sexuality a long time ago, thought the worst about himself, and finally accepted it. He was bisexual, leaning slightly more homosexual, and cared a lot what people thought of him, so he vowed to make anyone he was with keep it under wraps, having to try and not care if they thought he was being rash and judgemental. He never told anyone about anything he did, in real life or otherwise. It was always the same online: post the story, read the comments, host the game, play the game, beat the game. But...through the time he wanted to, he could never actually reveal anything to people, even if he would never meet them. He feared them all, with their judgemental eyes, and wanted to keep everything about himself under wraps. Keep the mystery alive.
And, partially, that's why him and Dutchy failed.
He was open, he was loveable, he was everyone's friend. He was his friend, and knew it. He never went further than a hug, or a kiss, and that would always be in private, or where he knew no-one would be watching him. But Dutchy...it couldn't work. He had affection, and wanted to show it, and Brendan couldn't stand it, not with people watching. So one day, just one day, when Dutchy smiled at him, he walked by without a word, without a smile. He supposed Dutchy got it, and they hardly spoke outside of the Activist Club.
Brendan knew Dutchy, getting to know him a lot more in the months after he decided to screw the internet so far and get a real life. He always wanted to see Iceland, he was a comic fan, and he was real.
He had soul, he had tenderness, and he was the reason he could grow from his old persona and begin anew. He rubbed off on Brendan, and made him see the world in a different light.
Secretly, though he never told anyone, he was the reason that Erik and him worked. He found out how to be a real person.
And now he was crying, puking, and needed somebody to comfort him.
Brendan didn't know how to deal with crying people. He would have done something, but...so much was happening. He could only just stand there and watch chaos, watch disorder, watch the effect of a scared person with a gun, and watch a person even more scared affect the world.
He was useless, just standing there, watching everything roll without him even making an impact. Jason had scrammed, Sarah was in a fit, and Dutchy...he didn't know what to say to him now. Brendan stood there, watching the world descend.
His legs were starting to feel faint. He couldn't do anything, and...
Suddenly not feeling so good, Brendan dropped his bag beneath him and sat down, head in his hands, eyes gaping through the gaps in his fingers. If people were hurt, and all he had was a gun, and no knowledge about the human body, medical help, or even how to console a person who was beyond all hope, what use was he?
The wind was all Brendan could notice, as he sat there, head in hands, as the situation rolled by his notice.
All I am is a useless load. This is the game, people are gonna get hurt. I need to...I need to help them. But...I can't even help Dutchy when he's crying. What if someone gets hurt, or shot, or stabbed, or hurt real bad? What can I do? I can't...I can't...
I CAN'T DO ANYTHING.
WHY DON'T I JUST DIE?