Chapter 40—

"You drive me insane!"

"Oh, it's nice to see you two, Belle dearie," Brandon lazily responded.

"What is that?" she glared at him.

"A painting. What's it look like? Are you going to attack my artistic skills too? Because I just had to smile and nod for about an hour while Enrique decided he'd give me some tips on how to paint. So, now I'm painting a big, ugly monster which will be dedicated to him. Where have you been all day?" he kept rambling, completely oblivious to the piercing looks Belle was giving him. "We tried to ring you but couldn't get a hold of you."

"Brandon!" she yelled.

"What?" he turned around from his painting. "What's the matter with you? You're all high strung and stuff."

"I just don't get how you manage to do it."

He was lost as to what she was going on about. "Do what?"

"You're the most irritating man I've ever met. You're sarcastic and completely nuts. And for fuck's sake, you name everything in your house. And then, to add onto that, you actually talk to those things."

"Oh, I do not." He waved that off, as if it were totally ridiculous and that he didn't, in fact, do that very thing.

"You're so damn immature sometimes. And you tell the cheesiest jokes. And get yourself into ridiculous situations. Like just yesterday. Who the hell falls off their bed and breaks their wrist?"

"Obviously me."

"Just shut up!" she yelled at him, sick of him interrupting her train of thought, "And, and you don't even have a driver's license because you couldn't pass the test and were declared an unsafe driver."

"That's just because that lady had something against me. And I'll try for it again one day!" he protested. What was this anyway? Come over and tell Brandon everything that was wrong with him.

"She did not! You just can't drive! And, and—you use more make-up than I do half the time. And I think you might even have more clothes than me."

"So? What's wrong with that? I have money to spend, after all."

"And those stupid songs you write! Oh my God! It's insane how you always manage to put that one phrase in there that relates to you and me in some way or another."

"Stupid? Hey, hey! My songs are not stupid!"

"And you fucking interrupt me when I'm trying to tell you something important!" She stomped her foot in true Brandon fashion and fixed him with the most exasperated look she could muster up.

"Well, I don't see what's so important about attacking me. Why did you come all the way over here just to tell me stuff that I already know?" He turned back around to his painting.

"Oh, just forget it!" she got fed up and rushed out of the apartment, leaving Brandon to look after her. He had no idea what all that was about. And he drove her insane?

It took her about two seconds to turn back around and fling open his door again. She stormed back in and slammed the door shut after her. Brandon turned back around and decided that whatever it was she was trying to get out, was pretty important.

"You know what, don't forget it!" she said with her hands on her hips. "Fine. I give up, Brandon!"

"Give up on what?"

"I lied."

"About what?" he questioned.

"About not loving you. I did … I still do."


Oh, well that was a great way to respond there, Bran—he thought to himself. She just told him that she loved him and all he could muster out was 'What'? God, he was an idiot. But was she really saying it? Or was he just imagining it again?

"I love you."

"You do?"

And there he went again with the stupid responses. One look at her and he knew that it was true. Not that he didn't already know it. He'd figured it out at Christmas, but he never thought he'd see the day where she admitted it.

"Yes," she sighed, "and I mean—don't think that this just gives you room to run me over and hurt me again. Because I don't know if I fully trust you. I mean, not yet anyway."

"Do you forgive me though?" he asked the question that he knew was the single most important factor.

"Uh-huh," she nodded her head in confirmation, "I do."

He jumped up and ran over to her, picking her up and twirling her around. This was almost too much to take in. But hell, even if he wasn't really hearing it, at least it was a nice dream. He put her back down on her feet and leaned forward.

"Wait," she pushed him away from the imminent kiss.

"What?" He tried not to pout. "What's the matter?"

"Well, it just seems so anti-climatic," she shrugged. "Like, shouldn't there be some fireworks? Or a big parade? We just spent the last seven years fighting and denying our feelings and then that's just it? I say 'I love you' and that's the end?"

"It's not the end," he fiddled a little with his green cast, "cheesy as it sounds, it's just the beginning. Or a re-beginning."

"A re-beginning?" she raised an eyebrow. "Is that even a word?"

"Why not? Fits the situation perfectly. Can I please kiss you now?"

"No, wait one more minute!"

"I'm sick of waiting!" he exclaimed impatiently.

"You won't leave, will you?" she softly asked.

"Leave? Have I ever left?"

"Well, no. Not even when I wanted you to."

"You won't get rid of me that easily." He closed the distance between them. "You're stuck with me now. You'll never be able to get rid of me."

"You promise?"

"I swear," he nodded.

He hooked his arms around her waist and pulled her towards his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and—maddeningly slowly—brought her lips down upon his. He didn't think he'd ever been kissed like that before. It was like a fresh start and a lovely conclusion all in one.




"Bran?" she asked, later on that night whilst they were cuddled up together on the couch. "I heard that you started writing lyrics for the new album while you guys were finishing up this last tour?"

"Yeah, I did. Why?" He looked at her eyeing his notebook that was lying on the coffee table in front of them.

She pulled his t-shirt over her head. "Can I have a look at them?"

"Uh, well, sure," he agreed, also sitting up, "but I think you should keep in mind that I wrote most of them when I was just a little angry at you."

"A little?" she raised an eyebrow, while she flipped through the pages.

"Just a tad. Might show through."

"Brandon!" she exclaimed, when she came across a song title that was less than flattering. "Blood Sucking Troll?" she repeated while giving him her best angry glare.

"Like I said, I was a little angry at the time."

"That's what you think of me?" she pretended to be hurt, even though it was just damn near hilarious. "You think I'm a troll?"

"Oh, but of course." He saw her smile shining through. "But you know—I kind of have a thing for trolls."

"You're the king of weird fetishes."

"But you love me for it!"

"Yeah. I do."

"Can I use that song?" he hopefully asked.

"NO! How can you even think about using a song called Blood Sucking Troll?"

"Well, I don't see why I shouldn't! It's a very good song actually. I spent a lot of time on it."

"And that was the best title you could come up with?"

"That's a damn good title!" he exclaimed. "It's better than anything you could have come up with!"

An argument after about an hour of being back together? Oh well. This is Brandon and Belle that we're talking about. They'll argue until the end of time, but they'll never get tired of it. And most importantly, they'll never leave.

"You suck, Brandon!"

"You drive me insane!"

"Likewise!" she yelled before he tackled her down onto the ground.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he whispered, "I'm using the song."

The End!