Chapter Text
Cahersiveen, Co. Kerry
March 14th, 1994
The sun cascaded through Wilson Lannon's window. Sat with his legs criss-crossed on his bed, the boy shuffled through a pile of envelopes.
Mostly boring, junk mail that he didn’t pay too much attention to.
He only ever cared about mail for one reason.
One boy.
All the way back in Texas, Brando Evans had written to Wilson ever since they got assigned to each other in a penpal program at school five years ago. Generally he wrote about little things most people wouldn’t care about, like the new CD he bought or about the bird he saw on the way to class. But Wilson always cared so much. He would read anything as long as Brando wrote it.
After sorting through many envelopes that were either addressed to his grandparents or were just junk, he gazed at the familiar messy handwriting that was immediately recognisable as Brando's.
Truthfully, his writing had no nice qualities.
It was abysmal.
And still, Wil found it sweet. Attractive even.
He carefully ripped open the envelope and held the postcard and letter in his hand.
The picture on the card showed the sun setting over a field in Texas.
Wilson smiled at it.
Brando always put a postcard in the envelope, no writing. Just the card.
It was cute, really, it was.
He then unfolded the letter and began to read,
Dear Wilson,
I hope you’re still doing well.
I bought a new CD yesterday.
Pretty damn cool, I’m telling ya wil!
You would love it.
It’s Elton John so it would make my mother cry. I like it though.
College is so boring. I know I've said this before. But all my friends are falling in love or already have a girlfriend. I don’t know why but I just don’t feel like that. Not properly. I flirt, sure, but it’s not real. If that makes sense?
Sorry that was sappy.
I hope you come back soon.
Well, I know I haven’t actually met you yet but my point still stands.
I need to show you all my favourite spots around Austin. And there's this creek in my hometown which I’m sure you’d love!
Anyway, I hope spring is nice in Ireland.
Tell your grandma I said hello!
I wish you all the best.
-Brando
Wilson couldn’t help but sob quietly. He had done so with every single letter he received since he moved. Whether it was from his family or from Brando, he just couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes.
He pinned the postcard onto his cork board, alongside all the other cards and letters.
As Wilson made his way downstairs, in search of paper, he heard the faint sound of his grandparents bickering.
He rolled his eyes and grabbed the doorknob.
“Hey,” he awkwardly greeted them. “Got any paper? I ran out.”
Catherine, his grandmother, patted his shoulder. “Oh there you are sweetie! We were just talking about you,” she stated, her voice almost whispering now. “And we’ve got plenty of paper in the box over there.” She gestured to the opposite side of the dull living room.
“Writing to that boy again?”
“Yeah. I am,” he mumbled, a slight blush creeping over his cheeks.
“Typical.” His grandfather, Cillian, butted in. A horribly rude tone came out when he spoke.
“Cillian, please,” Catherine replied sharply.
She turned back to Wilson.
“Anyway, honey, have you found a girlfriend in that school of yours?”
Girlfriend.
The word rang in his ear, painfully.
His grandparents didn’t know he was gay.
Wilson never planned to tell them. He knew his grandfather was old fashioned and unaccepting.
“Oh-I- uh. No, I haven't,” Wilson muttered a pathetic response.
“Just don’t get any wrong ideas in that brain of yours, Wilson,” Cillian scolded, “I swear that Evans boy is giving you dirty beliefs.”
Wilson’s face turned bright red.
Not from embarrassment.
From pure anger and frustration.
Do not bring Brando into this!
Wil took a deep breath.
“Uh, yeah. Whatever! I’m not too interested in romance anyway,” Wilson scoffed.
What a lie. Come on Wil.
He grabbed a piece of paper and scurried back upstairs.
He rummaged through the drawer of his nightstand to find a pen. Then, he began to write.
Dearest Brando,
I’m so glad to hear about your Elton John CD.
It truly does sound very cool!! I’m sure it's amazing.
I’m totally horrified for college.
Sounds like hell. But don’t worry.
I’m sure you’ll find love one day, Bran.
You can always be sappy with me. I’ll listen.
I miss Texas. Kinda. Not a lot though.
However, I agree, I would love to meet you too. Plus I’d enjoy the Brando Grand Tour of Austin and Round Rock.
Hopefully one day. Definitely someday!!
I promise. I’ll meet you no matter what.
Spring is pretty alright so far. The sun always glares through my window while I’m drawing.
I like it. I can’t lie though, it is still extremely cold over here.
Anywho, it’s not too bad! I’m getting better at dealing with Ireland's weather.
Sending much love and luck.
Yours forever,
Wilson.
He signed his name in gorgeous cursive at the end of the letter.
And in true Wilson Lannon fashion, he grabbed his polaroid camera.
He took a picture of himself and slipped it into the envelope alongside his letter.
He wrote Brando's address on the envelope and ran back downstairs.
“Hi, me again!” Wilson blurted out.
“I’m just going to the postbox, see ya soon.”
“Alright sweetheart. Be safe,” Catherine replied, placing a kiss on his forehead.
Austin, Texas
March 23rd, 1994
Brando tapped his pen against his forehead, trying to concentrate on studying.
The door of his dorm room creaked. He mumbled a greeting under his breath.
“BRANDO!” his roommate and good friend, Aled Pearson, yelled. Almost too enthusiastically.
“Aled,” Brando said, trying to requite the energy. “Oh woah, that’s a lot of mail.” His expression turned confused as his brain processed the large stack of envelopes in his roommate's arms.
“Most are for me, mate,” Aled responded with a chuckle. “But, hey, look! One for you.” He paused. “I reckon it’s from that Wilson boy!”
Brando's cheeks turned pink.
Aled noticed.
“Uh well. Here you go,” He mumbled, handing Bran the envelope.
“Thank you.” He nodded back to Aled, who was already tearing open one of his own letters.
Brando fumbled with the corners of the envelope.
Aled looked over. “You are acting .. weird,”
he declared, like it wasn't obvious. “Weirder than usual.”
“No. I’m not,” Brando replied, shaking off Aled’s statement and ripping open the envelope.
He read the letter with a fond smile on his face. Brando knew Aled was too caught up in his own letters to care about him anymore.
Which was immensely convenient to him.
He read over it again.
Wil wants to meet up. No, not even just that, he would love to meet up. And he promised!
The blush grew on Brando's cheeks before he could’ve even thought about stopping it.
He fiddled with the letter for a split second before placing it on the bed beside him.
He then reached back into the envelope and grabbed out the polaroid.
The picture showed Wilson sitting on his bed with the letter, which was now beside Brando, placed on his lap.
A big, warm, grin spread across Wil's face.
It was perfect.
He was perfect.
Brando blinked rapidly when he realised he had been staring for a second too long.
A dirty, pathetic, second.
He sighed obnoxiously and pinned the polaroid amongst all his other pictures.
He shot a quick smile to a photo of himself and his father when he was younger.
When he was naive and, somehow, more foolish. Brando never thought that he’d miss his dad this much while he was in college.
Especially when he was only a twenty five minute drive away.
Aled interrupted the silence.
“Hey, Bran, party at Vitas tonight! Come along. If you want?”
Vita Parker, Aled’s perfect girlfriend, was the life of the party.
She lived in a huge mansion near the school campus and her parents were rarely home. Meaning she hosted parties all the time.
To be totally honest, Brando lived for it.
Getting drunk and flirting was his specialty.
And, even if he denied it, Brando Evans loved to dance.
Bran smiled and turned to Aled.
“I’ll be there, of course!”
“Perfect,” Aled said, an appreciative grin on his face. “I’m not planning on getting too drunk so I can drive home.”
“Even more perfect.” Bran smirked. “You know I love getting tipsy!” He added, throwing his arms up dramatically.
“Tipsy?” Aled scoffed under his breath.
‘Tipsy’ was certainly the understatement of the century.
Brando chose to ignore him.
Later that evening, Brando slipped on a brown racer jacket over his half-buttoned shirt and ran his hands through his dirty blonde hair.
Aled already went to Vita’s earlier so Bran had to walk alone.
“Great,” he chuckled sarcastically to himself as he unlocked his dorm's door.
Going to your roommate’s girlfriend’s house party to get drunk and dance with random girls you’ll probably never see again was definitely a low point.
But it was oddly riveting to Brando.
He couldn’t help but run back every time.
The air outside was fresh, like an average spring night in Austin.
Brando took a deep breath and continued to walk.
Vita's house was the biggest one on the street.
Large marble pillars stood in front of the door as if they were guarding something.
The blaring music seeped through the walls.
A few couples were scattered outside, either on a smoke break or making out.
Brando let himself into Vita's mansion and wandered down to her basement, where she held all her parties.
As the chaos shaped around him, he felt like he belonged there. And once he has had a few drinks he would get that feeling he craved for. That feeling of finally being free.
Even if that feeling always made him disgracefully hungover the next day.
He spotted one of his friends in a corner.
“BRANDO EVANS!!” Myles exclaimed, wrapping one arm around Brando's shoulder.
His best friend since childhood, Myles Milner, was the golden boy of their hometown Round Rock, Texas. He would win every prize, help in every fundraiser, and volunteer in every event. And by some miracle, he was best friends with unorganised, messy, confused Brando.
“MYLES,” he yelled back, “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Yeah, honestly I was only invited today,” Myles replied. “Aled said I was welcome, and I knew you’d be here, so I came.”
“I’m so glad you did.” Brando grinned widely. “Aled always runs to Vita and I’m usually a bit lonely.”
“He’s head over heels for that girl,” Myles added, “he is insufferable sometimes!”
“I still love him though,” Brando cut him off mid sentence.
“Yeah, of course.” Myles nodded.
“Want a drink?”
That might’ve sounded like a crazy question considering everyone at the party was under twenty one, Brando and Myles being eighteen, but every college house party had illegal alcohol. And Brando couldn’t deny a couple of drinks, he thought they brought the fun.
“Is that even a question,” Brando giggled softly. “Please. If you don’t mind!”
Myles disappeared into the crowd to grab Brando a drink.
Brando leaned against the wall behind him, admiring the couples dancing together.
Vita had a giant sparkling mirrorball hung from the basement ceiling. And in every corner of the vast room, she had set up flashing disco lights that shone bright on the concrete floor. The lights painted a multicoloured layer across the floor that mimicked an illuminated dance floor.
Myles reappeared with a vodka cranberry, for Bran, in one hand and a bottle of some sort of beer in the other.
“Thanks,” Brando mumbled and then took a sip.
One sip turned into multiple red plastic cups.
Not all vodka, no, that would be too boring.
Whatever alcohol Brando was handed, he would take.
It was bad, really, it was an awful habit.
And what made it even worse, Brando could have fun without alcohol.
But there he was yet again, alcohol making a home in his bloodstream while he mindlessly bopped his head to the music.
A girl, who looked about his age, walked up to him
She had beautiful, long, blonde hair styled into pigtails. With eyes so sharply blue that they could practically cut your heart in half.
“Dance with me!” She squealed, more of a demand than a question.
Of course, Brando didn’t say no.
Seeing Brando Evans dancing way too comfortably with a girl he didn’t know the name of wasn’t a rare sight.
Her body pressed closely against his.
She was about three inches shorter than Bran and when she looked up at him her eyes sparkled in the light.
“You look so gorgeous,” he said, tucking a loose hair behind her ear.
She batted her eyelashes.
“You’re such a gentleman,” she responded, her voice toxically sweet.
She played with the collar of his soft green shirt.
When the song changed, Brando instantly recognised the opening notes of ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA
Brando pulled away slightly from Evelyn, the girl he was dancing with, they were now arm’s length away from each other. Brando was bouncing up and down to the beat while screaming the lyrics.
He looked wild, crazy, and maybe a bit stupid.
But certainly free. Dancing like he was the only one on the dance floor.
Myles watched from the corner, arms wrapped around his girlfriend.
Brando was an idiot. A charming, chaotic, idiot. Myles wouldn’t want it any other way.
But, Brando was painfully lonely. He couldn’t keep flirting with girls that he would forget in about a week.
And Myles was fantastically good at reading people. Over the past few years, he noticed a handful of things about Brando. Like the way his eyes would glint when he talked about Wilson, the way a small blush appeared on his cheeks whenever he looked at his letters, and how he stuttered every time someone brought up Wil in conversation.
Myles sensed that he probably wasn’t the only one who had noted this behaviour from Brando.
Myles reckoned that Brando had a secret little crush on Wilson Lannon. Even if Bran himself hadn’t fully recognised these feelings.
Sure, Wil was across the Atlantic but maybe distance brought fondness.
Myles knew that the story hadn't even begun yet.