Bryan Collins (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bryanzilla) wrote2016-04-13 07:32 pm
bryanzilla) wrote2016-04-13 07:32 pm
age switch [early May]
Bryan hadn't gotten very far after successfully fleeing to what he assumed had to be safety earlier that morning. He made it a few blocks before he was sure he wasn't being followed, asked an elderly man out walking his dog where he was and how far out that was from where he wanted to be. Like all the answers David had given him, none of his answers made sense and all they did was invite more and more questions.
After that unhelpful interaction, Bryan decided to do what he should have done the second David left him alone in that bedroom the first time and call the authorities. When he'd gone to do just that, though, he noticed that the phone he'd grabbed off the nightstand wasn't his. In fact, it wasn't like any he'd seen before. It took him a while to even get into it, the first thing to greet him once he figured it out being an image of David, that baby and himself in front of a house. The house he came from, maybe. Bryan hadn't exactly stuck around the outside long enough to be able to tell for sure.
He forgot about the phone call, instead helping himself to some random homeowner's bench swing outside their house as he navigated the phone, learning as he went. Call history, text threads, video clips, photo after photo after photo. The phone's memory was jam packed with nothing but him and David and a baby, and yet none of it was ringing any bells in his own memory.
His chest tightened with every swipe, every message he read or video he watched, the growing anxiety nearly suffocating.
Bryan's not sure how long he sat there, how many times he viewed the same images over and over again, waiting for something to click. It never happened, though, and the only reason he stopped is because his phone had stopped working.
Something's wrong. With him, maybe with everything. He wants to cry and he wants to go home. When he knocks on the front door, he's not sure that he wants to go back inside, but he doesn't know what else to do or who else can explain what's happening.
After that unhelpful interaction, Bryan decided to do what he should have done the second David left him alone in that bedroom the first time and call the authorities. When he'd gone to do just that, though, he noticed that the phone he'd grabbed off the nightstand wasn't his. In fact, it wasn't like any he'd seen before. It took him a while to even get into it, the first thing to greet him once he figured it out being an image of David, that baby and himself in front of a house. The house he came from, maybe. Bryan hadn't exactly stuck around the outside long enough to be able to tell for sure.
He forgot about the phone call, instead helping himself to some random homeowner's bench swing outside their house as he navigated the phone, learning as he went. Call history, text threads, video clips, photo after photo after photo. The phone's memory was jam packed with nothing but him and David and a baby, and yet none of it was ringing any bells in his own memory.
His chest tightened with every swipe, every message he read or video he watched, the growing anxiety nearly suffocating.
Bryan's not sure how long he sat there, how many times he viewed the same images over and over again, waiting for something to click. It never happened, though, and the only reason he stopped is because his phone had stopped working.
Something's wrong. With him, maybe with everything. He wants to cry and he wants to go home. When he knocks on the front door, he's not sure that he wants to go back inside, but he doesn't know what else to do or who else can explain what's happening.
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"I'm sorry." For waking up different and not being the Bryan he expects him to be, the one he went to bed with last night, but not before they both tucked Sawyer in, he's guessing. The one who helped pack all these boxes, or at least told David how not to pack them and would no doubt already have known where everything is supposed to go when he supervised David as he unpacked them. He doesn't know any of that, but knowing that this isn't his fault doesn't make him feel any better.
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If it gets a negative reception, so be it. But just in case, he adds, "I'll put him down and make mac 'n cheese for dinner."
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"So I don't even have to pretend I'm super into watching what I eat and just live on bunny food?" That's a plus. They hadn't gotten there for Bryan just yet. "Before I met you lettuce leaf was just a Valspar paint color."
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It's a white lie, one he doesn't expect Bryan to believe. For a moment though, joking like this, David can pretend everything is fine. He can't let himself think anything but that, not when he needs to provide consistency and stability for Sawyer. And who knows what Bryan will need from him.
For better and for worse.