Archive of Our Own ^beta

If anyone ever asks me what part of my life you are, I will look at them and smile and say, "The best part."

A sunny Friday morning met Spencer as hunger woke him up, and climbed out of his bunk. Everyone else was still asleep; or at least they hadn't come out of their confined spaces. He kicked shoes and belts on his way out to the wannabe lobby - making a mental note to remind them, which means Brendon, to pick up his stuff, he wasn’t a five year old anymore. 

The near unused kitchenette greeted Spencer, he didn't wait until the others woke up for breakfast. First thing he did is check the tiny fridge for anything edible, besides condiments, sauces and takeout food. Not surprised when he found nothing, except for a lonesome egg resting on its egg holder.

‘Who in their right mind would leave just one single egg?’ Spencer thought to himself. Now mad because of the egg, he hastily grabbed a pop tart and called it a day. But made it a task to find out who is responsible for such an atrocious thing.

Presumably an hour later, the bus parked near a nice looking diner, recommended by one of the crew members, a local in the city they were currently in. 

Ryan was the first one up after Spencer, who had stayed on the couch contemplating the dry views the road had to offer as he waited for the rest to wake up. Ryan, being the tidiest of them, appeared with neatly brushed hair and dress pants at plain ten a.m.

Jon followed soon after, immediately laying on the couch, complaining why they always had to be up so early. Groaning, "We could skip breakfast sometimes, you know?”. Earning a clear “No” from Spencer.

Lastly, it is no surprise that Brendon remained in his bunk when all the others were up. Even though he wasn’t asleep anymore, Ryan knew, and confirmed said fact by lightly punching the bunk’s curtains where Brendon’s head should have been. Only earning a triumphant “Ha! You got my feet this time, Ross.”

“Shut up and get out of there, yeah?” Ryan then added as an afterthought, “Spence doesn’t look happy.” 

Then there’s a loud “I can hear you!” coming from a very not-happy Spence that made Ryan abruptly open Brendon’s curtain for emphasis. Brendon screamed and covered his naked torso, really, like they haven’t seen each other before in far less clothes. Ryan simply clapped inaudibly for him to hurry.

Brendon did as told, and followed Ryan out the bunk’s area. He hastily fixed his hair, the ‘good morning’ dying on his throat when he saw Spencer’s usual bitch face. And instead went with “What did I do this time?”

Because apparently it was always Brendon who does something to get someone mad. He’s gotten used to it already. If he was real, he sort of liked the attention.  

“It's not you… well, I don’t know yet.” Replied Spencer, scanning the room, making eye contact with his band mates one at a time. He suddenly explodes, although not screaming, “Who the fuck left one egg in the fridge? I wanted to make myself breakfast, but I found just one egg, who does that? Eggs practically come in pairs.”

Both Jon and Ryan answered almost at the same time, “It wasn’t me.” “I don’t even like eggs.” Whereas Brendon stayed silent, but shook his head ‘no’, contemplative. 

“Then it magically disappeared.” Spencer continued almost frustratingly. “Now I’m hungry and mad because of one stupid egg… We better get going, it’s pointless.”

Then Brendon blurted, “Shelly” out of nowhere. 

Ryan patted Brendon’s shoulder, an uncalled warning to stop talking. Spencer gave up already, there’s no need to keep stirring the topic. Yet, on the opposite side of the room, Jon’s asking “Who’s that?”

“Shelly, the egg.” Smiled Brendon, like it was the most obvious thing.

The flared nostrils from moments ago became a confused, scrunched nose on Spencer’s face. “What are you talking about?”

Brendon crossed the room and grabbed said egg from the fridge, holding it in the air for everyone to see. “That’s the egg’s name now, we’re keeping it. It’ll be our very own egg pet.”

—

Shelly now had hair and a face. Big eyes, freckles and a smile to match, drawn messily with black sharpie. Brendon also made it a bed to keep it safe, using the carton tray where he had his side of french fries for breakfast, and the cleanest sock as the bedding -meaning it’s stolen from Ryan.

It’s safe to say Brendon had been a responsible father of the egg pet for the past two hours since its baptism. He just knew the other’s will be too, they’ll grow fond of it when they stop being so uptight.

During their breakfast, Spencer threatened to break Shelly and drain its contents, under Brendon’s watch. Saying it was probably rotten anyway, since they don’t even know how long it has been in the fridge. Brendon defended it doesn’t matter if it’s rotten, it’s not like they would eat it. 

Jon argued it’d probably end up breaking one way or another, they’re on a tour bus anyway. It’ll make a mess, and then it’ll smell. “Nobody wants a stinky bus”’

Surprisingly, Ryan didn’t have arguments against Brendon’s genius idea for band bonding on their last weeks on tour, instead agreed with Brendon. Saying, "It's fine by me, just keep it out of my bunk, it’s still an egg.” 

Brendon hugged him and swore he wouldn't do that. Now that he had Ryan’s approval, he really couldn’t care less what the rest had to say about Shelly. He would work to give Shelly the best weeks of its life.

—

Brendon couldn’t remember where they were by then, was it Detroit or Philadelphia? After all they were visiting new cities everyday in such a short period of time, they simply ended up mushing all together. Really wishing he’ll get the time to truly visit them someday, also hoping his newborn pet, Shelly, or was it their child?, could come with every adventure, but it’s too fragile.

Luckily, they had a free day amidst a busy tour schedule. In other circumstances they would have stayed in a hotel room enjoying a glorious free day. Laying in a real bed with fully working air conditioning. The safest place to take care of an egg. Unfortunately, due to a terrible mistake in the logistics of tour management, free day and hotel night were incompatible; and not negotiable.

Which could mean they either rot in the tour bus (an immediate and sharp ‘no’) or got to be actual tourists for a day, sightseeing. Normally, leaving venues aside, and a local diner if they got lucky,  they hardly got to know the ground they stopped at. It could be nice after all.

Having two entirely separate ideas of sightseeing, they parted ways. On one hand, Spencer and Jon went on a walk, with a digital camera in hand to frame delightful images. On the other hand, Brendon needed to go to the nearest mall and get a hold of new underwear, and probably some egg-friendly items; Ryan decided to come with.

They had spotted a mall not too far from where their bus had parked, so it really shouldn’t be a problem to get there and return safely to the bus. Brendon tucked Shelly in his shirt's front pocket and tagged Ryan along, sparking conversation, “How long do you think Shelly will live?” 

Ryan took a moment to think, yet ended up saying, “Uhm, I don’t know.”

“A day, or a week? Do you think it could live up to two weeks? Or wait till the end of the tour?” It’s safe to say Brendon spoke enough for the both of them. “That’ll be so cool, right, Shelly? You’d be with us the whole time.”

It felt strange to Ryan how Brendon’s almost humanizing an egg, a white shell with sharpie features and gooey contents. But he couldn’t deny he was growing fond of that damn thing too, or maybe he simply enjoyed his bandmate’s joy. “I'd say a week tops.”

“That’s too optimistic for you. Are you feeling okay?” Questioned Brendon, pausing in his step to reach over a hand to Ryan’s shoulder.

“Better than ever.” Ryan stopped walking too when he noticed Brendon’s hand. He continued warily, “I’m just hoping it’ll live until it finds a safe place for its last breath.”

“Your bunk, of course.” Brendon brushed the question mark off of Ryan’s face with characteristic smart answers, resuming walking like he hadn’t even stopped in the first place.

Yet Ryan couldn’t say behind, “If you’d like to take the couch, then go ahead.”

“Agh, fine. Spencer’s bunk then.”

Ryan cracked a smile, “Have fun dealing with him after.”

They soon arrived at the awaiting mall, the fluorescent lights contrasting the brightness of the sun outside. Ryan stopped to admire the soft hum of air conditioning, the light breeze messing up their hair as they crossed the entrance. Not long after, Brendon made a beeline for the nearest store that showed mannequins in merely underwear, Ryan followed behind at a slower pace.

“Ryan, look! It’s a perfect fit.” Exclaimed Brendon quite loudly, holding up a highly inappropriate, yet funny looking, male thong. Ryan couldn't help but snort, only to earn a desperate sigh from Brendon. “So immature coming from you. I’m being serious right now!”

“How can I be serious when you're holding up a thong?” Deadpanned Ryan, laughter getting stuck in his throat. “Plus, it’s too risky to carry a literal egg in so little fabric, a normal sock is good enough.” 

That answer was not what Brendon wanted to hear though. “But it’s just like a tiny pocket, perfect for Shelly. We can carry her around…”

“No, we can’t. It’s an egg, it’s fragile.” Interrupted Ryan. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease about Shelly’s fate. The egg was bound to break, he knew that, no matter how many socks it was wrapped in, and still, that was as good as it could get. “Let’s find some socks instead, c’mon.”

“I’m very indignant of the way you’re talking about Shelly right now.” Pouted Brendon, lightly touching the round surface of the egg nestled in his pocket. “But… agh, you’re right.”

“Perfect then.” Ryan took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling of impending doom that always seemed to follow Shelly’s fragile existence, and grabbed Brendon’s shoulder as if guiding him to the socks section. 

Pairs of warm and fluffy, Christmas themed socks caught their eyes, they had found Shelly’s new bedding.

—

“What if we take Shelly for ice cream!?” Suggested Brendon innocently.

“Maybe we don’t do that.” Answered Ryan matter of fact.

“To a park then?” 

“Too many people, kids everywhere.” Commented Jon.

“A museum!”

“Any mess will cost us a fortune! Not even an option.” Argued Spencer.

”All of you are so boring, for real.” Huffed Brendon.

“We’re just being careful.” 

“Boring!”

—

Initially, Ryan had bet Shelly would last a week before she finally cracked. Their bandmates differed, but much to their dismay, they found themselves on day eight of egg-caring.

Brendon had confidently told them, “Shelly’s going to outlive the whole tour. You’ll see." 

Sadly, fate had other plans…

Surprisingly, looking after an egg hadn’t been as difficult as they imagined it would be. Until then. Shelly stayed most of the time on her nest bed, with a different Christmas sock each day. They could be carrying her around, but they didn’t. It simply saved them pointless band arguments, and honestly, even Brendon had high suspicions of Shelly’s contents being rotten already. 

But that day, since they were celebrating her one week birthday, Brendon talked to his bandmates about taking her with them to the venue during soundcheck. It excited him that it could be the first time, and possibly the last, Shelly would ‘see’ them perform.

“Just think about it. It’s pointless to have Shelly, basically our child now, and not have it come with us at least one day. A sort of take-your-child-to-work.” Explained Brendon.

Ryan felt the excitement emanating from Brendon as he spoke about the marvelous idea. He won’t lie, there was something oddly endearing about the whole thing, even if he knew it was a disaster waiting to happen. Everyone but Brendon agreed on that. 

“It’s on you then.” Came Ryan’s answer, although slightly reluctant.

So, the inevitable happened. On their way from the parked bus to the venue, loose gravel littered on the sidewalk from a recently paved avenue.

It only took some tiny little pieces of gravel, and Brendon’s flat, severely overworn converse, to make him quickly lose balance, and slip just enough to send Shelly flying. Even though it had only taken seconds to crash onto the sidewalk, it seemed to have happened in slow motion.

All of them stopped on their tracks, staring at the shattered remnants of what was once an egg, Shelly. The yolk oozed out, creating a small puddle on the ground. A figurative crime scene laid in front of their eyes. 

There was a moment of stunned silence, a collective disbelief between the band members. Spencer, Jon and Ryan exchanged cautious glances, waiting for Brendon’s  reaction. Even without words, all they hoped for was for their upcoming show that night wouldn’t be cancelled.

It took a minute for Brendon to come back from his trance, and once he did, he laughed, although dryly, then broke out full on laughter.

It took him by surprise. Ryan himself felt sadness at the atrocious sight. He confirmed laughter counted as a coping mechanism. The question was, did they need to join and laugh with Brendon?

Spencer's train of thought arrived faster, and his dry voice cut through the tension. “Well, I guess you could say she cracked under pressure.”

That only made Brendon laugh even louder, wiping a stray tear before it rolled down his cheek. The rest finally joined him, it was a comical scene after all. They all had seen it coming for the very first moment, taking care of an egg out of all things, and it finally happened.

“You’ll always be remembered, Shelly.” Spoke Brendon between laughs, looking directly at Shelly’s remains. When he looked closer, he could see one of her eyes on a piece of the broken shell. 

“Brendon, you better believe we won’t ever forget about this.” Shrugged Jon, checking his wristwatch, they were late for soundcheck. 

Ryan reached a hand to Brendon’s forearm, squeezing comfortingly. “But honestly, Brendon, I think you put a little too much faith in a fragile, breakable object."

Brendon sighed a little too dramatically. “Well, I guess it’s time to pick a new pet. Maybe a rock. His name can be Rocky.”

“Don’t you even dare!”