Now, I'm the last person who wants to be seen as a Brandon sympathizer, but I never felt like his sexual assault was appropriately addressed, and I thought writing some of it might be cathartic for me as a survivor. This story references sex while intoxicated and underage (1x21) and parental responses (2x7). Trigger warning for statutory rape and victim blaming.

Brandon's eyes popped open, awakening from yet another dream about the incident. Ever since it had happened, it had haunted him: every night, every time he heard from his dad, every time he saw his siblings with their significant others. This mistake. This failure. And it was all his fault. He knew it was going to destroy his dad to hear what had happened, but it was destroying him to keep it inside. The same tape kept replaying, the sense of hopeless despair, her putting him to bed, the kiss, the sensation of her hands on his sides... He couldn't shake the memory no matter how hard he tried, and maybe, just maybe, telling his moms what had happened would help.

"Mama?" Brandon poked his head into his moms' room. He knew Stef was out, which made it the perfect time to confess. Lena was generally less likely to explode in any situation, and he knew his dad's proximity to this one would make it especially volatile.

"Yeah, B?" Lena replied, looking up from her Kindle.

"Can I- can I talk to you for a minute?"

Lena's brow wrinkled. Her eldest son, usually so calm and collected, sounded uncharacteristically nervous. "Of course, honey. Come sit," she said, patting Stef's side of the bed. Brandon came further into the room, then paused hesitantly. Now she was really curious, and a little bit nervous, too. What was going on? She waited patiently until Brandon had joined her on the bed, his hands in his lap and eyes downcast. "What's going on, bud?"

Brandon cleared his throat. "Uh... I- I have- I have something to tell you," he stuttered, staring at his fingers. Lena stayed silent. He looked up to see her looking at him gently, both confusion and concern evident. "I made a mistake," he said finally, turning his gaze back down. "A big mistake."

"What happened, B?" After a long pause, she added, "You can tell me anything, sweetie. You know that."

He nodded numbly. "I..." He swallowed hard. Then, letting the words spill out quickly, he murmured, "IhadsexwithDani."

Lena cocked her head. "What was that, honey?"

He exhaled heavily, and repeated, slower this time: "I had sex...with Dani." Brandon kept his eyes focused on his lap, waiting for the news to break. Waiting for the weight to lift. Waiting for his mom to respond.

Lena, for her part, was stunned. Never in a million years had she expected this. She didn't know how to react. But Brandon, her sweet baby boy, was curling farther into himself with every second of silence that followed his pronouncement.

"Oh, Brandon," she breathed, reaching out a hand to touch his knee.

He let himself feel the comfort, slowly leaning towards her until Lena took him into her arms. His eyes were damp with tears, which made him angrier at himself than before. He never cried, probably because of all the messages of toxic masculinity he'd been indoctrinated with before the divorce. Showing that kind of weakness felt like ice on a burn, refreshing and painful at the same time. After another long silence, he sat up, Lena's hand still on his back.

"Tell me everything," she said softly, and he did.

He knew telling Stef was a bad idea. He knew telling Mike was a bad idea. Hell, telling Lena hadn't been a great idea either, even though it was a relief at the time. But he should have known she would make him tell his other parents, and he had known that a full confession would bring a hailstorm of emotions from both of them: his mom's anger at his dad, his dad's shock and disbelief, the dull undercurrent of shame behind the whole story. It made him nauseated just to think about it, standing up in his room after having run away from all the yelling. Why had he told? It was better to suffer in silence. At least that way he was the only one who was hurting. At least then he hadn't hurt his moms and his dad, hadn't proved what a shitty son he was. The sound of his bedroom door opening made him turn around. He wasn't surprised to see his mom coming in. Walking away was frowned upon in their household, and he'd known she would be mad. But surprisingly, what came out of her mouth was reassurance. Comfort. "I'm glad you told us" and "it's not your fault." She was wrong, of course. It was his fault. He had initiated it, had made the first move. He wasn't a victim, no matter what his mom said about it being illegal. He had messed up, just like he always did. He had made this happen. He had made everyone angry. And so, in this spiral of shame and blame, he lashed out in a way that felt disconnected from his actual brain. He could hear himself telling his mom to go away, that he refused to file a police report and wouldn't cooperate with her if she did. He saw himself turn away, dismissing her. But he felt far away, unattached to the body that was acting out. It was as if his mind had gone elsewhere, tucked itself into a warm blanket of mist to protect from the reality at hand.

That night, Stef came into his bedroom again, while he was lying numbly on top of his covers. She laid down next to him, resting her head on his, pressing a few gentle kisses to his temple. Being a mom. Giving him the silent support he needed to start to handle this.

A couple of days later, when he arrived home from school, he found a handwritten note on his bedside table, folded in half. It was in Lena's neat cursive, her perfect teacher's pet handwriting. He sat down, letting his backpack fall to the floor, and opened it. It read:

Dear Brandon,
I know you think it was your fault what happened with Dani. I know Mom tried to tell you that being drunk and underage made what Dani did illegal. I know that deep down, you know that. If this had happened to anyone else, B, anyone you love, you wouldn't blame them. So don't blame yourself, honey. Dani is an adult. She was sober. It was her responsibility to be in control of the situation. She took advantage of you. And that, baby, is sexual assault. That is rape. No matter who kissed whom first, no matter if you said no or not. The blame is on her, 100%.
Your mom and I love you so much, B. Your dad does too, even if he shows it a little differently. I know he's hurt right now. I think he feels guilty that he brought Dani into your life in the first place. And you know Mom isn't really angry at you, or at your dad. She's angry at Dani. Because Dani messed up, B. You didn't. Okay?
Love,
Mama
P.S. Remember, you can talk to me and Mom any time. About anything. I promise.

As he finished the letter, the tears began to well up, and this time, he didn't even try to hold them back.