Author's Note: Just a quick one-shot/drabble that I couldn't get out of my head and decided to jot down. My first time writing for this series, so I'm still kind of testing the waters. Be kind.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Fosters. If I did, things would be so different.
"It's so amazing when someone comes to your life and you expect nothing out of it but suddenly, there right in front of you, is everything you ever need." – unknown
Brandon couldn't help but wonder when exactly it was that he fell in love with Callie Jacobs. He knew he said it for the first time earlier today when he and Jude were arguing in the scarcely used dining room. But when did the occurrence of falling actually happen? It was one of the two questions that were preventing him from sleep that night. The latter being where exactly Callie was, and if she was okay.
Thinking of when he fell in love with her was definitely safer than wondering what she was doing with Wyatt.
The eldest Foster let himself foolishly think for a moment that it was the first time he saw her at the kitchen table that first day. He remembered the stringiness of her hair and the busted lip, and that distant, guarded look she held in her entrancing eyes. He could recall trying not to stare, all the while trying to make her feel welcome, and for some reason, safe.
Perhaps that was when he first developed the fascination with her.
But not love.
It wasn't when they were playing hero the next night either, he decided, though he did dwell on and consider that option longer than the first.
He had skipped the opportunity for a $5,000 scholarship that he had worked so hard for to venture into a danger zone with her. That was the moment when he began seriously caring about her. He knew how terrified he was when her old foster father was waving the gun back and forth between him, a pleading Callie and a terrified Jude in the background. And he wasn't just scared for himself, either. He was scared for the both of them. But if all the chick flick he's sat through gave him any indication, he feels like he wouldn't have even worried about himself and the worry would have been solely on Callie and making sure she was safe.
So he cared about her a lot then, but it wasn't quite love.
He scrambled his thoughts to try and remember exactly what it was he was feeling when they were in the music room together that first time he found out that she played guitar. He remembered being just slightly in awe of her. He did remember the warmth he felt when he put his hand on her leg, and the silence that overcame them when they stared at each other for a fleeting moment until the bell rang. He remembered that feeling well.
He had Talya then, but he knew, now that he really thought about it and accepted it, that that was the moment that the fascination turned into an infatuated. But it wasn't love.
Dancing with her at Mariana's Quince was a defining moment in their…what would you call it? It wasn't a relationship, but it definitely wasn't a friendship, and it definitely wasn't a sibling bond. Their... tether. He had felt bonded with her since she first arrived, and now that she was gone he could feel that separation. Tether seemed like the perfect word. When he made the decision to pull her to him when the music started for the court dance, he made the decision to accept the strange and forbidden feelings for her. Once he did that, it was a bit of a whirlwind.
He got a sick sense of personal satisfaction when he saw her regard Wyatt with blunt anger and just a hint of disgust when he rescued them from the disaster of a "date" that the longhaired male took her on. He still felt the annoyance and anger that he felt that night at him endangering Callie. He knew the crush developed into something deeper when he finally admitted it out loud to her. That night on the porch was heartbreaking at the time, but he knew now that Callie had feelings for him then, too. He also realized that it was a big moment for them. After that night, and after the initial ignoring each other because of how stubborn they both are, she had opened up to him more and more.
He remembered how worried and angry he was when Liam first came into the picture. The way he grabbed onto her in the courtyard and that scared look that Callie got in her eye when he spoke to her. Brandon never wanted to see that look in her eye ever again. When she confided in him – he couldn't help but be the slightest bit smug, while all the while humble, that he was the first – about what really happened in the Olmstead household, Brandon saw red. He didn't outwardly show it, but he didn't remember ever feeling so protective over somebody before. When Callie gave him permission to stay – her silent way of asking for his presence, he knew – when she repeated the story to his mothers, that was when Brandon knew that he couldn't forget about the feelings for her like he had been trying too. He had to stay by her side.
But still. It wasn't quite feelings of being in love yet. At least Brandon didn't think it was.
He let out a long sigh as he shifted from his left side to lie on his back on his bed. The darkness surrounded him as his mind continued to race.
He almost had himself convinced that it was when his mom got shot. That night when all five of them were camped out in the living room and he overheard her talking to Jude about how unlucky they were, and that next morning when it was just the two of them in the kitchen. That was love.
But it wasn't. Almost. So close. But not quite.
He was positive they would have kissed if Wyatt – he scowled at the name – hadn't interrupted them. It was selfish, but Brandon added that to the long list of reasons he didn't like the other teen. He couldn't help but think that if they had kissed that morning, things would be so much simpler. Jude wouldn't have walked in on them and he wouldn't have argued with Callie. Though in the back of his mind Brandon begrudgingly knew that wasn't the case and that the inevitable would always happen.
That didn't mean he had to like it.
He was starting to get frustrated now. He didn't know what else it could be. He had gone through all of the time they had spent together, mulled over every conversation and touch and he just didn't know. He knew that he loved her whenever they kissed at the wedding. The kiss just solidified it. But the feelings had already been there.
Where the hell had they come from?
It's like they just crept up on him out of nowhere and made a permanent place in his heart.
Brandon couldn't help the just slightly ironic and bitter laugh that escaped through his lips in the quiet of his bedroom.
That was it, wasn't it? That was the answer he was looking for.
She came into his life so unexpectedly, and they bonded just as strangely. Then all of a sudden she was consuming his thoughts and he was realizing he was in love with her. There wasn't a real defining moment when he knew, and there wasn't anything specific that she said or anything spectacular that she had done. It was simply and beautifully her – she just crept up on him.
The sigh that escaped him was long and tinged with regret. Regret at what was just the slightest bit unclear. He definitely did not regret falling in love with her. Most of him didn't regret the kiss, either. He regretted that she ran. He regretted the people that had scarred her emotions in the past that would make her think she couldn't be happy, even though she had just said the words to him a few dozen hours before.
But mostly, he guessed, he just regretted that it took him so long to realize that he loved her, because he hadn't gotten the chance to tell her while she had been there with him.
But he would, Brandon told himself. Because Callie had to know that she had people in her corner. She had to know that she had him in her corner. Because he was, and he knew he wasn't going anyplace anytime soon. He would tell her he loved her as soon as the chance presented itself.
There was no creeping up of the sadness that washed over him after the thought. No, that was more like being slammed in the face with a wave.
He couldn't tell Callie anything if he had no idea where she was.
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xx