Though Brendon really did initially (and, blindly, still to this day) believe that Bogart was an angel of a creature, perfectly well behaved and easy to manage, obedient, the whole package- Bogart had repeatedly proved him wrong. He was hyper and wriggly and never stayed still (people do say that dogs are like their owners and vice versa)- far from a lapdog- and though he tended to calm down for Brendon only, even then he only begrudgingly settled into his arms or collapsed down by his feet after a little coaxing and a whole lot of treat-fuelled bribery on Brendon’s part. Because of this defiance he tended to display with anyone else, he was, in short, difficult. Difficult to train, difficult to calm down, difficult with other dogs, difficult to find a groomer for, one who could actually do the job properly while he wriggled around and tried to escape with all the energy of a firecracker packed into his little jack russell body. Brendon had carried him to plenty of places but they either couldn’t control him or the cuts ended up looking ridiculous- and he only ever asked for a trim. It wasn’t much. And he only wanted the best for his little angel dog, who was perfect, everyone else was just stupid.

As weird as it sounded, Brendon found a kindred spirit in Bogart, but then again, it was probably a direct result of Brendon’s inherent hyperactivity and awkwardness that made him into the dog he was today. Brendon’s entire personality tended to resolve around his interests and since they were usually relatively obscure- he was unnaturally obsessed with Frank Sinatra, for god’s sake, and his only real talent was anything to do with music, particularly singing- so because of this, he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. Not out of choice- his nervous energy and anxiety just got the better of him whenever he tried to step out of his comfort zone. This made it very difficult for him to believe that he’d ever actually achieve his dreams or do what he wanted to do in life- both of those being to become a musician, a famous one that people admired, looked up to. To do that, he needed confidence, and it wasn’t like he was horrifically insecure or anything like that, but he lacked the charisma he knew was vital if he wanted to achieve anything close to what he fantasised about. Anyway. Pretty heavy stuff to go into considering he was literally just taking his dog for a trim to a groomers he hadn’t tried before, but honestly, the difficulty Bogart had in succeeding to fit in and be well behaved like all the other dogs when he went to be groomed made him think about his own general ineptness in academia and beyond. 

Before he walked inside, he hesitated, Bogart safely under his arm and looking up at him quizzically as he took a deep breath, running his free hand firmly through his own hair to push it back, trying to at least pretend to believe that this whole thing would just be normal, nothing embarrassing would happen and he’d drop his dog off, then come back later to a clean, trimmed, nice-smelling Bogart, eager to see him, jumping straight into his arms like he was spring loaded. Grimacing at himself, he pet Bogart absently on the head and then shouldered the door open, holding his dog’s little body close to his chest to shield him from coming into contact with the door. His footsteps slowed to a stop in the middle of the reception area and his eyes were immediately taken ahold of by the surroundings, easily distracted as he was. Almost involuntarily he started moving again, slowly walking forwards, his eyes trained on the walls, so distracted that he walked straight into another customer. Apologising hastily he ducked his head, clicked his tongue at Bogart to get his attention and then made his way over to the front desk. [i]Hi.[/i] Brendon didn’t look up, pretended to be fascinated by the pen that was attached to the reception desk, reaching out to toy with it automatically. [b]”Hey, this is Bogart, he’s here for-”[/b]

[i]Right on time. [/i]Brendon swore he’d heard his voice somewhere before, and finally looked up to see who the receptionist was. What happened next was like he was suddenly the star of some embarrassing romcom- time stopped momentarily and his breath hitched in his throat, grip slackening on Bogart and only tightening again when he felt the dog notice the temporary weakness in Brendon’s grasp and tried to wriggle away. He knew this guy- Ryan- well, not [i]exactly,[/i] but they were in the same music course and Brendon stared wistfully at him enough to recognise him immediately as his hopeless, foundationless crush, one harboured for someone in the year above him that he’d literally never held a full conversation with in his life. Brendon gulped, and realised suddenly he’d been staring, like, directly into his eyes for too long for it to be normal. He couldn’t help it, they were the exact colour of honey, Brendon’s heart was literally [i]fluttering[/i] and it was juvenile, he’d never said more than three words to Ryan in his life. He willed himself to calm the fuck down and put on his signature, slightly skewed and nervous grin.

[i]If you have somewhere else to be, we can just take him to the back, and call you when he's ready.[/i] Even if Brendon did have particular plans in place while Bogart was being taken care of, he would have cancelled them by now; some things were just so important and Brendon absokutely was not going to pass up on the opportunity to spend even a little time alone with Ryan Rowe, even if he knew deep down he’d only end up being deeply mortified by the end of this whole thing. That being said, Brendon was a risk taker and an opportunist and this was definitely worth it. [b]”Nah, I- I’d rather be here, honestly. [i]With Bogart,”[/i] [/b] He added hastily, biting his up and looking down at his dog, who was surprisingly lax in his arms, looking up at him curiously. [b]”He’s a little difficult. I might need to calm him down, or, hold him, or something.”[/b] Or something. Brendon watched as Ryan moved out from around the counter, glad that he’d barely even looked at him yet. He was worried that if he did, he wouldn’t even know who he was. Taking a breath and a pause before he followed, he squeezed Bogart reassuringly and then trailed behind Ryan to the ‘bathroom’ of sorts.

[i]We start by cleaning with an all-natural tearless shampoo, then a cream rinse conditioner. After that we clean ears, nails, maybe brush out the coats. [/i] Brendon nodded quickly along as he spoke, but was honestly barely even listening, and he could feel Bogart’s judgemental eyes on him when he heard his little growl of complaint and impatience. Brendon shushed him and scratched behind his ear with his free hand. [i]Sound alright? You're not one of those people that's, like, 'Fido needs a special oatmeal bath, only the best for my dog,' right?[/i] Brendon scoffed, raising an eyebrow and miraculously managing a smile in front of the classmate he was infatuated with. [b]”First of all, I’d never call my dog ‘Fido’... Though I do think Bogart deserves only the best.”[/b] By the time he’d reached the end of his sentence, his voice had dwindled off, unsure, and he cleared his throat, looking up to try and meet Ryan’s eyes properly, catch his attention for longer than a few moments. [b]”Hey... You’re- in my class, right? Ryan, is it?”[/b] Of course it was. Brendon knew it was. But that would be weird.