Testosterone Boys & Harlequin Girls
Show: Young and the Restless
Summary: What a bunch of messes we are. For Raven. [AU]
Notes: I wasn't expecting to write this, but last night Twitter imaginations inspire this. It's a tad dark and it's been a while since I've written something like this. This prologue was getting a tad long. So, I've decided to split it because there are so many stories and many SORAS'ed characters to introduce before I intertwine their stories together because it all makes sense in the end. Bear with me. Forgive any typos. I'll do a better edit in the morning.
Disclaimer: Nope.


PROLOGUE
PART I


katie abbott

They said she could kill and kiss you at same time and that just behind piercing blue eyes lay a monster with claws and fangs. They said she carried poison and tasted of vodka and acid. They said behind her pleasure came pain. They said behind ice cooler than the woman who bore her burned a white hot fire hotter than the man who spawned her. To the strangers who watched the heiress with equal curiosity and fear, they were rumors. To those who close enough, it was the truth.

Katherine Abbott slept on a Thursday evening after walking out of a psychology she had aced and simply driving home frm GCU for the last time. It wasn't that she was any good at school, or that she didn't love it. On the contrary, she did. But it was a waste of her time and much preferred to be in the world instead of learning about it. She parked into the empty driveway and sighing over the bullshit that was school, Katie walked around the back of her house to the garage apartment she had bought from her parents. Mom and Dad's faces were priceless and due to smart investing like Grandpa taught her, she wasn't broke. Far from it. Katie was too independent for her parents to understand or handle.

With the upward swing of a nicotine buzz, she walked into her home away from home. It was decorated with framed photos of fearless but dead women, lavender and dark purple walls. There was wooden night table on the left of her bed with a framed photo of her parents.

More framed photos sprinkled the apartment here and there. Different family members. Different moments in time. Different occasions. She had the place expanded a little bit to make room for a decent yet functioning kitchen and the bathroom was a maze but easy for her to be found. Katie sighed, dropping her tote on the floor, peeling off her black ankle boots and dropping those too. If Mom and Dad got on her case about cleaning, Katie would deal with it. Or not. Her pounding throbbed and pounded so she sank into her bed and closed her eyes to silence sound, forget about time, and expand her sense of space.

Her hearing picked up the sounds of expensive shoes and she smiled at the familiar cologne hitting her nose.

Katie opened an eye and then the other and the intruder of sorts smirked at her.

A smirk of her own touched her red lips. Katie laughed and rolled over at her stomach while he sat on the edge of her bed, uncharacteristically sweet with her by dropping a kiss in her dark hair.

"It seems, niece, you've been busy shaking up the entire Newman hierarchy."

Katie held back a laugh and shook her head, with a thrill of amusement.

"I don't think it rings a bell, but it's nice to see you," she answered innocently. "What damage could little old me possible do?"

"Oh, I think you can do plenty, and you have."

"Aunt Abby will be fine," she waved a dismissive hand, nails painted a dark blood-coloured red ironically called Wicked. She laughed, remembering her cousin, Ava, slapping her for screwing with her mother just last week. Katie let it pass because they were blood. They were family. The next time Ava felt the need to do it she'd snap that little wrist to pieces and break every finger. That was a promise. Uncle Stitch was a doctor. She would be okay and back to preaching to her. "It's not my fault if suddenly, the throne is open at Newman. Mom is truly happy at Brash and Sassy, Noah has the Underground essentially and you're killing it with that hedge found."

Adam raised an eyebrow and glanced down at her.

"You've planned it all it out, haven't you?"

"History says you've done your share of chess playing. My mother seemed to have been on that list."

"Touche. Now, my sons, however…"

She was nonchalant there. After all, wasn't the story of two boys fighting over the same girl one old as time? She hadn't started anything. Katie merely tried to be a good cousin and offer Christian sound advice where Bella was concerned. No risk, no reward. While Christian suppressed it all he liked, Newmans always went by instinct. Some were sharper than others but there.

Okay, fine! I like her. I could love her, but Bella won't even look at me.

Right. I wonder why.

Who put gravel in your cigarettes today?

No one. But your whining is irritating. If you're tired of worshipping Bella from afar, show her you're just as worthy of her. By any means necessary.

And if I fail?

Weed is a wonderful thing, Christian. But you won't fail.

"They're in love with the same girl. That narrative was there before I showed up."

"Ah!" Adam said, snapping his fingers as if stumbling on a new revelation, glowing in the darkness of confusion and conundrums. "There's the admission."

"Nope. You're cold."

Adam smirked as if daring her. Weirdly enough, he understood her most and because of that, Katie was prone to vulnerability with him. She wasn't ready to be vulnerable with anyone. Besides, life was much more boring otherwise. "Am I now?"

"Yes. All I did today," Katie said finally, with a grin, "was drop out of college."

She let a comfortable silence marinate between her and uncle. Today, Katie did something as trivial as raising a forearm to glance at the cursive tattoo etched into her skin. Let it bleed, it read.

All it took was a trip to Newman, a discrete stroke of her pen, and legal verification.

Let them bleed, the tattoo screamed loudest.

"Hey, Uncle Adam," Katie said, leaning against her door when she walked him out. The moon shone but the clouds dimmed it and there were no stars. She twirled the silver ring of keys around finger deftly and caught them in her palm. "Thanks for these—the keys to your old place. I know it's nuts. It's way too big. I'm a little too young to be living out there alone and you gave it to me freely. I don't know…" she sighed, raking a hand through her hair, growing wilder by the minute. "I do love it. It's almost too perfect for me to have."

He placed his hands gently against the sides of her head and pressed his lips to her forehead. There was the shadow of a smile on the corners of his lips.

But the shadows. Adam understood them.

"People like us. We fall down trapdoors to nothing, but we land. You'll land and when you do, Katie," he said, softly, "you'll make earthquakes. We can be monsters and thrive. You deserve every bit of independence. You'll kick down your own doors."

"Okay, leave so my cold, dead heart can stay that way, old man."

Her uncle finally grinned with a twinkle in his eye, and walked into darkness that seemed to welcome him. Katie closed the door, locked it and dove into the folds of her bed for her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she found the right number.

Three rings and a familiar voice with its low timbre settled comfortably in her ears. She loved him and they had a friendship that started in pre-school and grew deeper as they aged and life's complexities got in the way. With every new grade came a new social group that encircled them, never came between them. There was a first kiss in eighth grade, a high school relationship that began and ended in the tenth grade which resulted in a mutual loss of virginity. There was the navigation of sexual maturity and in her case, sexual epiphanies and a fluidity that transcended the social labels of attraction between them. There were fights that made her crazy with rage, bristled with her own stubbornness and in the end, heavy with a rare admission that she had, in fact, been wrong.

Other times, Katie's friendship with him had emotional aspects too. There was still love. It wasn't the kind of love that had romance at the end of the road. She wasn't that kind of woman and if he was going to find romance, Katie knew it wasn't going to be with her. There were powerful feelings of respect, the heart stopping need to be his friend for the rest of her life into whatever next life they landed, and the intensity of wanting to be close to him. Most friendships would deteriorate under the gravity of that closeness but not theirs. They could start and stop being that close with no weird pretenses at all. They could always be friends, friends with benefits and go into friends that loved each other completely regardless.

"Hey, stranger. Get over here. I'm in the mood for…celebrating."

He laughed, "There are many kinds of celebrating."

"Well," Katie released a deep sigh as she lay on her back and the intensity settled in her core. "it's the kind of celebrating that doesn't need underwear. Or, much of anything at all."

Another laugh. One of his belly laughs.

"Damn, girl. You wildin' today?"

"Always. Ah, I love how you know me," Katie answered, with a hint of seduction laced in her voice. She made no effort to conceal it from him. She never could hide much of anything from him. "You down?"

"I smoked Charlie in ball today…"

"You didn't smoke shit!" Katie chuckled at Charlie Ashby's rebuttal in the background.

"Man, go home and fix your broken ankles!" she heard her best friend yell at his nephew, although they were more like brothers. He came back with another laugh and sounded as if he was feeling the movement of their flirtatious dance and had decided he was all in. "I'm down. I'll come through in 15."

"I'll be waiting, Winters."

Katie hung up before Moses could take the last word away from her although sometimes, he'd let her have it.

The night was still young and all hers.


moses winters

"'I'll come through in 15'," Charlie imitated, with a roll of his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. You know Katie's been my girl from way back."

Moses casually bounced the orange ball between his legs before he effortlessly sunk a three point. He liked the rhythm of the basketball bouncing against the pavement. It tapped a beat that would be the backdrop against his spoken word poetry. He had enjoyed the exertion and the sweat of the game and the sun beating against his back. It was a nice distraction from complications that seemed to plague him at every turn. Well, it was just one complication and for a little while, he needed to forget it.

He tossed Charlie the ball and they walked from Chancellor Park's ball court on the path that led to the benches. The parking lot was on the other side. Moses hitched his gym bag on his shoulder and heard the distant jingle of his car keys as he walked with his nephew – although they were more brothers.

Charlie glanced at him with a furrowed brow when they stopped walking.

"Okay, and?"

"And," Moses argued back, with a shrug. "I'm going to go chill with her."

"Nah. You're gonna go fuck her."

Moses sighed, and said sarcastically, "Thank you, Charlie. You gonna hold my dick while I piss too?" he rubbed a tired hand over his face, body still screaming from the soreness of that basketball game. "I know what she is. I know who she is. You don't think I know she's messed up? Everyone in this town knows that. But I can't judge Katie for her choices."

"So, you're down with them when they hurt people?"

"No. I'm not. But, man, I'm not going to do that to my friend. Not when she's had my back," Moses said, sincerely and gestured to Charlie's hand. "I have to deal with your choice of barber when he hates your ass. I mean, your waves are trash—"

"Bro!" Charlie cried, affronted.

"—and your line up is jacked but I fuck with you, because we're family."

"Don't be acting new when she decides to sink her fangs into your neck. Just saying."

He did truly laugh because it was amusing to know that one of his inside jokes with Katie had leaked into public perception. Charlie grew quiet and let out an angry sigh that sounded like his breath had been forced past several knots in his chest. Moses watched Charlie bristle just a little bit and set his jaw.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Look, you have your thing with Katie. Cool. Do you," Charlie said, eyes flashing with simmering anger, the origin unknown to him. "Go do whatever with her," he pulled out his phone and pocketed with a curse underneath his breath. "I gotta go to the coffeehouse. Ava's texting me and I have no idea why."

"Oh, okay. Go deal with it. You know she's feelin' you, right?"

"It's not even… She just came off a bad break-up because Katie stole her boyfriend. You know, your girl. Ava walked in and caught them having sex. She's family by marriage but she's sadistic."

"And I don't see her that way."

"Or, you could just be insane."

"Don't call me blind when Ava got her feelings for you on a neon sign," Moses quipped.

Charlie shrugged, and Moses tried to ignore his nephew turning red.

"Doesn't matter anyway. Ava's going through stuff. I'm not gonna take advantage, and I won't even bring up the fact that she's younger than me, but," Charlie smiled, absentmindedly, "but her spiral's dope."

"Like I said, man, deal with it," Moses said, with a knowing glance and offered a palm for his nephew to slap, to which he did. He clasped hands with Charlie and pulled each other, landing in an embrace before separating. Moses watched his back as Charlie took purposeful steps in the opposite direction until his head disappeared around the corner.

Moses felt his phone buzz against his leg through the fabric of his basketball shorts.

He hitched the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder, glanced at his phone and shoved it back into the pocket of gym shorts.

There was a missed call from his dad.

Another from his mom. Three from her.

Moses drove away from Chancellor Park. With the last call from her as Genoa City traffic lights turned red, then amber and then green like club lights he'd danced under, he answered it before the voice beat him to it. She took his first word and held it away from him so it couldn't reach it.

"Moses…"

Her familiar voice spread in the space of his car and there was no room to breathe.

"I know you're there."

"Yeah, I'm here," he answered, sarcastically, stopping at a red light. "How's the happiness going? You done figuring it out?"

"Yes. I don't want to figure things out anymore, Moses. I… was messed up and I needed time. I shouldn't have pushed you away. You're so good to me and it was weird getting that kind of love in return. My dad," he could hear a sigh, "he's amazing. He raised me alone and Heather is Mom, but I'm dealing with heavy stuff not even they can fix. I was and I messed up. I hate myself for doing that."

She sighed, a sharp breath. He could picture the furrow in her brow, the way she tapped her nails against a surface when she was thinking or to the brim with nervous energy. He could feel the skin of her skin against his. The way she smelled of cinnamon and it felt as though Moses was carrying a beautiful, dancing flame in the palms of his hands when he touched her hair.

"You're rambling. Get to what you're telling me, but then again, what more can you possibly telling me when you cheated on me with him?"

"It doesn't matter. It never did. know it's infuriating hearing that, okay?"

"Yeah. No shit!" Moses spat and pressed a foot to the acceleration pedal with a little more force than necessary, passing a green light. "I can't do this. I thought I was ready to talk about this with you. But I'm not."

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, Moses," the girl said, a little quieter and sniffled. She spoke with a determination that he still found endearing despite his anger. "When you can do this, come find me. Crimson Lights. I came home to you."

Moses sighed, locking his jaw. She didn't get it. She still didn't get it and that's why they were here.

"I figured."

"I flew in from Bali yesterday. The art gallery is interested in putting some of my pieces in a show. I'm pretty excited."

"That's great," he replied, and meant it. Moses understood her passion for photography and sometimes, that took her to faraway magical places he's only dreamed of going. "I hope you get it. I'm glad you're back. You said you come back for me. Can I ask you something? And please don't lie to me again. I will pull over and smash this car with my bare fists if you do."

"Ask me, Moses."

Moses paused, and then asked, "Would you stay for me?"

"Of course, I would. I'd do anything for you."

Moses remembered the other guy wedged into a significant section of her heart. He was connected to the other girl who had taken his heart and guarded it and sometimes, dropped it because he let her. Moses knew that about her, though. She was off like that but when he had been her best friend for that long, Moses also knew that it was never that kind of love between them.

"Just like you'd do anything for Johnny," he stated, matter-of-factly. "Let's be real here."

Moses gently turned the steering wheel so he had landed at his destination.

"Moses, please—"

He cut her off, quickly, and a little harsher than he intended, but he didn't care. "Look, I have to go. You just got back and I don't want to bother you."

"You're not."

Moses shrugged, "Either way, this conversation isn't helping both of us."

She cursed underneath her breath in frustration. "Fine, but Crimson Lights. Show up. Please."

"Okay, Lucy. I'll show up."

Before she could say goodbye and have another piece of her voice etched painfully into his head and wrapped around his mental expanse, he hung up and parked. Not much made sense to Moses right now, but the only thing that did was going to hang out with his best friend on this earth.


ava rayburn

She didn't know what hell was like but this was close. Ava Rayburn knew of her grandfather. How could anyone not know who the legend that was Victor Newman? Ava observed what looked like a board meeting. But this was triggered. Her mother had worked hard over the years. In spite of her biases, she felt that her mother did deserve to be CEO. She watched with sharp green eyes adults that were a mix of unfamiliar people in suits and familiar people she loved. Ava was here for the moral support and staying for the impending shit show.

Her mother sat in her chair looking anxious but summoning up confidence. Uncle Nick reluctantly slid into his chair, Aunt Chelsea as Uncle Adam's proxy slid next to Aunt Victoria. What her face didn't say her large blue eyes did. Agitation. Confusion. Exasperation, but the realization that the invisible tether that kept her drawn to everything Newman Enterprises. Then the four board members who looked nothing but robots in grey took their seats around the long table.

Her ears weren't working. Had an eardrum burst? Had something in her brain gone wrong? She knew she was sound and there was movement but she couldn't hear it. Ava twisted a skinny silver on her forefinger to release her nervous energy. The ponytail she thought was cute in the morning felt painfully tight in her blonde hair.

Uncle Nick sighed, shaking his head. Aunt Victoria touched his arm while her eyes clearly asked Mom why this was happening.

The robots were talking, their lips too fast for to read. Ava watched her mother plaster on a smile although it just barely slipped off her face. Aunt Chelsea whispered something to her and she nodded, seeming to be reassured. Ava smiled at this. Aunt Victoria was speaking now, formal and regal as she was. Katie really did resemble her. The room had taken on a biting chill and Ava rubbed her bare arm against the goosebumps on it.

One robot spoke again, face serious and direct at Uncle Nick but Chelsea seemed to intervene on Abby's behalf. In the middle of the static, Ava watched her aunt groan and heard the words escape with a sigh. It seemed to be under her breath, something meant to pierce itself under her skin and twist itself in between every vein, every nerve, every bone and by evidence of tears she forced back, her heart.

Ava forced herself to hear, but her speech was the temporary price.

"As it stands, we are here today to determine whether Abby's short tenure of Chief Executive Officer is extended or if the nomination of Nicholas Newman for CEO will be verified and enacted effectively immediately."

Robot One.

"I'm honoured to have been nominated and if my father were with us, he'd want me to run this company. I'm sure. It's always been his dream that one of carry on his legacy but my sister and I aren't it."

Uncle Nick.

"And if I may speak for my husband, Newman Enterprises isn't his vice anymore. He's found something he's passionate about. We're happy with our boys. Adam doesn't want to be CEO anymore. I've worked with Abby closely on several occasions. She can do this."

Aunt Chelsea.

"And at one point in time, I would have undermined my sister because she wasn't ready, nor was she worthy to be our father's successor but," Aunt Victoria paused, her voice steady and sharp while she locked eyes with Mom, "she's risen to the occasion. I'm first born. It may be worth nothing or worth everything, but I'm appealing to you today, to dissolve this meeting. My sister and I have different styles but she's making it work and I've seen her work hard as my brother and I have in this building. Allow her to have this chance."

Ava breathed a quiet thank you to her aunt and Aunt Victoria's gaze to have caught hers. It wasn't her fault her older cousin had gone from sweet to borderline sociopathic.

Robot Two spoke. A female.

"Be as it may, we need to have the utmost confidence that this company will be solidly run. New experience is a positive aspect but old, tried and true leadership is what will keep this company thriving," she said and Ava wanted to choke that woman. "Victoria. Adam, even you, Nick, have added to the lifeblood of this company. Made impacts that will carry on into the next generation, I'm sure."

Mom stood up, shooting up like a rocket about to be sparked.

"And I will as well!" Mom pleaded, honestly and Ava grinned proudly. "I'm human. I'm prone to mistakes and we all are. But my father taught me – all of us – that when we fall we get up and come back stronger. I've done that. I've made sure this company had stayed in the black and never faltered. Please give the chance to continue that," she glanced down and looked back up with a sure smile. "Thank you."

Robot Three raised an eyebrow, tossing a hawk-eyed gaze at Mom. His beak like nose reminded Ava of a vulture swirling over a corpse.

"Our recollection of the Harrison deal and the manufacturing department faltering speaks louder than what was said here today," he cleared his throat formally. "Here are the quarterly reports."

As Aunt Chelsea scanned the papers and glanced into her lap. Aunt Victoria barely held the gasp locked in her throat and rubbed her temple. Despite his efforts to hide his reaction to their numbers on the page, Uncle Nick flinched. It was as if a switch long untouched had been turned by an invisible hand only she could see. Oh God.

"Those numbers are still strong enough to be profitable," Mom argued, diplomatically. At least, Ava thought, her mother was fighting. "That division has been difficult, I admit, but I have an excellent team behind me who share the same work ethic I do."

"I bring these quarterly reports for one reason. Consistency. Your work ethic is considered, Abby, but without consistent results, one bad part can damage the whole entity. In any case, manufacturing was your division of expertise, Nick."

Nick looked as if he had been handed a situation with no possible out. How did one escape a burning room when the openings were sealed shut? Ava wondered this.

The first corporate robot stopped being silent and merely said, "The results of this vote are legal and binding. Before we begin, are the nominees here of their own free will?

"Yes," Mom nodded.

Uncle Nick also replied firmly, "Yes."

"Do both nominees forfeit this position? Now is the time to speak."

"No."

Ava expected a quick response from Uncle Nick. He didn't want this. He didn't want the power. He didn't want the suits. Nick was her laidback uncle who was happy to run the Underground on his terms away from Grandpa. But now Grandpa was gone. Grandpa was physically gone and he was no longer there. Only the penetrating gaze from his portrait was enough. He couldn't stop this.

Nick grew quiet and folding his hands on the table. His eyes were apologetic.

"I'm…sorry, Abby," he told Mom sincerely. Ava watched her mother's glossed lips begin to tremble. Chelsea looks at him, surprised. Aunt Victoria looked at him, questioning him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Vick…I'm sure," Nick answered her and turned to the rest of the board members. "My answer is no."

With one syllable, voting began. She wanted to look away, but couldn't. It was as if there was a highway crash with the twisted remnants of cars. The human casualties were bloody, bleeding from a roadmap of cuts and bruises. Their flesh burned and the people begged for help while thick smoke choked the lives out of them. People were very difficult to read, her dad said. As a doctor, he could only do so much and while he had lives in his hands every day, it took him years to come to terms with some of those lives having to be let go because medicine wasn't enough. People were the same. They came in one way and left stitched together as something else. It wasn't good or bad. It was just how it was.

What was enough here? Could she intervene? Could she say anything when everything had been spoken? Would her words float through the burgeoning smoke in the room? It was a tie breaker. Three for her mother and three for her uncle. Aunt Victoria was the tiebreaker. Before she could cast her vote and end it, one of the board members spoke, the head of Newman legal walked in only to produce an envelope from his lapel, formally hand it to her aunt and walk out after leaving polite goodbyes.

Aunt Victoria eyed the envelope as everyone in the room including Ava, watched her open it and pull the sheet of paper out. She furrowed a brow, eyes scanning it for several seconds before she gasped, turning angry, shocked eyes to the portrait above them.

"Victoria," Mom questioned, tentatively. "What does that say?"

Chelsea sighed, exasperated. "Victor and his games… What has he done now?"

"Vick…"

"Katherine has had this since she was two. He gave her shares on her second birthday. You would think that wouldn't mean anything since he gave all his grandchildren shares. But he gave Katie a little more than the rest added to the stake I already have which makes me majority shareholder of Newman Enterprises. Even from the grave, he's determined to keep me tethered here. I've made peace. I'm happy at Brash & Sassy and it's thriving. Katie signed these over to me last week."

Chelsea interjected. "How is that valid?"

"I…have to talk to Billy about this. But then I have to wonder if this had anything to do with Katie at all. It's a legal and binding document." Aunt Victoria gazed that the portrait and asked it softly, as if Grandpa were in this room. "Dad, what have you done?"

Ava gasped. The week she had slapped her cousin in the face to defend her mother. Katie had done this to get back at her. This was her fault. She felt tears spring to her eyes and turned away to look out of the window. Ava wanted to focus on the expanse of everything and nothing. Not here. She felt sick and Ava thought of throwing up so both she and her mother had a reason to leave.

"Victoria," Robot One spoke, snapping her aunt out of it. She folded the paper, slide it into the envelope. "Cast your vote."

She sighed, and turned to Mom.

Mom replied her before Aunt Victoria could form any apology of her own. Ava's palms grew clammy and she rubbed them on her fashionably torn jeans.

"It's okay, Victoria. Just do it."

With two more words, Uncle Nick was declared CEO of Newman Enterprises. Congratulations were handed it as the board members filed out. Abby offered her uncle congratulations too, but it was one neither wanted to give or receive. Ava watched the smoke get thicker as that spark gave birth to a flame. Only after her mom ran out of the room with Aunt Chelsea on her heels did Ava get her hearing at the normal decibel and sight with the colours more vivid and everything moving at normal pace.

Ava ran from her spot to the other side of the office to the door. Aunt Victoria stopped her, gently. "Ava, honey…"

She shook her head, "Please stop," she turned her gaze on her uncle and smiled wryly. "Congratulations, Uncle Nick."

"Look, kiddo. Nobody wanted it to go down like this," he started to explain.

"I said, stop. A democratic process put you in that chair."

"I promise I won't leave your mom hanging or minimize her. It's not how I roll."

Her uncle was still that sweet, funny guy if that was any consolation. It wasn't.

Ava shrugged and turned to her aunt. She sniffled, and against her best efforts, her voice broke. "I still love you, Aunt Victoria. It's not your fault Katie's dead inside because the fact is, your daughter screws with us all. She controls everything. Especially you. Especially Uncle Billy, but you're her mom and you love her too much to see it. We all love her too much."

Aunt Victoria stepped forward, those blue eyes sympathetic and reached out to touch her.

"Sweetie, please—"

Ava jerked away like she had been burned and apologized. "I'm…sorry. I have to go."

This was with hell was. This was what it meant to have flames erupt. This is what it meant to have heat so strongly against your back, it burrowed underneath the skin to the bone. This was finally how it felt to watch smoke blacken and swirl around the room. Instead of watching this office burn with Katie dancing with the flames, Ava Rayburn simply left. She started running, looking for her mother and sanity all at once.


johnny abbott

He was busy. Johnny was busy living fast and dying in a blaze of glory. Johnny was busy wishing it away, fucking it away, burying it away, snorting it away and drinking her away. It was afternoon blending into evening. It was when the day was in danger of being torn apart by the night. Johnny Abbott would paint Genoa City with Benjamins splotched with the brightest shade of red. They said the son of Billy Abbott and Victoria Newman would die beautiful and young – a James Dean kind of death in the end. They said Johnny Abbott was in a death spiral, floating down into a bottomless abyss and left a white smoke behind him.

Those who were close to him would say he was headed down a dangerously tilted slope. By all accounts, paintings and composite sketches of his character were not all that exaggerated. Johnny was sliding down a slippery slope but when it was slope that went by so fast, everything blurred around him and could stop his heart. When adrenaline was more powerful than whatever drugs he made part of him, where did the problem lie?

Sometimes, they said Johnny was the beauty to Katie's beast too. It depended on who you asked really. With a smirk, Johnny gazed out the grand window of his penthouse apartment. The gold vial of hanging off his neck, glinting in the sunlight. It was one of the perks of being an heir and working actor everyone wanted to a piece of. The nameless, faceless audience reached out to grab and ensnared him with their devotion and money, but never could quite get high to meet him. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass tumbler and drained in one gulp.

He didn't know between he and his sister, who was who.

Depended on the day and situation, Johnny supposed.

Johnny set his empty tumbler of bourbon on the counter next to the glass decanter and as if he'd witnessed an award-winning actress work bend fiction into fact, he clapped.

It was slow and the receiver of his applause merely sighed, obviously annoyed. She pocketed her phone, shoving into the back pocket of her jeans. Johnny watched her gently comb her red hair back, all the while glaring at him. Johnny felt the dampness from his shower on his skin, water in his blond hair and let his cotton towel sit low on his hips.

She brought her eyes down and then looked up, a frown in her mouth and annoyance in her furrowed brow.

"Feel free to stare, Lucy. Pretty sure you've missed this while hiding in Bali."

Lucy laughed. "Hardly. There's nothing to miss."

He playfully winced and put a hand to his heart. "Oh, Lucy Romalotti, how you wound me."

"Leave me alone. Live your life or trash it. It doesn't matter to me," she said, steadily. Lucy folded her arms around herself. "Moses is a good guy. He loves me more than I deserve," she sniffled, and angrily wiped a tear away. "What does matter if that I got selfish with you and hurt a good guy. I'll never hurt Moses like again."

"Never?" Johnny inquired, raising an eyebrow and studied her. "Sweetheart, if you truly believe that, then you don't know yourself. Selfish. That word means something terrible to you. You were alive with me. You were free with me. You never wanted to stop with me."

"Well, I'm stopping now. It's over, Johnny."

Johnny surveyed her. Anger radiated off of her and he smirked. Her red hair looked like it was on fire – a fire that was controlled right now, wild later. They were going to burn each other. They were going to bun with each other. This was what they did.

"I can be free without you."

He shrugged, nonchalant, "Okay, but let me ask you something. If you're so sure you've got me out of your system, out of your mind, and out of your body, why are you here?"

She crosses her arms, and her eyes flashed. The fire in her hair grew in size slightly.

"You know why I'm here."

He shook his head, clicking his tongue in false disdain. "You've picked up the art of deflection in Bali, I see. You still didn't answer my question. Why are you here? Standing in my apartment? With me?"

"To tell you I'm not coming back, ever."

"And yet, you're here. In front of me, here in my apartment and of your own free will. You felt the need to call Winters in front and tell him you missed him, you loved him, and it was going to be you two forever and always," Johnny smirked, stepping towards her. When she went backward, he stepped forward. Lucy took another step backward and Johnny continued to match her. Even now, he marveled, she was still in sync with him even as she wanted to disrupt the status quo. Lucy cursed as her back collided with his door. Johnny placed his hands on her hips, remembering the blueprint of her body. He never forgot it. With the way Lucy bit her bottom lip to force herself from not reacting to him, Johnny could tell in her face, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. It was seared into his skin as it had been branded into his. "You want to marry Winters in a pure white dress when you'll beg me to tear it to shreds off your body with my bare hands?"

"Get away from me," she hissed, and like a rattlesnake striking, her head flew across his face, exploding with the heat glowing brightly in them.

Johnny stepped back, hands up in surrender.

"Ah, there's my Lucy."

"I don't belong to you!" she screamed, sharply.

"Moses and all that flowery shit is fucking with your head worse than I ever could."

She looked at him, defiant, and shook her head, "Wow, you're unbelievable – you think that's true because you say so? Because yes, we all follow life's rules because of The Gospel According to John Abbott IV."

"It's a good read, Luce. Especially the very long, comprehensive chapter on you."

"Don't!" Lucy snapped again, pointing a finger at him. "Don't you Luce me! Don't—"

Johnny stared at the flames in her hair, dancing and twisting around with its light blue middle. He cut off by pulling in by those hips with his imprints on it and kissed her. It wasn't one with his usual roughness or the kind that let her break at the seams. It was a kiss selfishly for him. His hands settled into the locks of her red hair. She held his face in her hands and kissed him back. Whether it was a reflex, or something she wanted, Johnny didn't care. It was a slow kiss Johnny selfishly wanted to savour, holding on to his fragile rationale before the lust for drugs appeared like a temptress at night and sank its claws into him. He did like the pain though.

Lucy pulled away from him, whispering against his mouth, "No, Johnny. I won't. I swear to God, I won't."

She separated from him, tears filling in her eyes.

Johnny stared her straight in the eye, looking through her instead at her. He could see the tether that kept them connected. It was as strong as titanium and sharp as the spikes of a cactus. That's how he knew. That's why she ran away from him because Lucy could see it, too. He watched her to try to burn it away but only burned herself. Johnny could truly see her and because of that, he smiled at her.

"Okay, go," he simply said, and gestured to the door. "But you will come back, Lucy."

Lucy merely looked at him, glaring as tension take up her body and opened the door. Johnny watched the head of red hair go through the door. It drifted away until the flames were extinguished and the small remnants of his heart turn to ash.


christian newman

Christian Newman liked to walk. To be quite honest, it was one of his favourite things to. He was a new driver, relieved to get his license although he shared a car with Connor. It was fine with him because driving was never his thing. It was something he had to do because it was practical. But Connor could have the car, just like he already had the girl. Bella. Bella Fisher was pretty, beautiful like her name meant. She was really sweet, especially to him. Sometimes, it was confusing and frustrating. Christian never seemed to get the gaze from her Connor did. Bella liked him because she had asked Christian to help make sure, she was nudged in his direction.

Christian sighed, trying to rid of himself so the pressure behind his blue eyes. He rolled an ivory coloured chess piece between his palms as he watched Genoa City move and shift above and below him from the grand window of his penthouse. Suddenly, Christian did not want to be still. He did not want to be stationery. He didn't want to fail, or admit being defeated. Connor was his older brother and he loved him, but he oozed loud bright charm when Christian was aware of reserved intensity.

He was antsy, crawling in his skin so he set the queen chess piece on the black grand piano, grabbed his keys and left the empty penthouse.

As Christian stuck his hands in his pockets and waited for the elevator to take him to the world outside, they opened and revealed his father. His dad fixed him with an inquisitive gaze. Most likely asking him what he was doing leaving the house this late.

"Hi, son."

"Hi, Dad."

The elevator door closed but it was okay because he would wait for the next one. Elevators always came around and Christian knew how to wait.

"It's a little bit late."

"I know," Christian replied, with a barely there smile. "I'm just going to go walk right now."

His dad raised an eyebrow and met his smile. "Where will you travel this time?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to."

Dad chuckled, quietly and Christian could see the lines of aging etched into his father's face and the salt and pepper in his hair, but he was strong and tall. Christian wished and hoped to be that way too, when he was old enough. For now, he'd be young and explore. Christian met his dad eye-to-eye, tall enough although he was skinny and was envious of Connor's tall but muscular structure. Maybe that's why Bella fell all over herself with him.

Dad ruffled his mop of dark hair and Christian didn't mind. But there was one thing Christian had that Connor didn't: a strategic mind, and physical speed in feet that carried him to wherever he was going. So, Christian resolved to take Katie's advice as Machiavellian as she made it sound. Fight for Bella. Be smart. Be strategic for her heart and be so fast Connor couldn't touch him.

"I'll be back, Dad."

"Your mother worries about you, and frankly, so do I."

Christian smiled again at the elevator doors opened again. He stepped into them.

"Please tell her that I love her for it. I love her for everything. I'll be okay, Dad."

"Happy travelling, Christian. Be safe."

"Thank you," Christian said, as the elevator doors closed. When they sealed shut, Christian whispered another thank you. Not to his father, not even to himself. He thanked happenstance, his inner nervousness for allowing him to step outside and thanked for nature for winds. Free flowing air that blew around him and against him.

It was like that song.

Anywhere the wind blew Christian felt it didn't matter. So, he put one foot in front of the other on the sidewalk and pushed forward.