Until The Devil Turns To Dust
Chapter One
A/N: This is the companion piece to A Song You'll Regret and And Our Time, And Our Blood. It is told from Kendall AND Carlos's POVs. A quick note on the format: I hate alternating POV. As a general rule, I don't write it. However, this was never supposed to be an epically long story. It was supposed to be clips of Kendall and Carlos's feelings during the course of ASYR/AOTAOB set to music, 'cause I've got a ficmix addiction. Then it got longer. And longer, and longer. Now I'll be posting in parts. But just know- this isn't exactly my format of choice for fic.
Next topic: ugh, alright, here's the deal. This does not end well. It ends with a kiss, and I'm telling you that because some of you are going to be like OMGYAY and some of you are going to be like DON'T SETTLE DUDE, and all I have to say about it is that the latter group is right. This entire verse involves a lot of settling (see: ASYR), not because I advocate it, but because sometimes irl, it happens. It's not my part to judge (the practical part of me says NEVER DO IT and the romantic part of me says SECOND CHANCES), and sometimes irl it works out (yay second chances) and sometimes it doesn't (I told you not to do it). But when you have a verse like this, it's pretty much the only way it can end, with hope, because this much misery? Needs hope. Logan and James in ASYR/AOTAOB don't instantly have a happy ending, despite the kiss (spoiler: it takes James five years to get Logan to sleep with him again), and the same applies here. Relationships take work and effort, etc, etc, especially when you've already set a precedent where you don't trust each other. So, if at the end, you're in the NO group, well. Honestly, so am I. But unlike most of my verses/oneshots, this is not about love conquering all. It's about believing in the possibility that love might conquer all, even if you're really, really, really not sure. You've been warned.
ALSO, Kendall's dad is a marine and not the greatest human being alive. This is nothing against the marines or the military. My dad's Navy, so.
Mega thanks to jblostfan16 for the beta and breila_rose for putting up with my nerves.
1.
Loving someone involves a lot of waiting. And patience.
"Patience, Kendall." That's what his mom says when Kendall is too overeager, peeking over the edge of the car window to catch a glimpse of his dad when he finally walks off the tarmac.
They're going to the zoo, no, the space museum, no, wait- the park. Kendall and his dad, the hero, are going to go to the park and play on the swings and stay out in the cold until the stars are twinkling overhead.
Kendall clutches the straps of his seat belt, already unbuckled. He's ready to jump out of the car at the first glimpse of camouflage. His mom laughs. "Patience, honey. Patience."
It's freezing cold outside, snow on the ground in sheets that are half-ice. Kendall doesn't care. He wants to run up to the chain link fence surrounding the airport and yell, "Daddy!"
It's been four months since he last saw his father.
The plane door opens, and Kendall nearly falls off of the seat in excitement. He's bouncing up and down, shaking the whole car, and his mom stares down at her stomach and tells Kendall's baby brother (he demands a baby brother, because girls are weird, and sisters are lame), "This is what you have to look forward to."
"Mom," Kendall says, curiosity creeping into his voice. "Who's that lady holding dad's hand?"
Mrs. Knight's gaze snaps up to the plane, where they can see the distant figures of Kendall's dad, the hero, hand in hand with a woman dressed in white. Kendall doesn't know what it means for a person's face to crumple, but that's exactly what his mom's does.
"Can we go say hi now?" Kendall asks, confused.
"No. Um. I think-" Mrs. Knight fumbles with the keys. "How about I take you to the park?"
"But dad-"
"Kendall," Mrs. Knight says sharply.
She's not crying. Kendall hasn't ever once seen his mom cry. But she is definitely upset. Kendall can see that, and he isn't sure what to do about it. He feels weirdly helpless.
As his mom pulls away from the tiny little airfield, Kendall stares back at the woman's shiny blonde hair and wonders if she would be standing there if they'd braved the snow.
If they hadn't waited.
That night, his parents fight. There is screaming, and there is anger, and Kendall hides beneath a fort made of blankets and sings to himself.
In the morning, his dad isn't there. Kendall looks everywhere, in the closets, under the couch, and even in the woods behind their house. "Mom-"
He slams to a stop in the living room. His mom is curled up in front of the window, a romance novel cupped in her palms, and okay, his mom never cries. But the skin of her cheeks is shiny-wet, and she's reading her book upside down.
Kendall takes a step back, and then another. Before his mom catches sight of him, he's off running, straight into his parents' room, where his dad's suitcase lies open on the bed. Kendall doesn't know what he's looking for, but he's not stupid. Something is wrong, and he thinks it probably has to do with the lady, the one who was holding hands with his dad the way his mom is supposed to.
When he finds the letters, more sappy and romantic than anything his mom's romance novels could ever come up with, Kendall doesn't think anything of it. His mom is always writing his dad letters.
Except these aren't from his mom.
Kendall doesn't know what it means, exactly, but he knows it's bad. He runs his fingers along his father's uniform pins, the cloth soft, the stripes an indecipherable code. Some of them have tiny stars stuck into the fabric like tacks. They all mean different things, like a secret language that only heroes know. Because that's what everyone says Kendall's dad is, of course. A hero with a dimpled smile and too much charm.
That's probably why the lady in white is trying to steal him away.
It takes a year and a half for things to turn sour completely. A year and a half where Kendall feels like he only exists in the spaces between his parents' fights. He hides beneath the bed, beneath sheets patterned with pirate ships and stars, dinosaurs and hockey pucks. He only ever hears what is said during arguments in bits and pieces.
He hears his mom ask, did you sleep with her?
He hears his dad ask, all sardonic and mean, why does it even matter?
And Kendall is inclined to agree, why does it matter? He doesn't get why it's such a big deal. He sleeps with his new bestest best friend Carlos all the time. Of course, Kendall thinks Carlos is the best person in the entire universe. They've been best friends for like, a whole month, and Kendall's never really had a best friend before, but he likes it a lot.
Kendall wants to tell Carlos about the blonde lady and his dad, about how angry and confused he feels. But he also doesn't want to say anything at all, because Carlos is always happy and smiling and if Kendall tells him, he might cry.
Kendall really, really hates it when Carlos cries. It makes him want to cry, and maybe if Kendall ignores the problem it might go away on its own, anyway. Maybe his imagination is just being overactive. His mom says that happens to him all the time. Like when he decided the mailman was actually a dragon and he tried to slay him with his ninja turtles lunch box.
But Kendall doesn't think so. He gets into fights, sometimes, because he's just so angry that he can't hold it in anymore. His skin feels too tight, too small, and all the things in his chest are too damn big. Sometimes, Kendall gets so mad he wants to scream.
He wants to talk to his mom about it, but the one time he tries he finds her staring out the window, nails digging into a ceramic coffee mug, clean, but with shorn edges indicative of how rough the past few months have been. Kendall looks down, focusing on a bright spot of dirt on the toe of his sneaker. He doesn't actually know how to say that he feels like a skeleton-boy, all bones and no substance, just empty space. His mom and dad are supposed to be in love, true love, the truest true kind, like in the stories his mom has been telling him since he was really, really small. And Kendall has always, always believed in them, because he likes the idea of love. It is a scapula he wears beneath his clothes, close to his heart; something he believes in more than any religion. Now, slowly but surely, that idea is being prized from his tiny hands. Obviously he's spitting mad about it.
Everyone tells him that he needs to calm down, that his dad adores him. That he's a hero. Even his mom says it, when she can, when she's not in the middle of a yelling match, anger dancing like flames in her eyes.
Kendall remembers when Mrs. Magikowski's daughter got divorced, last year. She left her husband for another guy, which Kendall isn't supposed to know, but he's a really good eavesdropper. People called her a homewrecker and worse, and even Mrs. Magikowski was all mad and wouldn't let her move back into her house. Kendall doesn't get why it's different for her, but he tries not to think about that too much.
He does think he's going to tell his dad that he's on his side, and that his mom's just being dumb. He listens to them argue downstairs like a raging storm for hours on end, and yeah. He's totally going to tell his dad that.
Only, when he wakes up in a tangle of dinosaur sheets the next morning, his dad has gone; flitted off to Kabul for six months. Kendall's mom is crying, and Kendall thinks that maybe it is a big deal after all.
Maybe this is one of those adult things he just doesn't get, like the difference between Mrs. Magikowski's daughter and his dad. She didn't want her family, and she got shamed for it, but now, when Kendall's dad doesn't want his family, all he has to do is fly away on silver wings, and no one will call him out on it.
When a person deserts the military, they call it dishonorable.
When a person deserts their wife and kids for the military, for some bitch with a shiny gold halo around her officer's cap, they call him a hero.
2.
Carlos's dad listens to country music.
Like, all the time. It's a little ridiculous. These men with their twangy accents go on and on and on and on about heartbreak, but Carlos's dad isn't heartbroken.
Unless Carlos's mom is mean to him and like, withholds pie.
When Carlos's big brother picks up the habit, Carlos has to ask. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why this song?"
"Sometimes, baby brother, you meet a woman, and you just know she looks like heartbreak. But you go for her anyway."
Carlos makes a face. "Why, though?"
"You can't do anything else."
Carlos doesn't get what he means.
One day, he's making quesadillas with his mom. He's in charge of grating the cheese, but he keeps getting too into it, shimmying his hips and slamming his hand down with the cheddar so that he nicks his finger against the metal.
His mom is in the midst of applying the third Band-Aid on his knuckle when Carlos asks, "What's love like?"
Mrs. Garcia blinks, her lips curving into a grin. "Why, mijo? Is there someone you looove?" She presses her hands to her face dramatically. "That pretty girl two houses down, maybe?"
"No!" Carlos recoils. "Girls are yucky."
"That's what you say now, sweetie." Mrs. Garcia cocks a knowing eyebrow. "Wait until you're a teenager."
She launches into a story about Carlos's big brother, and his first kiss; a story which Carlos's big brother tells very, very differently.
Still. Unless Carlos develops a brain-eating fungus, he doesn't think he'll ever like girls, but his mom looks so pleased that he chooses not to say so. Instead, Carlos blurts out, "What if I want to like a boy?"
"A boy?" His mom repeats slowly, the light in her eyes dimming. Carlos doesn't know what to make of that. "Like Kendall?"
"Exactly like Kendall!" Carlos exclaims, excited that his mom maybe gets it. Kendall is the best thing since ever, since quesadillas and corn dogs and slip 'n slides.
"Kendall is…an angry little boy," she says carefully. Carlos shrugs. Kendall has never been angry with him, except maybe that time that Carlos accidentally took his red power ranger home, and even then. He got over it pretty quick. "You just be careful, mijo." His mom strokes a hand over his hair, pets him until he feels sleepy with it. "Don't let Kendall break your heart."
Carlos doesn't know what it means to have a broken heart, but he remembers what his brother said. "Like papi's country songs?"
"Just like that." Mrs. Garcia laughs. "Clever boy."
"Don't worry," Carlos replies seriously, because Kendall is nothing at all like a country song.
Kendall would never, ever hurt him.
3.
School starts, and Kendall and Carlos are in the third grade now. They make new friends, like Logan and James, who are almost as cool as Carlos.
Especially James.
The first time Kendall really talks to him is during school hockey tryouts. They slam into each other at roughly forty miles an hour in this teeth-jarring, bone crushing catastrophe of a crash as they both race to sweep the puck into the net. Most of the other kids Kendall knows on the team still cry when they get hit that hard, but Kendall lives for it, for the dizzying moment of impact when all he can see are stars exploding across his vision. And James, sprawled across the ice, obviously lives for it too. He's laughing loud, hard, and spectacularly.
Better yet, James is the first person who understands, implicitly, who gets that Kendall can simultaneously hate and admire his dad. Because Kendall does admire him still, even though it's not fair how his dad hasn't come home from leave in so long that Katie probably doesn't even remember what his face looks like. It's been long enough that Kendall is starting to think that maybe his dad really is avoiding coming home.
It pisses him off, makes him want nothing to do with the man, and yet he's still so stupidly proud. James gets that. He doesn't ever tell Kendall that he's messed up in the head, and if he's judging him, he doesn't ever say so out loud.
Still. James isn't Carlos, who is all the best parts of summertime; splashing through pools and street hockey, sunlight and the taste of freshly peeled oranges. He is also snowball fights and marshmallows and watching snow spiral down in front of a crackling fire. He is apple cider and blazing leaves, but also flowers and endless blue skies. He is every season, because he is the very first real friend that Kendall has ever had. Kendall doesn't entirely get what love is, not that story-tale truest of true loves his mom is always on about, but he knows he loves Carlos, and he knows Carlos loves him.
Carlos would never make him hurt like his dad is making his mom hurt.
At the same time, Kendall recognizes that it's not the same thing. Probably. He can't grow up and marry Carlos. He isn't stupid; he understands that much.
He also understands that things are getting worse at home.
"Don't touch your plate, honey," his mom says, her voice stiff. Katie is banging a plastic spoon against her high chair tray, the sound a hollow echo in the kitchen.
"I'm hungry," Kendall whines.
"We have to wait for your father."
Kendall scowls. He uses his fork to shift green peas around, a little act of defiance that has his mom's eyes going all narrow at the corners. He doesn't care. "Dad's not coming."
It's on the calendar that he's supposed to be flying in today.
It's been on the calendar before. Kendall's dad is consistently a no-show.
"Of course he's coming."
"He's with that lady, isn't he?"
Mrs. Knight's eyes flare with anger. Katie coos. The anger dies to a smolder. Her face softens. "Kendall, he's at a debriefing. He'll come home."
His mom might be able to control her temper, but Kendall can't.
"Why do you even want him to?" He yells. He's not hungry anymore, he feels full, and his stomach aches in this raw way. He thinks about his mom curled up on the couch, face buried in one of her stupid, sappy books like books have anything at all to do with real life.
"Because he's your father," Mrs. Knight explains. Her tone is calm, but she's looking at Kendall like he's a time bomb, and she's scared he's close to exploding. There's this small part of him, this cold, calculating corner of his mind that likes it; he likes feeling so powerful that his mom, super-woman, is afraid.
The larger part of him recoils, ashamed of how loud, how brash, how dumb he is. He doesn't want to scare his mom. She's got enough to deal with.
But he's too proud to apologize.
Kendall's pressing his fork against the plate so hard that it skids, scraping metal against ceramic, a screech in the air. It breaks the spell of silence. Quietly, levelly, Kendall says, "You can wait for dad. I'm hungry. I'm eating."
He scoops up a mouthful of peas and crams them in his mouth. In that moment, Kendall decides he's not ever going to wait for anything again.
4.
"You spend too much time with that faggy friend of yours."
Carlos glances up, frowns. He doesn't know what fag means, but he doesn't want to ask his older brother, who is so very smart and cool. Instead he asks, "Which one?" and ignores the way Jesse smiles, like Carlos just confirmed that all of his friends are fags.
"Kendork."
"He's not a dork," is Carlos's immediate response. "He's cool."
"He's sweet on you." When Carlos stares at him, uncomprehending, Jesse clarifies with a mean edge, "He looooves you."
"Oh." Carlos shrugs. "I love him too."
"You don't love boys, dummy," his brother taps him on the head with his knuckles. It makes Carlos's thoughts go all crooked and twisty, blurred for a second. "That's disgusting."
"Is not."
"Is too."
"Is not!" Carlos insists, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. He's upset, but he can't figure out why.
"Whatever," Jesse decides. "Just don't let the little fag try to kiss you."
Carlos blinks, and frowns, and blinks again. He doesn't get why Kendall would try to kiss him, because that's what old people do, but he also doesn't get why that would be a bad thing.
Later that same day, he meets Kendall at the park, and for a while they just kick around, climbing the jungle gym and talking about school and hockey. They plot a little, because Carlos always has the best ideas, but he has no idea how to implement them, and that's where Kendall comes in. Sometimes he doesn't want to save the day; Carlos is actually a little bit reckless, a little bit insane, but Kendall mostly seems to like that. He usually goes along with everything that Carlos suggests.
Today it's all going great. They scream and holler at the nearby lake like wild men and run free and crazy until, just like Jesse predicted, Kendall leans across the swings and presses their lips together. It's soft and quick, and really, really nice. Carlos asks, "Why did you do that?"
"I don't know." Kendall offers him a smile. He looks worried, like he's done the wrong thing, but he says, "I was having a bad day and you made me feel better, so it was just…thank you, I guess."
"Oh." Carlos pauses. "You shouldn't have, though."
Kendall looks bewildered, but he's still smiling. "What? Why?"
"Seriously," Carlos tells him, "You're not supposed to kiss other boys. It's gross."
At least, that's what his brother said. Carlos is a little confused, because kissing Kendall hadn't been anything like gross. Just kind of wet and gentle and sweet.
"Oh." Kendall's smile dims. "Sorry?"
Carlos isn't sure what to say, so he shrugs and asks if Kendall wants to go play video games now.
5.
There's this thing about being the son of a (mostly) single parent. It's bedtime curfews that aren't really enforced and never having hot breakfast in the morning. It's an extra two hours after school lets out spent occupying himself and embracing the disdain of his friends' parents, who think he's too independent. Like knowing how to take care of himself turns him into poison.
It's loving his mom and hating his dad and then getting confused when his mom tells him to love his dad. It's loving his dad and then getting more confused when his mom puts his dad down right in front of him.
And it's not that Kendall ever thinks his dad doesn't love him. He knows that in his own way, his dad does. Kendall refuses to care about the hockey games he misses or the parent teacher conferences he doesn't show for.
He cares about the birthdays that go without out a call, the forgotten Christmases and every single tear Katie sheds when she thinks he's not looking, already too tough at four. Living without a dad is such a common cliché, but it doesn't make the pain of it hurt any less. Kendall wishes his parents would make it official already, and just not be together anymore. He's seen HBO specials with Katie that are both less entertaining and less traumatic than the sight of his mom and dad, bickering.
At the same time, he doesn't want everyone to look at him like he's different. Like his dad doesn't love him enough to stay. He doesn't, but that's not the point. The point is that people will know, and that's embarrassing, and Kendall hates, hates, hates being embarrassed.
One day he stands at the edge of the lake, Carlos by his side, and he screams, at the top of his lungs. Finally. He screams and he screams and he screams until there's no air left in his chest and his voice is raw. Then he screams some more, maybe because he can, and because it makes him feel less helpless.
Even though Carlos has no idea what's going on, Kendall feels his hand slip into his. Carlos starts screaming too, yelling and shouting and hollering as loud as he can, and his voice overlays the places where Kendall's has already started to break from the abuse. They are a force of nature, they are strong; they are together. Kendall has Carlos, and he is not alone.
But actually, he is. Because less than an hour later, Kendall kisses Carlos. He's not sure why he does it; maybe because Carlos is wonderful, is summer and winter, is friendship and warmth, and the closest thing Kendall has ever known to love outside of his own shattered family.
Only Carlos does not- will not-
It's bad, okay?
After that day, things change. Kendall doesn't want them to, but they do, all the same. He knows Carlos doesn't hate him, simply because Carlos sticks around. But Kendall also knows that something between them shifts. The easy familiarity Kendall felt when he would jump onto Carlos's bed while they studied or when he would curl up next to him while they played video games or when he would fall asleep on his shoulder while they watched movies has vanished. They're still friends, best friends, but every time Kendall meets Carlos's eyes, he feels guilty.
He just thought…
Kendall isn't sure what he thought. He kissed Carlos simply because he wasn't thinking, because of corn dog dinners and lake races and igloo forts. Because he wanted to know what a kiss felt like, if it is a thing worth breaking up a family for, and Carlos is the only person he's ever felt comfortable enough around to experiment with. And also because he felt safe and happy and for that one moment on the lake- silver blue and beautiful- intrinsically loved. It seemed like the thing to do.
Kendall also hates being wrong.
He wants to tell Carlos about what's going on with his family. There's not very many things the two of them don't share. But now Kendall has this memory, framed like a picture in his mind.
Carlos thought kissing him was gross.
Carlos thinks boys shouldn't be with other boys.
What else, exactly, does Carlos think?
Kendall doubts that Carlos would have anything hugely judgmental to say, but he won't be able to stand it if Carlos starts thinking he's disgusting.
It's weird, but the older Kendall gets, the fewer things he can stand. He starts putting some distance between himself and Carlos. Not a lot, but enough that he doesn't feel suffocated by the weight of what his best friend may or may not be thinking about that kiss, about Kendall…He just needs space.
Only, space is kind of boring. Kendall spends a lot of time kicking around the empty basketball court down the street from his house, thinking about things he'd rather forget. He's doing that on a Wednesday afternoon, waiting for his mom to get home from work, when James stumbles across him. Kendall tries to look happy, tries to be upbeat, but apparently, he's not super great at it.
"What's wrong?" James's concern is immediate. In the fading afternoon light, his eyes sparkle like labradorite.
"Nothing," Kendall says, shifting from foot to foot. He tries to force a smile, but that doesn't work at all.
"It's not nothing. Why are you lying?"
He sighs. "I'm just having a really bad day, dude. Let it go."
"Oh," James says, eyes wide.
Then he kisses Kendall on the cheek, like it's some kind of fix-all, a panacea that doesn't just work on skinned knees and hockey injuries, but also on hearts.
And maybe it does. Because in that moment Kendall thinks, it's okay. Carlos just wasn't the right person. When he's in love, really, truly in love, Kendall will know.
6.
Carlos isn't sure when he starts having to compete with James for Kendall's attention and it grates, because James is not the kind of person who ever loses.
Anything.
But Carlos has his brothers and sisters, and he knows the rules of survival. If he can't beat James, he'll adapt to his presence. He'll become his best fucking friend, closer than they've ever been before. Because that's what you're supposed to do with enemies. And James most certainly is an enemy. He's constantly talking to Kendall, head bent close, and it's obvious that they're being all serious and stuff.
Carlos thinks that maybe they're even talking about Kendall's dad.
He knows about that. Kind of. He doesn't get why Kendall never tells him anything about it. Carlos tries to make it obvious that he's here to listen, but Kendall never turns around and pours out his woes. It's only James who ever gets to hear.
And Carlos hates it, because he's pretty sure James isn't even listening.
7.
In a way, it is almost inevitable that Kendall turns to James. High school changes a lot of things all around, the first and foremost being that Kendall and James end up spending a lot more time together. Carlos has to help out with his brood of siblings after school, and Logan's been spending a lot of time with his grandmother at some retirement community outside of town.
Because apparently he thinks chess with old people is cool or something.
Meanwhile, James is involved in the drama club, and Kendall's got his own extracurriculars that end up keeping him until well past the time the buses have gone. They've been friends for close to seven years, scheming and pranking and generally making nuisances of themselves to their entire town, and sure, all the while Kendall has known that James is awesomesauce, but it's kind of the first time he's had James all to himself.
He likes it.
They start up a tradition of walking home together, trudging through a haze of autumn leaves that turns too quickly to slushy snow and dreary gray skies. But Kendall can ignore the way his toes go so cold that he can't feel them anymore, the redness in his nose and the sluggish tone of his limbs when he's got James walking next to him, chattering endlessly about this teacher or that girl or how they're going to own that one team at the next game. There is something about the tilt of his smile and the complete and utter confidence in his tone that always makes Kendall feel solid, like he's part of the world.
Maybe even like he could own the world, if he chose to.
It's a kind of contented wholeness that Kendall hasn't felt in a long time, supplemented by nights where James will while away hours at Kendall's house, watching reality TV or playing video games or jamming out to songs on the radio. He teaches Kendall how to play guitar, his fingers hypnotic, the music more so; Kendall can feel it even after it's gone, lullabies that lurk in his bones.
In turn, Kendall teaches James whatever he can, gives whatever he can, tries to be everything that James will want. He can't take rejection, not again. He is fragile in ways he doesn't care to admit. He is Atlas, the world balanced on his shoulders, and sometimes he feels too close to breaking.
And Kendall thinks that maybe James could change that.
On a Friday morning there's this report on the news about an IED going off near where Kendall's dad is stationed, about nine dead marines, with bonus helicopter footage that they keep replaying over and over and over again, like some kind of sick hypnotist's trick. For all his faults, Kendall's dad always lets them know that he's okay if there's been any kind of action near where he's stationed, and Kendall waits for the phone call, for the email, or the text from one of his dad's buddies.
It never comes. He tries his best to hold it together, to keep fear at bay, but less than ten hours later he's dialing the first number that comes to mind, the only one his fingers can remember, voice breaking when he chokes out James's name.
James is over at his house less than half an hour later, crushing Kendall in a bear hug that feels like it rearranges his entire skeleton. He gets Kendall out of his head, takes him out into the snow-covered world and slaps powder in his face, rubbing it in until the ice is sticking to Kendall's eyelashes, blocking his mouth and nose and they're both laughing, laughing, laughing while they wrestle with it, while Kendall hooks a foot behind James's calf and pulls them both ass flat into the powder. James's eyes glisten like jasper, and the street lights halo his hair, highlighting bronze and gold, glittering metallics. Around them, the snow falls in a hush, and everything is still except for the whisper of the flakes and the rustle of their clothes. It's like the entire road is holding its breath.
And there, in the middle of it, James is technicolor while everything else is black and white. He is sprawled in the snow, his legs splayed wide open, Kendall's arm clutched in his hand, and he just can't stop cracking up. He makes light dance in Kendall's chest like fireflies.
He is really ridiculously beautiful, Kendall thinks.
They walk until the moon is low, a polished marble in the sky, and morning is riding in like an army, prepared to conquer. They fall asleep in a fort of blankets that they've built, a sacred space created just for the two of them. It is something separate from Logan and Carlos, something untouchable.
And it means more to Kendall than anything else ever has.
If someone asked, he would say that's the night he began to fall in love.
It's not like he can help it. For one, James is fucking gorgeous, and Kendall isn't blind. He is free in all the ways Kendall wants to be. He's arrogant and narcissistic and freakishly lovely. He is also kind and vulnerable, but strong. On the ice, he is a beast of a boy. He's fast, brutal, and dangerous. Off the ice, he is angry. Kendall recognizes that. Kendall likes that. Sometimes Kendall watches him out of the corner of his eyes as they track footprints in the snow and hopes almost desperately that James is like the stories his mom told him when he was a little boy, about finding the truest of true loves.
It wouldn't be so bad, with him. He's like a sculpture of a boy that changes every time Kendall looks; always beautiful, always James. And more; when they're together, Kendall feels safe.
Invincible.
Complete.
Like nothing can hurt him, except for James himself. And Kendall wants to believe that James would never do that. He lets himself believe that.
People lie to themselves all the time.
The thing is, Kendall needs that feeling, more than anything. He's in high school now, and when he says too much about his parents, people look at him like there are cracks running across the surface of his body. Like he's broken. So he doesn't say anything at all. He holds his head up high and pretends it doesn't matter that his dad isn't interested in having a kid. James makes Kendall feel strong, and Kendall hasn't felt strong in so very long. He needs it, because…
Parents are selfish.
Parents are people.
They finalize the divorce smack in the middle of Kendall's freshman year. It should be this gigantic tragedy, this thing where James, Logan, and Carlos have Kendall's back every step of the way.
Instead, Logan's grandma croaks. Kendall doesn't know how to bring up the subject in the middle of a funeral, wearing a suit that is too tight in all the wrong places. So he doesn't. During the quiet dinner that follows the reception, Kendall sees James looking across the table. He throws him a half-hearted grin, crooked and a little sad, except James isn't actually looking at him. His eyes are trained on Logan, almost absently. A little…wistfully.
Kendall frowns. It shouldn't be weird. James and Logan have been friends since, like, the dark ages, and Logan's broken-hearted about his grandma. But…something about it makes his skin feel tight. And later that night, James is gone. Kendall lies in his sleeping bag, thinking about Logan, about James, a terrible knot in his gut. On a normal day, he'd forget about it, but this isn't a normal day.
What if Logan's not okay?
It's friendship, not anything more than that, which makes him disentangle his legs from Carlos's and stand, pulling on a hoodie to ward off the cold. He creeps out of Logan's room and towards the stairwell, where light glows, warmth and shadows. In the kitchen, the rain hits the window like rocks, like the sky is trying to flatten them into the ground. Kendall's first thought is that James is hugging Logan, which makes perfect sense.
Until he realizes he can see the shape of James's spine beneath Logan's splayed hands.
Thou shalt not covet what doesn't belong to you. Kendall is well aware of that.
Consequently, this is the moment when Kendall gives up on James. He allows himself to think that maybe it would be different if he'd met James first, but he does not ever think any farther than that. He has this image of Logan burned on the back of his eyelids, tiny, pale, and vulnerable. And no matter how much Kendall cares about James, he can't do that to Logan. He doesn't want any of his friends to feel the way he does every day, a wound festering inside of them, never able to heal.
Kendall thinks, no more fairytales.
8.
The night of Logan's grandmother's funeral, Carlos wakes up to an empty room.
Of course he goes to find Kendall, and of course he ends up seeing the thing that neither of them ever should have witnessed. When he realizes what's going on; what he's hearing, it's like a puck to the gut, like the time he fell out of his tree house or the drop on a roller coaster. He instinctively reaches for his helmet, wanting the reassurance of plastic protection, but it's up in Logan's room.
Logan, who is in the kitchen, presumably with James, making that noise that Carlos has only ever heard coming from his brother's room late at night, his silhouette outlined by the white glow of his laptop screen.
Kendall is just standing there, not moving, not even breathing for all that Carlos can tell. And for the first time in his life, Carlos imagines what it would be like to make that noise…
For Kendall.
9.
Kendall's mom is yelling at him.
It doesn't even matter about what; Kendall is always getting yelled at about sleeping in until one or breaking a vase or causing some kind of mischief. He's a troublemaker, and on a normal day, he's cool with that. But today, all he can focus on is how angry his mom looks, and how hard her words are, and suddenly, without meaning to, he's saying, "Mom. Dad doesn't love me," voice cracking into shards.
It's a cruel, manipulative move, and it does what it's meant to. Kendall spends an hour wrapped in his mom's arms while she tells him that he is her entire world. She says his dad loves him so damn much, and that she does too, and that if she had the money, she would shower him with gifts, and oh yeah. They were fighting over the new skates that she can't afford to buy him.
"Why don't you just go after dad for child support, mom?" Kendall frowns at the tightness around her eyes.
"If I did that, do you think he'd keep talking to you and Katie? Do you think he'd swing by and take you guys to the zoo?"
Kendall considers. His dad is a bastard, and it hurts to admit out loud, but- "Probably not. Who cares?"
"You'll care. When you're older."
"I won't," Kendall insists.
"You will." His mom looks at him then with so much sadness in her eyes that Kendall can't take it. He stares at the floor. "And you need to stop being so mad, sweetie. You're not punishing anyone but yourself."
"I'm just…"
"I know, and I'm sorry this has been so hard for you. When you're older…well. Never stop believing that love will find you." His mom hugs him tight, humming under her breath.
Love. Pssh.
Love is a ghost. The idea of it lingers, haunts every move that Kendall makes. He fears it now.
Every time he's near James, his moss agate gaze is a spotlight, and Kendall basks in its warm glow while simultaneously hating himself. He knows he should tell James what he's feeling, just for closure, just to get it the hell out of the way. It's not like he'd even actually be hurting Logan, because for some reason, Logan and James don't seem to be togethertogether. They carry on like they never even fucked. So really, words like I like you shouldn't be so hard for Kendall to say, not to his best friend. Just…every time Kendall decides to say it, Logan comes along and James gives him this look and…
Kendall's not really as brave as everyone gives him credit for. He thinks maybe James would be happy if he said it out loud. James might even say it back. The problem is, Kendall doesn't think James will mean it. And he doesn't think he's ready to be destroyed like that.
James ends up being the one who makes the first move. Kendall's mad at his father, but what else is new? He's past the point of pissed, really. He's just numb now. But the man is skipping Katie's birthday next week, and he made Kendall's mom cry, again, so yeah. Maybe there's a little bit of anger left in him. Kendall's ranting to James about it, telling him, "Fuck the marines. Fuck them, and fuck my dad," clenching his fingers into fists over and over again.
"Dude."
Kendall is ashamed that he can't keep his emotions under control. He hides his face in his arms, propped on the kitchen table. He confesses, "I worry about him all the time. I shouldn't worry about him, because he left us, but- all the time."
The way his voice cracks is not very dignified at all. He flushes.
James reaches out and strokes a finger down the side of Kendall's cheekbone, and Kendall caves, leaning into it, needing the familiar touch to make himself feel okay again.
"What are you doing?"
"I don't know," James responds, voice a little sardonic, a little cold. "You were throwing the word fuck around like you actually wanted to do something with it."
Kendall's throat closes up. He feels like he's been punched in the stomach. "Are you hitting on me?"
"Fuck yes."
Kendall knows better. He knows not to go down this road. But that doesn't stop his body from moving, until he is straddling James's hips, kissing him deep and hard, and it's everything he ever wanted.
James's eyes are luminous, and his skin of his arms beneath Kendall's palms feels like a firebrand, like if Kendall pulls away he'll be marked forever more. James's hands are a heavy, hot weight on his waist, and Kendall thinks that he will be, scorched by James's searing hands and his smoldering eyes and the feeling that blazes inside Kendall's chest every time he looks at him.
It doesn't mean anything. Kendall's not stupid. He realizes that even if he goes through with this, James will keep on fucking nameless boys and girls and maybe even Logan. Sex will not make Kendall special in his eyes. It doesn't stop Kendall from shoving James's pants down past his hips, yanking his shirt up and peppering kisses across his best friend's spine. He loses himself like that, screwing James into his kitchen counter, letting go of all the things that his mother told him to cherish, and it's fine. Kendall will give James all the firsts he has left. This is all he needs. Not a static-filled phone call, punctuated with silence, or something ridiculous like love.
Love does not exist for boys like Kendall Knight.
A/N: -cringes- Please review?