"You died here, Kendall. You were killed."
The words kept repeating in Kendall's head, like a broken record. He mentally agonized over every small detail of what had been said, how it was said, the heavy tone that had accompanied it, the serious face of the other male as he'd spoken those words. He had been telling the truth. Or at least the truth as far as he believed it.
Kendall shook his head, hands on either side of his skull, trying to snap himself out of it. No fucking way. Just... no fucking way. It wasn't real. It couldn't have happened. There was no chance in hell that he could have died, could have been killed, could have... could have had anything like that happening.
He realized he was muttering his thoughts out loud, as if voicing it would help him come to grips with it all, would make him actually believe that it wasn't the truth, that the other male was talking out his ass about some make-believe bullshit. But for whatever reason, Kendall was actually buying into it.
Dropping his hands to his sides, he looked up, green eyes analyzing the brunet standing only a couple feet away, scrutinizing every little detail. His dark brown hair was longer on top, styled upwards in a near fauxhawk of sorts. His skin was a rich sandy color, the kinda tan that came from a more natural source rather than a casket of UV lights or bottle of tinted lotion. The smooth flesh covered sharp cheekbones and a slender nose, features like a chiseled statue from Greek or Roman times. His jawline was strong, angular, one that belonged on the visage of a stereotypical action hero, leading to a square chin with a small, barely noticeable dimple in it. His lips were perfectly shaped, if not a little thin, the evidence of his teeth gnawing visible on the bottom one, most likely a nervous habit.
But it was his eyes that really caught Kendall's attention. They were hard beneath a drawn brow, forming wrinkles on otherwise flawless skin. The low lighting made it hard to tell exactly what color the irises were, but the emotions in them were clear: a mix of worry, discomfort, anxiety, and impatience. They were framed by long lashes that didn't belong on a guy, but somehow suited him perfectly. In a word, the male was beautiful, and that wasn't an adjective he had used on another guy. Ever.
As far as he knew anyway.
He continued his visual assessment of the stranger before him, the way the leather jacket lay over broad shoulders, the too tight t-shirt that clung to a flat chest. His hands were still on his hips, one slightly cocked out, body language seeming relaxed in a way. But further inspection showed that his fingers were in a white-knuckle grip, strained tendons visible on the back of his hands. A muscle was ticking on the side of his jaw as he clenched it and his nostrils flared as he tried to regulate his breathing. Beneath the calm exterior was a man who was ready to spring into action at any given moment, a man who was constantly on edge, his muscles tensed up, prepared to fight at a second's notice.
It was a fact Kendall knew to be true, only he wasn't entirely sure how he was aware of it. He figured he had to have known the guy from before his memory loss, the only explanation for the whole thing really. After all, why would he know he could trust the brunet, why would the stranger know his name? They had to have been friends of some kind, right?
Something tightened inside his chest, his heart missing a beat or two, pulling him out of his daze. It was almost like the thought of being just friends with this unknown figure from his past hurt, emotionally anyway. Almost like...like he had wanted more...
His head dropped and he rubbed the center of his chest with the heel of his hand, acting as though it would help the pain go away. It didn't, but that didn't stop him from trying.
"Look," the larger male started, causing Kendall to lift his head and look at him once more. "I promise I'll explain everything, but only after we leave. Every second we stay here is a second closer that Jett is getting to us."
Kendall clenched his fists in anger as they dropped to his sides, hard green eyes focused on the male before him. For sixth months he'd had no clue who he was, his entire life before that point a big blank, and the whole time this guy had known everything. He'd clearly been an important person to him, someone who'd been there with him for who the hell knew how long, meaning he had information, clues, memories of Kendall's life that he himself didn't. Yet he hadn't even said a fucking word that even hinted at what happened to him until that moment. While the younger male had been driving himself crazy, pushing himself through therapy sessions that made him uncomfortable, struggling to remember even the smallest thing, this asshole had been hanging around, practically stalking him, not once offering any assistance. And now there he was, demanding that Kendall just keep waiting, delaying giving answers of any kind.
Fuck. That.
Kendall shook his head, grinding his teeth. Fists still clenched, he folded his arms over his chest, stiffening his spine as he stood his ground. The other guy might've had more muscles, but he wasn't backing down, wasn't gonna be intimidated. He puffed out his chest in an attempt to make himself seem bigger, stronger, narrowed eyes glaring, jaw tightened so hard it hurt.
"No. No fucking way," he spat out, venom dripping off his words, pointing an accusatory finger at his companion. "I'm not going anywhere, not until I get some answers."
The brunet sighed harshly, head lolling back as he swore under his breath. He shut his eyes tight for a long moment, taking a few deep breaths, almost as though he was trying to calming himself down. He reopened his eyes and focused on his companion, jaw tense as he spoke. "We don't have time right now, but I promise I will answer any and all questions as soon as we get to the SafeHouse," he spoke tightly, evenly, sounding like a stressed out parent trying to keep an even keel with their annoying stubborn brat of a kid.
Kendall raised a skeptical eyebrow, still not fully convinced that he should go along with what the stranger was saying. An internal debate had started up, his more logical side pointing out that this was how people were abducted, kidnapped, held prisoner for decades and tortured or turned into sex slaves—if they weren't just flat out killed anyway—and that the entire thing just seemed like the start of some horror flick. But the other, more intuitive part of him was saying that everything was okay, that he could trust the stranger, that he should just go along with him because the guy would never hurt him.
He let out a small sigh of his own, hand rubbing the back of his neck, torn between wanting to get answers and wanting to stay alive. He liked living.
"I always hate this fuckin' part," the stranger muttered, talking more to himself than Kendall. Huffing, he turned his focus to the male in front of him. "Look at it this way, I could've killed you already, right?" he pointed out, holding his hands out before him with the palms up in a show of innocence and persuasion. "But I didn't. In fact, I saved you from getting your ass kicked by Jett three times in the past two days. You're welcome, by the way," he wrapped up his statements in a snarky tone.
Kendall was confused for a moment before the realization hit him, washing over his features. The name had been brought up several times by the stranger, but it wasn't until then that the leaner male put two and two together: Jett was Polo Shirt, the modelesque monster that had been chasing him for days.
"Outside your therapist's office," the leather-clad one continued, hands down at his sides as he slowly sauntered forward, moves all grace and power. "You kept looking at me, right? Kept waiting for me to save you. And right now, your gut is telling you that you can trust me and to just go along with whatever it is that I suggest because you know I'll take care of you and protect you, no matter what."
Kendall felt lost all over again, his heartbeat a roar in his ears, stomach churning, skin tingling and heating up as his companion approached. Something in the back of his mind was telling him this was wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this, that he needed to back the fuck away before it was too late, but it was ignored, barely even heard. His mind was filled with fuzzy images of the brunet prowling towards him in a similar manner, but in a totally different situation, lust in his dark eyes, tongue licking his lips as he looked the more slender male up and down. It was soon followed by visions of the two of them naked in bed together, limbs tangled, sweat covering their bodies as moans filled the air around them. Arousal roared in his ears, his cock twitching in his pants, and he couldn't get rid of the pictures playing behind his eyes, despite his inner-voice telling him that he should let those kind of thoughts go.
He needed a recreation of what he was seeing in his mind right fucking now. Because as much as he wanted to think it was just his imagination—and teenage hormones—getting the best of him, he had a feeling it was more than that, that it'd been more memories—fuzzy as hell ones, but memories nonetheless—coming back to him.
The brunet stopped less than a foot a way, allowing Kendall to get an even better look at him. The same features he'd taken in before were there; the angular jaw, the high cheekbones, the slender lips. But now he could notice more details: the shade of stubble that had formed during the day across his jaw, the light dusting of freckles on his cheekbones, the way his bottom lip was more full than the top. He could make out the swirl of colors in his eyes, the mix of darks and lights, browns and greens blending together to create a whole new hue of its own.
Yet amongst these flawless features, there were imperfections. Dark smudges under his eyes like he hadn't slept, a bruise on his jawline, a nearly healed cut above his lip, evidence of recent fighting. The smaller male wondered about this unknown person, about what kind of life he had, how it intersected with his own, if he was just as involved with whatever dangerous actions as the stranger seemed to be.
He had a feeling he had been.
Their eyes locked, and while Kendall felt like he was hyperventilating, the other male was perfectly calm, his breath even in his chest. With each inhale, he caught whiffs of the man's scent—bits of his cologne and the woods and something so particularly him that Kendall couldn't name it. The mixture of it all wasn't something he would normally come across, but as he breathed it in, he felt it rushing to his head, making him dizzy, high, his skin tingling and warming all over.
The brunet licked his lips, swallowing hard before he spoke. "Listen to your heart and trust me."
The rumble of his voice hit Kendall square in the chest, sparking something inside he couldn't quite name. He fought the urge to reach out, to grab hold of the guy's jacket and pull him closer, instead clenching his fists by his sides.
"I don't even know you," was his whispered response.
The stranger nodded as he dropped his head, focusing between their bodies as his hands moved. The blond felt fingers brush against his abdomen, the brief contact making his skin tingle, a shiver racing up his spine.
"The mark on your finger," he started then paused. "It's burning right now, isn't it?"
Once again, the confusion the smaller male was feeling showed on his face, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Yeah," he admitted shakily, wondering how the fuck the guy knew that. It wasn't like it glowed or gave away any other obvious inclination that it burned. Yet it was, the tattoo-like image had begun to tingle when he got in the car, worsening with every inch the other male closed between them, to the point where he had to rub it against his jeans in the hope of finding relief, getting none in return.
More nodding from the stranger as he raised his head, meeting green eyes with his dark ones. Holding his left hand up so the backs of his fingers were on display, he gave the smaller male a wry grin. "So is mine."
Kendall's eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. On the brunet's ring finger, was a mark just like his: a crescent moon shape with a directional arrow crossing over it. Only his was glowing, the red color it emitted a stark contrast to his tan skin.
He lifted his hand, looking at his own mark, shock hitting him for the second time in as many seconds as he saw it glowing in the same fashion as the other male's.
His eyes flipped up to the stranger's, face a mixture of the same puzzlement that had been plaguing him all evening and a determination to get some fucking answers. "Who are you?"
The brunet dropped his hand, point having been made. "I'm James."
Learning the stranger's name was enough to get Kendall to shut up and just go along with whatever it was the brunet wanted to do. He remembered calling the guy's name out in his therapy session, when things had started to make their way back into his mind. Definitely wasn't a coincidence. Adding in the fact that they both had the exact same mark in the exact same place and James' insistence that he could answer all of his questions, Kendall was left with little choice but to follow his gut and get back in the car with him.
He figured they had to have known each other before he'd lost his memory. That would explain the instinctual trust he felt for someone who, really, should've been a total stranger to him. Maybe the marks on their fingers were some sorta friendship tattoo, a bonding thing they had gone through together. Maybe they belonged to a gang.
Nah. One of the first things the cops had done after he'd been checked out at the hospital was run Kendall's tattoos through their gang database to see if they matched any known ink members got. No hits came up.
But even if they weren't affiliated with a gang, they had clearly been up to something bad, given the fact that they were currently on the run from someone. Then there'd been the look of fear and worry on Jett's face when he realized James was on his way over, the growls that had come out of seemingly nowhere. No one looked that worried and concerned by the presence of another unless there was some sorta violent history there. And judging by the healing bruises and cuts on the leather-clad one's face, he'd definitely had a violent past, at least recently. He clearly wasn't afraid of getting into a fight, of kicking someone's ass if need be.
For some odd reason, the teen found that reassuring.
He sighed as he stared out the window, the roar of the engine and the rumble of the highway rolling quickly under the wheels the only sounds among the highway. Kendall was left scratching his head, trying for the umpteenth time to figure out what the fuck was going on, because it was obviously fucking major.
Only James refused to answer anything until the reached their destination. Shithead.
Turning his head to the driver, Kendall studied James' profile, the fierce focus in his eyes as he stared out the windshield. His aviators were hanging off the visor, no longer needed with the sun being down, allowing the blond to get a good look at his entire face. He had flashes of fuzzy memories, that face close to his, lips pressed together, bodies writhing in perfect rhythm. He shoved them all aside though, knowing it was neither the time nor the place for them, not to mention a voice in the back of his head telling him it was wrong to think of the relative stranger that way.
Not that he thought liking men was wrong—just liking that man in particular. It was as though there was a blinking neon sign behind his eyes screaming Do Not Touch.
He told himself it was just because the guy looked like trouble. He had a feeling it was more than that.
He figured a distraction was in order. He thought for a long moment before he finally spoke, hoping he could get an answer to at least one of his question. "So where are we going?"
"I told you already," the brunet replied, not taking his eyes off the road, still staring straight ahead. "The SafeHouse."
Right. Not helpful in the slightest. "What SafeHouse?"
Dark eyes darted up to the rear view mirror before returning to the highway stretched out before them. "The one we set up for shit like this."
No, that wasn't annoying at all. Kendall loved being talked to like he actually knew what was going on, when he clearly fucking didn't.
Kendall's brow remained furrowed, the confusion still on his face. It was like the guy was deliberately being vague. He was giving non-answers that for whatever stupid reason he thought was supposed to explain shit and satiate the younger male's curiosity. No such luck for the driver.
"Who's we?"
James sighed, a hand sliding over his face. "I'll explain when we get there."
The blond snorted, rolling his eyes as he turned to face the front. Arms folded over his chest, he glared out the windshield, jaw jutting out in aggravation. "Right," he spat out, with a small laugh of disbelief. "I'm supposed to trust you. You, the guy that I don't even know. You're fucking joking, right?" He rolled his eyes, slumping in his seat.
The more muscular male finally turned to the smaller, face serious, eyes almost pleading to believe him. "You do know me. You just don't remember."
But Kendall still wasn't fully convinced, still wasn't ready to just give in and buy what this guy was selling. Lifting his head, he looked at James with a raised eyebrow, the question on his face as well as in his words. "How do you know me though?"
The driver turned back to the windshield, his face flat, giving nothing away. Which just further pissed the blond off. Shit wouldn't be so bad if he could just see some sort of little facial tick, some sort of flash in his eyes that gave away something, anything. But the guy was like a living, breathing statue, features perfectly formed and without any kind of expression.
"I've known you for a long time," was all he said.
Green eyes drifted down to the brunet's left hand as it gripped the top of the steering wheel. His glove was back on, but the blond could still recall the mark on his ring finger, the crescent moon and directional arrow that had glowed when put on display. Tilting his head down, Kendall saw the same mark, the same glow on his own finger, in the exact same spot.
Theories of getting matching tattoos together came back, but somehow they felt wrong, felt like they weren't the whole story, that it was something bigger and more meaningful than "hey, we're best buddies. Let's get some ink together to show the whole world that we're bros." But he couldn't for the life of him figure out why it meant so much.
He also couldn't figure out how or why it glowed. Regular ink didn't do that. Plus it only seemed to happen when he was around James, an event that had never occurred until the two of them were standing close in the woods not too long ago. And it wasn't like it was only a case of never having seen it do that, because he could feel it, too, could feel a small tingling warmth on the mark when it changed colors like that. It made him wonder if it was even a tattoo in the first place, or something more.
Whatever the case, it seemed like proof that they'd known each other before, that at least James was being honest about that, about having known the smaller male for a while.
Lifting his head, the blond looked at the driver once more, curiosity on his face, his voice small, weak almost. "Since before I lost my memory?"
"And the time before that," the leather-clad one responded with a slight tilt to the head, his index finger raised off the steering wheel to point at an imaginary check mark in front of him. "And the time before that."
Shit.
Dread pooled in the younger male's stomach, his arms wrapping around his waist to hold it all in, to stop himself from getting too freaked out, too panicky. He'd known it was a possibility, had heard his therapist talk about psychogenic fugue states—which was what they assumed his was—where the mind just couldn't handle something so it shut down and wiped its metaphorical slate clean, starting over, starting fresh. In a lotta cases, people had had their brains restart repeatedly, to the point where they couldn't even begin to go back and figure out what happened to cause their latest episode.
Then again, most people had someone there to help them figure everything out, to put the pieces together so they could deal with whatever it'd been that was too heavy for them to handle before. Kendall had no one.
Kendall glanced at James. Okay, maybe he did have someone. Even if that someone wasn't being all that helpful at the moment.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he decided to push forward, hoping to get more info while the other male was still in the mood to give it. As little of it as it was, it was still better than nothing.
"So." He paused, hesitant to ask, then doing so anyway, because he had to know. "This is a common occurrence for me?"
James' jaw tensed, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his grip on the steering wheel tightening, but his gaze never wavered from the windshield.
"More common than I like." His volume was low, like he wasn't entirely happy about admitting that, but feeling the need to do it anyway.
Kendall's mind flashed back to moments before, the two of them in the woods, the brunet muttering about how he hated this part, the part where he had to convince the younger male to just go along with what he was saying, trust that it was the truth, and do whatever he was told. Annoyance hit him once more and he wondered if he'd ever get a grip on his emotions and not get pissed off so often. Although it seemed like a more recent occurrence and was mostly caused by James and his lack of help.
Which, now that he thought about it, he kinda had to give James some credit for dealing with a cranky amnesiac on a repeated basis. If his previous statements were anything to go by, this had happened before—possibly more than once—the brunet having to put up with his attitude when he'd done nothing wrong. It had to take a lot of caring, a lot of loyalty in order to go through this whole ordeal several times.
Although really, there was no need for him to be such a dick about it.
He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he slammed back against his seat. He was pouting; he knew it. He just didn't give a shit.
"Because you have to deal with me being memory-less and it's annoying." He didn't bother trying to hide the pissy tone in his voice at the statement, didn't bother making it into a question because he knew it was true, and that just aggravated him even more. It wasn't like he wanted to be an amnesiac, not like he was having fucking fun going through the past six months—and for the foreseeable future—with no clue who he was or where he'd come from or anything like that. And he sure as hell didn't want some asshole coming along and telling him what to do and saying all these things that he was just supposed to believe was the truth and was really who he was, when he had no freaking way of knowing if he was being lied to or not.
"Nooo." James spoke slowly, deliberately, his grip on the steering wheel and the stick shift tightening. It was like he was trying to keep himself together, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "Because seeing you die fucking sucks and it kills me inside every. Fucking. Time."
Kendall's head snapped over, eyes wide as they took in the other male. His heart was pounding, stomach flipping, something in his head screaming that the confession was huge, although he had no clue why. Shoving that belief aside, he focused instead on one key phrase in the statement.
"What do you mean I die?"
James turned his head to the blond, brow wrinkled, lips twisted up in a questioning sneer. "Exactly what it sounds like," he stated flatly before turning his attention back to the road.
The smaller male shook his head emphatically, denying the whole thing. His mind was buzzing with a million thoughts and emotions, the most prevalent being disbelief. The thought of his own death made his skin go cold and the back of his neck prickle in dread. But it was more than that. It was just completely impossible for that to have happened to him, not when he was sitting in that car holding a conversation.
"No," he choked out, denying the whole thing. "No way. I couldn't have died. I'm still here, still breathing, still talking. If I died like you said, I'd be in a coffin or I'd be a pile of ashes in some urn somewhere."
"You can't burn," the driver stated, completely serious, grabbing hold of the teen's forearm. Kendall had no choice but to look at his own unmarred skin. James' obsidian eyes were all business, adding to the gravity of his words. "Remember?"
Kendall inhaled sharply, the air getting caught in his throat, eyes widening before the lids drooped. He nodded in a stupor, momentarily forgetting how to speak, but he wasn't entirely sure he agreed with the statement. His arm certainly felt like it was burning where the other male's skin touched his and his mark was on absolute fire. It was by far hotter and more intense than when he had actual flames on his flesh.
Yeah. He could definitely burn, just not in the traditional sense.
His eyes drifted from where they'd been focused on the other male's hand, up his arm, to his eyes. Only instead of seeing the usual near black color in them that he had come to expect over the past hour or so, they were... well, they were glowing, for a lack of a better definition. There was something powerful in them, something that made his heart pound and his breath catch in the back of his throat.
It wasn't normal, wasn't right, and he knew they should stop, should pull away, should end whatever the hell was beginning between the two of them. Only he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he was thinking about how much he hated that they were in a car and that James was driving, since it meant he couldn't climb into the larger male's lap and smash their lips together the way he so desperately wanted to at that moment.
The entire thing only lasted a second, if that, before James released Kendall's arm in a flash, like he'd been burned—which the blond could totally understand, given his own reaction to the contact. The driver swallowed hard, all expression leaving his face as he turned to look out the windshield once again, his eyes returning to their normal espresso hue.
Kendall sat stunned for a long moment before he slowly turned and faced forward, too, confusion furrowing his brow, lips parted, taking in a shaky breath. He was vaguely aware that he was rubbing at the mark on his left ring finger, that the shapes on it had started burning just as much as his skin had where he was being touched, only the dull sensation didn't leave his finger.
Shit just kept getting weirder. Amnesia, strange tattoos, random guys following him around, talking about keys and death and all sorts of shit. And then there was the male driving the car, the male who he strangely and instinctively trusted, who had set his entire body blazing when he couldn't even feel actual fire dancing on his skin. Kendall felt like he couldn't handle any of this new information, but at the same time, he wanted more, wanted all the remaining blanks filled in, wanted all the questions in his mind to be answered.
Leaning back in his seat, he got comfortable, still rubbing his finger while staring out the windshield as he settled in for...for however long their ride was gonna be. He knew nothing else would get answered, could already tell James was stubborn as fuck and wouldn't give in to anything else he'd demand, meaning there was no point in asking anything until they got to where they were going. But even then, Kendall had no fucking clue where exactly he'd start in his quest to get answers. For the time being, he was just gonna have to be happy with what he had, regardless of how badly he wanted more.
They stayed on the highway for another hour, before James turned off at an exit, heading down a smaller one. Several exits, a few twists and turns, and suddenly they seemed to be in the middle of nowhere with nothing but dense forest surrounding them on both sides. Kendall felt his heart start pounding more with each passing mile, anticipation making his skin tingle and stomach flip. Or maybe that was hunger. Both?
Whatever the case, he kept his focus out the side window, watching the trees whiz by the Camaro, trying to see if anything was familiar at all. Hard to do when everything was a brown and green blur that was never clear enough for him to actually get a good look at. But for some reason, he had a gut feeling that he knew exactly where he was going, and not just because the driver had mentioned they were heading to "The SafeHouse". Granted he couldn't give directions or tell which way to turn, but nevertheless, he had the distinct belief that he had been there before and would recognize things when he saw them.
If he could see them.
The pitch black sky and the driver's inability to do the speed limit were making it pretty damn hard for anything to actually be looked at. Not to mention the guy didn't even have his high beams on, so how he could tell what was three feet in front of the engine was beyond Kendall.
The turn off seemed to pop up outta nowhere, a sudden break in the trees that the blond was surprised they hadn't zoomed right past. He figured James was just so used to going this way that he had his own instinctual feelings about where things were and how to get to them, since it seemed to be the only explanation for the miraculous way the driver had discovered the dirt road and managed to get his car on it without whizzing past it at the ridiculous speed they were going.
Rocks kicked at the bottom of the sports car, most likely doing some minor damage to the undercarriage, but if the brunet gave any sorta shit about the Camaro, he didn't show it. His face was as stoic as it had been all evening, not giving anything away as to his thoughts or emotions. Hell, the only real time Kendall had seen any sorta reaction had been when the larger male had taken hold of his arm and his eyes had shifted colors. But even then, the blond had no clue what exactly that meant.
The dirt road went on for a couple miles, trees acting as a natural tunnel, branches reaching over the one-car path and shielding the vehicle from the sky above. Kendall moved his head around as he continued looking at his surroundings out the side window, examining it from as many angles as he could, all in the hopes of finding something familiar. He couldn't recognize anything, yet still had that same earlier feeling of having been there before. Deja vu was a strange thing indeed.
A break in the trees came upon them before Kendall could even see it, parting to reveal an unassuming log cabin, the dirt road seeming to wrap around it. The place looked small, nothing special, a porch out front with steps running along it, leading down to a dirt pathway that joined up with the road they were on. There was no grass to be found, although with it being late fall, chances were most of it would be dead anyway, but it didn't appear like any of it would be there even in the spring and summer.
James pulled up to the side of the cabin, putting the Camaro in park before killing the engine and taking the keys out the ignition. He didn't say a word as he got out the car, shutting his door with an enviable mix of anger and easiness, like he was on edge but still trying to make sure the vehicle didn't lose a part. Figuring he was supposed to follow, Kendall undid his seat belt before getting out, trailing after the brunet as he headed to the steps and up them, pausing at the front door.
The leather-clad one turned to the smaller male, frown on his face, keys in the pocket of his jacket. "Turn around."
That had the blond's brow arching, not entirely sure why he needed to do that. Not to mention there was no fucking way it was gonna happen. The cabin was in the middle of the fucking woods, miles from anything resembling civilization, meaning the two of them were all alone. And while it was somewhat reassuring to know that Jett was nowhere to be found, it also meant that if James wanted to hurt him in some way, there was no one around to stop it from happening.
That little voice in the back of his head argued that fact, insisting that the larger male would never do anything to hurt him. After all, the two of them had been in the car together for over two and a half hours now, plenty time for the driver to do some sorta harm to the passenger. But he didn't. Kendall was still in one piece, physically the same as when he'd gotten into the Camaro. Well, other than the dull headache he felt forming, the stomach pangs from hunger, and the uncomfortable tightness that still existed in his pants.
But other than that, he was great.
"Kendall," the brunet prompted, eyebrow raised in expectation. "Turn. Around."
The blond let out a sigh, rolling his eyes as he did as directed. Folding his arms over his chest, he heard the sounds of mechanical whirring, of beeping, of... cracking and breaking? He shook his head, clearing his mind, convincing himself that he'd imagined the last part.
Something clicked, the blond hearing a loud shifting noise, as though a lock was sliding open. The brunet called out an "all right", the smaller male taking it as a sign that he could turn back around. Not looking at him, the leather-clad male opened the door and stepped inside, flipping on the light as he went.
The interior was as simple as the exterior, most of the cabin open space, with a separate room in the back right corner, door leading to the outside next to it. The back left was the open kitchen, a dining area directly in front of it. To the right was the living area, two couches forming an "L" shape, flatscreen TV on the front wall, a fireplace along the side one. A few throw rugs littered the floor, nothing too expensive or fancy, the furniture all what would be described as "shabby chic" or "bought at a thrift store because it's our first place and we can't afford anything new". Given the lack of art or any sorta personal paraphernalia, the blond figured it was the second.
Kendall closed the front door behind himself, hearing the lock slide into place automatically. Turning around, he didn't see anything outta place, figuring the locking mechanism had to be hidden inside the wood itself. His bottom lip stuck out in an impressed pout, appreciating the cleverness in making the place still look like an authentic cabin by covering up the more advanced technological aspects of the building.
"I gotta make a phone call," James stated, catching the blond's attention. The younger male turned to see the elder removing his jacket, tossing it onto the back of the couch that ran alongside them, the heavy fabric landing with a quiet thud. "I'm sure you probably wanna shower."
The smaller male shoved a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp along the way. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted one, but it actually sounded like a good idea to a degree. Getting away from the other male would probably help out a lot, get rid of the random flashes of x-rated images he wasn't entirely sure were his imagination—and ones that definitely were—allow him some relief, to stop himself from staring at the brunet in order to figure out exactly what they were to each other, and what he wanted them to be at that moment. Being in that car with him for so long had become increasingly frustrating, the larger male's scent filling his nose, the memory of a warm hand on his arm causing his skin to tingle all over, not to mention the mark on his finger had burned the entire ride. Would be nice to get a reprieve, to clear his mind—and nose—from all things James and gather his thoughts, figure out exactly what it was that he wanted to ask and how to ask it.
Then again, maybe he kinda did wanna shower. The day had been extremely long, full of non-burning skin, unnecessary hospital trips, threatening pretty boys, and work at a grocery store. Washing the past twelve hours away was a tempting idea.
Dropping his hand, he let them hang by his side, muttering out a "sure" before heading towards the side room, assuming the bathroom was in there.
"Spare clothes in the drawers," James called after him, causing the blond to pause in the doorway, turning towards him. Only the brunet wasn't looking at him; he was focused on pulling his iPhone out his pocket and unlocking it with a thumb slide across the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, the smaller male noticed more black marks going up the insides of both of the larger's forearms, but he didn't focus on them too much, his mind weary and too drained to figure anything else out. "The bottom two."
More nodding from Kendall, despite the fact that the action went unnoticed by the other male, before he headed into the room, switching on the light as he went. Ignoring the furniture and décor, he continued through the space, towards a closed door on the left. He shut himself inside the bathroom, glad for the time to be alone and the space to get his head together. Was this really his life? Was he seriously on the run from... shit, he had no clue what he was running from, assuming he was even running.
He was in a safehouse. He was definitely running.
Still no clue what he was running from though, other than the possibility that it was Polo Shirt from outside his therapist's office—and the hospital and Sherwood's Grocery—the guy that James had referred to as "Jett". A half-breed, whatever the fuck that was.
Scrubbing his face with his hands, he shoved all thoughts away, deciding to just focus on the mindless actions of getting clean, flipping the shower on. He had a feeling he'd be dropped in more shit than he could handle once he got out.
The quick shower proved to be the sorta mindless monotony Kendall needed at that moment. He was able to shut his brain down, to ignore any and all thought processes and just go through the automated motions of washing and scrubbing.
Shoving open the plastic curtain, he got out the shower, careful not to stub any toes on the bottom lip, stepping onto the mat rather than the wood floor. A neat stack of towels was located on the nearby counter and he grabbed the top one, using it to dry off his body in quick, rough motions before draping it over his head. He rubbed at his hair, trying to soak up some of the water still clinging to the strands as he checked out the bathroom. The counter was relatively clean, nothing out of the ordinary there: an empty glass, presumably for rinsing mouths out; a soap dispenser that matched the décor of the bathroom; the accompanying toothbrush holder, complete with two toothbrushes.
That had Kendall's brow furrowing.
Fucking eh, seemed like everything was confusing him these days.
But seriously, if this place was a safehouse as it'd been referred to, chances were there wouldn't be any toothbrushes set out, much less two unwrapped ones that looked like they'd been used given the excess toothpaste still left on the green one.
Kinda looked like Kendall's one back at his foster home.
Shaking his head, he pushed aside thoughts of the toothbrushes, instead focusing on wrapping the towel around his waist and tucking the end in so it wouldn't fall. He set about trying to find something to brush his hair with, tugging at the corner of the mirror above the sink and opening up a hidden medicine cabinet, one full of a whole lotta first aid supplies, mostly of the bandage and gauze variety. A few small white jars were in there, ones that resembled the set used to hold spices back at his foster home and he took one out, lifting open the lid and sniffing its contents. It didn't smell too familiar, but then again, cooking wasn't really something he did. Unless it involved a microwave or super basic oven instructions that were on the box.
Shrugging, he put the lid back on and returned the jar to its previous location, resuming his search for a comb. Two sat on the bottom shelf, along with refills for a disposal razor, a pair of tweezers, and nail scissors. Instincts told him not to touch the black one, so instead he reached for the dark green comb, seeing the letter "K" carved into the handle.
Weirder and weirder.
Closing the cabinet door, he worked on getting the knots outta his hair, brushing the strands so they laid across his head in his usual side-swept style. Figuring that was as good as he was gonna get—or as good as he was willing to put the effort into getting—he put the comb back, closed the mirrored door once more, then left the bathroom.
James was still out in the main part of the cabin, presumably on the phone judging by the fact that his voice was traveling through the open doorway, making promises to "explain all that shit later" to whomever it was that he'd called. Kendall tried to ignore it, setting about on his next task of locating clothes, but his curiosity got the better of him, his mind wondering who exactly the brunet was talking to and what he needed to explain.
His paranoid side thought it was him.
His logical side knew it was him.
Letting out a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the slight dampness of the water that still clung to the strands. Remembering what the other male had said before his shower, he looked around for a set of drawers, finding a low bureau along the wall next to the bathroom door.
A low bureau with several different items on top.
Curiosity taking over his brain once more, Kendall stepped over, inspecting the various things on top of the wooden furniture. On the left were countless bottles with the word "Cuda" on it, a men's toiletries company he recognized from stocking the shelves at Sherwood's, the same scent seeming to be on each one. A hand-held mirror was laying in front of them, the blond getting the feeling it wasn't used by himself, that none of those things were.
His eyes drifted to the right side, coming across a stack of worn-out magazines of various topics from music to hockey, a plaid shirt laying across them, as though it'd been carelessly tossed there and forgotten about. Lifting up the soft fabric, he put it to his nose, smelling a familiar scent on it. His own.
But it was the items in the middle of the bureau that really caught his attention, that really got his head buzzing and his mind whirring. Chucking the shirt back where it'd been, he inspected the framed photographs that were sitting there, sensing a pattern. All four contained photos of himself and James, all four were in poses that spoke less of friends and more of lovers.
His fuzzy mental images had been right. Those weren't fantasies; they truly had been memories.
Kendall picked up one of the frames, getting a closer look. All the pictures looked like one of them had taken the shot, with arms around each other and smiles on their faces. But this one in particular seemed to be the most intimate, the most telling. The brunet appeared to be the one holding the camera, the blond clueless as his eyes were closed, face a mix of passion and need, as his lips were pressed to the other male's. And the larger male's features looked exactly the same, held the same emotions, but his open eyes showed a whole lot more, showed love, compassion, a need to be close to the smaller male in all ways, a need to keep him around and never let him go.
Putting the frame down, Kendall ran a hand through his hair, puffing up his cheeks before blowing the air out. He had no clue what to think about that, no clue exactly what emotion was trying to take over. He felt like an intruder in someone else's home, like he wasn't supposed to be there, like he was invading upon a life that someone else was living. But at the same time, seeing those pictures, seeing the closeness he shared with the other male, it felt right, like it all made sense, like he wasn't crazy or just randomly hard up over this guy—although it was understandable, given how incredibly fucking good looking he was—but that there'd been something between them, something that was more than just knowing each other.
They'd been in love.
He rubbed a fist between his bare pecs, the light dusting of hair tickling the side of his hand. His chest felt tight as the belief that he had deep feelings for the other male settled in, taking root and grabbing hold of his heart in a vice-like grip that he was sure he'd never be able to get rid of, no matter how hard he tried. If he even wanted to try in the first place.
He thought back to his car ride with the other male, to the images that had flashed in his mind, the images he was now fully convinced were memories of the two of them moving together in the most basic and primitive way possible as they showed each other how much they cared about the other person. He remembered the driver's confession of how seeing the blond being killed had killed him inside, had metaphorically caused him to die, too. The only reason that would happen would be because he cared about the younger male, didn't want to lose him, to let him go, that it hurt to see the one he loved in pain. It was the only explanation Kendall could think up at that moment.
His head turned to the door, the other male's voice drifting into the bedroom once more, boots scuffing against the wood floor as he paced about the living room. Deep down he knew those feelings probably still resided for himself, that instinctively he knew he was in love with the brunet, that he could trust him and believe in him. It was why he never got scared when he saw the leather-clad one on his street, why he turned to him in the coffee shop to save him from Jett, why he got in the car with him and just went along with whatever it was the larger male said. But feelings and instincts aside, James was still relatively a stranger to Kendall, a stranger he still wasn't entirely sure he wanted to get to know, not if it meant more questions than answers.
A heavy sigh escaped the teen before he crouched down, opening a long drawer at the bottom of the bureau. Jeans were located inside to the right, a jumbled mess that spoke to the owner not caring much about organization and just shoving them inside. Much like his drawers at the foster home. Refusing to think on that too much, he pulled out the first pair he could get, tossing them behind himself so they landed on the bed before looking at the left side of the drawer, finding a mess of plaid flannel. Deciding he didn't need one right now, he slid the drawer closed then opened the next one up.
Socks and undies were kept inside, along with a mess of plain white tees. He grabbed one of each before standing up, dumping his clothing onto the bed. Towel pulled off and thrown into the bathroom without care, he set about getting dressed, vaguely wondering why he was putting actual clothes on. Then again, he hadn't found any PJs in there, meaning his old self had probably just slept in his boxers, too. Old habits really did die hard.
He decided to forgo the socks, chucking them over onto the bureau, accidentally causing one of the frames to slide back an inch or two. Part of him wanted to race over and fix it, to make sure that he didn't disturb anything there any more than he already had, lest the owners realize someone had been in their place and messed with their shit, only to remember that he was allowed to be there, that he'd been there before.
A lot, judging by the photos.
Tearing his eyes away from the frames, he settled the green orbs on the double-bed, taking in the plain green sheets and matching pillowcases, the comforter that completed the set rolled up at the end of it. Seemed to make sense, since he didn't really use one back at the foster house, getting too hot at night to be able to comfortably sleep with anything thicker than a sheet over him, and even then it was usually only up to his waist.
He rounded the end of the bed, heading to the side furthest from the door, the side he usually slept on in his own bed. Windows were lined along the wall, high up, giving a view of trees, trees, and more trees. A passing thought about how the sliding glass was locked hit him, but he figured it was just an assumption made based on the fact that the front door had been so heavily fortified, so it would only make sense that the rest of the place be the same way.
Plus, the term "SafeHouse" kinda made it a duh thing.
Walking over to the nightstand, he picked up another magazine, this one opened, the pages folded back to show the article someone had been reading, a bio piece on a member of the Minnesota Wild from the looks of it. His eyes skimmed over the page before tossing it back where it'd been, checking out the rest of the items on top of the nightstand. A lamp sat there, untouched, dust free, the realization of which made his brow furrow once more. The place had obviously been cleaned, had been kept up with, yet there were still clothes laying on the bureau, on the chair in the corner. The drawers he'd been in were an unorganized mess. A magazine was on the nightstand left open and placed the exact way someone would when done reading for the night and just putting it on the piece of furniture for the time being.
Weird.
Shaking the thought away, he refocused on the nightstand, seeing yet another framed photo, this one of himself and James, just like all the others. Picking it up, he looked at it closer, inspecting the image held within the frame. He seemed to be the one snapping this shot, his aim a little off and the two of them off-center. But it didn't matter; the main point of the picture still visible: Kendall kissing James' cheek and the brunet smiling widely.
Definitely more than friends.
Footsteps sounded out on the hardwood floor, Kendall lifting his eyes to see James stopping in the doorway, resting his right side against the frame, arms folded over his broad chest. Even at rest, he seemed dangerous, deadly, despite the fact that his jacket and gloves were gone. The blond figured it was the tenseness in the brunet's body, the way his muscles still held that tight look they'd had earlier, like he was expecting a fight at any moment and was always prepared for it.
The smaller male had a sickening feeling that the larger was probably right to be that way.
Dismissing the paranoid thought, he focused instead on the male himself, on the burgundy of his t-shirt and the darkness of his tight jeans. He analyzed those facial features he'd studied in the photos, seeing the differences, the bags his eyes now held, not to mention the darker shade in them. The pictures showed a carefree man, one who was happy, one who appeared to not have a worry in the world, light and love shining from eyes that were a mix of brown and green. But the man in front of him was a man who seemed like he'd aged years in however long they'd been apart, a man with worry on his face and a lot on his shoulders.
Guess his phone call hadn't gone too well then.
Kendall's eyes drifted down to the photograph still in his hand, the one in a plain black frame that seemed to work, allowing the picture itself to be the focus, as it should be. Between the pictures, the toiletries, the magazines, and the clothing, all of it spoke more towards an actual residence, a place someone actually lived in, rather than just stopped by and temporarily stayed at when in need of a hide-out.
Eyes turning back to the male still in the doorway, he held the frame up so the brunet could view the picture contained within, not bothering to hide the skepticism from his voice as he spoke. "Safehouse, huh?"
James actually looked a little sheepish, like he'd been busted, wincing as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah," he answered, dropping his hand and refolding his arms as he continued. "But you and I lived here for a while before. Before you, uh—" The wince got worse, this time seeming to be more in pain rather than in a "shit, I've been caught in a lie" look.
"Died," Kendall put bluntly, still not fully buying it, rolling his eyes as he turned to put the frame back where it'd been.
The brunet pushed away from the frame, dropping his arms, stare intense as he looked at the other male in the room. "Look, I get that you don't believe me, but I have never lied to you. Not once." He put his hand on his chest, between his pecs for emphasis, his tone serious and seeming to be speaking the truth. Or the truth as he believed it to be, anyway.
Another eye roll, the blond jutting out his jaw in annoyance as he crossed his arms, sticking his hip out. "No, you just hide the truth from me until it's convenient for you to say it, right?" He raised his eyebrows in expectation, daring the larger male to deny it, knowing he couldn't.
A heavy sigh left the elder male, his head turning as he looked around the room at everything but the blond, as though he could find the right response written on the walls or the furniture or the floor. Deciding his next line wasn't hidden somewhere, he finally locked eyes with the teen, his face back to that earlier serious expression that showed he wasn't bullshitting around. "How'd you get your name?"
His brow furrowed at that, wondering what the fuck that had to do with anything, where that inquiry had come from. "What?"
"Your name," James repeated, sliding his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "How'd you come up with it?"
"I dunno," Kendall answered with a shrug and a shake of the head. He rubbed the back of it, flattening the long hair there, thinking back to when he'd woken up in the hospital, when they'd asked his name, when his doc had decided the confused teen didn't look like a 'John Doe' and had done something to change that. "It was in a book they gave me," he answered, holding his hand out in display before folding his arms back. "I picked it out."
"Why that one?"
Another shrug, another shake of the head. "'Cause it felt right."
"And 'cause it sorta sounds like 'kindle', huh?" The brunet raised his eyebrows, wordlessly telling the blond that his answer was 'yes' and that he knew it and there was nothing the younger male could say that would change that fact.
Only that wasn't what the teen replied with, his brow furrowing as confusion came to the forefront of his mind yet again. "What're you talking about?"
James leaned against the door frame, right ankle crossed over the left, arms folded over his chest in a relaxed manner. "What do you know about Phoenixes?"
Dropping his arms, Kendall felt his mind spinning, his entire being unable to keep up with the countless subject changes and random questions. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to think of the creatures he'd been asked about, tried to shove aside any thoughts of what the fuck that had to do with anything, himself in particular.
"They're birds that die in fires then come back to life," he spoke the only knowledge he had about Phoenixes, shoving both hands in the back pockets of his jeans.
The brunet shrugged, lips turned down in a 'meh' kinda expression as his head see-sawed. "Close enough."
"What the fuck does this have to do with anything?" the blond questioned in an annoyed tone of voice, eyebrow raised, shoulders hunched in an aggressive manner. Something was buzzing in the back of his head, a thought, a feeling like he should know the answer, should know why he was being asked all these questions. He should understand the reference to "kindle" and how it was used to start fires. He should get why he was asked about Phoenixes. He should know why he had chosen that name, out of the hundreds in that name book he'd been given.
Only he'd be damned if he could actually bring the knowledge to the front of his mind where he could actually see it and use it.
James' eyes locked onto his, his face serious, hard, not fucking around. A lump formed in Kendall's throat, worry pooling in his stomach, and he briefly wondered if it was too late to back out, to ask that the brunet take him back home and never talk to him again so he could pretend this entire thing never happened.
Only he couldn't do that. Jett was still out there, still after him, and returning to the foster home would not only put himself out there to be hurt, but he'd also be endangering Katie and Jennifer. And despite the amnesia, despite the belief that he'd been through the memory loss before, he had a feeling that he wasn't gonna forget any of this, especially not James.
Unable to tear his gaze away, he focused on the brunet, on every syllable he said and the serious tone it was spoken in that gave no room for questioning.
"You're a Phoenix, Kendall," he stated plainly, gravely, zero bullshit to be found. "Every time you're killed, your body bursts into flames and you regenerate. Downside is that you completely lose every memory that you had before."
Kendall stood there, stunned, staring at the elder with his arms dangling by his sides. The words were echoing in his head, just like when they'd been in the woods outside White Castle when the brunet had informed him that he'd been killed there. Kendall wanted to not believe it, wanted to laugh, to tell the other guy that he was clearly off his nut and were his meds hidden somewhere in the cabin because he clearly needed them. He wanted to shake his head, to argue, to roll his eyes and go into great detail about how much bullshit that information clearly reeked of.
But he couldn't.
Because deep down in his gut, he knew it was true.
"Think about it," the muscular one started after a long, silent moment, straightening back into a standing position. "The fact that you can survive being burned, how I told you earlier that you were killed, yet there you are, living and breathing like nothing happened." He paused, shrugging, arms folded over his chest once more. "It's because of what you are."
Kendall nodded dumbly, letting all of the other male's words sink in, as he turned and sank his body onto the bed. A Phoenix. Some sorta weird creature that he'd believed to have been nothing more than mythology. But it made sense, in a fucked up sorta way.
Shit, he was losing his mind.
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he suppressed a frustrated groan. He'd obviously been so desperate for answers that he'd believe any bullshit someone tried to feed him, no matter how outlandish and insane they sounded. And he was buying it hook, line, and sinker.
"Cops never found out anything regarding your markings, did they?"
Kendall lifted his head, turning it towards the other male who was still in the doorway, eyebrow cocked. "What?"
"The markings you have," he repeated, nodding towards the blond with his chin. "I'm sure they ran them through their database, see if you belonged to a gang or if they matched any ink of any missing person."
The eyebrow stayed raised as he let out a "yeah?", not entirely sure where he was going with that.
"That's 'cause cops don't know about 'em. And the ones that do, keep that shit secret."
"Why?"
James rolled not just his eyes, but his entire head, seeming to be in disbelief that the other male would ask such a stupid fucking question. "No one can know what we are," he pointed out, hand on his chest to gesture to himself. "If anyone found out, we'd be locked up in some government lab getting sliced open a la Roswell and Area 51."
The blond turned, still seated, leg folded as it lay flat on the bed, facing the larger male better. "So, you're a Phoenix, too?" he questioned, pointing to his conversation partner.
Shaking his head, the brunet shifted his feet, getting more comfortable in his standing position. The younger male wanted to ask him to sit on the bed, to rest up and just relax, but had a feeling the request would be denied anyway. Probably for the best, considering how he'd been ready to climb on the guy's lap and shove his tongue down the other male's throat while they were driving. Who the fuck knew what he'd try when they were actually stationary and in bed, allowing him the opportunity to do what he wanted without the risk of them crashing and dying.
Which he apparently couldn't die anyway, but that was beside the point.
Turning, he stretched his legs out before him on the bed, settling back against the headboard. His eyes focused on the other male, waiting for a further explanation, not getting any. Knowing nothing was coming, he decided that restarting the conversation and keeping it going was up to him. And now that they had reached their destination, it clearly meant that James was gonna answer any questions he asked, just as he kept saying he would when they were in the car.
Kendall looked down at his lap, his hands resting there, his eyes focusing more on the compass-like tattoo on the inside of his left forearm. Recalling the brunet's previous statement about his markings, he assumed there was some sorta significance with them, that they were more than just skin art, more than just an adornment he added for reasons he'd forgotten about.
Looking back at the other male in the room, he furrowed his brow in curiosity and seriousness. "Why do I have these markings?" he questioned, rubbing the inside of his forearm absently. "What do they mean?"
James' own hand reached up to his neck, covering the marks on the left side, the marks the blond still hadn't gotten a good look at. "They define us, identify us," he answered before dropping his hand, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. "The one on your back marks you as a Phoenix, that's why it almost looks like wings or like tribal fire. Your forearm—" he pointed to where the younger male was still rubbing at the circle with its triangle and runes. "Means you're a Map."
"Jett called me that," the smaller male remembered, moving his hand to gesture in the air, like it'd help him explain or further recall the details. "I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but outside my therapist's and then at the grocery store, he referred to me by those names. Then at the hospital, he mentioned torturing the map outta my head, which was when I bolted."
"Shit." The swear was breathed out as the elder male turned around, smearing a hand over his face as he walked over towards the nightstand sitting on the opposite side of the bed from the blond. His body language was tense again, eyes dark and narrowed. Reaching the wall, he turned and paced the other way, hand now rubbing the back of his neck and covering the mark on the side of it.
Kendall drew his legs up, knees bent, arms wrapped loosely around them as he watched the other male pace back and forth, seeming to be figuring something out, thinking something over. He knew it'd be better to just keep his mouth shut and not chime in, that it'd be more helpful to just be quiet, so he did, waiting on pins and needles for the continuation of their conversation.
James finally quit his pacing after half a dozen passes, stopping at the end of the bed. Turning towards the younger male, he folded his arms over his chest, feet firmly planted shoulder length apart. The teen was kinda bummed the brunet didn't still have his leather jacket and aviators on. Would've completed the club bouncer look he had going on at that moment.
"You wouldn't happen to know what exactly you're a map for, would you?" he questioned, his tone a slightly hopeful one, but almost sounding as though he was trying to hide it, trying not to let his wishful thinking get to be too much or too obvious.
The younger male shook his head, rubbing the back of it, brow furrowed as he thought long and hard. His mind flashed back to the tense and uncomfortable moments outside Dr. Wainwright's office, the conversation he'd had with Jett, the words the other male had used. Lifting his head, he looked at the brunet in the room with him as he responded.
"He mentioned something about a Key of somethingorother," he informed the other male with a shrug and a head shake, physically showing that he had no clue what key or why it was important.
The elder male cocked an eyebrow, before raising both in an okay then manner. A heavy sigh left him, his shoulders slumping, fatigue taking over his body language. Rubbing the back of his neck roughly, he then let both arms hang by his sides as he spoke. "It's been a long day, so let's just call it a night, all right? Any more questions can be handled tomorrow." His voice was quiet, low, tiredness leaking into his words.
Kendall nodded, sleepiness making itself known. Getting some shut eye sounded like a damn good idea, but at the same time, there was still something he needed to know. "How long are we staying here?"
"Probably not long. I called Rocque, but he's kinda pissed at me." He ended the statement with a shrug that spoke of a lack of caring over upsetting the mentioned male and a history of that very thing happening often. Which probably led to the lack of caring. "But we're here for at least the night," he concluded, arms over his chest.
More nodding from the blond as he took that in, figuring they'd be sharing the bed, which just led to earlier thoughts and memories of the two of them in a lot less clothing, wearing nothing but sweat and each other. His skin started tingling, his heart pounding and his blood boiling, arousal roaring to life as his dick twitched in his pants once more.
James' breath hitched in his throat, his eyes glowing like before, body tensing even more. He cleared his throat, pointing behind him towards the door with his thumb. "Yeah. So. I'll be on the couch, you can—"
"Wait, what?" Kendall interrupted, confusion taking over for the five millionth time that day. "What's wrong with the bed?"
"You'll be in it."
The blond cocked an eyebrow, still not seeing the issue. "So? Judging by the photos around here, it wouldn't be the first time we shared a bed."
A harsh sigh escaped the brunet, his face looking weary, worn down, like he was too tired for this argument and really just wanted to get out the room ASAP. "It's just not a good idea, Kendall," he stated lowly, sounding defeated, almost like he didn't wanna say it but had to. Without another word, he turned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind himself.
Kendall didn't move, only stared after the other male, eyes locked onto the door as though he could see through it. He heard the sounds of footsteps on the wooden floor, of fabric shuffling and moving around, of the creaking of the couch as someone got settled on it. A harsh exhale came from the living room, driving the point home: Kendall was sleeping alone.
Forcing himself up, he stripped down to his boxers, before lightly stepping over to the door. The sounds of breathing was barely heard through the wood, James down for the night, trying to fall asleep on the couch. Letting out a sigh of his own, the blond switched off the light before shuffling around the end of the bed, getting under the sheet on the side closer to the windows. He punched the pillow a couple times to fluff it, fiddled with the sheet, tossed and turned more than he had in a while, a restless feeling taking over him. It just didn't make sense that the two of them were sleeping separately, not after...
He frowned, lips twisting. After what? After he'd found a couple pictures of them together acting couple-y? After some fuzzy mental images he'd convinced himself were memories? For all he knew, the photos were a cover and his imagination was terrible at creating fantasies.
Letting out yet another sigh, he laid on his side, facing the door as he closed his eyes, wishing the bed wasn't so empty and that James wasn't so stubborn.
He was facing the wrong direction. He wasn't entirely sure how he knew, he just did. Looking around, he saw the familiar sights of the forest, the one that had frequented his dreams so many times. The same evergreens surrounded him, the same oaks, elms, and whatever other trees that he honestly had no idea what the fuck they were. Only this time, the ground was covered in leaves, ones that had recently fallen. And rather than the usual countless shades of green everywhere he looked, the forest was a kaleidoscope of warm colors: oranges, reds, and yellows greeting him from every angle he looked. Kendall searched all over for something familiar, a landmark that would help him determine the correct route to go. He soon found it, a large trunk that had fallen over, leaning at a thirty degree angle as it sat against another, much larger tree. Turning towards it, he headed in that direction, determination powering his strides as he closed the dozen yards or so in order to reach it. Climbing over the fallen trunk, he continued on in that direction, pausing every now and then to change where he was heading. A slight left at an oak that had been split in half and charred by lightning, a big right at an elm that had knots that almost looked like a face. He climbed up an embankment, over a creek, reaching large flat boulders that almost resembled huge nature-made stairs. The dirt and leaves of before had lessened, the grip of his Vans sneakers slippery on the smooth rock, but he made his way up, a mountainside becoming more and more visible as he went. His heart started racing, sweat on his skin that had nothing to do with the physical exertion he was putting out. Anticipation and nerves were making his skin tingle as he drew closer to his destination, closer to what he was looking for, closer to the one thing that would save... His brow furrowed and he shook his head, ridding himself of the thought, the confusion. He needed to keep focused, keep going, keep moving forward. And there it was, the slim, tall opening on the side of the mountain, one that seemed carved by man, rather than by erosion or nature. What he was looking for was in there, somewhere, and it was only a matter of time before he had it. Which, thank fuck, because it needed to be soon before... Kendall lifted his leg, the final step a big one, one that made him bend his knees and grab onto the boulder with his hands as he pushed himself up. He straightened into a standing position, slightly panting, a lump in his throat. Swallowing hard, he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, slowly stepping forward. The pounding in his chest got worse, louder, harder. He swore he could hear it in his ears, the volume enough to drive one insane. But he kept going, taking it one step at a time, careful not to rush in. No one knew what was inside, what dangers could lurk in the darkness, what could be hidden when he tried to squeeze himself in the crevice. Fully aware of every part of his body, he reached forward to touch the smooth rock— Only to have a hand come down on his shoulder.
Kendall's eyes popped open, a huge gulp of air rushing into his lungs as awareness dawned on him. He wasn't in the woods, wasn't outside that damn cave. He was still in the cabin, still in the SafeHouse, standing right by the backdoor with his hand on the knob.
It had been that damn dream again. Only he'd gotten much closer than he ever had before.
So of course he'd been woken up.
His name was called out behind him, the tone of voice a mix of questioning and worry, and he swallowed hard against the emotional weight of those two-syllables. Exhaling slowly, he turned around to face James, to view the crinkle in his brow, the dark emotions in his eyes that were visible even in the lack of lighting. It was as if the smaller male's actions had scared him, that he was genuinely concerned, worried that something would happen if Kendall had managed to get the door open. A warm feeling washed over the blond, a sense of being loved and looked after, of knowing that the other man cared enough to make sure nothing happened to him, that he wasn't taken away from him again, that he was safe and secure and right where the brunet could see him.
"What part of 'SafeHouse' don't you understand?"
Or not.
James removed his hand after his growled out question, glaring at the younger male, jaw tense, eyes hard. All the previous concern and worry had been wiped away, replaced by anger and annoyance, and Kendall had to resist the urge to wipe that shit away with his fist. He had a sense that they'd gone through that before, a belief that they'd been in that same situation where James hid what he was truly feeling from him due to... well, whatever fucking reason it was, he wasn't sure. Didn't matter really. He just knew that it was annoying as shit and that was all he cared about.
The smaller male glared back just as hard, his own green eyes narrowed as they locked onto near black ones, his own jaw hard as he ground his teeth. "There's something out there," he stated, anger muffling his words, finger pointed towards the door in emphasis.
The brunet's brow furrowed, his head slightly turned so his left ear was more towards the door, a look of intense concentration forming on his features. After a long silent moment, he shrugged and shook his head as he folded his arms over his chest.
"I don't hear anyone," he responded in a snooty tone, like his word was final and there was no point in arguing because he was James and therefore right about everything. Prick.
"I didn't say someone; I said something," Kendall clarified, huffing before shoving a hand through his hair. God, even to himself he sounded crazy. He honestly had no fucking clue where he was going, why he was going there, what the fuck he'd been talking about. Hell, he hadn't even known he'd gotten up and had walked over to the back door. As far as he'd known, he'd still been asleep in bed, dreaming of that damnable forest and the fucking cave that he still couldn't get to.
But in reality, he'd been sleepwalking, headed off into some wooded area he'd never been to in his entire life—as far as he knew anyway—talking about how something was out there, something he couldn't name or see or figure out, something that he was convinced was there yet had no real proof of such a thing.
Burying his face in his hands, he let out a groan, the sound muffled in his palms. "I'm losing my fuckin' mind."
A hand rubbed at his shoulder, comforting, warm, and he dropped his own appendages from his face, eyes looking up at the other male. Only to have James drop his hand and refold his arms.
"You should get back in bed."
Wow. Such compassion and empathy.
Kendall's jaw ticked, eyes rolling as he let out a disbelieving snort. "Right. Sure."
"I mean it," James stated flatly. "It's been a long day and who knows what tomorrow has in store. You should rest up."
The teen swallowed, green eyes panning to his left, seeing the back of a couch, a blanket draped haphazardly over it, a pillow hanging off the arm. James' makeshift bed for the night, clearly. Knitting his brow, he turned back to the larger male, voice small as he spoke. "Will you come with me?"
The muscular one tensed up, body hard, inhaling shakily. "Kendall—" he began, volume low, tone a reluctant one, like he wanted to say yes but couldn't for whatever reason, leaving him with an option he wasn't entirely stoked about.
"Forget it," the younger male cut off the elder, turning away and heading back to the bedroom. Disappointment welled up inside, rejection and hurt joining in, the combination strangely making his chest feel hollow, achy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt as though he should've known the other male's response would be "no", that he'd refuse, but that didn't ease the sting any.
Closing the door behind himself, Kendall climbed into the bed, laying on his back on the side closer to the window. The sheet settled about his waist, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he even could get to sleep if he wanted to. His mind was buzzing once more, between the remnants of his dream and the happenings that had taken place right after by the backdoor. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd known that James wouldn't join him in the bed, part of him wanting to chalk it up to the fact that the brunet had previously turned down the offer to join him, but another, more insistent part of him believed that to not be the case. Something in his head was floating about, some small nugget of information, some reason for the other male's behavior, but Kendall couldn't grab a hold of it in order to find out what it was.
It might've been more infuriating than the man himself.
The sound of the door opening hit his ears and he turned his head to watch James cautiously stepping into the bedroom, shutting the portal behind himself. The small amount of moonlight outside the window seemed to hit him just so, giving the blond the chance to look at him better, allowing him to actually see the male this time, rather than just being focused on the conversation as he had been by the backdoor.
James was in just a pair of boxers, like Kendall, his dark and hanging low on his hips. His hair was messy, sticking up at odd angles, likely a result of tossing and turning on the couch, making the blond think of other ways one could muss up the brown locks. His torso appeared to be muscular, flat pecs and ridged abdominals, the 'V' shape to his upper body that the younger male somehow knew men strived for with hours spent at the gym. Dark shapes were on the side of his neck, the hollow of his throat, and inside his forearms, but the smaller male still couldn't tell what any of them were, especially not in such low lighting.
Not that he gave a shit at that moment. Kendall's heart had stopped in his chest, weird considering how his blood was boiling as it rushed throughout his body, pooling once more under his own boxers. His breath caught in his throat, lungs frozen, chest tight. And the mark on his left ring finger was burning more with each step the other male took towards the bed.
The larger male rubbed the back of his head, as though he were smoothing down his hair, stopping by the bed on the side opposite the younger male. "I figured I could keep a better eye on you if we were in the same room, stop you from sleepwalking yourself into danger." His voice was easygoing, making it sound like he was being truthful about his intentions. Yet his body was tense once again, muscles tightened, a slight grimace twisting the corner of his lips as he somewhat failed to give a relaxed smile.
Kendall's tongue darted out to wet his lips, his entire mouth going dry, and all he could do was nod, despite the feeling that he was being lied to. Without a word, he reached over and flipped down the sheet as it laid covering the other side of the bed, a silent invitation for the brunet.
James swallowed hard, nodding as he knelt onto the mattress, climbing onto the bed and under the sheet. He laid down on his side, facing away from Kendall, the white linen curving over his hip, covering his boxers but leaving his back exposed, allowing the blond to see the huge tattoo there.
It covered almost his entire back, a large shield, the details of which were hard to make out. But the blond could still see the three sections on it: the large paw print in the top left part, the wolf's head as it howled at a non-pictured moon on the right, the crossed swords at the bottom. The whole thing spoke of an underlying strength that lay hidden within the male himself, a pride in what he was, the power contained within his form.
Kendall lifted his right hand, reaching over his body to touch the markings, but thought better of it. Turning so he was facing away from James, he stared at the wall and forced himself to forget what he'd just seen and ignore the flurry of activity that had started up in his brain as it struggled to remember anything it could about the mysteriously male laying only a foot away from him.
The first thing Kendall was aware of when he woke up was the brightness. The sun was shining down through the high windows, streaming down onto the bed, an orange glow behind his eyelids. The second thing was the large frame that was wrapped around his own.
Consciousness slowly came across the blond, awareness following. He was on his side, facing the wall with the high windows, the sheet only up to his hips. James was directly behind him, a broad torso pressed up to a lean back, arms wrapped around the smaller male, legs tangled under the sheet. Kendall could feel the brunet's heart against his back, the exhales that ruffled his blond hair, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. But most of all, he could feel the tingling awareness on his left ring finger, his mark making itself known.
With the reminder of his mark's existence planted in his head, the blond became more aware of his current situation. He realized he was hard, painfully so, more than the usual morning wood that came with being a teenager. Probably had something to do with the male pressed up against him from behind, he figured, especially the cock that was resting perfectly between his asscheeks. He found himself mentally cursing at the two layers of fabric that separated them, thin as they might be, wishing there was nothing there at all so it'd be easier to get that hardness right where he wanted it the most.
Biting his lip, he ground his hips back, rubbing against the other male's erection. He relished the feel of it, the way it slid perfectly between his cheeks, the way it teased at his hole. His own cock throbbed in his boxers, his ministrations adding to his arousal. A whimper left him, barely audible as he sank his teeth more into his lower lip. He gripped at the sheet covering the mattress, wishing he was grabbing hold of the other male, tugging his hair.
A low groan came from James, his own hips starting to move against Kendall's. Harsh breaths gusted out against blond hair, the arm around his waist tightening, pulling him more against the larger male.
Flashes of fuzzy memories returned, remembrances of the two of them doing this exact thing, teasing each other, driving each other crazy until one or both of them snapped and they were naked. He shuddered at the mental image, lips parting, jaw going slack, eyes drifting closed. A moan slipped past his lips, his hand grabbing hold of the other male's, entwining their fingers and squeezing, needing more contact, more friction, more everything.
"Fuck, James," he breathed out, his words husky, a mix of the raspiness of having just awoken and the arousal that had taken over his entire body, from the tips of his curled toes to the heat on his flushed cheeks. Because that's what he felt all over: heat. His blood was like lava rushing through fiery veins. The touch of the larger male's skin on his had the same feeling as the flames that had licked at him when he reached into the oven the day before. But the most noticeable sensation was the burning he felt on the mark on his finger, the intense kind of pain that he figured he should've felt when his arm was on fire. Only it was in the exact formation of the shapes on his first knuckle.
James froze behind him at the sound of his name, hips stilling, body tensing. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him, stopping his actions and waking him up. After laying still for a long moment, he pulled back, extracting his arm from the smaller male's grip as he slid away.
Kendall turned onto his back, watching the brunet get outta bed, facing away from him. James' muscles were tense, but trembling, left hand clenched into a fist as his right one rubbed at his eyes. Green eyes took in the hard lines of muscles, the way the larger male seemed to be fighting with himself, forcing himself to not get back under the sheets and resume what they'd been doing.
Personally, Kendall didn't see anything wrong with it. Other than the fact that it'd stopped.
"James?" he questioned, voice low, weak, almost a little scared of the reaction he'd get. He was puzzled over why the other male had put an end to their fooling around, worried that something was wrong with himself, with the brunet, a little lost over the fleeting thought about how James had been right to stop it before things went further.
The larger male held his right hand up in a wordless command for Kendall to be quiet, to not go there. "I'm gonna take a shower," he announced gruffly, tone flat, voice rough. Turning, he walked over to the bureau, sliding open the top drawer and reaching inside.
The blond sat up, frowning. Part of him wanted to ask if he could join in, but the other part knew it was a bad idea and that the request would be denied. Instead, he took in the male before him, watching in silence as he grabbed the clothes he needed.
The tattoo on his back was clearer now, Kendall able to see the details of it. The outside of the shield had a Celtic looking braid bordering it, the same pattern forming the dividers inside of it. The wolf's head and paw print in the top sections were made of tribal lines, reminding the smaller male of the marks on his own back due to their similar formations. The crossed swords at the bottom were silhouettes, no details, just black shapes.
He swallowed at the remembrance of how he believed the brunet was dangerous, not someone to fuck with in any circumstance. Something buzzed in the back of his head, some piece of knowledge about the other male that he still couldn't grab a hold of, but he had the distinct feeling it had to do with why he thought James was unsafe, deadly even.
But not to Kendall.
The brunet slid the drawer closed with a resounding thud, not acknowledging the teen on the bed as he headed to the bathroom and shut the door behind himself. Left alone, Kendall flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling with his arms outstretched. He could hear the shower starting up, imagination kicking in and picturing James sliding off his boxers before getting under the spray. He thought of the muscles he'd peeked at the night before, the glimpse of sculpted abs and chiseled pecs he could just make out in the dark, his mind adding rivulets of water dripping down as the brunet washed off.
Then his mind went further, imagining things it hadn't seen yet, but had felt pressed against him mere moments before. He thought of the hard length that had rutted between his cheeks, of those long fingers he'd seen grip a steering wheel wrapping around his cock, the groan that had sounded out repeating in his ear over and over and over...
Kendall bolted up, kicking at the sheet when it got tangled around his legs, nearly stumbling as he finally managed to get free and out the bed. Now able to stand on his feet, he walked with purposeful steps towards the bathroom, pausing outside the door, gripping the frame. The rush of water was louder, allowing him to hear it hitting the ceramic shower bottom, hear it hitting skin. He could smell James' bodywash leaking through the cracks around the door, the steam of the water carrying it over, making it stronger. His mind went into overdrive as he imagined the brunet rubbing it over himself, skin covered in suds as he scrubbed, hands feeling every inch of himself in an effort to get clean.
He swallowed hard again, lips parting as he breathed heavily, feeling somewhat like a creep but being unable to help it. His hips moved on their own, rutting forward as if someone was there for him to press against. He could feel his arousal roaring back to life, need making his cock ache and all he wanted to do was get in that room and have the brunet take care of it for him.
Which was why he shoved himself away from the door.
Taking long strides, he strode over to his clothes where they laid on the ground after he'd stripped the night before, quickly dressing himself in jerky movements. His tee was barely over his head when he made his away around the end of the bed and out the room, yanking the door open in a hurry to get out.
Only to realize he didn't exactly have anywhere to go.
Breathing out a swear, Kendall glanced around the large space, eyes landing on the kitchen. Breakfast was always a good idea.
His stomach growled, seeming on board with the plan, as well as appreciative that it was remembered after dinner had been forgotten.
Fingers combed his hair as he made his way to the kitchen, wondering if the place even had any food in it. After a quick perusal of the cabinets and fridge, he found it was fully stocked. Not only that, but it seemed to have a lot of his favorites and none of it was expired. Either he was extremely lucky or someone had been anticipating their arrival. He figured the latter, remembering how spotless and dust-free the place was.
He set about making coffee, pouring himself some cereal out of a brand new box during the wait for it to brew. Milk added, he set the bowl on the breakfast bar to let his flakes get soggy, moving on to the next task of locating coffee cups. Easily done, the mugs being conveniently located above the coffee maker. And given the monograms on the ceramic, it was even easier to tell which one he was supposed to use.
He still grabbed the "J" one and put it on the counter, along with his "K" one.
Coffee brewed, Kendall poured himself a cup, adding more sugar than was healthy and enough milk to turn his drink into a light tan. He hesitated for a moment after putting the milk back in the fridge before filling the "J" mug close to the brim with coffee.
James sauntered into the kitchen right after Kendall had settled on a stool at the breakfast bar. He spooned some of his food into his mouth, the flakes limp and grainy against his tongue, the milk sweet with dissolved sugar. The brunet cocked an eyebrow as he peered at the bowl, lip curving in disgust at the sight.
"I still don't see how you can eat soggy cereal," he commented in amazement and repulsion, shaking his head dubiously as he turned towards the other counter.
The blond smirked in victory, swallowing before he replied. "At least I know you won't steal my food this way."
A snort came from the larger male, his head bobbing. "That's for damn sure," he muttered then pointed to the black mug sitting on the counter. "This for me?"
"It does have the letter 'J' on it," Kendall pointed out, tone slightly sarcastic.
James response was to flip the bird over his shoulder with his left hand, his right grabbing his cup and drinking. He grabbed the electric kettle and filled it with water while the blond returned to the task of eating, green eyes studying the brunet's movements. It was odd to think of a man as graceful, but that's what James was. He moved with ease, his motions fluid but not overdone, efficient and effortless. Kendall thought of the tattoo now hidden under a black t-shirt, the image of the crossed swords, and wondered if the brunet had some sorta fight training, if that accounted for his flowing movements and smooth actions.
"You're quiet this morning."
The observation had the blond snapping out of his brainstorm and back into reality. His eyes focused on the sight before him: James leaning back against the counter behind him, arms folded, pushing already large biceps up. A thoughtful frown was on his face, mouth pinched, eyes narrow but analytical as they took in the younger male seated at the breakfast bar.
The comment sank in, Kendall realizing what was said, soon voicing an inquisitive response. "Am I usually chatty?"
James gave a small nod. "You are when you've just found out what you are."
He flinched at the wording, a tick in his cheek before he frowned down at his cereal. What you are, not who. It was like he wasn't human, didn't count as a person. He was just some freak of nature creature that only existed in mythology, not actually real, didn't really count. As badly as he wanted to know who he'd been and why he couldn't remember his past, he now wasn't entirely sure how thrilled he was at learning the truth, not when it cost him his humanity.
Appetite gone, he moved his spoon around the milk in his bowl, pushing the remaining half-dissolved flakes around. His eyes were trained downward, but he wasn't really seeing anything. He felt distant, like he wasn't in his own skin anymore, like he didn't belong to himself. Just as he felt he'd invaded upon someone else's home, he now felt as though he was living someone else's life, hearing someone else's truth. He just couldn't come to grips with the fact that he wasn't the normal teenage boy he'd assumed he was twenty-four hours ago, that he was a Phoenix, this creature that died and magically came back to life in a burst of flames.
Okay, he could admit it somewhat made sense. It explained how the mark on his back looked like flamed wings. It was good a theory as any to justify how he was able to grab hold of a pan containing a fiery cake and not get burned, especially when the flames moved onto his bare skin. And if James was right in his statement about how dying caused his memories to be lost, then that excused his amnesia.
Assuming, of course, that he actually believed any of this bullshit.
"Kendall?" James' voice was quiet, cautious, the two syllables carrying a million emotions. He was calling for the blond's attention, making sure he was all right, wondering where exactly he'd disappeared to mentally, worrying if he was able to handle everything that'd been thrown at him lately.
Green eyes lifted and met hazel ones, noting eyebrows that were raised in concern and confusion. He shrugged, not knowing what to say. "I'm just tryna wrap my head around all of this," he stated lowly, dropping his spoon with a clink against the ceramic bowl. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, gripping the skin while his mind tried to get itself straight.
The larger male seemed like he understood, nodding as a reassuring smile turned up the corner of his lips. "You usually have trouble with this part."
That made the blond remember how this wasn't the first time this had happened to him, that he'd gone through it before, and that James had been there with him. "How many times have I gone through this?" He was still speaking at a low volume, almost reluctant to ask, afraid of what the answer would be. But really, who wanted to hear how many times they'd died, only to come back to life and be all right physically?
"Four," the brunet replied bluntly, turning around as the kettle switched itself off. Back to the blond, he continued talking in a flat tone, as if reciting answers to a problem that he'd given five hundred times, the words well-rehearsed. His hands, however, were busy getting his breakfast together. "The first time you were about twelve and your marks had just shown up. Second time, age fifteen, pure accident. You were in a car crash. Third time happened about a year or so later. You were attacked by wolves." He paused and peered over his shoulder. "Jett was one of 'em, by the way."
Kendall swallowed hard, the name causing a shiver to race down his spine and his chest to constrict in fear.
James faced away from him once more, mixing something in a bowl. "Last time was six months ago, but you already knew that."
The blond nodded as the words sank in, the memory he'd recovered at his therapist's office pushing itself to the surface. He remembered running in the woods, remembered the fight, realizing now that James had been there with him, had been the one that was getting his ass kicked. He rested his elbow on the counter as he scratched his forehead, trying to recall more details, eyes widening as that very thing happened.
He'd been knocked to the ground, something hitting him from behind. No, not something; someone.
Lifting his head, he stared at James' back, voicing his realization. "Jett was there, wasn't he?"
The larger male tensed up, shoulders bunching, triceps contracting, and Kendall could hear the low rumble of a growl. Just like outside his therapist's office.
"Jett—" the name was snarled out, making it clear what the elder male thought of the preppy looking jerk. "—was busy distracting me as his li'l bitch of a stooge Wayne-Wayne went after you." James turned around, bowl in his hand, stalking his way around the counter to sit next on Kendall's right. The blond had a fleeting thought about how the mark on his finger was warming up into those tingles once again, only to have it disappear when he became distracted by the other male's close proximity.
The brunet put his bowl down as he turned to the teen, forearm resting on the counter, leaning closer to the blond. His eyes were dark, serious, his features hard as he spoke solemnly. "Promise me if you come across some stupid white boy who looks, acts, and dresses black, that you get the fuck away as fast as possible. Avoid that idiotic motherfucker at all costs."
The teen's eyebrows went up at the heavy phrases, at the way the words were spoken with a slight growl, like an animal had said them rather than a person. He quickly recovered, forcing a smile on his face as he joked in a light manner, hoping to lessen the dark mood that had come with the other male's statements.
"Avoid Justin Bieber. Got it. Not a problem." He gave a sarcastic thumbs up to top the quip.
Only James didn't look amused. His eyes narrowed more, jaw clenched, as he continued in his grave tone—only with less growls. "I'm being serious, Kendall."
"So am I," the teen responded, sounding offended that the other male would even suggest he wasn't being just as grave. "Trust me, I don't wanna run into that motherfu—"
"Kendall," James sighed out, exacerbated, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
Without even realizing what he was doing, Kendall reached over, laying his hand on top of the brunet's as it rested on the back of his stool. "I promise."
His hand flew away from his face, his other pulling out from under the blond's as though he'd been burned. "Good," he spoke gruffly, turning so he was facing forward. "I'm sick of seeing you die." Picking up his spoon, he stabbed at his breakfast in his bowl. Oatmeal, Kendall figured out as he leaned over and peered inside. And the brunet had said his soggy cereal was disgusting. At least his had some sorta sweetness to it and couldn't be fed to horses.
"Plus," James began, scooping up some of his food with his spoon, pausing with it halfway to my mouth. "It'd make my job a helluva whole lot easier." He gave the smaller male a pointed look, eyebrows tilted up in a silent way of adding "you li'l shit".
Only Kendall didn't get the reference, a frown forming as he watched the other male close his lips around his food. "Your job?"
His companion nodded as he chewed then swallowed. He peered at him out the corner of his eyes when he spoke, his voice even but with a slight hint of pride in what he was and what he did. "I'm a Guardian, a Protector. It's what the mark on my back represents. I was assigned to watch over you and make sure nothing bad happened to you."
The teen let out a small snort, a barely there laugh as a slight smirk played on his lips. "Guess you're doing a shit job then, seeing how I've been killed four times." It was meant to be a joke, a playful jab at the other male, as well as his own seeming inability to stay alive. Except it wasn't taken that way.
James leveled an icy cold glare at him, slamming his spoon against the counter as he fully turned to face the teen. His jaw was tensed up, eyes narrowed, chin jutting out in annoyance and anger. Fingers curved into fists, his entire body tightening up, muscles hardening. "Considering how you're not in Griffin's clutches and currently living in relative safety, I think I've done a damn good job, fuck you very much." He spoke through clenched teeth, his words careful, tone even but with an underlying sense of rage. It was like he was trying to keep his cool and not completely blow up at the perceived offense.
"Sorry," Kendall apologized, his voice small, meek, clearly having been put in his place. The other male just grunted, picking his spoon back up and going back to eating. The blond trained his eyes down at his own bowl, feeling small, a sense of guilt pooling in his stomach as the mood in the room shifted to one of discomfort. He knew he'd messed up, had said the wrong thing, and he had no idea how to lessen the other male's anger and get them back on the right track.
Thinking a change of subject was in order, he spoke up after a long silent moment. "Who's Griffin?" he questioned quietly, not entirely sure if he should be talking or letting James stew some more and calm down on his own.
The brunet gripped the back of his neck, rotating his head, trying to relieve the tension in his body. "I forget you don't remember shit," he muttered out just as a muffled ringing sound filled the air. Breathing out a swear, he reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out his smart phone. "Diamond," he answered curtly as he stood up and stepped away, Kendall overhearing a "dog!" being barked out down the line.
The younger male sighed heavily, shoulders slumping, head hanging. Their conversation was clearly over—for the time being at least—and he was gonna have to wait for answers once more. It wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't waited six months for this, if he didn't believe he had all the answers and information already in his brain out of his reach.
Staring down at his half-eaten cereal, he knew he wasn't gonna finish it, no longer in the mood to eat. He stood up, stool scraping against the hardwood floor noisily, taking his bowl over to the sink. He dumped out the remains of his breakfast before washing the bowl and spoon. Over the sounds of the running water, he could still hear James' end of the conversation as the brunet paced back and forth in the dining area of the cabin.
"I had to call that late, I didn't have a choice," he insisted, a strained edge to his voice that wordlessly told how he was trying to stay quiet and calm. There was a long pause as the person on the other end of the call spoke before he replied. "You know it's not my fault it took me that long to find Kendall, but I found him now. That's gotta count for something, right?" Another pause, he sighing loudly.
Kendall finished with the dishes, grabbing a hand towel to dry them. Leaning his hip against the counter, he watched the other male out the corner of his eye, noting the hard line of his clenched jaw, the way his eyes narrowed, his hand smearing over his face roughly in frustration. It was as though he was in a losing argument, and that no matter how right he may have been, it didn't matter to the other person.
"Look, I called 'cause we need help, all right? Our situation has gotten more serious. Jett found him and was apparently asking him about some sorta key," James informed the caller, desperation coloring his tone in an attempt to make person who was talking to understand just how dire things had become. His brow scrunched up, head slightly jerking back, puzzled twist to his lips. "Manifleiss?"
Kendall nearly dropped the bowl he was drying. His eyes widened as he inhaled sharply, a huge sense of recognition bashing him in the brain. "Yes!" he called out before even thinking it up, temporarily forgetting that he wasn't part of the convo nor should he be listening to the brunet's words, much less responding to them.
The larger male turned to the eavesdropper, eyebrows raised in surprise, hazel orbs wide on his face, lips parted. "Uh, yeah, that would be the one," he spoke into the phone.
The blond cleared his throat, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He turned away from the other male, finishing his drying job, forcing himself to lose focus on what the brunet was saying. By the time he completed putting the dishes back where they belonged, James was done with his phone call and quickly striding over to the breakfast bar.
"We gotta leave, and now," he informed the younger male, an underlying urgency to his words. "We're in for a long road trip." With a slap to the counter, he turned and headed into the bedroom, giving Kendall no choice but to follow.
He stepped into the room, immediately noticing James kneeling on the floor, reaching under his side of the bed. "Where are we going?" he questioned, curious about their destination and what the other male was doing.
"The Palm Woods, just outside of LA." He pulled out a duffel bag, plopping it on top of the bed, before reaching back under.
"Why are—"
"Just start packing," the brunet ordered, voice slightly exacerbated, seeming sick of all the questions. He slid out another duffel and put it next to the first before standing up and giving Kendall an expectant look.
The blond briefly raised his eyebrows in an "okay then" fashion before grabbing the hunter green duffel, walking around to the other side of the bed with it. Placing it on top of the mattress, he started filling it with random clothing from the drawers he'd been informed were his. Feeling as though he had enough, he considered packing an extra pair of shoes, only to realize he had no clue where they were.
He asked James, being told they were in a bin under his bed. Pulling it out, he lifted the lid, seeing two of every pair of shoes, something else he questioned out loud.
"You started buying two of everything after your third death," James informed him without emotion, as though he were simply discussing what the weather was gonna be like that day. "You didn't wanna risk your favorite shirt or shoes being incinerated when you regenerated."
Kendall stuck out his bottom lip as he see-sawed his head, the explanation making sense. And, okay, he knew it was his own idea, but it seemed like a pretty smart one. He was glad his past self thought it up.
But the more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. Had he really been okay with the fact that he'd been killed repeatedly? Had he really been fine with the idea that he was gonna continue to be killed, to the point where he was making plans on replacing clothing and such? Had his mental and emotional state really been at ease with the knowledge that it was just another facet of his life, like being tall or having green eyes or hating grape flavored things? Because his current incarnation wasn't all that fine with any of that.
Slowly, he sank down onto the bed, pair of Vans sneakers between his hands, eyes staring absently at the wall across from him. He'd been murdered, been in a fatal car crash, been attacked by wolves, been... He frowned. James had said he'd died four times, yet had only given explanations for three of them.
He craned his neck to look at the other male, watching as he reached into the top drawer. "How was I killed the first time?"
James didn't look at him, avoided eye contact, speaking in that flat, emotionless voice once more. "It was before I showed up," he replied, walking over to his duffel with hands full of socks, still avoiding Kendall's gaze. "I don't know the details."
Kendall felt as though he was lying, but couldn't really prove it or figure out how he knew that, only to say it was a gut feeling. Deciding to just dismiss it, he shoved the shoes in his duffel without care, focusing on the nightstand next to him. He slid open the top drawer, rooting around, coming across a wallet. Opening it up, he found a driver's license with his picture on it, only a different name. "Kendall Smith," he muttered out loud, snorting at the generic last name.
"I know," the brunet agreed. "I like 'Knight' better, too."
The blond decided not to think too much about what that meant or why the elder male had felt the need to point that out. Further inspecting the wallet, he found a couple twenties still inside. He had to mentally remind himself that it wasn't really stealing, that the money did in fact belong to him, before he took it out, shoving it in his jeans pocket.
Tossing the wallet back where it'd been, he looked around inside it some more, finding a switchblade knife tucked into the corner. Pulling it out, he saw a crescent moon carved into the handle. His inner-voice told him to take it, that it'd probably come in handy. After two violent run-ins with Jett, it was probably a damn good idea to have some sorta weapon on him, just in case.
He pocketed it, too.
Duffel packed, Kendall headed into the bathroom, grabbing his wallet out his discarded jeans, deciding to just leave the clothing behind. He briefly considered taking his cell phone with him, but his paranoia resurfaced, thoughts of tracking his calls and following used cell phone towers making him against the idea of it.
Better safe than sorry. Especially in this situation.
James was gone when he strolled back into the bedroom, although he could hear the sounds of the kitchen cabinets being open and shut. Wallet secure in his back pocket, he lumbered over to the duffel with heavy steps, a strange sadness washing over him at leaving behind the SafeHouse. He barely knew the place really, yet it was the first time he remembered feeling at home, despite the belief that he felt like a stranger there. On a last minute whim, he packed the framed photo from his nightstand in an attempt to take something of the residence—and his past—with him.
It didn't take them long to get packed and on the road, although the Camaro had been left behind in favor of a black Explorer. James explained that the SUV would be better since their route took them through the Rockies and they'd need better handling. Kendall joked if he knew the way or needed a GPS, since he was pretty sure the map Jett had been referring to wasn't the route to LA. James hadn't been amused, glaring at the blond.
They hadn't spoken for an hour since then.
Kendall watched the world blur by outside his window, noticing the exit numbers decrease with each passing mile. He wondered if he'd ever been outside Minnesota, if he'd ever lived anywhere except that state, if he'd ever even traveled past the state line.
"Yeah," James told him, still staring out the front windshield. The aviators were back on his face, fingerless gloves over his hands, although the leather jacket was laying in the backseat. "You were actually born at the Palm Woods, lived there for a year or so before your family moved."
He shifted in his seat so that he was facing the driver, attention fully on the brunet. "Why'd we move?"
The larger male just shrugged, one hand on top of the steering wheel in a relaxed manner, the other cupping his chin as his elbow rested on the door. "Guess your parents wanted to move. Not a whole lotta families living there."
He worked his bottom lip between his teeth as he took the info in, thumb absently rubbing the mark on his finger. "So what is the Palm Woods? Why are we going there?"
"We gotta meet up with Rocque," James informed him, changing lanes. "He's our leader, the one in charge of the Ministry." His voice was a mix of respect and annoyance, like this Rocque guy grated on his nerves, but he still looked up to him for whatever reason.
"Oh." He wanted to say it all made sense, but it didn't, not to him anyway. "So, we belong to a church?"
The brunet twisted his head, eyebrow cocked, wordlessly asking do I look like I go to a church? "No," he replied flatly, facing forward once more. "It's just the name of the group we're in. We're the good guys, dedicated to keeping order and peace and protecting humans from the monsters that wish to do them harm."
Kendall ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp in thought as he did so. Well, if he had to be some sorta freak of a creature, at least he was teamed up with the right side. "Is everyone a Phoenix?"
The driver shook his head. "Phoenixes are a rare species. You're only the second one I've ever met." His tone was slightly impressed when he said it, soon turning back into that educator type voice he had before. "Most are Mages of some kind, Oracles, Healers, things of the like."
His teeth sank into his bottom lip again, a frown on his face as he stared at his lap. Jett had referred to Dr. Mitchell as "Healer". Was he one of the Mages James was referring to? Was he on their side? Was that why he'd written Kendall up as being perfectly all right and good to go when he was first brought in? Was that why he hadn't bothered checking out his arm when he came in the other day and had just taken the teen's word when he said he was unharmed, because he knew the truth about what Kendall was?
Too many questions, still not enough answers.
"Then there's Wolf-Shifters," James continued, drawing Kendall's attention once more.
"Werewolves?" the blond questioned, snorting in disbelief. He could buy Mages, he could buy Phoenixes, but werewolves? Not so much. That shit belonged in cheesy sci-fi movies and lame teen book series.
A growl rumbled up from the other male's chest as he leveled a hard glare that was visible even through the sunglasses masking half his face. "No," he grumbled. "Wolf-Shifters. Werewolves change into half-wolf, half-man monstrous beings. We transform into an actual wolf." He sounded completely offended that Kendall would even dare compare him to the other kind of wolf-creature, pissed at the insinuation that he was something else.
Kendall held up his hands in innocence, shaking his head to show he meant no harm. "Sorry," he spoke in a meek voice.
The brunet muttered out an "uh huh", not fully accepting the apology. But at least the growling stopped.
Turning, the driver looked out the front window, sighing before he continued with what he'd been saying. "Anyway, Wolf-Shifters are usually Guardians or Soldiers of some form, helping to protect people of great importance."
Scratching his forehead, the blond let those words settle in his mind, vaguely wondering why he'd been assigned a Protector, why he was so important that he needed to be kept safe. Although the fact that he'd been purposely murdered twice—possibly three times, since he still had no clue how he died the first time—and that Jett had been after him on multiple occasions was somewhat of an explanation for that.
And now that he was thinking of the prick...
"Why'd you call Jett a Half-Breed?" he questioned, dropping his hand onto his lap. "What's that even mean?"
James shifted so his left hand was resting on top of the steering wheel, his right loosely laying on his own lap. The blond imagined what it'd be like to have their fingers intertwined as they drove, the two of them heading somewhere on vacation for fun, rather than on their way to some place he'd never heard of in order to keep hiding from the threat bearing down on him. Only, for some reason, he knew in the back of his mind that holding hands wasn't a good idea. Not for them anyway.
"Our kind, Shifters and Mages, they come from having two parents like that," the driver explained, keeping his eyes on the road but his head slightly aimed towards the passenger. "Every now and then one might mate with a human, the result of which is considered a Half-Breed. They tend to have diminished powers and don't live as long as their supernatural parent and because of that, they're looked down upon and treated as a lower class of sorts."
Kendall felt a wave of concern wash over him, his eyes and lips turning down at the corners, a frown forming on his face. While he didn't like Jett—at all—he still felt bad for him and those of his kind. He couldn't imagine what it would be like growing up treated like you were less of something all because of your parentage. It wasn't like they chose to be Half-Breeds, like they asked to have a human for a parent, yet they were still punished in a way because of it. No one should be treated that way.
"That's gotta suck," he commented lowly, still feeling bad for the Half-Breeds, but also a little jealous. At least they knew who their parents were. Kendall wasn't sure if his were even alive.
He watched as James nodded, seeming to agree. "Clearly they're pissed about it," he stated, his tone implying that it didn't even really need to be said, but he put it out there anyway. "One in particular named Griffin who left the Ministry about a decade ago. He started his own following called the Legion."
Kendall raised an eyebrow at that, thinking it sounded like something out of his foster sister's comic books.
"Jett and Wayne-Wayne are a part of it, pretty much acting like Griffin's li'l henchmen."
Definitely out of a comic book.
The puzzled look remained on the blond's face as he stored that info away for later use. "So, what do they want with me?" he asked, wondering where exactly it was that he fit into the whole thing. As far as he knew he wasn't a Half-Breed, so it wasn't like Griffin was trying to recruit him.
"Not sure," James answered honestly, breathing out the words before peeking into the rear view mirror. "I assume it has something to do with the map in your head and the Key of Manifleiss."
His eyebrows raised then lowered in quick succession, figuring that was as good an explanation as any. But there was still one question remaining. "Do you know what the Key of Manifleiss is?"
The driver snorted as he guided the SUV into the right lane, corner of his lips tugging up in an amused form of confusion. "No idea," he quipped before his face shifted, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched, jaw tense. "But if Griffin keeps sending Jett after you, he clearly wants it bad, which means it's gotta be really fucking important."
A lump formed in Kendall's throat, one he struggled to get rid of as he turned and faced out the front windshield. A cold sense of dread washed over him, a shiver sliding down his back, bottom lip between his teeth once more. James had just voiced what he was afraid to hear. Because if it was that important, it meant Jett—and Griffin—would always be after him, not stopping until he had the Key or Kendall was dead.
Permanently this time.
An hour past the Minnesota-Iowa border, they stopped at a gas station with an attached restaurant. James filled up the SUV before they both headed inside, seating themselves at a booth by the window so the brunet could keep an eye on the car. Their timing was perfect, arriving between the lunch and dinner rushes, meaning the place was practically deserted when they set foot inside.
Drink orders were filled in a flash, Kendall getting a regular cola, James another black coffee, the waitress disappearing to put their food orders in.
The brunet stared out the window, aviators on the table in front of him, scratching his inner forearm absently. The blond took advantage of the other male's lack of focus and visually assessed him. The markings on his inner-arms were three rows of symbols, runes that he didn't understand nor had he ever seen before. They seemed to be spelling something out in another language, judging by the spaces between some of them, giving them the appearance that they were words.
Green eyes traveled up the arms, past large biceps, to the brunet's neck, where he finally got a good look at the tattoo there: a crescent moon, the tips of it pointing towards his throat.
"Does the mark on your neck mean you're a Wolf-Shifter?" he asked quietly, pointing to the symbol in question.
James nodded, turning to face him. "And the one on my back was given to me when I completed my training to be a Guardian."
Kendall folded his arms on the table, leaning forward so he could talk to his companion easier. "So, are all our marks put on by someone else."
The brunet mirrored his position, the two of them with their heads close together as they spoke. The teen could feel the mark on his finger start to burn, but he shoved the thought to the back of his mind, choosing to ignore the sensation.
"No," the elder male answered, fingers twined together, gloves still on his hands. "They show up when we turn twelve. That's when I got my moon mark—" he put his hand over the mentioned mark briefly, drawing attention to it rather than covering it up. "—and when you got your compass and flamed wings."
The teen wanted to ask about the ones on their fingers, as well as the ones on James' inner-arms, only he never got the chance. Their waitress had showed back up with a huge tray of food, the larger male leaning back to make room for her. Carefully, she placed their dishes in front of them: a grilled cheese and fries for the teen; two cheeseburgers with extra bacon, a huge heaping of fries, and some onion rings for the elder. The blond raised an eyebrow as the brunet's food was placed in front of him, a look that was discovered.
"What?"
Kendall shook his head in innocence. "Nothing. Just," he paused to figure out how to word what he was thinking without pissing the other male off, his miniscule amount of experience in dealing with James proving that he was easy to aggravate and offend. "Are you seriously gonna eat all that?"
"Yeah," the larger male replied in a duh manner, holding one of his giant cheeseburgers with two hands. "Shifting and recovering from it takes a lotta energy, therefore I need to have a lotta calories, not to mention a whole lotta protein."
The blond figured that made sense. After all, it couldn't be easy to have your body completely break down and reform into an entirely different shape, then have it go back to the way it usually looked.
Picking up half his grilled cheese, he bit into it, the melted cheddar dripping out and burning his tongue slightly. The pain didn't last long though, something he'd discovered wasn't all that normal either after pizza night back at his foster home a few months ago. Katie had fanned her mouth for a good hour after the mozzarella had scorched her tongue; Kendall felt the sting recede after a few seconds.
The memory of his foster family made him think of his real one, the one he didn't remember, his curiosity piquing once more. Taking advantage of the lull in conversation and the lack of other patrons, he went ahead and asked the question currently at the forefront of his mind.
"You said we need two parents in order to become what we are, right?" he double-checked, getting a nod in response. "Does that mean my parents are Phoenixes, too?"
He watched as James' face shifted, his eyes turning down at the corners, his mouth drooping, sadness taking shape on his features. He swallowed his food before responding.
"No," he spoke softly, with a genuine feeling of apology in having to say that answer. "Phoenixes are different. It's a gene that needs to be carried by both parents and sometimes even then it doesn't show. But families only ever have one Phoenix amongst them at a time."
Kendall's head hung off his shoulders, eyes trained down at his food as he nodded, playing with a french fry. He had a feeling that would be the answer, but he still held out hope that maybe somewhere out there, his parents were okay, were just like him, and that he would one day find them. Only that wasn't the case. He truly was on his own, the realization of which made his chest hurt and his heart feel heavy.
Lifting his head, he focused on the male across from him, reminding himself he wasn't entirely alone. He had James, in whatever manner their relationship was. Maybe they'd been in love, maybe they hadn't. But whatever the case, he still had the brunet as an ally of sorts. For the time being anyway.
Fry in hand, he continued the conversation, slightly changing the subject from himself. "What about your parents? You know them?" He spoke with a genuine interest, deciding that if he was gonna be around the Wolf-Shifter, he might as well know him. Or at least know him better than just his name, the fact that he was supposed to protect the blond, and he might have a bit of a temper.
James' face closed off, the sorrow he'd had there when talking about Kendall's folks now gone. His lips pinched, eyes hardening, shoulders tensing. He grabbed a couple fries and stabbed them into the little pool of ketchup he'd made on his plate. "Not much to know," he ground out. "My father had nothing to do with me past my creation, my mother barely seemed to want me around. Best thing that happened to me was being taken away at age five to start my training."
Green eyes went wide in surprise. He didn't exactly think that was an appropriate age for a kid to be taught how to fight or kill like James most likely had been, but then again, it wasn't exactly his culture. Still, he didn't agree with taking away someone's childhood like that, forcing them to be soldier, no matter the reason. Even worse was the fact that James' parents didn't even seem to care, more than likely just wanted him gone. He had two absentee guardians, neither of whom seemed to have any sorta maternal or paternal instincts, neither of whom seemed to even want a kid in the first place.
It was no wonder the guy was so cold.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with all that," Kendall stated sincerely. He clenched one hand on his lap, the other around his drink, resisting the urge to cover one of James' hands with his own. That voice in the back of his head had told him it was a bad idea, and so far, it hadn't been wrong.
The brunet shrugged nonchalantly, not appearing to be all that bothered by it. "It's fine," he commented, voice flat, not giving anything away. But he didn't look at Kendall as he said it, kept his eyes trained on his food. "I don't regret anything about my past." At that, his eyes did lift, meeting green ones with a slight glow behind the hazel color, a myriad of emotions swirling in them.
His mark was burning more now, no longer able to be ignored, and he had to shove his hand under his leg in order to keep it from touching the elder male. His heart skipped a beat in his chest as he inhaled sharply, a tingle breaking out all over his skin. He tried to figure out exactly what James was thinking, tried to read the emotions in his eyes, but couldn't. A feeling that he should already know what the brunet was referring to hit him, but he'd be damned if he could figure it out.
But before he could ask, James spoke.
"So. The map," he stated plainly, taking a bite of his second burger.
Kendall jostled his head, clearing his mind of all other thoughts, trying to get his head straight so he could understand what the other male had said, what he was talking about now. His eyes went to the compass mark on the inside of his forearm, right hand moving to cover it up.
"I don't know anything about it," he admitted lowly, almost feeling ashamed that he didn't have any info. With Jett, he'd wanted to hide it all, knew it was safer to keep that shit to himself. But with James, he knew he had to put everything out on the table because the brunet was safe, was gonna help. Only he had nothing to put out there.
The elder male cocked an eyebrow, cheeseburger halfway raised to his mouth again. "You stopped having those dreams about the woods?"
Shock had the blond's eyebrows raising, jaw hanging slack. He felt like he'd just been punched in the face with the fact that it was so fucking obvious. He had to be a major fucking idiot to have not figured it out sooner, especially after being told he was a map. Clearly it meant he was supposed to go somewhere and find something, hence the dreams he had where he was searching for something.
Only he'd didn't recall mentioning them to James.
Not a big issue really, not when they knew each other before. He must've just mentioned it in a previous incarnation. Went along with his previous thought over how he had the urge to tell the larger male everything and share all the info he had.
"That's what those are?" he asked, still feeling dumb for not figuring it out sooner.
"Yup," James replied, popping the "p". "Hints about where you're supposed to go." He paused to take a drink, his mug being set down with a clink on top of the saucer it was provided with. "Don't suppose you know the starting point, do ya?"
A sheepish look appeared across Kendall's face, a slight wince as he scrunched up his nose. "Sorry."
Another shrug, another wordless no biggie. "It's all right. I have some friends in Denver who might have the answers and we'll be passing through there. Hopefully they'll meet with us and give us some help."
The blond could only nod, eyes trained downward once again. He felt completely helpless and idiotic, not contributing anything to their task except the ability to be a huge burden. He was a total damsel in distress, unable to defend himself, stuck just following the hero and hoping to continuously be saved, since he couldn't do it on his own. And how fucking lame was that?
He felt his foot being nudged by another, his head lifting to see the curious concern on James' face. He turned and faced out the window, jaw set, teeth clenched, unable to handle it. His pride was taking a huge blow at the moment, hating the fact that he was defenseless, weak. The last thing he needed was someone else's pity.
James smeared a hand roughly over his face, hand slapping the table. "You ready to go?" He sounded defeated, although he hadn't been fighting or arguing. It was as if he'd given up trying to reach the blond and figuring out what was happening in his head, deciding to just go along with whatever he wanted, even if he didn't like it himself.
Nodding, Kendall slid out the booth, reaching for his wallet, only to be stopped.
"Just go get in the car. I'll take care of this," the brunet spoke softly, but not in a demeaning way. It was a silent way of saying he understood the other male wasn't in a good mental place and that he'd do whatever he could to help out.
A small smile tugged at the corner of the teen's lips as he gave a low "thanks". The elder male returned it with a bigger one of his own, patting his upper arm before heading towards the counter. Kendall watched him, a tiny fluttering in his stomach that had nothing to do with greasy diner food. He understood how he'd fallen in love with James before. Because it was happening again.
As they headed down the interstate in Iowa, Kendall learned another thing about himself: he absolutely hated James' driving.
It was as though speed limits didn't exist for him. He weaved in and out of traffic, tires screeching as he switched lanes, not giving a damn who he nearly crashed into. Kendall figured he was a safe driver, had to have been, his reflexes appearing to be quicker than even the fastest human reaction. But it wasn't entirely reassuring.
He wondered if it was just a latent fear in the back of his head that was a result of the fact that he'd died in a car crash. Then he'd get a peek at the speedometer and no, definitely wasn't that.
"You're gonna get pulled over," Kendall called out over the revving engine, fingers wrapped in a death grip around the handle on the ceiling.
James snorted, most likely rolling his eyes behind his aviators. His body was in a relaxed position, left hand lightly gripping the top of the steering wheel, right forearm laying on the center console as he leaned back. He looked like he was cruising at a low speed on a Saturday night, not qualifying for the pole position at a NASCAR race.
"Cops have to catch me first," he said with a smirk, clearly amused by the other male's overreaction.
Definitely not the reassurance the teen had been seeking.
A forced choke of a laugh sputtered its way out of the blond, the SUV swerving to narrowly avoid running into a red sedan in front of it, only to cut back into the same lane to miss ramming a blue minivan. The movements of the Explorer caused Kendall's body to sway back and forth, his left hand shooting out and landing on top of James' right. He wrapped his fingers around the other male's, hoping for some comfort that way, a tiny physical declaration that all will be okay and that he had nothing to worry about.
Only that never happened. James pulled his hand away once again.
The blond's head shot round to the driver's, eyes narrowed in a mix of annoyance and puzzlement. "What the fuck?" he demanded to know, brow creased in anger.
"What?" his companion questioned right back, head twisting back and forth between his passenger and the windshield, seeming perplexed over the outburst.
"Every time my hand touches yours, you pull away," he pointed out, still frowning at the other male. "You got something against hand-holding?"
James' face pinched, muscle in his jaw ticking, grip on the steering wheel tightening. "No," he ground out before forcing his mandible to relax. "It just doesn't mean the same to me as it does to you and I don't want you getting the wrong idea."
Shit.
Kendall's heart stopped, dropping to his stomach. He could feel his skin tightening around him, like it was shrinking in to protect him from the blow he could feel coming. "What are you talking about?" he asked quietly, voice barely audible over the engine.
But he was still heard. "You and I?" the brunet began, waving a finger back and forth between the two of them. "We aren't together. Not like that."
His heart and stomach dropped further, onto the seat below him. His mouth flapped open and shut as he struggled to speak, his words being sputtered out as he tried to argue. "But. SafeHouse. The photos." His points were weak, he knew, but it was all he had.
The driver didn't bother looking at him, just continued staring out the windshield, his body still as tense as before. "A cover. Nothing more."
Kendall made like a goldfish once more, mouth open, shut, open, shut, open, shut. Only this time, nothing came out. He felt like his heart and stomach had completely fallen past the seat, through the car floor, and onto the interstate they were speeding down.
His eyes dropped to his hands on his lap, focusing on the mark on his finger, the one that matched James'. He'd been so sure, so completely adamant that there was something there between the two of them, something more than just Guardian and Protected. The photos were proof of it, weren't they? He wasn't that great an actor, so there was no way he could fake that genuine happiness, that sincere love that shone through on every framed image. And then there was his own physical reaction when he was with the brunet himself, the heart pounds and stomach flips and skin tingles. He felt more connected to this man in less than twenty-four hours, than he had with the people he'd been living with for six months. That had to mean something, right?
A soft sigh came from his left, almost sounding like one of regret. Although Kendall wasn't sure if it was because of what James had already said, or was about to.
"Guardians aren't supposed to be with the person they're protecting, not in that way," he spoke quietly, as if the words were too heavy for him to be able to say them any louder. "It's against the rules."
His eyebrow quirked on its own, his head raising to look at the driver, noticing both his hands were now on the steering wheel, left still at the top, right on the bottom. "Rules?"
The brunet nodded as he kept up his habit of avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, rules. Ones that are meant to be followed, no questions asked, no backchatting, nothing." His teeth ground as he said those words, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter again, the squeak of leather on leather heard over the engine.
"With great power comes great responsibility," Kendall quoted one of his foster sister's comic books, grin on his face, trying to lighten the mood. The unamused glare he got in response told him it wasn't appreciated, his smile disappearing. "No?"
"No," was the driver's flat reply before his head turned away again.
His eyebrows lifted in an all right then fashion, sighing as he settled in his chair, preparing to deal with the grumpy side of James once more. "So what are these rules?"
"The biggest and most obvious one is that we need to keep what we are a secret," he pointed out, using that educator tone he tended to have when giving the blond info about them. "No bragging about being a Phoenix, no blabbing about it on the internet, no using powers in front of humans."
That had Kendall perking up in his seat, eyes widening, huge grin spreading across his face. "I have powers?" he questioned excitedly, loudly, voice bouncing off the car interior. "Well, other than dying, I mean," he added at a lower volume with nowhere near the same amount of joy.
"Yeah," James answered calmly, coming nowhere near the level of enthusiasm his passenger had about it. "Although technically you can die. It's just not very easily and rarely ever happens. Not many people even know how to do it."
Okay, that sucked the excitement right out of everything.
The blond returned to his slumped position, turned towards the other male, back resting against the door. "How?" He knew he was gonna regret asking, but still couldn't help wondering about it. Hell, the info could even come in handy one day, if for no other reason than he'd know what to avoid doing.
"First way is if you're harmed during your regeneration process," the brunet explained clinically, detached, no emotion whatsoever. It was like he had no idea the younger male was actually a little worried about this, had no clue that he was sitting there chewing on his thumbnail and shaking his leg. "And subzero temps could damage your fiery core, meaning if you freeze to death, that's it, no way of coming back."
"Guess I better cancel that trip to Antarctica then," he joked, an uneasy smile on his face as he forced out a laugh. He received the same that's so not funny, stop playing around look he'd gotten for his Spider-Man reference. Couldn't the Ministry have given him a Guardian with a sense of humor?
Sensing a change of subject was in order, he voiced the next inquiry on his mind. "Okay, so what powers do I have then?"
"You can control and manipulate fire," James informed him, pointing his finger at an invisible board with the statement written on it. "You can even create it, but you never got the handle of that one. If anything, your hands got a li'l red and you'd get pissed off." He chuckled, smile brightening his face at a memory of some form, one Kendall wished he knew so he could share in the amusement. "Was pretty cu—" He cut himself off, clearing his throat. The smile was wiped away as his brow formed a straight line behind the top of his aviators, face all business once more.
Kendall wasn't entirely sure, but he pretended for a moment that the other male was about to say it was pretty cute.
Sometimes hope was all you had.
Loosely folding his arms over his torso, he shuffled in his seat, the handle digging into his back. "So," he began, his own features arranged into a serious expression as he studied the driver. "Any other rules or powers or things I need to know?"
James seemed to frown, brow furrowed in thought, before he relaxed it once more. "Not really," he replied, voice seeming easy, despite the tense lines of his body. "Not for you anyway."
"But for you?"
"They don't matter, don't pertain to you." That tick was back in his jaw, whites on his knuckles, that physical reaction to trying to hold himself together, keep himself back from saying or doing something he wasn't supposed to. "Other than the one I already told you, that is."
The reminder of said rule caused the same reaction inside Kendall as it had before, a feeling of something inside him breaking and falling. He tightened his arms around himself, fingers gripping his sides. His teeth worried at his bottom lip, almost immediately feeling the sting of it being chewed on too much too often. But he couldn't help it. He felt as though he was falling apart and the one thing, the one person who could keep him together was refusing to help.
His eyes turned down at the sides as he desperately voiced his curiosity. "But isn't there a way to get arou—"
"Let it go, Kendall," James interrupted, breathing out the words in exacerbation. His shoulders slumped, head slightly lolling back, apparently tired of the same argument. He met the blond's eyes with his aviators, pleading with a look as well as his words to just get over it and not mention it again. "It's not happening. Just. Move on." With that said, he turned back to the windshield.
A lump formed in his throat, another crack felt in his chest, tears prickling the back of his eyes. But he refused to let them fall, refused to let the other male see how his words had affected him, how upset he'd become. Turning, he looked out the window, elbow resting on the door as he chewed on his thumbnail. He distracted his mind by staring out the glass at the passing scenery, the trees and fields seeming to be less blurry than before. James had slowed down significantly, now doing the actual speed limit, because he realized how freaked out Kendall had been over the fast rate the SUV was previously traveling at.
Closing his eyes, Kendall allowed one tear to fall, hating how hurt he felt, but not as much as he hated the hope that he was right in believing James was lying about the two of them not being in love.
It was sometime after ten when James finally pulled into a motel parking lot. He'd said he'd wanted to get as close to the state line between Nebraska and Colorado as possible—an explanation given when Kendall questioned why dinner was a fast food drive-thru as they continued on their way—ending up in a small town only an hour or so away.
The motel was a mid-range place, a two-story rent-a-room joint with dumpsters randomly placed in parking spaces and a whole lotta mess surrounding them. A quick inquiry about that with the man behind the counter during check-in informed them that half the rooms were being renovated, meaning space was limited. And with a lot of guests already in for the night, they would just have to take what they could get.
Which turned out to be a room with one double-bed.
Something James wasn't entirely happy about as they stepped inside their home for the night.
He began muttering in a language Kendall didn't recognize, more snarls and growls than actual words, as he practically stomped his way inside. The blond followed at a more shuffled pace, calmly closing the door behind himself, watching as the other male stalked his way to the opposite side of the room.
James tossed his duffel onto the table before sitting on the edge of the bed with a huff, head in his hands, back to the teen. The "Do Not Disturb" sign would be better placed hanging around his neck than the doorknob.
Kendall felt weary, the long day in the Explorer and the bounty of information he'd been given over the past two days taking its toll. Not to mention the knowledge that his life was in danger and that he was technically running from some evil madman who clearly wanted the teenager so he could locate the Key of Manifleiss. Whatever that was.
No matter the case, he felt exhausted, a bone deep fatigue that was weighing his entire being down. The last thing he wanted to deal with was James' latest bout of irritation, this time aimed at their sleeping arrangements.
Placing his duffel on the opposite side of the bed from his travel partner, he stared at the slumped form before him. "I'm gonna take a shower," he announced, just for the sake of speaking, sick of silence. It had been quiet in the SUV for the past four hours they'd been on the road, both of them stewing for different reasons. Only now, Kendall wasn't in the mood to pout or be upset. He just wanted to get some sleep, something he'd been severely lacking lately.
The brunet barely moved, just waved a couple fingers over his shoulder in an okay manner.
A sigh slipped past the teen's lips, hand rubbing the back of his neck, trying to work out the kink that had been formed during the long car ride. Whatever. It wasn't his fault they were stuck in the same bed. Besides, they'd shared one the night before and nothing had happened.
Well, except for that whole grinding against each other thing that took place that morning. But other than that...
He shook his head, derailing that train of thought. No use going down that road, not when James had made it clear that they won't be going there ever again. Instead he focused on getting a pair of clean boxers out his duffel, unzipping the luggage.
And revealing the framed photo he'd taken from the SafeHouse.
Awesome.
Being careful, he moved the picture so it was sitting along the side of the bag, rather than laying on top of his clothing. Shoving fabric aside, he dug around inside, hand rubbing against something leather that he didn't recall packing. He pulled it out, discovering it was a toiletry bag. He opened it up, seeing prepacked shampoo and bodywash, razors and shave gel, and... lube and condoms.
His eyes widened, brows practically shooting up to his hairline. He'd already had an inkling that he wasn't a virgin and that he'd had sex with James. It was still a shock to see the necessary supplies waiting inside his duffel.
Zipping the bag back up, he returned to his previous task, finally locating a pair of boxers. Undies and toiletries in hand, he headed to the bathroom located behind himself, closing the door and shutting out the grumpy male he was stuck with.
He was in a different part of the woods, that much he knew for sure. Kendall did a three-sixty, taking in his surroundings, the trees, the leaves on the ground, the twigs that snapped under his feet with each step. It was the same forest, the knowledge of that tingling at the back of his head. He just was in a different section, further away than he normally was. That fact seemed to stick in his mind, repeating over and over, a broken record of how he was more distant from his destination than usual. Completing his turn, he set off in the direction he felt was right, feet trudging along at a fast pace. He had more ground to cover, in the same amount of time, making his task more urgent. He needed to move to get there before they did, to find it first. A few dozen yards later, he came across a stream, turning to walk along it. His breathing was labored, throat dry and rough from harsh pants, but he didn't had time to stop and get a drink. He needed to keep going, the knowledge of that beating against his brain with each step. Keep. Going. Keep. Going. Keep. Going. Another left, more walking. A slight right, more walking. And then he stopped, head twisting around to view his new place in the forest. It was the spot where he'd dreamt he'd been the night before, facing in the same misguided direction. But a turn to the left soon fixed that and he was off again, determined steps pounding against crunching leaves. Only his weren't the only footsteps his ears could hear. He was being followed. He knew it for a fact, a feeling that twisted his gut and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He sped up his pace, something that felt necessary yet futile. He knew he couldn't outrun the other person, that they'd easily catch up to him. But if he could make it there first... The steps behind him quickened, too, a strange noise joining it. It took Kendall a few seconds to recognize it as the low rumble of a growl. But it wasn't James, he was sure of it. He could pick that sound out of a million similar ones, just like he could pick out the exact tone of his speaking voice. Kendall's heart pounded double-time, fear seizing his chest. He didn't bother with the slowly speeding up bullshit, instead breaking out into a run, hearing his stalker do the same. His feet slipped on the leaves, his shoes not having the best grip, but he managed to maintain his balance as he sped as fast as he could through the forest. The landscape whirled past him in a blur, his panting worse, his lungs burning and legs screaming at him to stop. But he kept going, kept running. He hopped over the fallen log, using the trunk as leverage as he lifted his body over it, landing with a thud on his knees. He scrambled back to his feet, bolting once more, knowing he had no time to lose. The other person was gaining ground on him, faster, bearing down on him at an alarming pace. They were almost there, almost able to get him, almost...
Kendall bolted up in bed right as James did the same, disoriented about where he was. He felt the sweat covering his skin and his hair sticking to his neck and face, felt his heart pounding and his lungs burning as he panted, but he was barely aware of those exact details. His mind and attention were more focused on the male who was previously in bed with him, the male who was now standing beside the piece of furniture, growling.
James was in a defensive position, legs bent, hands out at his sides. But that wasn't what caught Kendall's focus. It was the claws on the end of each finger that had appeared, the fangs protruding from his mouth as he snarled, the eerie red glow of his eyes. He knew the brunet was a Wolf-Shifter, had heard him call himself that, had seen the crescent moon tat, the large shield that featured a wolf's head and a pawprint. It was another thing entirely to see the guy partially changed and ready to fight.
The blond watched with wide eyes as the larger male moved around the end of the bed, stalking his way to the end of the small hallway that was created by the bathroom, resuming his previous pose with his back to Kendall. Protecting him.
The earlier "Damsel in Distress" thought came back, the teen feeling more like it than ever. The castle was under attack, her knight in shining armor prepared to defend her honor as she sat cowering on the bed.
Only the "she" was a "he" in this instance.
A small burst of courage roared up inside him, forcing him up and outta bed. He suddenly remembered the knife he'd taken from the SafeHouse and he scrambled to his duffel to grab it out of his discarded jeans just as the door was kicked in.
"Well, well, well." The voice was male, a cocky one at that, but not Jett. It still managed to make a shiver raced down Kendall's spine, freezing him where he crouched by his bag on the floor. "If it isn't Lame James and his li'l bitch boy."
The brunet's growls intensified, his mouth barely able to snarl out a "Wayne-Wayne".
Kendall lifted his head to see the named male walking in. The guy was short, scrawny, his lean frame covered in a white track suit that looked like it was better suited in an '80s rap video. Black hair peeked out from under a white fitted cap that was turned to the side, dark eyes seeming to shine with an evil sort of joy, the same kinda twinkle Kendall had witnessed in Jett's eyes.
And that made sense, considering the two of them were the henchmen for the same man, one who wasn't spoken of too kindly by James. Wayne-Wayne also had the same cocky demeanor Jett had, the same victorious grin before winning anything, the same conceited tilt to his nose, the same "I'm better than everyone" swagger as he sauntered into the room.
He rubbed his hands together, a maniacal sort of chuckle coming from him as he came to a stop, staring down the taller male in front of him, the one who was growling at him still. "Looks like you both bought tickets for the Wayne-Wayne Pain Train."
Was this guy for real?
A laugh bubbled up from Kendall's chest, only to get caught in his throat and die. The scrawny male a few feet over starting changing right before his eyes, his own orbs glowing red like James', the same claws and fangs making an appearance. Only he didn't stop there. He grew about six inches taller, his frame building out, rib cage expanding, shoulders broadening, arms lengthening. His shirt and jacket ripped to shreds, falling to the ground in pieces, his pants tearing but staying on thanks to the stretch waist of the nylon clothing. The sounds of bones crunching and skin stretching filled the room, making Kendall slightly nauseous, only he couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot in awe and fear.
Wayne-Wayne snarled through the stunted snout now located on the lower half of his face, the animalistic lips forming a twisted version of a smirk as he chuckled evilly.
Terror seized Kendall, freezing him. A cold sweat broke out over his skin, his body trembling. His heart was pounding, lungs barely getting enough oxygen. And all he could do was remain crouched, watching in wide-eyed horror as the half-shifted newcomer lunged at James.
Growls filled the room, the sounds like nails on a chalkboard, causing Kendall to cower in fear. His shoulders hunched up around his ducked head, body trying to make itself as small a target as possible, the two other men locking arms in a shoving match. One James was losing.
The blond heard the sound of a fist being punched into someone, the noise thrusting him into action once more. He couldn't just sit there as the man he cared about got his ass kicked. He needed to help, needed to do something, anything. Mind focused, he went back to his previous task, trying once more to locate the jeans he'd discarded.
Jaws snapped, teeth clashing, snarls causing shivers to race down the Phoenix's spine. He couldn't see what was happening, eyes trained on his duffel as he shoved everything aside in a hasty manner, desperately trying to find his pants. But the sounds of hits, of body slams, of grunts and light yelps weren't helping, only making him more anxious, more worried that something bad was happening to James.
His hands were trembling as they worked, his eyes barely working in the dim light. But finally he found the jeans, felt the hard rectangular shape in the pocket. He flipped the denim pants around and over and back again, searching almost hysterically to find the pocket hole. Locating it, he reached inside, the knife getting stuck, his trembling hands making an easy job more difficult.
"Come on," he pleaded through clenched teeth, looking up to see Wayne-Wayne wrap his clawed hand around James' neck.
Panic double inside of Kendall, his mind racing, his breathing labored. He watched as the attacker landed a blow on James' bare torso, another underneath his chin, before shoving him back against the wall. The brunet let out an "oomf" before falling to the ground, unmoving.
"No!" the blond cried out in panic, shooting to his feet, the knife pulling free of the pocket it had been trapped inside.
Wayne-Wayne's head snapped to him, that smirk returning, along with the amused sorta chuckle that accompanied villains. He stalked his way over to the teenager with the grace of a predator, the movement more animal than human, despite still being on two legs. "You're coming with me," he declared, his voice a rumble that came more from his chest than his throat.
Kendall was still panting, his chest and shoulders rising at a rapid rate, his every breath shaky. But still he stood his ground. He planted his feet, the handle of the knife held tight in his right hand. Instinct had him depressing the crescent shape on it, the knife sliding out, gleaming against the moonlight that was shining through the window. He waited until the Wolf was within range before making his move, his arm moving in a wide arc, striking out at his attacker.
The knife made contact, slicing at Wayne-Wayne's bare chest and causing a thin red line to appear. The Wolf yelped, before letting out a long, loud roar of pain, face scrunching up. Kendall watched as the other male reverted back to his original state, back to the scrawny human, one who was clutching at his chest as he stumbled backwards. The slash the blond had made was bleeding, a strange gray discoloration forming around the edges, spreading outwards.
"You fucking prick!" Wayne-Wayne snarled before storming his way towards the teen once more.
Only he never made it.
James came up behind him, easily grabbing hold of both his scrawny arms, gripping them behind his back with one hand, the other wrapping around his throat. "Stab him!" he ordered Kendall, his words carrying a slight growl of their own.
Kendall's head snapped to the brunet, eyes wide, brows slightly lifted in disbelief and shock. "What?!" he squeaked out, having trouble coming to grips with what he'd just been told to do.
"Stab. Him," James repeated through clenched teeth, tightening his hold on a struggling Wayne-Wayne. "Now!"
The blond jumped at the final word, at the way it'd been barked out at him. So far the elder male hadn't steered him wrong about anything, had only proved that he could be trusted. Obviously, the leaner male needed to keep believing him and just do as he was told.
Stepping forward, Kendall tightened his grip on the knife before jutting it up into Wayne-Wayne's chest. He felt the flesh give way as the metal pierced the skin, felt it scrape past bone and into something else, something vital. Wayne-Wayne let out another roar, body jerking, back arching as his head tilted back. The teen pulled his knife free, watching as dark lines randomly spread across the darker haired male's skin. No, not randomly; they were the shape of his veins, the path of them, like something was poisoning him through his blood so bad it was visible through his skin.
It barely took a minute, but soon the dark color had taken over the other male's entire body before he went completely still. His head lolled forward, his lean frame slumping in James' grasp, his chest no longer rising or falling. He was dead.
The brunet dropped him to the ground like he was a sack of garbage that he didn't wanna risk getting the stink of on his clothes, giving him one last kick for good measure. Kendall, on the other hand, didn't move, could only stare at the limp form on the floor. He'd killed someone, had murdered them with his own hands, all because someone else had told him to. And worst of all, he felt okay with it.
All right, so he could argue it was self-defense, that if he hadn't stabbed Wayne-Wayne, the guy wouldn't have hesitated to kill James and do who knows what with Kendall. Any court in the land would buy that and set the blond free, the use of deadly force clearly justified.
But that still didn't make him feel any better about his lack of unease over the whole thing.
His shifted his gaze to the knife in his hand, noticing the blood covering the once shining metal. His hand was trembling slightly, adrenaline still pumping through his system, and everything in him felt shaky. He felt like he'd been thrown through a bigger loop than when he'd been told he was a Phoenix. Maybe it was because the reality of everything had finally hit him? Sure, he'd had a feeling something was after him, what with Jett and his constant threats and physical attacks. But it still didn't feel like anything other than a crazed man's delusions. But this? Actually witnessing someone transform before his eyes, seeing the way he changed shapes and became something more animal than human? That made the whole thing real. It was like watching TV in hi-def after only ever watching black and white.
"Kendall?"
He raised his head to the sound of his name, the way it had been spoken quietly, with a great amount of caution and concern. James was standing where he had been a few feet away, hands out in front of him in defense. His fingers no longer held claws, teeth their normal shapes, and his eyes were the same hazel-green hue they'd always been.
"I need you to put the knife down, okay?" he spoke in that same careful manner, like he was speaking to a wounded animal that he didn't wanna spook. "It's silver. I can't go near it."
Kendall nodded absently, mind too fucked to handle forming words. He placed the knife on the nightstand behind him, reminding himself to clean it before closing it again. As soon as he turned back, James was in front of him, inches away. Hands were framing his face, the hold gentle, the skin rough. Worried eyes were roaming every inch of him, searching for something the blond didn't quite understand.
"Are you okay?" The brunet's voice was slightly wavering, a genuine concern underlying the three words he'd spoken. Kendall watched as his adam's apple bobbed, felt the thumb rubbing his cheek, smelled the scents of 'Cuda manspray, blood, sweat, and James. He swallowed hard as the sensations hit him, his finger mark burning, his head spinning.
"Yeah," he breathed out, voice barely working. "Not my blood."
The larger male nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief that made his shoulders slump, the air hitting the smaller's lips. Leaning forward, he pressed their foreheads together, thumb still rubbing the teen's cheek. Kendall lifted his arms to touch him back, only he never got the chance to make contact. James had backed away, moving in a hurried manner around the end of the bed.
"Get dressed and pack your shit," he ordered gruffly, all the concern and worry that had been there moments ago now vanished, as if they'd never been at all. "We gotta go. Now."
Kendall still felt numb, shock taking hold of him and rendering him unable to talk. Shock from the attack, from killing someone, from James' fast one-eighty. But somehow, he managed to get his body moving, grabbing hold of the knife before stepping over the corpse on the floor. Using a remnant of Wayne-Wayne's destroyed t-shirt, he cleaned the blood off his knife, having a gut feeling he'd be needing it again.
Blinding lights behind his eyelids woke Kendall up from a dreamless slumber.
He let out a groan as he lifted his head from where it'd been resting on the window, blinking rapidly as he struggled to get used to the sudden brightness. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. He didn't even remember the SUV pulling outta the motel parking lot. Clearly he must've crashed after getting in the passenger seat, the adrenaline wearing off, leaving him more fatigued than before.
No matter the case, he was awake now, green eyes scanning the world outside the window. A convenience store was located a few yards away, a large roof covering them, one holding huge fluorescent lights, the cause of the brightness that had shone through his eyelids.
Getting out of the Explorer, he stretched, loosening knots and kinks that had formed from being in the same position for too long. Rounding the back of the SUV, he found James leaning against it, pumping gas into the tank.
"Where are we?" he questioned, voice rough from sleep, hand scratching his head drowsily.
"Colorado." The brunet's tone was flat, eyes fixated on the display screen on the pump.
Kendall's eyes went wide as he let out a whiny "you mean I missed it?!", knowing the other male would understand the reference. With each state they'd passed through, he'd made a habit of pointing out the "Welcome to Wherever" sign, a small amount of giddiness in his voice as he read each one aloud. But he couldn't help it. As much as he missed his foster mom and sister, traveling the states was fun, brought about an excitement he needed to distract himself from the terror bearing down on him and his companion. And with no knowledge of whether or not he'd been through those states, it was just like going there for the first time, a thought which caused a tiny flutter of joy in his stomach.
James turned to him, the apology written on his face with down-turned eyes and drooping lips. "You looked like you needed the sleep more."
The blond's head see-sawed, eyebrows raising and dropping, seeing the other male's point. At that point in time, he could use all the shut eye he could get.
Deciding there wasn't much he could do about missing a milestone on their travels, he let it go, changing the topic of conversation. "I'm gonna take a leak," he announced, pointing at the convenience store behind him with his thumb. "Need anything."
A small appreciative smile formed on the brunet's lips. "Coffee."
He gave the driver a thumbs up before turning and heading inside the store.
The place was pretty typical, following a set standard for what all gas station convenience stores should look like. Aisles full of random snacks and food items. Large pyramids made of twelve and twenty-four packs of sodas, signs displaying the sale of the moment. Fridges covered the back walls, displaying various drinks, with neon signs for different alcohol brands hanging above the glass doors. Stands were scattered about, baseball caps of varying logos on one, the other full of random nicknacks with countless different ways of telling one they were in Colorado.
The place was deserted, save for one young looking man behind the counter. His hair and eyes were dark, his name tag stating he was "Travis", and he seemed like a good looking guy. But his smile was way too bright and cheerful for four in the morning—assuming the time on the clock on the wall behind him was right—and it gave Kendall the creeps.
He ignored the cashier, focusing his eyes straight ahead as he followed the sign for the restroom. But he felt as though he was being watched the entire time, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He rubbed there to make the chill go away, but his paranoia remained until he shut and locked the door behind himself.
He quickly did his business and washed his hands, leaving the bathroom and the small amount of safety he'd found. Travis was staring at him once again, wearing a grin that Kendall figured was supposed to be friendly, but given recent events in the blond's life, he was more freaked out than anything.
That little voice inside his head had shown back up, telling him it wasn't safe and that he should leave, but he ignored it, continuing to rub the back of his neck to get rid of the dread that had suddenly appeared. Making his way across the store, he approached the counter of hot drinks, grabbing a large cup and filling it with regular coffee, figuring James could probably do with the biggest size, judging by the dark circles that had appeared under his eyes.
A quick trek across the store once again and he grabbed water bottle from the fridge for himself. He considered grabbing some snacks, too, but quickly dismissed the idea, partially because he had no clue what James would want, but mostly because he wanted to get the fuck outta the store ASAP.
Facing the front counter, he immediately noticed the cashier's dark eyes were still trained on him, watching his every move. It was unnerving, making his paranoia worse. The muscles in his legs twitched, ready to break out into a run, but he forced himself to calmly step over to the counter. He hid his internal freak-out, acted like his heart wasn't pounding and his stomach wasn't twisting in knots as he placed his items in front of the dark haired male.
The friendly/creepy smile was still there, Travis cheerfully bidding him welcome to the store. Kendall forced an uneasy grin on his face, the expression not lasting very long. His eyes roamed the counter, passing over the ads for cigarettes and the pull-out rolls of lottery tickets, soon coming across a small display rack of disposal lighters, each one featuring a different picture: bald eagles, American flags, the Rocky Mountains. And one with a wolf. On a whim, he grabbed it and put it with his other purchases, the rolled up sleeve of his flannel shirt moving with the action, revealing part of his compass mark.
"Nice ink," Travis commented, a slight malicious edge to the compliment.
The feeling of dread intensified. Kendall's heart stopped, body freezing. Eyes peering up at the cashier, he watched as those dark eyes turned red, claws forming on his fingers, fangs replacing teeth.
Shit.
Pushing against the counter for leverage, Kendall twisted around, feet slipping on the linoleum floor as he tried to bolt out the main door. Only he never made it more than a couple steps.
Travis lunged over the counter, items scattering, hands grabbing at Kendall's shoulders and pulling him down as they both fell to the ground. The blond cried out in agony, landing hard on the floor, feeling claws digging into him. He tried to get away from the pain, only for it to intensify as they were dug in more.
"Quit fighting the inevitable, Map," the Wolf snarled in his ear, spit flying out and hitting the younger male's skin.
Kendall inhaled on a groan, hands slapping around on the ground as he struggled to pull himself away. The hand on his right shoulder moved, wrapping around his throat and squeezing. His right hand flew to his neck, trying to pry the fingers away, only to have the claws break the skin. Any noise of pain Kendall might've made came out as a wheeze, barely audible over the growls rumbling against his back.
"You know," Travis started, a sick sort of amusement coloring his words, his mouth right by Kendall's ear. "I could rip your throat out right here and now, kill you instantly, and not get in trouble. 'Cause you'll just come right back to life, no harm done. Quite amazing, isn't it? A li'l burst of flames and poof! Brand new Map."
The mention of flames had a light bulb going on inside Kendall's brain. Letting go of the other male's fingers on his throat, he felt around with his right hand, fingers hitting the familiar, slightly rectangular shape of a lighter. He pulled it close, using his thumb to adjust the settings from low to high, before flicking it on and pressing it to the hand around his neck.
He felt the heat against his chin, but it didn't register as a burn, the sensation felt more on the mark covering his back. It was, however, immediately felt by Travis, who released his grip on the teen as he yelped out in pain, moving off the Phoenix.
Kendall scrambled to his feet, kicking out widely as he struggled to get a good foothold on the ground. Turning, he saw the spilled coffee, the scattered lighters, the now fully human cashier sitting amongst it all, clutching his burned hand. Red eyes glared up at him, a snarl roaring from a lean chest, and Kendall absently wondered if Jett was the only one of Griffin's minions who had any sorta muscle tone at all.
"You'll fuckin' pay for that, Map!" Travis snarled out, clambering to his feet and reaching out for the blond.
Remembering the lighter still in his hand, Kendall flicked it on once more, the flame igniting with a snickt and a pop. It was only a couple inches high and he found himself wishing it was bigger, that there was more fire he could use to burn his attacker with. Which seemed to be the right thing to do as the flame grew, fanning out and landing on the other male right as he lunged at the teen.
Travis ground to a halt, hands covering his face, flames covering his head and torso as he spun back and forth. Apparently, no one had ever taught this guy about stop, drop, and roll. He screamed out in pain, the scent of burning fabric and flesh filling the area, a sick sort of crackling hitting Kendall's ears.
He tossed the lighter at the flame-covered man, reaching over and pushing him so he stumbled backwards, landing on his ass on top of the collection of lighters. The fluid inside each one was ignited, the fire growing, the screams getting louder and the air getting hotter.
Satisfied his opponent was down for the counter, Kendall turned and headed to the door, scooping up the lighter with the wolf on it at the last second on his way out.
His feet pounded against the pavement as he sped over to the SUV, yelling at James to start the car. The brunet stood on the opposite side of the engine, staring at his companion with a furrowed brow and slanted mouth.
"I haven't paid yet," he argued, pointing towards the convenience store.
"Doesn't matter," Kendall replied frantically, yanking the door open and stepping up onto the floor of the SUV's interior, the action lifting him up so he could look over the roof. Making sure his Guardian was staring at him, he pointed towards the store himself.
The Wolf-Shifter took the hint and peered through the glass doors, his eyes going wide as he realized what had happened. "Okay, time to go." He rushed out the words, quickly getting in the Explorer. Both males settled in, the engine was started and they soon pulled out the gas station like their own asses were on fire.
"Ya know, I'm starting to think you're bad luck," Kendall practically yelled out over the roaring engine, unable to control the volume of his voice, even if he wanted to. His adrenaline was still pumping, surprising really, since he kinda figured he'd run outta the stuff eventually. Gripping onto the handle on the ceiling, he willed his body to calm down, only his racing heart and buzzing brain wouldn't listen.
"Me?!" James called out in disbelief, hand flying to his chest and pointing to himself, eyebrow cocked at the other male as he turned onto the on-ramp for the highway.
"Yeah, you!" He glared at the elder male, chest rising and falling rapidly as he continued to attempt in getting his lungs to work normally. "My life was fine until you randomly showed up on my street."
"No, your life was a lie," the brunet argued, gritting out the words through a tense jaw, both hands white-knuckling the steering wheel as he ignored traffic laws once more. "This shit would've happened no matter what, only you'd currently be in Griffin's hands getting tortured so he could get the map."
The Phoenix breathed out a swear, shoving a hand through his hair roughly and tugging at the messy locks. He knew the other male was right. Didn't mean he had to like it though.
"You wanna tell me what the fuck happened back there?" James demanded to know, angry glare on his face as he switched his gaze back and forth between the windshield and his passenger.
"The guy was a Wolf-Shifter," Kendall explained, volume lower, aggression gone from his voice. He dropped his hand onto his leg with a slap before continuing. "I saw his eyes go red and his fangs pop out right before he lunged at me. The dude had me in a choke-hold as he pinned me to the ground from behind before I lit him on fire with a lighter."
It was the elder male's turn to mutter out a curse word, hand smearing over his face before returning to the steering wheel. "Not good that they're all the way out here."
The blond snorted. "No shit."
The comment went ignored, James continuing on as though the younger male hadn't spoken, talking almost more to himself than his passenger. "Next pay phone we come across, I gotta call Lucy."
Kendall frowned at the female's name, not recalling who she was, nor being all too happy with James knowing her. Who the fuck knew what kinda relationship the two of them had, if there were any feelings between them in the past, or even now. "Call her for what?" he questioned in a slightly acidic tone.
The brunet turned to the blond, dark eyes serious, wide, his face saying that he wasn't all that happy with it, but had no choice. "To beg."
They drove for another hour before James pulled off on a random exit, parking in the lot of a gas station. The place seemed closed for the night, but it still made Kendall uneasy, the recent events at the last one he'd been to still fresh in his mind.
The brunet got out, striding a few feet over to a pay phone, taking his cell out to get the number he needed. The teen didn't pay much attention, his focus on himself. His shoulders no longer ached where his skin had been pierced, his throat no longer feeling raw. He figured it was probably a Phoenix thing to have aches take less time to dissipate, making him glad he was a freak. First time for everything.
Upon further inspection, he noticed tears in his flannel shirt and the tee he wore underneath, noticed blood on both clothing items. Investigating more, he discovered his jeans had coffee stains on the shins, most likely from when he'd been pinned to the ground after the drink had been spilled.
He suddenly felt disgusted with his clothes, no longer wanted to be in them, not for another second. And with the car at a standstill, now was as good a time as any to get rid of them.
Exiting the SUV, he landed on the tar with a light thump. James was busy with his conversation, not paying an ounce of attention to his passenger. Hell, Kendall could probably run for the hills—or Rocky Mountains in this case—and the brunet would be none the wiser.
Except the idea of leaving the elder male made a hole appear in his chest and a nauseous feeling to take hold of his stomach.
Shaking his head, he headed to the rear of the Explorer, opening the back door. His duffel was closest, making it easy to unzip it and grab a fresh pair of jeans and a tee. He emptied his pockets as he kicked off his shoes, making sure not to lose anything, before removing the flannel shirt, dropping it to the ground. Next went the tee, then the jeans, an absent thought about how it was lucky the gas station wasn't open and that the sun still hadn't risen. No way in hell would he do this in daylight or with others around and trying to change inside the vehicle—as spacious as it was—didn't sound fun.
Now clad only in his boxers and socks, he twisted his head to look at his bare shoulder. The clawmarks Travis had made were healed over, scabs covering them. They looked like they'd been made a day or so ago, not an hour. He didn't have a mirror in front of him, but chances were the bruises around his neck were almost, if not completely, gone.
Returning his focus to the inside of the SUV's trunk, he grabbed the clean pair of jeans, only to stop when he heard the low rumble of a growl. Except it wasn't the sound of a threat, didn't scare him, didn't make him wanna jump in the back of the Explorer and shut the door as he cowered in fear. No, this was something more... sexual, something that caused his dick to twitch and his mark to burn as arousal hit him seemingly outta nowhere.
Turning his head in every direction, he tried to locate the sound's origin, pausing when he came across James. The brunet was turned towards him, staring right at him with glowing eyes. His fists were clenched, body tense, a noticeable bulge now visible in his jeans. And the mark on his finger was glowing, just as Kendall imagined his was.
The blond inhaled sharply, the air getting caught in his lungs as they stopped working. He imagined the other male hanging up the phone, stalking over, pinning him against the SUV. He imagined their lips crashing together in a hard kiss that was more passion than technique. He imagined the two of them grinding against one another as they had in bed back at the SafeHouse, both rutting as their erections rubbed, turning each other on more and more until they were both desperately panting with need.
His teeth sank into his lower lip, his dick hardening in his boxers to a painful length. He had to clench his own fists around the jeans he was holding so he wouldn't start rubbing himself right out in the open. But god did he want to, did he want the other male to do it for him. He wanted fingers wrapped around his cock, lips, tongue, anything. He just wanted to feel something as he was worked closer and closer to that inevitable conclusion and have it be because James had brought him there.
But it wasn't gonna happen. James inhaled deeply, holding his breath as he turned away from Kendall and continued his conversation, the growls cut off.
Rejection was a slap in the face Kendall could practically feel the sting of, colder than the sudden breeze that swirled around him and cut him to the bone. He felt naked, though he still had clothing on, felt inadequate, felt like he was more of a freak than he had before.
Tears stung the back of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall, sniffing defiantly. He wasn't about to let the bastard get him down.
Shoving his legs into his jeans, he got dressed in a huff, feeling a little angry that he once again let James upset him over something so stupid, making him feel pathetic. Well no fucking more. From here on out, Kendall was gonna be better than that, stronger, refuse to let anyone make him feel bad for any reason.
Swiping his white tee over his head, he grabbed his ruined clothes off the ground, stomping his way over to a nearby dumpster. He threw them in with more force than necessary, taking his aggravation out on inanimate objects. Glaring at the green metal, he mentally tossed in his inability to stand up for himself with James. More things were gonna change than just his outfit. He was gonna make damn sure of it.
