DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and no one. This is going to be the last time I do disclaimers at the beginning of chapters. I think you all get the gist of it by now. Sorry the wait was so long and this chapter is so short; it'll get better soon, I promise! I have great things planned for this story, and after we get past the initial Caleb-can't-tell-Kyle-that-he-knows thing, we'll delve more into Caleb's dark past.


They both possess massive hangovers the next morning, which renders them both reluctant to leave their bed. Kyle moans in pain when he cracks open his eyes and a ray of sunlight shines onto his face. He burrows further under the covers, hair a mix of sex and I-just-touched-an-electrical-socket. Caleb doesn't want to laugh.

"We need coffee," Caleb says, voice cracking and sleep-raspy. He props himself up on the pillows with his elbows, wincing when his head throbs especially painfully.

Kyle makes a noise under the sheets. "No fucking way. I would've never thought of that."

Caleb glares at the lump that's Kyle. "So that kinda means that we need to get up. So get up." He nudges Kyle's bare back with his knee. The blonde groans and remains motionless until Caleb nudges him again, harder this time and with a lot more bone.

"Fine. I'm up. Now let's go tackle this morning." He yawns, mouth opening wide, and shakes his head, shaggy blonde locks somehow remaining in place. Caleb crookedly smiles, reaching over to grasp Kyle's arm. "Let's shower first."

The look in Caleb's eyes is one-part mischief, one-part lust. His brown eyes are wide and faux-innocent and as he speaks he rubs his thumb over Kyle's arm. Kyle replies, "Hell yes," and tugs him up.


Kyle's apartment is slightly less of a mess than Caleb thought it'd be. Sure, there are the usual empty beer bottles and greasy pizza boxes despite the Thai food ordered, but one thing about Kyle's friends is that they're apparently pretty tidy. It only takes one big black garbage bag to get all the stuff up off the floor, beer-sodden ping pong ball and plastic cups included.

Kyle picks up a take-out carton off the sticky counter and sniffs it disdainfully, saying, "They wasted food we could've been eating today." He chucks the carton into the trash bag, pauses and contemplates before throwing the others away too for safety's sake.

Caleb shrugs and half-smiles as he ties up the bag. "It could've been worse. There could've been puking and a hell of a lot more debauchery going on."

"I don't know…" Kyle replies. "I heard that Nate and Pat were pretty heavily making out in a corner at one point. And I'm pretty sure that Zack was doing more than just 'being there' for Rian." He air-quoted this as he said it. "And who knows exactly what happened with Austin and Jonathan."

"Fucked." Caleb nods, like he knows this. "They totally did it."

Kyle laughs. "Maybe."

"We should call them. See if Jonathan is bowing down to a different god this morning, presumably one with the word porcelain in it," Caleb says as he ties the bag shut.

Kyle takes it from him and sets it by the trashcan, smiling. "You're all sorts of awful, Turman."

When the laughter is quieted and Kyle goes to load the shitty dishwasher that came with the apartment, Caleb thinks back to last night, remembers bits and pieces through the alcohol-induced haze. He remembers Kyle drinking about as much as, if not more than, him, but he doesn't remember Kyle eating anything.

The only thing that sticks out in his mind's eye about their rushed 69 is the way Kyle's body looked—almost grotesquely skinny, if he had to add an adverb. He can barely remember that holding onto Kyle's hipbones had been like grabbing an especially sharp piece of rock off the ground.

He still can't bring himself to say anything, though, and Kyle does eat, Caleb knows this. He cooks for the blonde, and vice versa. Kyle's obviously throwing it up, though. Caleb's biggest issue would have to be that. Kyle is scarily good at hiding it, which unnerves Caleb further. He can never smell bile on Kyle's breath, the bathroom always smells clean, and somehow Kyle's skin and hair are healthier than ever.

There have been numerous times Caleb's opened his mouth to bring it up, but every time something has stopped him. Whether it's guilt, or hypocrisy, it's always nagging at the back of Caleb's mind. He can word it in a way that would make Kyle understand, Caleb's good at it, but he just… can't.

The time would come. Hopefully.


"I got invited to another party tonight," Kyle says over a lunch of Ramen noodles that Caleb had thrown together because neither of them felt like calling out or actually cooking. Caleb swallows his forkful of noodles and says, "By whom?"

"I think Martin's throwing it." Kyle shrugs. "Either way, I don't know if they expect me to DJ or what. Knowing Martin, he probably expects me to be their stripper." He raises his eyebrows suggestively, smirking.

Caleb chuckles and shakes his head. "I thought that you were my stripper."

Kyle's smirk evolves into a full-blown grin. "Of course I am, Cay-baby."

There's the clink of silverware before Kyle covers Caleb's hand with his own. No words are said, but when Caleb looks up to meet Kyle's intense gaze, all the words are hidden in those impossibly blue irises. A smile spreads on Caleb's face and he turns his palm over, entwining his fingers with Kyle's.

"What's up?" Kyle asks after a few seconds, breaking Caleb out of his thoughts. "I was just expecting cartoon love hearts to float out of your eyes, Turman. I know I'm a hot piece but really, contain yourself, you ginger freak."

Caleb rolls his eyes but replies, "Just was thinking about how lucky I am to have you. But since you're going to talk like that, I just might rescind those thoughts."

"How petty of you."

A playful punch is directed in the direction of Kyle's skinny arm. "Fucker."


Kyle leaves sometime after five, Caleb isn't sure, and suddenly the apartment is strangely silent. The echoes of Kyle's parting words seem to reverberate from the ceilings, the walls, and for a moment Caleb panics. He hasn't been truly alone since he moved in with Kyle, and having this solitude is all too familiar for him.

Caleb takes a deep breath and sits on the couch, pulling a pillow close to his side. "He'll be back around midnight. It's fine. Stop freaking out," he tells himself, closing his eyes.

He turns the TV on, if only for a little background noise, and settles back, flipping the remote in his hands. It's nice to be alone once in awhile, even Caleb knows that, and after his initial freak-out he relaxes, getting comfortable on the couch and only half-watching My Life on the D-List.

Caleb dozes off, Kathy Griffin's grating voice haunting his dreams, and is only awaked by the sound of the door to the apartment slamming. He jolts up, still groggy, and shakes his head, peering over the back of the couch. He barely catches a glimpse of Kyle before the blonde is darting into the bathroom, slamming the door closed.

Scrambling up, Caleb trips over the blanket that was covering him and has a few seconds to right himself before darting off towards the bathroom. He tries the knob, frustrated when he finds it locked, and knocks on the door instead, inquiring, "You okay, Kyle?" in a soft voice.

There's no answer except the sound of running water. Caleb's heart twists, because a locked door and running water can only mean that's Kyle's doing it and Caleb being right there only shatters the little bubble he'd built up where Kyle didn't have a problem and this didn't go on behind his back.

"Don't do this," Caleb says before he can stop himself.

The tap shuts off, and a few seconds later the latch clicks. "I'm not doing anything," Kyle says in a small, defeated voice. When Caleb pushes open the door and steps onto the tile, he sees Kyle sitting on the floor, back against the wall, looking sad and lost.

"What happened?" Caleb asks softly, kneeling next to him.

Kyle shakes his head and doesn't answer at first. He fixes his gaze on the white porcelain bowl of the toilet, flinching slightly when Caleb's hand touches his knee. "Kyle." Caleb says his name slowly but forcefully. "What happened?"

Clenching his eyes shut, Kyle replies, "Nothing."

"'Nothing' doesn't freak out like you're doing."

Silence. Caleb sighs. "Seriously, dude, what the hell is going on?"

Kyle doesn't speak for a long time, and when he does, his voice sounds weak and tired. "I'm overreacting to this," he says. "It's stupid, and I know you don't want to hear me whine…"

"Stop." Caleb gently takes a hold of Kyle's chin, directing his stare up and away from the wall. The unshed tears make Caleb's throat tighten. "Baby, listen to me. I'm always here if you need to whine. We've both got our issues."

"You issues were solved before I even took you in."

"And you think I don't have problems now?" Caleb feels a surge of anger swell. "Just because I got clean doesn't mean I can't relapse someday. I never did rehab, I never saw anyone about it. I kicked the habit because I had no money, no dealer. It was drugs or life, and I had enough lucidity to choose life over a brief high."

He releases Kyle's chin and stands up, teeth clenched. "I can't help you if you don't want help," he snaps. "So are you gonna tell me what's wrong or not?"

Kyle laughs weakly and without humor. "I never knew you were so pushy, Turman," he replies, folding his legs Indian-style. He picks at a loose thread on his jeans when he says, "Someone made a remark about my weight."

Caleb raises an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. "You freaked over that?"

He knew he was being harsh, knows Kyle has a disorder that he won't tell anyone about, but really? Caleb's seen Kyle naked, the only time he really lets his guard down, and he can practically play the xylophone on Kyle's exposed ribs. There's no way Kyle doesn't realize how skinny he is.

A hurt look crosses over Kyle's face and he opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Instantly the anger ebbs away like the tide and Caleb feels like such a prick for being so insensitive. Kyle stands up on unsteady legs, wobbling like a newborn colt, and stands before Caleb, fists clenched and mouth set into a furious line.

"How can you be like this?" he asks. "I thought I meant more to you than that."

"Kyle, if you're so bent out of shape over a remark about how much you weigh maybe you should get help or, like, talk to me about it sometime."

"I don't need your fucking help," Kyle snarls, angrier than the redhead's ever seen him. "I do not have a problem."

Caleb takes a step back and narrows his eyes. "What did they say? You were too fat? Too skinny?"

"None of your business." Caleb can see Kyle's resolve slipping, see his fists slowly unclench and uncertainty flood his eyes. Knowing he's almost won, Caleb adds, "I bet they were joking, weren't they? They made a joke and you took it the wrong way."

A tear slides down Kyle's cheek. "He asked if I was going to get any fatter. I—it hurt."

Caleb sighs and wraps Kyle up in a hug, feeling him shake against his body, tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt as Kyle cries silently. "He was just joking," Caleb says, rubbing Kyle's back soothingly. "That's all it was. You're the farthest thing from fat, Kyle."

Kyle sniffles, fingers dug deep into the fabric of Caleb's shirt, and if the garment makes it out of this sob session in tact Caleb's going to be surprised. Now is the perfect time to mention something to Kyle, say he's known since he first got here, but he can't. He's not placating himself by saying he's trying to keep some illusion alive where everything's alright, because he knows that both he and Kyle possess massive amounts of skeletons, but he knows firsthand how difficult it is to tell an addict, if Kyle can be called that, that they have a problem.

He may be a coward, but Kyle is a breakable porcelain doll, and right now he's all Caleb's got.