Author: Snow Tigra
Pairings: Fredrick x Ky, Sol x Ky
Warnings: AU. Yaoi. Supernatural.
Summary: Ky Kiske is the rich son of a top businessman, his father loving cars more than anything else. Sol Badguy is the young man Ky's father hires to build and restore classic cars for him, treating him much like the son he could never convince Ky to be. Obviously the two would hate each other, but Sol seems bent on becoming the best of gentlemen to win Ky's heart. It's just not as easy as it seems.
Chapter 1
Ky woke up that morning to the sound of the vacuum cleaner on the carpet downstairs. He didn't open his eyes for a long moment, just snuggling in the thick comforter as he listened to the rhythmic sound going back and forth, picking up nothing from the carpet since it was vacuumed nearly every day by the maids his father kept in his employ. Stretching out his arms, he listened for the faint sounds of someone moving pots and pans in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, and he heard the fax machine in his father's office go off as it received another long document with numbers and figures Ky had no interest in.
Enjoying the sounds and the familiarity of it all, Ky rolled over and opened his eyes as he looked outside. His second floor bedroom provided a lovely view of the sprawling back yard, which was at least two acres of perfectly cut grass and trimmed trees, with two apple blossoms in the back before a white metal fence and thin forest separated them from the city. He'd spent the last nineteen years of his life looking out over this view and he loved it every morning.
There was a knock on the door and Ky closed his eyes, sinking back under the covers. He didn't want to wake up yet and had no reason too. There weren't classes to deal with at the moment, and he had the luxury of enough money from his father to not need a summer job. So why couldn't they let him sleep in peace?
"Ky? Wake up." His father's footsteps sounded on the floor, for he always wore his shoes in the house and Ky had long since memorized the sound of them clicking on the hardwood floor. He listened to his father step toward the bed and then there was the sound of something metal being set on the bedside table. Ky sighed to himself and lifted the cover, glancing over to see what he'd set down.
Sitting on the rich dark wooden table was a pair of car keys, shining in the sunlight so that they almost looked to be made of silver. Under the comforter Ky's hand went to the keys handing around his neck and he slipped them under his t-shirt as he sat up and touched his father's keys.
"Happy birthday, son."
Ky clasped the new keys and resisted the strong urge to frown. Oh yes, of course, it was his birthday wasn't it? Today he was twenty one years old, and today was the exact day that they'd planned to move into their new house. Ky didn't look up at his father, and instead just stared at the keys in his hand. These weren't house keys, that much was obvious. They were too large, too long and too thick for that. Instead these were another set of keys┘ a set that, as far as Ky was concerned, was the most heartless gift he could receive. Especially on a day like this.
Car keys.
"You got me a car." Ky's voice sounded dead even to him. He didn't even look up at his father's face, not willing to see the vacant look he knew was there now. He even blocked out the sound of his father's voice, which was now caught up in describing the wonderful piece of machinery which sat out on the front lawn. Ky slid out of bed, stepping past his father, and walked to the closet to pull on clothes, ignoring the loving rant about gears and mileage and classical restoration.
"You got me a car," Ky muttered to himself. He hated cars. He'd hated them since he'd seen the accident scene photos and the front of Fredrick's car looking melted and twisted around the light post he'd hit. The worst gift his father could get him was a car, and his father should have known that!
Ky sighed softly as he heard his father's voice trail off. Pulling the shirt over his head he relented and banished away his sickened thoughts. Then he turned to face his father and put on the best faked smile. It wasn't really his father's fault, after all. "Thanks." He watched the man's face long enough to see the proud smile, then headed down stairs to see the horrible piece of metal he had been saddled to.
Down the stairs, through the long halls, Ky wound his way around in the longest way possible to avoid seeing it. As he walked through the house he remembered the small house him and Fredrick had planned on purchasing and living together in. He also remembered when he'd sat in his father's office with the door locked and blocked by the large office chair. He'd sat there for hours, it seemed, reading each piece of the lease agreement before shredding it and watching the small pieces of paper spread across the floor in front of him. His father had taken care of the rest, which he was thankful for. Now all he had were the keys around his neck, the keys left from the front door.
No matter how hard Ky tried, he still reached the front door too soon. Taking a slow breath, he opened the double doors and stepped outside.
Sitting in front of him, on the white gravel driveway, was the dreaded vehicle. A deep blue, matching Ky's eyes, the car had obviously come from his father's collection. Two sweeping silver lines curved down the sides to meet the bumper, adding a taste of style to the deep blue. The top was a convertible fold back piece, in white fabric, standing out in stark contrast to the shining car. Ky rounded the front and recognized the company logo from the manufacturer, but honestly couldn't remember which company it was. With a trembling hand he used the keys he'd been given to open the door and slowly sat inside.
He couldn't really remember the last time he'd been inside a car. He was sure he'd ridden in them after the accident, but he couldn't remember any in great detail. There was probably a police car in their somewhere, maybe the car he'd rode in to the hospital ... it was all a great blur in his mind. But now sitting in this new car, his new car, he felt small and cold. The glass windshield seemed to lock him in more securely then bars and Ky felt his breath quicken while the world around him seemed to shrink.
He felt sick.
How dare his father even consider this!
Ky kicked open the door, ignoring the groan of the metal as he pushed himself out of the car and back into the fresh air. He turned and kicked the door shut, and then angrily threw the keys at the fresh paint job. He watched in slow motion as the metal nicked the side, leaving a small hint of white under the paint. Ky stepped back more and stumbled onto the grass, laying there and looking up at the sky.
He hated his gift. He hated his birthday. He hated his father.
Ever since Ky could remember, his father had loved cars. Once upon a time that man had the hobby of restoring them. He'd buy old cars that were falling apart and slowly pay and fix them up until they gleamed and shone like new and purred like well fed kittens. Ky could remember being shown the pieces and sitting on the skateboard looking piece that slide under the car to repair various curving pipes and wires. Ky's father had tried for several years to get Ky as excited about the machines and their inner workings. Ky had never once been interested in that, not even as he grew older and gained the ability to drive them. His father just never seemed to understand that to Ky they were simply a way to get around, and he honestly didn't care if he was driving a big car, a small car, an expensive car or a cheap car.
Somewhere along the line, during his life, Ky's mother had left the two of them alone and his father had buried himself in his work. Cars and motors were forgotten as he locked himself in the small home office, carrying on phone conversations long into the night and receiving faxes early in the morning. Soon they were richer and soon Ky found other people working in the garage on the cars his father loved so much. It turned out his father didn't have time for the hobby anymore, so he hired young men who loved cars just as much as him, to be both his personal restorer and surrogate son.
Ky found himself mostly forgotten in favor of the boys his father hired and watched work on the cars with almost an obsessive attention to detail.
Ky rolled over in the grass and looked back up at the car.
"At least you're still trying..." he said softly, then sat up and retrieved the keys, looking at them quietly. He couldn't fault his father for still trying to get through to him. After everything that had happened with Fredrick, Ky hadn't really done much but cry in his room and occasionally eat. This car was his father trying, once again, to get close to him. Could he really be mad?
Yes, Ky decided, yes he could.
Grabbing the keys tightly he sat back inside the car and slammed it shut. Then he plugged in the key and hit the gas. Hearing the motor hum at the speed, Ky sped out of the driveway and down the road. He ignored his anger and hatred for the whole of his situation and his life. Instead he took it out on the car, pushing the gas down and just going faster and faster.
Curving roads and trees flew past on either side, with relatively few cars following or passing him. It was a week day, people were at work and couldn't be bothered with the young man recklessly driving his car at nearly twice the speed limit.
The decision was quick and Ky really didn't even consider it. He just felt the hatred and sorrow knotting together in his chest and making it hard for him to swallow and breathe. He clutched the wheel tight enough to make his hands hurt, his foot cramping from how much he was pushing down on the gas pedal.
The guard rail came up mercifully fast, followed by a jolt and a line of concrete. Ky felt a flare of red hot pain as there was a rush of air and a large white bubble grew in front of him. His head slammed back into the seat, then sideways into the window, his vision fading out to black as he heard the car come to a stop, accompanied by the sound of cracking concrete and twisting metal.