Sometimes a little change is all it takes to make a big change. Tyler/Chase, Caleb
Collector's Edition
It wasn't quite midway through his senior year—the year after he had turned eighteen, when Caleb Danvers figured out what had been bothering him. Bothering was, of course, the totally wrong word because it didn't bother him, really. It was just something he had noticed.
His friend, not his best friend, but his really good friend—really his youngest friend, Tyler Simms—had changed. He wasn't even sure what had changed until he started to watch him. Everything was different. Tyler walked differently. Tyler talked differently. Tyler treated them differently. No longer was he so afraid of losing them, which had been, like, a quintessential Tyler trait. The lack of insecurity was kind of—well. Attractive. By attractive, he meant different.
The more Caleb watched, in fact, the more he realized that a whole lot of things had changed about Tyler. For one, he'd gotten a haircut, trading his mono-toned, slightly over-elevated hair for a more sleek and stylishly trimmed asymmetrical cut, highlighted with lighter golden tones. Sarah said that it brought out Tyler's eyes. Caleb wasn't sure what it did, he just knew that it changed how his friend's face even looked. He got more attention now. They'd always gotten attention as a group, and okay Caleb had gotten a lot of attention because of his odd-but-sweet reputation, but now little Tyler turned heads, making the girls in the Junior class go practically insane whenever he talked to them.
If he was also driving Caleb a little nuts, it was only because Caleb was curious about what happened to cause this change. Really.
Tyler was taking different classes then them. Before, he'd really emulated Reid, not in the core classes (which were different since Tyler was in a different year), but in his choice of electives. They normally all had at least one class together, but not this year. This year they shared nothing, and it had left them all feeling a little off-balance. All of them except Tyler, of course. Caleb had tried talking to Tyler about it once, as a litmus test for how the younger man was going to act now.
"So, you're in a lot of different classes this year."
"Yeah." It was after a swim practice, at Nicky's. Reid was trying, yet again, to hustle Aaron at pool. Which would end in a fight. But Caleb wasn't focused on that at the moment. Pogue, thankfully, was watching over him.
Tyler wasn't elaborating. "Well. Any particular reason why?"
Tyler laughed a little, taking a sip of the coke he held before putting it down on the table. "I'm taking classes more suited to get me into the college I want to get into."
To say Caleb was surprised was an understatement. "I didn't know that you'd even decided where you wanted to go."
"NYU film school." It was Caleb's turn to take a drink—not because the thought was distasteful, but because it was just plain surprising. And yet, kind of obvious, too. Tyler had taken a trip to New York City this past summer, alone. Tyler was kind of closed-mouthed about it, and Reid had said it was a present, something given to Tyler by his parents to celebrate his 18th birthday. A college visit would have made way more sense. "That's why I'm taking the Audio/Visual Tech class, the creative writing, and the drama."
"Huh." Tyler finished his drink and stood up, starting to head towards Reid and Pogue. He stopped, though, looking back at Caleb. "Don't worry. You're not behind. No one else knows yet."
Things were definitely different.
"Do you think that Tyler's got a girlfriend?" Caleb was sitting on Sarah's bed, watching some awful chick flick on the television as she pretended to watch and actually did her homework instead. As soon as he asked that, he saw her back start to shake—just a little. Her face was hidden by her Calculus book. "What? Am I missing something?"
"Baby, I really don't think Tyler would even be interested in having a girlfriend."
That made no sense. Caleb sat up straighter. "What do you mean? Like, because of school?"
Sarah shook her head, closing her book and sitting up to look at Caleb. "I mean because of Tyler, sweetheart." Caleb still didn't get it, but he didn't have time to question it. Sarah leaned forward and kissed him. School and homework had been so distracting lately--he gave into her kiss, and they didn't speak any more about it.
Caleb could only assume that Tyler still didn't have the balls to lie to him. It wasn't exactly a safe assumption. Tyler had changed significantly. His hair, his confidence, everything had shifted to make Tyler seem like way more of a grown up now. He hadn't done this when he was Tyler's age. Had he? No. It was one day before Tyler ascended and he seemed oddly relaxed, his legs crossed in front of him as he laughed at something Pogue said. They were at Caleb's, in attendance for a non-official birthday party that had landed here, utterly on accident, when Reid had announced that he was far, far too drunk to make it into the dorms quietly—and had clearly been right. Reid had pretty much passed out on impact with the living room couch, and it had been Tyler's idea to move to another area—one that his mom called the 'drawing room', whatever that meant—though Caleb wasn't sure if that was kindness or simply a desire to escape Reid's snoring.
Pogue finished off his drink, yawning at the end of it and excused himself. This was the perfect opportunity to try again. Caleb shifted to sit next to Tyler, leaning against the couch, stretching his legs out. They were longer than Tyler's, still, and rested against the base of the couch opposite. "So are you nervous?"
Tyler laughed, shaking his head. "Is it time for the speech now?"
Caleb blinked and shook his head. Tyler had a real way of throwing him off these days and he wasn't sure that he liked it. "What do you mean by that?"
"Reid and Pogue told me that you give a speech about responsibility and power and growing up whenever someone's ascending. Reid got kind of ticked because he was only, like, a month after you. He thought it was pretentious. Pogue was kind of touched, but that's Pogue."
Caleb shifted, biting the inside of his cheek. He had given them both speeches, but it was only because Reid was irresponsible on the best of days, practically addicted to his powers from their onset. Pogue was his best friend, but he had a temper and practically no direction. If he'd given them speeches, it was only because he wanted to help. He hadn't realized it had sounded overbearing, or whatever it was that Reid had reacted to. Tyler took a final swig off his beer, setting it down on the floor and regarding Caleb again. He turned, bending his legs and leaning against the coffee table instead, so that he could see Caleb's face. He bit his lips, shaking his head. "Oh, crap. You weren't going to give me a speech, were you." Caleb shook his head, vaguely aware that he was probably blushing a little, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Caleb. I just assumed."
"You don't need a speech. You're responsible, and you've got direction." Though Caleb didn't know where he'd gotten it, and it drove him nuts. "Though Reid's still kind of a bad influence."
Tyler smiled, and maybe it was the alcohol in his system or maybe it was an overpowering feeling of success that yes, this was it, maybe he would get to the bottom of things, but Caleb's stomach warmed and he smiled, too. "Thank you, Caleb." On reflection, it probably was one of the nicest things Caleb had ever said to Tyler, but he didn't particularly want to dwell on that. "So what did you want to talk about, then?"
Caleb could say a lot about Tyler, but he could never claim that the kid wasn't smart. He nodded, a little, accepting that the conversation was going to be disturbingly in Tyler's control. "You've changed. A lot."
Tyler reached up to get another beer, taking a sip before he could even speak. He looked nervous now, which was surprising to Caleb. It brought out more of the old Tyler, the one he'd grown up with—but he didn't like the idea of scaring him enough for that. "Are you trying to ask why?"
Caleb just nodded, reaching for another beer. Tyler was fumbling a little now, and Caleb reached down, putting a hand on his foot. "Tyler, whatever you're scared about, don't be."
"I have a boyfriend." Tyler threw the words out like a punch, and it left Caleb reeling for a moment. Not so much that Tyler was gay, because this was Massachusetts and being an asshole about those things was territory for jerks like Aaron. Tyler was still nervous. There was more to this. Caleb just let him keep talking. "And it's someone that we're not too fond of, as a group."
Caleb picked up his own beer, taking a drink. "Aaron?" Reid would kill Tyler if he was dating Aaron. Tyler shook his head. "Aaron's friend what's-his-face?" Tyler stopped for a second—probably trying to think of that kids name. He shook his head. All of a sudden, a pit formed in Caleb's stomach. It couldn't be. Tyler was too smart for that. "Not him. No, Tyler, tell me it's not."
Tyler looked down, turning a little red. "It's Chase."
"Jesus Christ, Tyler. Of all the stupid—" Caleb bit off his words, trying to come to terms with what Tyler was saying. He couldn't. It made no sense. "He's a murderer."
Tyler sat up, then stood up, walking away from Caleb, crossing his arms. "Look, I know he was really, really crazy when we met him. He's a lot better now."
Caleb stood up, talking in the sort of whisper-yell that he could only barely manage. "How does one recover from being a murderer, Tyler?"
Tyler's eyes flashed at him, angry, and Caleb expected them to turn an inky black, but they didn't. They stayed normal. It was only his temper that was flaring. "I don't know, Caleb. How would a mentally, physically, and possibly--I mean I'm not sure, but--otherwise abused kid recover from that experience to go on and live a relatively normal life? Even though he was treated like crap his entire life, even though he didn't trust people—didn't freaking know how. I imagine it's awfully hard for a kid like that, especially when he doesn't even know anything about his freaking heritage, to get a break."
It was a lot to take in. Caleb sat down on the couch. Tyler's arms were crossed—he was still visibly angry, but not like he had been before. Not quite. Caleb wasn't quite the same, either. "He was abused? His step-parents?"
"I think so. Abused and acting on the advice of his psychotic, magic-addicted father."
Caleb rubbed his face. He wasn't the kind of person who really liked having regrets, particularly when it came to times when he wasn't really wrong. He took a deep breath, looked up at Tyler. "He's in New York now?"
Tyler sat on the opposite couch, a small, tense sort of smile on his face. "Yeah."
"He's been good for you." Even after he said that, something acidic lingered in his stomach. There was a beat--a breath, a moment's time when they both sat silent. "He could still kill you."
Tyler met Caleb's eyes, something infinitely harder in them than Caleb would have expected from Tyler. Their little Tyler. "Or I could kill him."
Tyler ascended the next day, alone, apparently in the woods where Putnam barn had previously stood. There were no witnesses to the event, which Tyler would later refer to as his 'Highlander' moment. Not that that was intentional--Reid had stalked the town semi-desperately, concerned for his friend, but nursing the kind of debilitating hangover that Caleb thought Tyler had secretly hoped to cause the night before.
Tyler had finally caught up with them at Nicky's that night. He looked pale and refused to drink, which made sense to them. The rush of power left everyone a little queesy.
Caleb had gotten him alone for one minute. Only one minute. The only question he could ask was why--it was the only question he had left. Tyler shook his head, his voice low and rough. He sounded like he'd been screaming today. "He pays attention to me."
At that point, Sarah demanded Caleb's attention, but all he could think was that it actually made sense.
Dear Chase,
Please don't be angry with Tyler. He didn't give me your address, he didn't even want to tell me where you were, I just guessed. There are, like, a million Chase Collins in the city, but only one Chase Simms, and I guessed it was you. I hope I'm right.
I really think I just wanted to say I'm sorry, because I am. I didn't know about things and now that I know about things maybe we could make things less important than other things and fight things together. I don't know if that even makes sense, but—I don't know.
I'm sorry.
Caleb
It took something like fifteen revisions, five envelopes, and three stamps before Caleb finally mailed the letter. He never received a real response, but he did get a postcard in the mail a few weeks later. There was no return address, but the postmark was from New York. The card itself was endlessly cool—a retro comic book cover, some collector's edition cover featuring the Fantastic Four battling a man cloaked in green with a mask for a face.
Dear Mr. Fantastic,
Love means never having to say you're sorry. For the record, premature aging has its benefits. Guess who didn't get carded at Marquee last night!
Yours,
Dr. Doom
P.S. Tell the Torch that his birthday present's in the mail.