These characters aren't mine, but I still mess around with them. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH It also contains slash. Some things are easier to reckon with than others. Tyler/Chase, Tyler/Caleb.
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It was graduation day and Tyler was more nervous than anyone who was actually graduating. He couldn't really have expressed why, other than to say that it was the realization that everything about his life was going to change. His hands were like ice, despite the fact that it was an unseasonably warm early summer. It felt, off hand, like something was eating through his stomach--only getting worse as time passed and names were called. One by one by one. They were all leaving him now.
Still, it wasn't until later that it really hit him, that striking feeling of loneliness. It wasn't until he was alone in his SUV that he could really let himself feel it. He remembered the last time this had happened, a particularly miserable year at the end of elementary school, before Spenser, when Aaron--who was, unfortunately, Tyler's age--had put his after-school karate lessons to painfully good use. It was before Tyler had powers, before his father had died, before anything of landmark notability had happened in his life. It wouldn't be the same now, in both good ways and bad. Caleb would be too far away to decide to walk Tyler home from school. Reid would be too far away to slash bike tires for revenge. Tyler wouldn't even have let them now anyway.
He had spent almost an hour parked next to the cliff when his cell phone buzzed. He expected Chase, or possibly Pogue (who seemed to have an uncanny perception of things like depression). It was Reid. Tyler didn't particularly feel like being at Nicky's, but he did it anyway. It was easier, and after a few illegally obtained beers were in him it became downright blurry. Sarah kissed his cheek and Caleb hugged him. Pogue bought his drinks and Reid ruffled his hair, whispering in his ear that he shouldn't worry, he was stuck with them for another three months at least.
Three whole months.
ipswich ty: i want to come see you this summer.
voldechase: it's not a good time. i'm busy at work.
ipswich ty: you live off your parent's estate.
voldechase: it's just a bad time, tyler, i'm sorry.
ipswich ty: fine.
Two weeks had passed, and Reid was off in Europe. It was a gift from his parents, though no one had expected him to set up shop there, practically settling at the southern coast of France for the summer. It wasn't that Tyler was angry about this--because what kid would pass up that chance--as much as he was kind of hurt. Not that he would think about that. He would get over it. He always did.
He had plans, anyway.
The train ride to New York was tedious at best. Tyler brought his iPod and tried to whittle away the hours that way, but he was distracted. That acidic feeling was back in the pit of his stomach. Chase lived in Dumbo, but he spent most of his time on the Upper and Lower East Side, by the park. He had been out of touch for two weeks.
It was early evening when Caleb arrived at the apartment, the commute having delivered him long after the coroners and the police had come and gone. Caleb had never really been to New York and Tyler had had to give him step-by-step instructions on where to go and how to get to Chase's place. Even though Tyler kind of got the impression that Caleb had just wanted to keep him talking.
Tyler had memories of this apartment, of this hall. He'd spent a good chunk of his summer here, enjoying himself and pretending that the myriad of problems that seemed inherent in his relationship with Chase simply didn't exist. This was before Caleb had known. Somehow, Caleb knowing made things easier.
Tyler reached out to touch the doorknob, and with a touch of magic the door unlocked itself. He stepped in, wary suddenly though he couldn't quite say why. Something was creeping against his senses, bothering him. He shut the door and walked further into the room. It was silent, beyond the silence of a home that is actually empty. This was a forced, unnatural silence, the silence of something trying to be quiet that would not naturally be that meek. By instinct alone, Tyler's eyes turned black and his steps became careful and quiet as he eased his way inside. "Chase? It's just Tyler."
There was a rush of wind and the door slammed shut as footsteps approached from Tyler's right. The bedroom. He turned, but before he could really focus he was pushed back, turned further by magic. A hand was on his hip, lips against him--he finally relaxed. It was only Chase. He could taste whiskey in Chase's mouth and his kiss was a little harsher than normal. He should have called from the train.
Chase pulled back, staying too close for Tyler to really look at him. His voice was low and had a raspy quality to it, as if it had been worn so slightly thin. "I told you not to come here."
Tyler kissed along Chase's jaw line. It felt softer somehow, then he remembered it being, but he pushed the thought aside because this was Chase and Chase always felt comfortable, like sleeping in your bed at home after months away. "You knew I would anyway."
Chase kissed him again, hard, his voice a whisper in Tyler's mouth. "Yeah. You shouldn't have." He moved his hand up over Tyler's mouth--which was alarming on a level, but Tyler went with it for the moment. Chase pulled away, and suddenly Tyler understood.
Chase was using--hard, by the looks of it. He looked older, in his late forties or early fifties, which would be inconvenient at best. Tyler breathed out and Chase moved away, dropping his hand. He was an attractive man, just older, but they wouldn't be able to go out together anymore--not in the same way at least. It would look too odd, it would stand out too much. "I'm done, Tyler. I'm so far gone."
But it didn't mean that they couldn't make it work somehow. Tyler leaned against the frame of the door to the bedroom, his voice low. "You're not done. You just need to stop using, Chase." He reached out to Chase, drawing him in with a hand against his side, his voice low. "You have to stop using before you hurt yourself." Tyler reached up, combing his fingers through graying hair. "You look hot for an old guy." Chase's nose wrinkled as he laughed, finally laughed for Tyler.
Tyler smiled. Everything was going to be just fine, he thought. Everything would work out. Chase leaned in and kissed his neck. "You are such a good man, Tyler. How did you become such a good man?" It was the same sort of thing Chase always said to him. It felt off to Tyler that despite Chase's inherently chaotic nature that it was Tyler's moral center that really attracted him, but that was the nature of attraction. It never made sense. Chase kissed him lightly on the lips, his voice still soft. "I love you, Tyler." Tyler could only murmur his assent. Yes, yes, yes, he loved Chase, too, despite himself sometimes. His eyes closed, only to reopen quickly when Chase pushed him back against the door frame, harshly, his hand over Tyler's mouth so he couldn't speak. A sinking feeling hit Tyler, again, and he struggled. Chase's voice was soft against his ear, barely a whisper, but later that day, Tyler would think it was the worst thing he had ever heard in his life. "I will my power to you."
Tyler was crying, almost pathetically as the lightening rush of power first hit his chest. He leaned against the door frame, his knees buckling under his continually weakening strength and the combined weight of himself and Chase. All he could think as he curled himself up was that it wasn't right, it just wasn't right.
This wasn't how things were supposed to end.
It was early evening when Caleb arrived at the apartment, the commute having delivered him long after the coroners and the police had come and gone. Caleb had never really been to New York and Tyler had had to give him step-by-step instructions on where to go and how to get to Chase's place. Even though Tyler kind of got the impression that Caleb had just wanted to keep him talking.
Tyler couldn't say he minded much. He was glad, too, that it was Caleb--not only because Caleb was the only one who knew about Chase, but because Caleb was dependable in the same way that Tyler tried to be dependable, and he liked that a lot. Especially since it didn't really seem like he could count on anyone else to be anything but disappointing.
Caleb hugged Tyler when he opened the door and if Tyler held on a little bit harder and longer than he should have, it was only because Caleb felt good. Steady. In a way, Tyler really envied Sarah because this is what she had--a boyfriend who was every bit as sane as she was herself. Possibly more, knowing Sarah.
Not that Tyler would voice that out loud.
It was late when they finished picking through Chase's things. He didn't have much, in fact Tyler was petty sure that Chase had left more behind when he'd fled Ipswich. Most of what he had in the apartment would be donated to the Salvation Army in the morning, but Tyler held on to this stupid thick black wool v-neck cable-knit sweater that Chase had worn constantly. His favorite sweater, the only thing in the whole house that still smelled like Chase. Tyler sat on the couch, this ugly beaten brown leather thing that Chase had brought on sale at a consignment shop in the city, and held the sweater up to his nose, breathing in. It felt stupid and sad and comforting all at once and he didn't know what to do with these emotions, all conflicting inside of him. He had never felt so like a girl in his entire life.
Caleb sat down next to him, his voice in the same soft and soothing tone he'd had all evening. "Are you okay?"
Tyler nodded, swallowing hard. "It smells like him." Caleb didn't react, he just reached out to take the sweater--just for a second, sniffing it with a laugh before he handed it back to Tyler. It was surprising enough to make Tyler smile. "What?"
"He wore Old Spice."
Tyler sniffed again and laughed, nodding. "He was such a dork." Tyler thought about that, subconsciously holding the sweater tighter and closer to his face as if it would somehow undergo a drastic metamorphosis and become real, solid, human again. As if he could bring him back with wishes and magic. The very same thing that had taken him away to begin with.
Tyler's eyes were watering. He ducked his head down because he wouldn't cry. He refused to cry because Chase didn't want to be here anymore and if he didn't want to be with Tyler anymore than fuck him. Fuck him for taking the easy way out when he had never let Tyler have the same thing and Tyler didn't even want that anymore but it still wasn't fair and he felt denied.
Tyler's shoulders were shaking roughly and he knew that and still curled in, curling around the sweater. It hurt, this affair. He wasn't sure that he ever wanted to love someone again if this is how it would hurt afterwards. He felt an arm on his shoulder, Caleb comforting him. Caleb's voice still that slow, low soothing leader voice. "Shh, Tyler, let it out. Don't fight this."
Tyler would be damned if he was going to go back into depression quietly. He pushed away, angry--and to be honest, he wasn't entirely sure how or why the next event happened. At some moment when pushing and anger became less palatable, he must have just given in to instinct. He grabbed Caleb by the collar and kissed him. Because Caleb was kind of hot. Caleb was also kind of straight.
But Caleb didn't push him away. Caleb's hands paused against Tyler's shoulders before pulling him back, closer to Caleb. Tyler opened his mouth and moaned, and Caleb clutched at loose back of Tyler's shirt as Chase's sweater fell off Tyler's lap, onto the floor unheeded. And maybe it was the brush of the soft-scratchy wool that brought Tyler back to himself, or maybe it was something less morally repugnant, but he couldn't do this. He couldn't be the man who made out with his taken sort-of best friend in his dead boyfriend's apartment.
He pushed Caleb away, and Caleb, to his credit didn't protest. It was too late to start the journey home, so they ate the leftover Chinese food out of Chase's fridge and tried very hard to not talk about anything incendiary. Caleb fell asleep on the couch and Tyler took the bed, though if he had been honest he didn't sleep much at all.
All he could think about was whether Chase had seen that and if he would totally hate him if he had. Chase had kissed Caleb, too, but Chase had been planning to kill him at the time and Tyler didn't really know where that fell on the infidelity scale. He was also pretty sure that Sarah wouldn't care much about dead boyfriends or maybe she would care and she'd hate Tyler even more if she knew that not only had he shoved his tongue down Caleb's throat, he'd also dated their arch-enemy. He was so screwed.
Maybe being alone next year and potentially for the rest of eternity wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Tyler carried Chase's laptop home, along with his sweater and some of his cds. Buried in the mix he found a disc labeled 'Tyler', which honestly scared him a little until he popped it into his computer. There was a video file and mp3s. He clicked on the video first. A fuzzy but acceptable image of Chase as he had looked when he had died--when he had killed himself--wavered into view, his hand outstretched, adjusting the angle of the video.
The voice was the sound of his memories, and Tyler couldn't help himself and he didn't care that much, girly as it may have been. He cried.
"Hi, Tyler. If you're watching this I guess I've followed through with the evil plan. I'm sorry for that." Chase on camera took a deep breath. "Please don't think it has anything to do with not loving you. I'm addicted. It's really that simple. I'm addicted and I don't know how to stop. And you can't help me, baby. I'm so sorry for what I'm going to do to you." Chase on screen took a shaky breath. He was wearing the same sweater Tyler had in his hands. "But I wanted to say something to you. I've watched you blossom into this incredible man. I've never deserved you, Tyler, and what I want you to do is to follow your dream. Do whatever you want with your fucking life and never regret this because you've brought me nothing but happiness." Chase wiped his eye on screen. He was crying? "I'm so sorry I couldn't be a better man for you. I want you to find someone who will be, and be happy. I don't care if it takes ten seconds or ten years. I need to know you'll be happy." There was a pause, and Chase looked uncomfortable, as if it had just occurred to him that he was talking to a machine. "Live your life and never forget me, Ty. I'll always love you."
The video stopped and the player rolled over to a new song, something with a repetitive drum beat, but catchy guitar tones. Bittersweet, like he felt. Like some part of him was dying or had died--it had died--and he would never ever recover from the experience. Then, for all his tears--all his physical mourning, Tyler was somehow filled with the realization that this would pass. Things would get better, and while this would always live with him, it wouldn't haunt him.
If only things with Caleb were that simple. Who was he kidding? They would be that simple. The rest of the months would fly by and they would be miles apart. They'd see each other but none of them would ever really come back to the place they were now. As Thomas Wolfe wrote, you can never come home again.
All Tyler could think was that in this case, that might have been a good thing.