Author Note: My thanks go out to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: let's point out the obvious, xxSay, NotebookChen, angelswillfall, jayjabee and solarsphere101! I was really worried that the threesome might put people off and I didn't know how to give a warning without giving the whole thing away, so I kinda just took my chances with it. Glad to know you were happy with it!

I'm really glad Bebe went over okay – I didn't want her to be just shallow and bitchy, but who doesn't have their moments? And regarding Cartman, I love him to death but he's one character I really struggle to write. He will get more mentions than he has been doing though! Updates are gonna be less frequent than they were now, because the later chapters aren't as coherent just yet and I just got signed up to do a ton of overtime at work. Strangely, this never seems to make me richer. Enjoy!

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Time is short and life is cruel but it's up to us to change...

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By the time Bebe emerges from the bathroom, she is walking in the careful way that people do when they are trying not to reveal just how drunk they are. Her eyes look a little bloodshot but her make-up has been re-applied with a steady enough hand. She would pass for just fine if she were sitting down and not wearing that woebegone expression.

"I need to go," she says, before Ike can say anything. "I'm supposed to be spending time with my parents, not drinking in a bar and dragging up old ghosts. I just had to get away for a while. I love my parents, but coming back here is all so – relentlessly South Park."

Ike nods, understanding exactly what she means. "Bebe, thanks for talking to me, I know it's a uh, sore point for you. Can I just ask you one more question?"

She shrugs, not seeming pleased by the request but not denying it. "Fire away."

"You said you had a good idea what happened to Kenny, how he got beat up. What happened?"

Bebe hesitates a moment, trying to put the words together. "I don't know, for sure. But there was something. It was Saturday night, after the game. We were all sitting around Mitchell's house, his parents didn't mind us being there and they didn't seem to mind us drinking either, they were nearly as rich as Token's family only they had a place over in North Park. I was pretty drunk and giggly by then, but I was freaked too, y'know? I hadn't realised things would go so far. Stan got hurt during the game and I knew there was a straight line between what I'd seen and what happened. Like, payback, for stepping out of line?"

Ike indicates that he gets it and Bebe continues. "So Stan was hurt and a couple of the guys had been cut from the team over it. They were still pissed about it then, I've no idea how bad it must have been right after they got the news. But they were kinda laughing over it and Mitchell said something about how much fun Kyle was gonna have in school Monday, what with Stan in the hospital and Kenny dead and no one to back him up. Clyde kinda shushed him – I would never have thought he'd have the balls to shut him up, but he'd been drinking too and he was always kind of a pussy, depended if he was more scared of losing Mitchell's favour of if there was something else."

Ike looks at Bebe sharply. "He said Kenny was dead and Kyle would be in school? Are you sure it couldn't have been the other way around?"

"I've asked myself that, since Kyle died," replies Bebe. "I mean, I was drunk when I heard it. But I'm convinced for a couple of reasons. They didn't call Kyle and Kenny by their names for one thing and I don't think they'd call Kyle white trash or Kenny a kike... sorry."

"I've heard it once or twice before," says Ike, although that word still sets off a tight, unpleasant feeling in his chest, even if she is just quoting.

She nods hurriedly and ploughs ahead, anxious to be rid of the stigma of racism. "And they called Kyle that night. Not Kenny, Kyle. They got his number off me." Her face flushes once again. "He picked up once, but I think he hung up on them. And every call they made after that told them the phone was off."

Chewing his lip thoughtfully, Ike nods. No one has said that Kyle's phone was off, but it makes some sense if he was getting calls. And if they were calling Kyle for some malicious taunting, then it suggests that the people who injured Stan were not even in South Park when Kyle died.

"Is there anyone still in town, or coming for the reunion, that might be able to tell me what happened? Any of the football team?" Ike frowns, he does not want to talk to any of them, except maybe to sling accusations. Like how they ruined Stan Marshes career for some petty prejudice, how they had made his brothers last night on earth a confusion of accusations and fears.

Bebe considers it, indicating to the barman for another drink. The man looks doubtful about serving her, but does so anyway, although Ike is certain the drink is mixed weak. "I know Clyde's coming back," she says, tapping a fingernail on the side of the glass. "He has his parents here and he doesn't live all that far away. I talk to him on-line sometimes. When I asked if he'd be here, he said it'd be nice to get a break from his wife and kids." She looks at Ike, almost smiling. "But he'll never talk to you about what happened that weekend. He prefers to pretend it never happened. The one time I brought it up, we were both home for the holidays – was it Thanksgiving or Christmas? Anyway, he almost blew his stack. Told me there was no need to go dragging up the past."

Ike can feel his shoulders sag. Just when he thought he might be getting somewhere, some idea of what really happened to the three of them that night, this roadblock. "Bebe, is there no way at all? I really need this, I – Kyle was my brother, y'know? And Stan and Kenny were around so much, they may as well have been my brothers too. I need to know."

There is a deep sigh from Bebe as she pushes her hair away from her face, closing her eyes briefly. "I'll try," she says, almost timid. As if spilling the story should have been the end of her debt. She digs into her bag for her phone and Ike summons the barman yet again and asks to borrow the town phone book for the second time that day. He finds that there are three Donovan's listed, but Bebe recognises the address and dials the number. The moment there's a response, her voice goes from slightly drunk and depressed to flirty and friendly. Ike is almost amazed at the difference.

She gets to speak to Clyde, who is evidently staying with his parents for the duration of his trip. She gives her greetings and smiles nervously at Ike before continuing. "Actually Clyde – I've kind of a favour to ask you."

She bites her plump lower lip and Ike can hear the cheery tone of the person at the other end of the phone, no doubt reassuring her that she can ask away. "The thing is Clyde, well... Ike Broflovski's in town. He knows about the picture. I already told him everything I know..."

Bebe winces slightly, no doubt being recriminated for doing this. "No Clyde, I know none of us had anything to do with what happened to Kyle, I know that. But Ike didn't even know about Kyle being gay, let alone anything about the rest of it and he's just trying to draw a time line for his brothers last movements." There's another pause and Ike knows from Bebe's expression that Clyde is telling her no, that he's not going to speak to the baby brother of his long-dead classmate.

"Do it for me then!" Bebe's voice is suddenly sharp. "After all this time, there's nothing for us to cover up anymore. We've all got an alibi for Kyle's death, it's not about hiding what we did. Not any more We were mean and I don't know about you but I have a hard time meeting my own eyes some days, but this could really help Ike. And after all this time, there's nothing left that needs hiding. You weren't part of the tackle that hurt Stan even. So what the hell are you still covering for? Please Clyde, it's not even just that. It might help me come to terms with it all too."

There's another pause, but this time Bebe nods, looking up at Ike again. "Breakfast, eight-thirty. Hogan's Café." Ike gives her a thumbs up and she gives a tentative smile back. "That's fine. And Clyde? Thank you." She ends the call and seems to deflate the moment she does. "I don't know that he can help you," she says, draining the rest of her drink in one. "But he was there when I wasn't."

"Thank you Bebe," says Ike softly. "This means a lot to me."

Ike calls her a cab and tries to make small talk as they wait. It is awkward; she has just revealed to him that his brother was involved in some weird sexual triangle with his two best friends and he really doesn't know what to make of it. For her part, Bebe is clearly deeply ashamed to reveal her own actions back then. Ike can't decide if he feels pity for her, or anger at her casual trashing of the lives of three people. Because he has no doubt that something happened to all of them that weekend and that news of this threesome seems to have been covered up following Kyle's death is the key to it all.

Keiran shows up just before Bebe's cab arrives and Ike waves to him gratefully. The man comes over and greets them both, polite but distant to Bebe, clearly wondering what is going on. His eyes flicker to Ike's face and Ike wonders if he is as much as an open book as he feels right then, because he is certain that his lack of comprehension shows on his face.

Bebe's cab arrives before they are forced to do much more than exchange hellos though, for which Ike is grateful – they obviously do not recall each other and why would they? Even back then, they lived in different worlds. The bartender comes over, clearly disappointed that Bebe has left but greeting Keiran by name and asking what he would like.

Keiran orders them both a beer, the same brand that Ike has been drinking, takes another look at Ike and adds whisky chasers to the list. Once the drinks are in front of them, he motions to a booth over at the side of the room.

Ike follows, a drink in either hand, his mind not on this meeting. All he can think of is that Kyle really was seeing both men at the same time. Literally. And apparently, all three were fine with it. It is this that does not sit well in his mind. He cannot imagine wanting to be with someone so much as to be willing to share their affections. And from the description Bebe gave, it sounds almost as if all of them were willing participants, all equally happy to share.

He can't understand.

Keiran takes a sip of his beer, then points to the whisky. "You look like you could do with that. What's happened? You look..." He shakes his head. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but you look like you just got the shock of your life."

Ike glances back to the door Bebe left through and grasps his chaser, downing it in one and grimacing. "I think I did. Shit." He drinks from the beer to quell the burning in his throat.

Keiran looks over at him. "Ike. Whatever you came back to town for... are you sure this is good for you?"

"No," replies Ike. "But I have to do this. I have to. I have to know what happened to Kyle." He hesitates, not wanting to open up to the man. He has never opened up to anyone about this before. But he needs to put his own thoughts in order and a cool head and fresh perspective is just what he needs.

Just tell him Kyle suggests.

"I need to know," he admits. "I – oh, Kyle was my hero back then. And I can't shake his ghost. Everything I've ever done, I always wondered what Kyle would say, if he'd approve, if he'd care. I just always needed more. More than the theory. I need to know what happened to him."

"That's why you're here?" Keiran sticks another cigarette in his mouth and lights it. Ike expects the bartender to come over and yell, but he ignores them.

"Yeah. I need to, I dunno, catch up to him. Find out something more than I know about him..."

"Remember him?"

Ike glances at Keiran, surprised. "Yeah, that too. It's so weird that the world went on and time went by, ten years went by and Kyle's still dead and most people don't even know. And I always thought Kyle would change the world. He's still the one person who impacted my life the most and – well, I miss him. I needed to do this. Just to remind myself that I'm not the only person who knew him, that he's not something I dreamed or made up."

He snorts, taking another swig of his beer. "Only now I find out I might not have known him at all. In one day, I found out some stuff about Kyle that I wouldn't ever have believed and I just don't know what to make of it. And all the stuff about how he died, it doesn't make any sense. The police called it an accident and I don't see how it could be anything else, but... it's off. Something's not right at all there."

Keiran offers his cigarettes, which Ike declines. Nodding, Keiran places the packet back on the table. "You wanna talk about it? It might help you get it straight."

Do it encourages Kyle.

And much to Ike's surprise, he does.

"My brother was gay," he says bluntly.

Keiran raises his eyebrows. "You got something against gay guys?" Ike notices the tone in his voice, it is part question, also part confession. I like guys, so you'd better watch what you're saying if you've got a problem with that.

"Be hypocritical if I did," he replies dryly, his own words just as much a confession as Keiran's. I like guys too, I'm not gonna bitch about that part. There's that nagging piece of business out of the way and early too, Ike has never been able to grasp the protocol for the revelation. He cannot seem to slip it seamlessly into the conversation and it comes out awkwardly, or he leaves it later than is polite and offends people. "But I only found out today about Kyle... he never said."

"Kyle was seventeen," says Keiran. "You were out of high school at that age, right?" Ike nods and Keiran continues. "You can't understand then. High school is filled with conformists. If you don't fit into the perfect little mould, then you're a target. No one wants to be a target every hour of every day. It's easier to just keep quiet. Hell, it's not so great out of high school, but at least adults have to pretend to have a social conscience. Teenagers are pack animals and they can smell weakness a mile away."

Ike nods, he has considered this point himself and Tweek has made it too. He explains to Keiran how things were with Kyle, Stan and Kenny, how close they were, all the things they went through together. He outlines to Keiran what Tweek has said, about seeing Kyle and Stan together, and then adds what he had found out from Craig about Kyle and Kenny. As he does so, something he doesn't recognise flashes through Keiran's eyes and he stops.

"Is there something you know about this?"

"Maybe." Keiran's tongue darts out, plays with his lip ring. "I'll tell you once you finish the story. There's something else, isn't there? Otherwise you wouldn't have looked so pale when I got here."

Mildly intrigued, Ike continues, telling Keiran about Bebe's story. He frowns and stumbles through it, his confusion shining through. He simply can't see how they can possibly have even got into such a situation. He certainly does not understand how it can have worked... and yet, the way Bebe described the scene doesn't makes it seem like two are more involved than the other one.

Keiran's eyebrows raise as he hears about the threesome, but he remains silent until Ike simply runs out of information. The last thing he knows is that Bebe showed the picture to the boy on the team. He has no real idea what happened after that.

Keiran nods thoughtfully, lighting another cigarette, while Ike sips at his drink. "You're freaked because Kyle had two boyfriends?"

Ike nods. "I could deal with him being gay, even if I wasn't it wouldn't bother me. I'd be hurt he never said – I mean, I am hurt, but I can understand why he'd keep it from me back then. I just can't see it. All three of them, at once? The uh, mechanics aside, it'd be an emotional minefield."

"Maybe." Keiran meets Ike's eyes. "Or maybe they hadn't gotten far enough along for things to get complicated. Maybe it never would have been. You said yourself, they were way close for friends. Maybe they couldn't have one without the other. And if none of them could choose, why would any of them?"

"That makes no sense –"

"Why not, because it's out of the ordinary?" Keiran flicks the cigarette to the floor and crushes it underfoot. "It's not traditional, not conformist, but it happens. There's no reason why the threesome had to end up a twosome, if that's what you're thinking."

Ike flushes. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only because I know how I'd think with the same information. Your brother's got two guys he's with, they know about each other and he shows up dead before the relationship gets out. Could have been that one of them killed him in a jealous rage when he got cut out of the relationship, either because they loved Kyle and didn't want the other to have him or because with Kyle out of the way, the others'd be able to be together. Only it doesn't make any sense."

"Why not?"

"Stan had an alibi," replies Keiran, picking up his bottle and swishing the remaining beer around the bottom. "A helluva good one. That rules him right out."

"But Kenny only has his parents word, and they're not exactly upstanding citizens," Ike points out. "He could have lured Kyle up there easily."

"Except you already said he'd been in a fight and Kyle hadn't."

"He could have been in that fight any time that night. It could have been after Kyle died."

"But Kenny and Stan didn't end up together." Keiran drains his bottle, thinking. "There's something else, you were right when you said I knew something, but it didn't really add up at the time. I just thought it was a gesture."

Ike had been about to get them another drink, but he forgets as he leans over the table. "What is it?"

Keiran looks back at him. "Do you know what my job is?"

Ike shakes his head and Keiran continues. "I'm a tattoo artist. I work from a studio in Denver, there's not really enough work in South Park to do anything here. But everyone from town goes there when they want something done – which isn't often enough by the way. And about three years ago, when I was still pretty much in training, Kenny McCormick walked through the door. No one around town sees him all that much and he was wearing a hood so I didn't recognise him at all at first. It was one of those gradual dawning things. I mean, everyone in South Park knows who Kenny is, by rep if not by sight."

Considering this, Ike finds himself agreeing. Kenny is something of a legend in town, or he was when Ike was living there. It occasionally surprised him how much rumour and speculation there was about a boy who spent frequent amounts of time at their house, hanging out with Kyle, teasing Ike good-naturedly or trying to charm the uncharmable Sheila.

"I was looking at the design he chose when I realised. The design sorta gave it away actually. Just one of those generic things, the heart with the dagger in? Old fashioned, kinda cheap looking. I tried to talk him into something else, but he just said something about how the scars are gone when he comes back. I was starting to get it then, but he was so normal. Not like you'd expect at all. I'd seen him around before he went all recluse and he didn't look all that much different, young and pretty handsome. And he got the tattoo done, with the scrolls on them where you can put names?"

Ike nods slowly. He thinks he knows what is coming.

"He had Kyle put on one. Stan on another. I didn't ask questions. I guess I thought he was feeling maudlin for his youth and y'know, Kyle was dead and Stan was long gone. And that he wanted a reminder. You'd be amazed how often people do that."

He taps his finger against the bottle. "I just don't think that's the action of someone who killed Kyle, no matter what the reason and even if it doesn't last. Although it doesn't prove a thing."

"Maybe not," replies Ike. "But I've had difficulty reconciling the Kenny I knew back then to the kind of person who'd just leave Kyle lying there. On the other hand, I can see him getting the ink."

Keiran nods, gets up and goes to the bar. When he returns, he has two beers but there are no chasers this time. He sits opposite, puts down the beers and says, "Ike? If you had to say who you thought back then was the most capable of hurting Kyle, who would it have been?"

"Eric Cartman," replies Ike, not even having to consider it.

Keiran raises an eyebrow, but Ike can see that the name has rung a bell. In a town this size, it would be weird if it didn't, if Kyle's death has made legend then Cartman's life has done the same. "Why? What's he got to do with any of this?"

"Nothing," replies Ike, picking up his bottle but not drinking from it yet, thinking. "Trust me, I may not have known my brother as well as I thought I did, but I did know him that well and he'd never get involved. But if there was one person in the world that Kyle honestly hated, it was Cartman. He could always get such a rise out of Kyle..." He trails off and laughs a little, taking a drink and noting Keiran's quizzical look.

"I kind of admired him, in a terrible way," he confesses. "Out of all the people in the world, he was the one who could push all Kyle's buttons and get him from neutral to furious in seconds. Kyle was so smart and he hated that Cartman always managed to get the better of him. Every time Kyle thought he'd won, Cartman pulled out something else."

Ike shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. "But according to what the cops said, Cartman had an alibi for the whole night. He went to KFC, took it home and stayed there. They vouched for the time in the KFC and his mom had someone there who said he came home with it. And there's no reason for him to do anything either. He wasn't one of Bebe's friends, nothing to do with the football team and they were the ones with the picture. So it wasn't that and anyway, with Stan hurt, Kyle would have been really upset. He wouldn't have given Cartman the time of day, let alone hung out with him. I mean, they were sort-of friends, in some fucked up way, but I never understood what made them hang out together when they obviously hated each other."

He pauses, thinking it over. "And that's it. No one else hated Kyle, everyone who did have a reason to hurt him wasn't around."

Keiran nods, taking a drink of his own beer. Clearly he is mulling over the whole situation and Ike feels suddenly, absurdly grateful that this man whom he hasn't seen in ten years has interrupted his own life to listed to Ike's problems. He has of course missed Kyle like fire, but Kyle is not all that he has missed. He has missed the town he grew up in, he has missed the life he left behind – but he has also missed the friends he had there too, even if that feeling had been eclipsed by missing his brother.

So change the subject suggests Kyle. You're not coming up with anything new by going over and over the same ground. Leave it for now, catch up with Keiran. There's always tomorrow.

"You're a tattoo artist?" Ike smiles, trying to temporarily put Kyle to the back of his mind. "I was trying to think what you might be doing now, but I couldn't see anything that quite fit. It's weirdly apt. You like it?"

Keiran laughs a little, seeming to realise that Ike is done talking about the past, for now. "It's okay. It doesn't really pay the big bucks, working in Denver. I'm in a studio with another guy, he owns the place but he really just sits around and occasionally does a small piece on some hot lady. And all the erotic piercings."

Ike had been drinking, he almost chokes on his mouthful, shocked laughter in his throat. He manages to swallow, puts the bottle down, nearly spills. Keiran looks amused and although Ike is still laughing, he can feel a blush coming over his cheeks. He wishes he hadn't reacted like that, he must look so sheltered and naïve. As far as body modification goes, he probably is.

"Do you practice on yourself?" he asks, looking at Keiran's arms. It's Keiran's turn to snort with laughter and Ike rewinds the conversation, reddening more as he realises what that sounds like. "Tattoos, I mean tattoos! Do you practice tattooing on yourself, is what I meant to ask. Not anything else."

"A little," replies Keiran, managing to get his amusement under control. "But not all that much. It's kinda hard getting the angle, you can't move yourself right all the time. I did these." He reaches his left arm over the table, points out a tribal symbol that goes from wrist to elbow. "But mostly I leave my own body to other people. Too hard to reach the back of my own neck."

He grins easily at Ike. "You haven't got any ink?"

"No!" Ike shakes his head at the thought. "I'm not adverse to the idea, but it sounds like it's painful and there's never been anything I'd like enough to go through it."

"It hurts a bit, but not too much," returns Keiran. "Not like people make it sound. And it's addictive." He takes a swig of his drink, giving Ike a wicked smile, which Ike can't help but return. They are flirting, he realises with mild surprise. It has been so long and he's usually so oblivious that it comes as a surprise – but a welcome one.

Ike had planned to have maybe a couple of drinks with Keiran and go back to the motel, get a good nights sleep before his meeting with Clyde the next morning. But he loses track somewhere along the line, occasionally going up to the bar for more drinks for the two of them but having no other inclination to move. He finds out that Keiran still lives with his mother and commutes to work, not earning enough to pay for his own place and having no burning need to hurry that rite of passage along anyway. He is single – "I've dated every decent man in Denver," he says dryly, "All three of them." The sentiment makes Ike laugh and nod in full understanding. Keiran tells him that he wants one day to move further afield, maybe open up a small studio of his own and be his own boss. He looks a little embarrassed by the telling, but Ike can't help but think it's a good ambition and given the quality of the work on Keiran's arm, wholly attainable.

In return, Ike tells Keiran a little about his own job, although he tries to gloss over certain aspects – it sounds glamorous until he goes into detail and when he talks too much, it becomes painfully apparent that Ike has little else going on outside of it. He describes his apartment, why having room for a piano in the living room was the main selling point for him. "It wasn't until after I bought it that it occurred to me I don't have a piano, I can't play the piano and I don't want to learn the piano," he confesses and Keiran seems to find this oddly funny. Ike thinks it makes him sound like a frivolous eccentric and had not meant to tell Keiran about it, the words merely slipped out.

They move onto other topics, likes and dislikes, bizarre parental disciplines, what their former classmates have been up to in the years gone by – Keiran tells Ike about the paths several of their peers have taken, including Ike's friend Filmore who apparently is studying medicine at college. Ike can't remember the last time he went out and ended up relaxed and enjoying himself, usually he ends up in a bar after work talking shop with his colleagues, or else in a club feeling self-conscious and obvious, wanting to be somewhere or someone else.

They buy more beer, have a game of pool which Ike wins, then another which he doesn't. He does not say it out loud, but he blames Keiran for the loss, especially the interesting way his toned arms move when he goes to take a shot. As time goes on, he realises he feels less like he is hanging out and more as if he is on a date. This is fine, he is having a good time either way and he would never dream of telling Keiran about the feeling. He's had several beers and although he doesn't feel drunk, he's aware that it might just be adding to his sense of this all being out of the ordinary.

Keiran has changed in one fundamental way, although he is still quite sombre at times, he is quicker to laugh or smile than he was as a pre-teen. Maybe he has given up on protecting his Goth image or maybe he is enjoying himself as much as Ike is and just doesn't care. Whatever the reason, Ike likes it far more than the blank disdain that was more common for him back then. People change and this is one difference that Ike prefers.

When the barman calls time, Ike almost drops through the floor in shock – he had not realised it was so late. He checks his watch, thinking that he will have to do well to get in enough sleep to be coherent for his meeting with Clyde tomorrow. But he knows now that he can sleep, when only a couple of hours before it would have made him laugh to suggest he'd do anything but restlessly toss and turn.

Keiran looks almost disappointed, taking his drink and taking a long sip, this beer is just over half full, as is Ike's. Ike can't help but feel a little saddened himself. He would like to have continued this, go down the street to one of the bars which are still open and hang out for a while or suggest that they maybe meet up again tomorrow. But he is not in town for fun, he does not really know how long he will be staying and there is no guarantee that Keiran will even be available another night.

They go back to their seats and Ike notices that Keiran's relatively rapid consumption has suddenly slowed, taking his time over the last beer. He wonders if it is due to it being the last, or his own presence. But they can't delay it forever; the beer drunk and the conversation over, they retrieve their jackets and Keiran offers to walk Ike back to the motel. It might be slightly ridiculous – the motel is literally in view from the window they sit at – but Ike agrees immediately. He is reluctant to leave Keiran's company and wants to drag out the leaving as long as he can.

They cross the street, Ike keeping his hands in his pockets and Keiran doing the same, stopping outside the entrance to the motel. Ike shifts his feet uncomfortably, with no idea at all what to say. Thanks for a good night, see you later? Or call me? He'd like to do this again, but his former ease has been replaced by his usual social awkwardness.

There is a moment of silence, then they both start to speak at once, Ike giving a small snort of laughter. Keiran grins a little. "Go ahead."

"You first," returns Ike, wondering if he's showing too much formality.

Keiran shrugs and stares at the floor a moment before looking up at Ike, his tongue playing with his lip ring. Ike tries to keep his expression pleasant and neutral, wondering why Keiran looks suddenly so damned nervous.

"Ike. You're not in town for long, right?"

"Right."

"And we don't have time for some long drawn-out dance around each other." Keiran rubs the back of his neck, clearly trying to look a little cynical and only managing to look worried. "I like you Ike, a lot. I dunno, I kind of expected that you'd have changed more. But you're smart, you're funny, you're easy to talk to and – I kinda wondered if you wanted to spend more time together. Y'know, since you're gonna be gone soon and all, I thought... since we don't have a lot of time, we should make the most of it. Kinda. Yeah."

Ike blinks. He likes Keiran too, but he has not expected that Keiran likes him this much, or that he would be quite so forward. Ike has never had a proposition like this one, he is more used to the slow getting to know each other, the dance around what happens next.

He has never been fond of fleeting, casual relationships and has not come to town looking for one – but he likes Keiran too, he really does and he does not recall the last time he could honestly say that about another person in the romantic sense. He hesitates, wondering what Kyle would have to say about all this, but the Kyle who speaks from his psyche is oddly quiet, as if indicating you can make your own mind up about this one kid. That he hasn't heard the usual warnings and reluctance is actually more of a green light than anything he would have said.

And it's the thought of Kyle that makes up his mind. Kyle dying when he was younger than Ike was, but somewhere along the line, he found the nerve to say that he did want something out of the ordinary. Taking a chance, living in the moment. Like Keiran is, it is not Ike who is in danger of rejection here.

Ike waits for Keiran to look back up at him and smiles. "Do you want to come in for a while?"