Yay! I did it! Never mind that I procrastinated on some of my real-life responsibilities in order to get this done, such as my taxes. But hey, you like updates, right? :P
Thanks again, Idcam for the review of the last chapter. I really dug your reaction there. As I said, I struggled with Kev as his reactions were kind of out of character for how I've written him thus far, but they are necessary in a way.
*Content/Trigger WARNING* Drug Use. (Let it be known the author has no idea what she is talking about and she hopes it shows.)
Sifting through her closet and her drawers, Heather chose a pair of denim shorts her mother had forced her to have and a black tee-shirt sporting the cover art from Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures album. Pondering over the album title gave her a strange giddiness for some reason. As Heather finished dressing, she noticed a minor sense of excitement commencing in her veins, as if she wasn't quite certain what the day would bring. But instead of feeling as though she were filled with dread – as she did most days – she felt a peculiar sense of optimism.
Exiting her room, Heather glanced at the door across the hall and paused, still unable to fathom everything that had happened within that room. She wondered, was Kevin still asleep behind that door? Would he be joining them for breakfast?
Heather's mind conjured images of sitting across the breakfast table from him. He'd be engaged in an animated conversation with her father over any number of topics while she sat back, witnessing everything in her taciturn manner. Then, every so often, when he was certain no one was observing them, his warm, hazel eyes would glance in her direction and they would share a brief and discreet acknowledgment of their clandestine union.
Heather's breath caught in her lungs at the prospect of the terrifying, yet exhilarating scenario. She practically hopped the short distance between the two doors. Hesitating a few moments, she slowly raised her hand and her delicate knuckles tapped softly on the door. Biting her lip, her heart began to thump wildly inside her ribcage in anticipation of being in his presence once more. Such a small time frame had elapsed since she had left his bed, she realized, but her desire was nearly overwhelming.
When several moments had passed and he had not come to the door or responded Heather chided herself mildly that her knocking was far too subtle, especially if he happened to be asleep. She couldn't help feeling slightly envious of him if he were. She was still dreadfully exhausted despite her eagerness and unlike her, he did not have the misfortune of someone coming to rouse him so audaciously and tersely. Heather was contrite after her musing. Was that not exactly as she had done to him?
Nevertheless, she bounced on her heels and knocked a second time, with marginally increased force. She had a peculiar aversion to knocking on doors. She had it under her own assumption that if someone was concealed behind a door, they likely wished not to be disturbed. Or perhaps, that was her own preference. Regardless, she did not wish to encroach upon him once again by simply barging inside the room.
Heather waited a while longer. Still, the door did not open. No matter. She was certain he must still be asleep. She certainly couldn't fault him for that, although she acknowledged the pang of disappointment inside her heart. How was it that she suspected that she had somehow heard his voice not too long before being woken? She shook her head at the slight absurdity. How was she to be sure of that? Perhaps she was dreaming? She was then struck with a thought. Perchance, could he already be downstairs? The prospect sent her heart racing again as she pivoted and proceeded to all but race down the hall.
When she approached the stairs, she sprinted down the first flight with an uncontrolled velocity. Reaching the landing, she careened into the wall, knocking one of the plethoras of framed photos askew. She startled herself in her own haste and exhaled a tiny gasp. Thankful that she hadn't knocked it from the wall or done any great damage. Heather aligned the frame as she reprimanded herself that she must be more cautious. Starting down the stairs again – in a more dignified manner, her self-censure was swiftly abandoned as she reached the last few steps. Feeling her anticipation heighten to a level of doubtless absurdity, she flitted around the corner, dashing straight for the kitchen.
Once Heather arrived at the entryway, she came to an abrupt halt as three pairs of eyes fixed her with bewilderment. Her countenance exploded in a crimson hue of mortification as she gazed back at their faces. Her mother and father and Reves.
Sara who was standing near the counter, beamed at her. "Well, good morning," she chirped with faint laughter.
Neither Mark nor Reves shared in the woman's sentiment. Mark eyed her skeptically in austere silence. Reves glared, her eyes narrow slits as if to scold her by saying, "I told you to act normal. That's not fucking normal!"
It was only after the humiliation of her ostentatious entrance had subsided that Heather's heart sank with dissatisfaction. Remembering herself, she murmured a greeting to everyone as she padded across the kitchen and pulled out a chair from the table. She deliberately eased herself into the seat, straining not to grimace at the sudden soreness between her legs as she attempted to sit.
Mark continued to stare at the girl. Something seemed different as if some great change had taken place. It was written all over her face. But for the life of him, he couldn't put his finger on it.
"So Mark, you started telling me that Kevin was awake pretty early and just left in a hurry all of a sudden. That's weird," Sara commented as she set a plate full of food in front of her husband.
At first, Heather felt her heart flip with elation inside her chest at the mention of Kevin's name. However, her elation was promptly thwarted by puzzlement and dismay. Surely, her mother was mistaken.
Reves's eyes had immediately averted in Heather's direction upon hearing this development as she watched her sister's visage screw with angst.
"It was. I don't know what's up with that dumbass. He's been acting weird ever since he came back to the company. I dunno, figure he's realizing he can't throw a tantrum to get what he wants like at the other place and that doesn't sit well with him," Mark shrugged, but his shoulders didn't quite settle, as if he still bristled about something.
Kevin had left? He had just left her there? Alone, without so much as a farewell? Stifling a tiny noise that tore from her throat, Heather gripped the edge of the table, out of fear that it was the only thing to stabilize her. Her heart had dropped to the pit of her stomach. It felt like it was sinking to the ocean floor, becoming coiled and strangled in the tentacles of a giant squid, forcing the life from her. That had indeed been him then when she thought she had heard his voice and was convinced she had been dreaming. And like a vaguely remembered dream, he had evanesced like a ghost she was forever chasing, but could never grasp in her wakefulness.
Feeling the stinging behind her eyes, Heather inhaled sharply, not certain whether she could prevent herself from crumbling completely. Pleading with herself to maintain composure, she glanced at Reves. The blonde's mouth was pursed into a thin line and her sapphire eyes flashed menacingly. Don't you dare lose it. Don't you break and start bawling your eyes out. Not here.
Heather blinked back her tears, willing them to dry up. Reves was correct. It would do her little good to allow herself to shatter right before her parent's eyes. Elbows propped on the table; Heather's fingers carded through her still damp hair as she rested her head in her hands. Closing her eyes, Heather focused on taking several slow and steady breaths, trying to gain purchase on her rampant emotions.
Mark continued to study the girl the entire time. This sort of behavior from her was typical, but he couldn't quite conceive her reaction and her sudden defiance to be happenstance. Regardless, he had no qualms about scolding her, "Sit up girl. This ain't your damn bed. What, did you stay up all night readin' books?"
Heather expelled a considerable sigh and lifted her head, praying her eyes did not betray evidence of barely restrained tears.
"She's been reading those romance novels again, Daddy. You oughta punish her," Reves smirked coyly.
Heather sent a seething glare towards Reves. "I do not waste my time on such drivel!" Heather retorted; her tone more blistering than she had intended.
"Reves, really," Sara chided her.
Ignoring their mother's admonishment, Reves gave a derisive smirk and Heather's indignation subsided. However harsh Reves's expression, Heather understood the intention was a preservation tactic. It had been quite some time since Heather had the ability to read her sister's expression as code for anything other than mockery.
Of course, that didn't stop Mark from reprimanding Reves as well, "Shut up, Reves. At least I don't have to keep after her in the way I do you." Mark's steely gaze drifted from Reves to Heather as he spoke and the blonde bit back a sardonic laugh.
For Heather, his stabbing gaze seemed to linger upon her far too long and she strained to keep still every muscle in her body and not flinch.
An instant later, Mark's attention shifted elsewhere as several footfalls could be heard coming down the stairs. "Get in here. All four of you!" he demanded forebodingly.
"I told you!" a female's voice could be heard whispering harshly from the other room. The voice belonged to one of the brother's girlfriends. As with twins in most cases, their voices were nearly indecipherable, therefore it was unclear whether it was Hannah or Julie who had spoken.
"It's okay," came a male's voice. That must have been Steven. He tended to be more patient at times - only at times.
"Now!" Mark called, growing impatient himself. Waiting for them to appear, he wondered how stupid they thought he was. The faint padding sounds intermingling with his sons' clomping footsteps, were a dead giveaway.
After a few seconds, two sets of identical, shamefaced teens stood just inside the kitchen. Mark glowered at them ominously. "Now, I don't remember anyone asking permission for this little sleepover to take place. Does your old man know this is where you stayed last night?" he questioned the sisters.
Heather felt herself blanch in spite of the fact that she was not the one to whom he was speaking. It struck a nerve and hit a little too close to home, nevertheless.
"N-no," Julie stammered. "We told him we were staying at Jessica's," she admitted.
"Oh, so you lied, did you?" Mark asked.
Both girls grew pale, but neither said anything.
As much satisfaction that watching this spectacle gave Reves, she couldn't help but scoff inwardly at her father's disdain for lies, knowing he was well-practiced in them himself. He lied to Sara about his affairs. He had lied to Reves about her birth mother – both he and Sara did really. And while that was not so much a lie as a withheld truth, the deceit was still there, still well-intended. A withheld truth in the name of saving feelings was just as egregious as an outright lie.
"Do you think it's smart to bring your still underage girlfriends to this house to stay all night doing God knows what?" Mark addressed his sons.
Do you think it's smart to house a grown man across the hall from your daughter all night so they could do God knows what? Reves bit back the word until her tongue started to itch from having not said them.
"But we'll be eighteen in October," Hannah refuted meekly.
"But it ain't October, is it girl? Hell no. It's July," Mark groused at her. He hardly had the patience for these little twits at the best of times and given everything that had happened over the last day, his tank was very low. "Now sit down here. After breakfast, I'm going to take you home myself and tell yer old man where ya been."
"Mark really! You're being too harsh. Give them a break. They're just kids," Sara castigated him with a tone of annoyance.
Mark turned towards her; his face distorted in irritation. "Damn disrespectful and ungrateful kids. I work too damn hard to be disrespected in my own damn house!" Mark seemed hardly concerned with his wife's censure and went back to reprimanding the teenagers, "I don't care if any one of you is eighteen or eighty, while you're under my roof you obey my rules and show me some damn respect," He looked at each of his children in turn. "Every one of ya have been showin' yer asses as of late. Well, it stops here. It's high time you all remember who's in charge here. After you help your mama and me, clean this place up, you can muck out the stables and whatever else I see fit."
"Disrespected? Unbelievable," Sara huffed as she threw down the dishtowel she was using and stormed from the room.
"Dad! Come on. This isn't fair!" all of the Calaway children argued in unison, save for Heather.
Heather's eyes were downcast as she bowed her head in silence. Her father was no doubt indignant towards each of them, yet the way his glare seemed to linger on her slicing through her like a razor-sharp knife. It was as if he knew, knew of all of her impertinent transgressions, knew of exactly why Kevin had fled from this house like a thief that had robbed them blind. And you better pray Mom and Dad didn't hear you in your throes of passion. Terror gripped her as she recounted Reves's words.
Was he being so strict on her brothers because of her? Did he mean to make an example of them? Her heart drummed so violently it seemed as if it would crack the bones of her ribcage. Her lungs ached as they seemed robbed of breath. Failing to maintain her composure as their father continued his rebuke, Heather sprang from her chair and dashed from the room just as the floodgates burst open.
After what seemed eons, Kevin's flight touched down at Orlando International Airport. Instead of going to his home on the east coast, he headed in the opposite direction to the Tampa Bay area where Scott lived. As an afterthought, he realized that he should have just flown into the Tampa airport, but they had already rebooked his flight from last night. Besides, he was here now at any rate. So he made the hour and a half drive to his friend's house.
Once Kevin had arrived at Scott's, he let himself in through the front door as he called out to his friend, "Yo, Scott." Kevin heard giddy laughter ringing through the air as he entered the living room. He stopped just inside the doorway. "Oh. Hey, Kid," he said in an even tone. He was taken back a bit, but not surprised. Although, Scott never mentioned that Kid was visiting when Kevin told him that he was on his way.
"Hiya, Kev!" Sean was all smiles as he turned towards the larger man and waved from the spot on the couch where he had flopped lazily. He was watching some ridiculous reality show and smoking a fat blunt.
Kevin couldn't help it when the corners of his mouth pulled into a slight smirk. There was always something about Kid's childish energy that caused him to be endearing. Besides, it wasn't as if Kevin had wanted to hold any type of bitterness towards Kid. At any rate, the reason for it was irrelevant now. If Kid had still been bearing a grudge, it had either passed or he was too loopy to care at the moment.
"Yo Chico," Scott greeted him as he appeared from the kitchen. The men embraced each other, unashamed as always. "Ugh, you smell like ass! Did Mark make you sleep in the stables?" Scott ribbed as he pulled away.
"No shit?" Kevin returned sardonically, ignoring the effect Scott's comment over where he had slept last night had on him. He hadn't showered since before Mark's party yesterday and he was sure he didn't smell too fresh. "Mind if I use your shower?" he asked, having already planned to take advantage of his friend, which was why he had his duffle bag slung onto his shoulder.
"Please do. I don't want to have to smell you all damn day."
Kevin rolled his eyes and began walking towards the bathroom.
"Hey yo, I don't wanna have to scrape any white shit off my walls. Comprende Chico?"
"I was going to leave that in your shampoo bottle. That nappy hair could use a little extra shine," Kevin retorted with a shit-eating grin as he entered the bathroom. He was somewhat pleased that he could still manage to be a dickwad to his friend, even in his current despairing state.
A roar of laughter bubbled up from Kid, but Kevin couldn't be certain whether it was from what he had said to Scott or something he was watching on television.
"You prick," Scott chortled before Kevin shut the door on him.
Shortly thereafter, Kevin emerged from the bathroom, his long mane still dripping. Joining his friends in the living room, he threw himself onto the couch between Scott and Kid. Huffing out a gigantic sigh, he realized the distance hadn't made him feel any more at ease – not that he had really expected it to. Glancing at the blunt in his friend's hand, "Kid, gimme a hit," he demanded.
Looking rather sober at that moment, Kid peered at him demurely, as if he were a big bully on the school playground trying to steal his lunch money for the third week in a row. Reluctantly, Kid still handed it over with a frown.
Kevin brought the blunt to his lips and took a long drag, letting the vapors crawl deep into his lungs as he closed his eyes. Tilting his head back, he held it inside for a moment before exhaling slowly, thick plumbs of smoke curling into the air. Opening his eyes, he looked at the doobie as if he had been the recipient of some blatant trickery. This shit was weak as fuck.
Of course that little fucker wouldn't share his good shit. Kid had always been selfish in that way. Kevin narrowed his eyes at him. It was obvious that Kid was already so baked, he was already burnt out. At this point, he was smoking for the sake of it.
Kevin glanced at the blunt in his hand, then back to Kid for another brief moment, the younger man careless to his dirty look. He took another drag in spite of the piss poor quality because even bad shit was better than nothing and right now, he needed it.
Scott had the television remote in hand, flipping through channels. "This is some shit. TV sucks ass anymore. Same bullshit," Scott murmured in agitation.
Kevin figured he had probably spent a lot of time watching television, now that he wasn't working. There wasn't a whole lot of time to watch shows or movies when traveling, training and of course, partying. He could imagine that rehab didn't give much in the way of entertainment either.
Clicking rapidly through the bullshit like Lifetime and The Learning Channel, Scott stopped abruptly on what appeared to be a now dated episode of Raw.
"Duuude, what are they saying? Are they speaking Japanese or somefin?" Kid asked.
"It's Spanish, you numbnuts," Scott told him and he just laughed indolently.
On screen, Vince was in the ring cutting a promo, while he was surrounded by the roster. Sometimes things were a blur and shows and stories ran together(especially in the older days), but Kevin recalled this night for a very specific reason. It was the night Little One had gotten hurt. That seemed both ages ago and like it was just yesterday. It wasn't really that long, about four weeks now.
Of all episodes that could have played, it happened to be this one? It was happenstance and shitty luck, he supposed. This was playing on a Spanish channel and it was odd to see Raw on television in the middle of the day. He wondered if the program typically ran this far behind. Perhaps it did, he realized as he listened to the Spanish voice-over, not just from the commentary team, but for the talent as well.
In the next moment, the nWo theme hit, and the group emerged onto the stage to heckle the chairman. "Come on, man. Turn this shit off. I don't want to have to see this bullshit on my time off," Kevin groused, hoping he didn't sound as perturbed by everything as he felt.
"No, no! Dude keep it here. This shit is funny," Kid gurgled in protest.
Kevin's eyes fell on the petite creature on the left side of the screen. She was standing towards the back, behind everyone else as though she was trying to conceal herself from being seen. That was probably exactly what she was doing. She wasn't cut out for all of this. Or perhaps it was that she simply didn't want it.
He was struck by just how tiny she was compared to him. He knew it already from when he held her, when he picked up her feather-weight body, when his enormous paw engulfed hers. All the same, it was strange seeing their size difference from an outside perspective. Sure, Paul was even more gigantic than him, but Kevin wasn't focused on anyone but the two of them.
"Thanks, Vince. Asshole," Scott's voice brought Kevin from his thoughts as his friend reacted to Vince's comment about Scott being unemployed.
The segment ended and the show went to commercial. "Bro, change this shit. For real," Kevin argued half-heartedly as though a portion of him wanted the torture. Or perhaps he thought he deserved it? That would be something seeing as you ran away like a bitch, Kevin told himself as he tried to justify his actions as for the best. Best for who? He didn't know that either.
Of course, Scott didn't change it and they soon returned to a segment with them in the nWo locker room. Once again, Kevin's focus was ignorant of everything and everyone else as his eyes fixed on the raven-haired girl every time she was captured by the camera. He felt his heart pitch as he watched her. Taken back, he followed her line of concentration. It was supposed to be on Shawn. She was supposed to be gaga over Shawn. But it was as if Shawn didn't even exist because her attention was on him. In fact, the look in her eyes suggested that no one existed to her but them and at that moment, he knew.
She was in love with him.
It was a bold proclamation, even for someone as conceited as himself, but it was all too obvious and he wondered if Mark ever watched this stuff back. Someone would either have to be literally blind or not have two brain cells to rub together in order to not see it. As he tried to keep his preoccupations off of her, she had readily indulged in them – in her characteristically reticent and bashful manner, of course.
How had he not seen it himself? Then he realized he had seen it in her eyes, felt it in her touch, heard it in the words she didn't speak. And there he was, being an ignorant jackass. What did he think was going to happen when he had so ardently played with fire the way he did? He knew that she never would have allowed him anywhere near her in the first place had she not felt the way she did for him.
But what did that even mean? What did it matter? Deep down, she was an old soul. He was just old. She would want to get married one day. Live in a quaint little house with a white picket fence. Maybe have a couple of kids. He couldn't give her all those things. And he almost hated himself for it.
"Shit, fucking hot. Did you guys see her yesterday?"
Kevin was pulled from his maudlin self-depreciation by Kid. Kevin followed Kid's blood-shot gaze to the screen. He hadn't realized that they had already reached the part where Little One had gotten injured. His face distorted in a hard scowl as he felt his insides begin to boil at Kid's words.
"Maaan, one chance. I'd completely wreck that teeny little pussy. That shit gotta be tight as fuck, ya know?" Kid drawled.
On the other side of Kevin, Scott snorted loudly and muttered "Too late", but it barely registered to him as he turned towards Kid, seeing red.
Kevin shot up abruptly and stepped away a few paces in order to prevent himself from slugging Kid in the jaw. "You're a jackass! Do you know that? You'll never get to touch her, not in a million years. So you better stop thinking your disgusting thoughts, or I'm gonna kick your ass!" Kevin roared thunderously, leaving Kid flabbergasted even in his heavily stoned state.
Sean stared up at the angry giant with confused and semi-wounded eyes. "Kev, why you mad, bro?" he asked in a mellow, yet perplexed manner. "It's not like it's your girl, I'm talkin' 'bout, or whatever."
She IS my girl, you little fuck face! Kevin prevented himself from bellowing when he saw the languid bewilderment on his buddy's face. His ire quelled minimally, but he was still raging. Why was he shouting at his friend, especially when Kid was stoned out of his fucking mind? He probably didn't even know half of what he was saying.
Kevin snapped his mouth shut. He may as well have shouted at a brick wall. Kid would never take pleasure in, while at the same time, enduring the torment of her discreet glance, her delicate touch, and her innocent, yet fervent kiss. Without another word, Kevin stomped towards the sliding glass door near the back of the room. He planted himself there and stared outside in seething silence.
"You seriously need to take a chill pill, Chico. I've never seen you like this in all the years I've known you. You're supposed to be the one keeping the rest of us shitheads in check, remember?"
Kevin barely acknowledged Scott as he spoke to him. He expelled one brusque grunt and that was all. He didn't turn to glare at him or speak any other rebuttals. He hadn't even realized Scott had left the room until a minute later when he heard the unmistakable rattle of a pill bottle. Instinctually, his head snapped towards the sound like a dog when the treat canister was shaken.
He looked down at the prescription bottle in his friend's hand, a glower painting his face to mask his unabashed relief. "You're not supposed to have these," Kevin barked at him in feigned resentment as he snatched the bottle more forcefully than intended.
"Hey, I can't let them take everything from me, can I?" Scott remarked slyly.
"Wha? No fair! I want some," Kid whined like a child and stared wide-eyed at the bottle.
"You can have a few. Kev needs them more," Scott assuaged him with a furtive glance. Turning his attention back to Kevin, he said, "Well, I guess it's safe to say these Calaway sisters have us all pretty fucked up, eh? Too bad there's not a third one. Then you and Kid might not have to fight all the time," Scott quipped, trying to make light of the situation.
Kevin chuckled mirthlessly. "There is no fight. I've already won," Kevin told him in a low and scathing voice, although Kid was oblivious to them as usual. Oh yes, he had won a losing battle, if there was ever such a thing.
Kevin shook his head and opened the cap on the pill bottle as he felt his broad shoulder sag with respite. All of his problems were about to disappear, even if only briefly. Dumping approximately a third of its contents into his hand, he resealed the bottle and tossed it across the room to Kid.
Looking at the mound of white pills in his palm Kevin realized how long it had actually been since the last time he had used them. It was probably around WrestleMania when he and Scott had driven across the Canadian border. They thought they had been for sure busted by a couple of officers, but incidentally, they merely wanted Mania tickets. In spite of himself, he smiled faintly at the memory.
As he continued to haplessly cross paths with the Little One and as the sisters became more integrated into their little pack, he began to refrain from using them. He hadn't wanted her to see that side of him, despite his reputation preceding him. He had been the same way with his ex-wife. It was like living two different lives or being two different people.
All the more reason they should never be. He thought about how they would be heading up to Philadelphia in a few days for Raw. He thought about how he would be forced to look upon his Little One, atone for his sins and do the very thing that would fill him with dread and remorse.
Kevin threw his head back as he dumped the pills into his mouth. That was in three days' time. For now, at least he could get high.
Unfortunately, the next update won't come as fast, but hopefully, it won't take a month either. :/