The Story So Far [2/2]
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Kevin joins the drama club. He’s pretty sure drama isn’t what Spencer had in mind - to Spencer, extracurricular activities usually means science or chess or mathletes or the newspaper, which, you know, if Spencer’s trying to expand his friendships outside the realm of lameness, Kevin doesn’t think he’s going to find it in those places - but Kevin drags Brendon along with him and they both end up painting sets, since whatever play the school is putting on is already cast. Walker is also painting sets, so things get a little awkward.
Walker just throws grins at Brendon a lot; these honest, knowing grins. Brendon avoids his eyes and does this thing where he talks really loudly and pretends everything Walker does was already done, and it only makes Walker laugh; nothing seems to faze him.
After an hour or so, Brendon flops down on the stage and Walker sits down next to him. Kevin props his paintbrush on the open can of blue paint and watches as Walker starts poking Brendon in the side.
He says, “Brendon, Bren, hey, Brendon,” and then sing-songs, “Oh, Brendon Urie,” while Clover sprawls across Walker’s lap, stretching her front legs out to kneed Brendon’s thigh and purr.
Brendon tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. He scoots over so Clover’s paws fall into the gap between them.
Walker sighs resignedly, but doesn’t try to make up the distance.
Kevin scratches a patch of paint that’s dried on his wrist, and thinks about going home. No one’s doing much of anything, really. Johnson’s hammering at something that doesn’t actually look like it needs hammering on the other side of the stage. Ashlee’s talking on her cell and attempting to pin up the hem of Cassadee’s costume at the same time. Butcher is drawing on the back of Siska’s arm in ballpoint pen.
Brendon suddenly yelps, and Kevin’s eyes snap back to him as Walker says, “Oh, man, sorry, she just-”
“I don’t care,” Brendon says, stomping to his feet, and it finally looks like something serious has cracked through Walker’s amused veneer as he looks up at him.
He frowns and presses a palm over Clover’s head and says, “Brendon, listen, just wait for a sec-”
“Don’t you get it?” Brendon says, waving his arms around. “You can shove your destiny crap up your ass, Jon Walker, there’s nothing you can say that would make me hate you any less, okay?”
Walker seems honestly stunned, wide-eyed. “Uh.” He drops his gaze to his lap and says, small, “Okay.”
Kevin bites his lip, feels something in his chest shift and his eyes sort of prickle, because Spencer had been exactly right; this is a real-life, heart-wrenching, overly-dramatic soap opera right here.
Someone sits down on a crate next to him, and Kevin turns away from Walker - who’s forlornly watching Brendon stalk away, geez - to see Patrick. Kevin has never talked to Patrick before. This is mainly because Patrick is always around Pete Wentz, and Pete Wentz is a scary-ass merman, shape-shifting sea creature thing - a lure you to your death merman, with this glamour that keeps everyone from seeing his razor sharp teeth, all the better to eat you with. And people think vampires are scary, at least they don’t tear you to shreds and wear your skin as a cloak. Of course, Kevin’s dad would kill him if he thought Kevin thought that about mer-people, because Kevin’s never actually met one, and Pete seems kind of okay; he’s got a loud laugh and he’s seriously moody, but while deep-down in the pit of his stomach he makes Kevin fear for his life, Kevin doesn’t actually, rationally think Pete would eat him.
Patrick is a were. What kind, Kevin doesn’t know, because it’s kind of impolite to ask.
Patrick smiles at him. “Hey.”
Kevin nods. “Hi.”
“The thing about seers,” Patrick says, gesturing towards Walker, “is that they’re kind of blind.”
Kevin doesn’t know what that means. As far as Kevin knows, Walker doesn’t even wear glasses. “Yeah?”
Patrick rolls his eyes. “Brendon got majorly burned last year.”
Kevin tries not to look too blank, but from Patrick’s huffing laugh, he doesn’t think it works.
“A really bad break-up,” Patrick says, “with Jon’s best friend.” He shrugs, re-settles his hat on his head. “Nothing against Tom, things just happen sometimes.”
“And, uh, Tom’s a mage?” Kevin asks. He’s pretty sure Patrick means Tom Conrad; he’s seen him hanging around Walker before. A scruffy looking chain-smoker; Kevin thinks he’s in a band, and he scowls a lot and takes pictures of body parts arranged in such way that they look mutilated - there’s a gallery of them down the graphic arts wing. Kevin cannot imagine Brendon dating him. Huh.
“Yeah. Yeah, so. Jon figures he knows how the story ends, but he can’t see all the shit in between. Most seers are socially retarded like that.” Patrick tucks his hands in between his knees. He’s kind of flushed, like he’s nervous, which is stupid, because this is him. Kevin knows he’s nothing impressive.
“Why are you telling me this?” Kevin finally asks.
Patrick quirks an eyebrow at him. “Because Jon’s my friend,” he says. “And I’m hoping you can maybe help him out with Brendon. He’s lovesick, it’s kind of pathetic.”
“Okay,” Kevin says. He’ll help out as much as he can, but he’s not promising anything. Brendon can be kind of stubborn about most things.
“Good,” Patrick bobs his head. “Thanks.” He stares down at his knees, then glances sideways at Kevin, and Kevin feels like he’s itching to say something else. He opens his mouth, but then he presses his lips back together when something over Kevin’s shoulder catches his eyes - they go stony, but not entirely unfriendly.
“Stump.”
“Carden,” Patrick says, getting to his feet.
Kevin’s hands clench into fists - Carden really has to stop sneaking up on him, it’s pretty annoying.
Patrick swipes his palms over his thighs, nodding at Kevin, and says, “See you later,” before moving over to join Walker at the end of the stage.
Carden takes his place on the crate next to Kevin and leans back on his hands. He stares at Kevin and says, “Wanna get out of here?”
*
Carden is, first and foremost, hot.
Kevin is not going to deny that he’s got this-seriously, super hot appeal. He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, since Carden’s not conventionally handsome or anything, but he makes Kevin’s mouth dry up just looking at him - Kevin can admit that to himself now; now that Carden’s got his hands on Kevin’s hips and has him backed up against a mirror, because apparently ‘wanna get out of here’ is code for ‘let’s make out in the backstage dressing room.’
There are calluses on the pads of Carden’s fingers, and he’s rubbing them all over Kevin’s skin - technically, he’s not even holding Kevin there, Kevin’s frozen by the pure freakiness of the moment. Carden’s grip is light, just under the hem of his shirt.
“Um-” Whatever Kevin was going to say is swallowed by Carden’s mouth covering his, and then Carden’s tongue swoops in, and Kevin’s not even sure he’s going to be able to remember where they even are after this is over, or maybe even his home address or Joe’s middle name, because there is biting going on, little nibbles along Kevin’s lower lip - Kevin isn’t stone, he’s just as susceptible to hot mouths as the next boy, even if his dad somehow coaxed him into pledging his virginity last year.
There is still something seriously wrong here, though.
Kevin manages to jerk his head away, wincing as it hits the cool glass behind him, and he says, “Wait, wait,” as Carden presses in closer, following him back. Kevin grabs Carden’s wrists and pushes on them as he wriggles sideways, and Carden doesn’t move, but he doesn’t stop Kevin from moving either. Kevin pants a little and makes sure there’s a good two feet between them before saying, “You don’t even like me, what are you-” He cuts off with a startled noise as Carden reaches out and threads his fingers through Kevin’s, effectively holding his hand, and that’s surreal enough to trip Kevin up. He stares down at their joined hands. “Uh.”
Carden whispers something. It’s something in a different language, which should’ve clued Kevin in, but Kevin just stands there, staring, and then all his limbs are tingling and he’s suddenly no longer wearing a shirt.
He feels his eyes get big and Carden chuckles. He chuckles, like this is all a fun joke, and Kevin feels his entire body flush when he realizes the top button of his jeans is undone too.
Kevin stands frozen and says, voice low, “This isn’t funny,” because nothing about this is funny. He just-he wants to go home. Home home, back in Jersey, where the most he had to worry about was if Spencer was getting too creepy with Kitty again.
Carden loses his grin. And then he spreads a hand over Kevin’s bare chest and says, “No, not funny,” and Kevin feels-he feels this bolt, this blast of almost-electricity that starts somewhere in his chest but ends in the arches of his feet, and it kind of hurts a lot. It kind of makes him want to throw up, and his legs go weak and he must black out for a second, because the next thing he knows he’s got Carden’s arms around him and Carden’s saying, “Sorry, I had to, sorry,” and, “It’s okay, you’re fine,” and, “It’s nothing, it was nothing,” softly into his ear, and Kevin is mortified, he has never been so embarrassed in his life, because Kevin is hard. Kevin is pressed up all along Carden’s front and he’s slightly nauseous and he’s turned on, and there is no way Carden can miss that.
“What-?” Kevin wishes he had the energy to pull away. Instead he buries his head in the crook of Carden’s neck.
Carden pets his back and doesn’t say anything and then when Kevin starts to shift, he pulls away and gets Kevin’s shirt, wordlessly helping him back into his clothes, smoothing the fabric and buttoning his pants - and Kevin is already bright red, but he has to bite his lip when Carden’s knuckles brush his erection. He feels like crying.
Carden doesn’t look like he wants to take anything back, he doesn’t say sorry again, or even explain himself, but he does look really serious. He’s got an almost-scowl on his mouth and he keeps close to Kevin until Kevin can move away from him on his own steam. It takes a while.
Just when Kevin’s reaching for the door, fingers shaky around the knob, Carden says, “This isn’t over, Jonas,” and it’s not mean or threatening or anything. Just like he’s stating simple fact, and something warm and static-y shivers up Kevin’s spine.
*
Kevin thinks it all out. He doesn’t tell Spencer - he figures Spencer already knows, anyhow - and he spends a few days just ruminating on it all, and he thinks-he thinks, and he’s surprised at how upset he is about it, but he thinks everything comes back to this familiar business that William is always talking about.
Kevin knows what familiars are. Kind of. He’s pretty sure familiars ground magic users. Like, they absorb their excess magical energy, so they don’t, uh, blow things up. Kevin doesn’t want to absorb anything, though, and he’s pretty sure that’s what Carden did to him, now that he thinks about it. It hadn’t been fun. Well, his body had obviously kind of liked it, but mentally-mentally, it had been a dick move on Carden’s part.
He’s a person. He’s got feelings and things. He’s not a plant or even a particularly intelligent pet - and now he sees what Frank had been getting at before, huh.
Because dwelling on all that is giving him a pounding headache, though, he decides to meddle in Brendon’s life.
Spencer gives him dubious looks, but he doesn’t stop Kevin from sitting down next to Brendon at their lunch table and saying, “So, hey, Jon Walker’s pretty cool.”
Brendon frowns. “Uh, no.”
Greta says, “He’s sweet,” and then slaps at Spencer’s hand, the one that was steadily slipping across the table toward her purse - Kevin tries not to imagine what Spencer would’ve taken out of it, but it probably involves lip gloss or a hairbrush or her front door key; vampires totally don’t need to be invited inside when they’ve got actual unlocking means, it’s a scary little loophole, even if there hasn’t been a suspected vampire killing in decades.
Brendon frowns some more. He pokes at his sandwich and keeps his shoulders tight.
Singer says, “It’s not like he ever did anything to you,” and Kevin thinks his friends are pretty okay, in the grand scheme of things. Singer gives Kevin a thumbs-up, like he knows what Kevin’s up to.
Kevin doubts this - Singer isn’t the sharpest hoe on the farm - but he appreciates his enthusiasm.
“I know,” Brendon says finally. He pokes at his sandwich again. Then he shrugs and says, “It doesn’t matter. He’s-there’s something going on with him, and he’s friends with Tom and I just don’t. You can’t trust them, you know?” He screws his face up. “Besides, I think Ryan’s really warming up to me.”
It sounds a little forced to Kevin, but he nods amiably.
Of course, Spencer has to ruin it by saying, “Dude, I think Ryan’s into Bryar,” and it’s not like it’s not totally obvious that Ross has an enormous crush on Bryar - now that he can observe Ross up close, considering he’s decided to become Spencer’s other best friend, and Kevin doesn’t mind that at all, no siree - but he could’ve let Brendon have his dignity or whatever. His fantasy life with Ross where they’re happy fairies together living in distant and harmonious fairy lands.
Brendon heaves a great big sigh, though, shoulders loosening in this dejected slump. “It’s not fair,” he says, but there’s more resignation in his voice than hurt.
Kevin leans into Brendon’s side and quietly says, “Walker really likes you. And you were really mean to him the other day.”
Brendon pulls a face. “Whatever,” he says, but Kevin can tell he’s thinking, and sometimes that can be a good thing.
*
Zac Efron is super nice. He’s always got a smile for Kevin, and Kevin appreciates his friendliness, he really does, but at the same time, the arm that he swings over Kevin’s shoulders as he steers him out the school doors makes him shudder a little, and not in any good way. Kevin’s skin prickles, and he breaks out in a clammy sweat. He’s not sure if it’s William’s continuous warnings against him, or just something about Efron’s bare arm pressing against Kevin’s nape.
“We should get to know each other,” Efron says, and Kevin wishes Brendon hadn’t peeled off to find Walker after drama club ended.
Kevin figures Spencer is probably lurking around somewhere, but there’s no sign of him when Efron angles a hip into the door and pushes it open without letting go of Kevin.
“Let’s go get dinner or something,” Efron says. “My treat.”
“Uh, I don’t think I should,” Kevin says. He’s trying to figure out how to pull away from Efron without looking like a jerk.
“It’ll be cool,” Efron insists. His smile is turning kind of scary, but Kevin thinks that might be his imagination.
Kevin says, “I need to get home, though,” and that’s pretty much the best argument he has, and Efron eclipses it neatly by saying, “Hey, I’ll just come with,” and squeezing Kevin even tighter against his side.
The November air is cold and damp, but Kevin’s sure that’s not what makes him shiver. And then Carden’s in front of them, scowling, and Kevin thinks oh, this is not good. It’s particularly not good because he’s basically standing in between angry spell casters possibly set on using him as a familiar, and that makes Kevin extra specially panicked.
Carden says, “What the fuck are you doing, Efron?”
Efron just grins wider and says, “Taking my friend Kevin home.”
Carden snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Efron looks momentarily confused. “No, I really-I am,” he says, more confidently.
Carden opens his palm on a burning ball of swirling orange and says, “Really?” all low and dangerous, and when Efron uses one hand to slip out a piece of paper, lighting it up with symbols by breathing on it before crumpling it into a throwable ball, Kevin uses his distraction to duck out from under his arm.
He says, “Stop, okay,” and shoves a little at Efron’s shoulder.
Efron uses all his teeth to smile this time - and Kevin is used to scary teeth, obviously, but something about Efron’s just creep him out even more - and slaps the flat of his hand on Kevin’s wrist, hot and hard.
There’s so much pain, Kevin doesn’t even realize he’s been screaming until after, until Carden’s gripping both his arms tightly, shaking him, and when Kevin tries to talk he can’t - his voice just gives out, a painful rasp.
“Son of a bitch,” Carden says, and he looks-he looks scared.
Kevin’s sitting on the cold asphalt of the parking lot, and Carden’s kneeling in front of him. He can’t see Efron, and he winces when he tries to swallow, and all his colors are messed up, like the sky behind Carden’s head is too bright and too neon and Kevin has to close his eyes - he tilts his head forward, resting it on Carden’s sternum.
“What the fuck?”
Relief floods Kevin’s body, recognizing Spencer’s voice.
“What the fuck?” Spencer says again, and Carden’s chest rumbles in response.
Carden says, “He’s okay,” but even to Kevin’s ears he doesn’t sound particularly convinced.
*
Spencer is mad. Kevin can tell, Spencer is spitting mad. And furious, and enraged, and possibly homicidal - he keeps licking his teeth and growling under his breath.
“That was really stupid,” Spencer says.
Kevin says, “Hey,” because he didn’t even do anything, and then Spencer shakes his head and says, “Efron, Kevin. I’m going to kill him.”
“No, you’re not.” There will be no killing on Kevin’s behalf, none at all. Kevin isn’t still one hundred percent sure what had actually happened, either. Even hours later, he can feel some sort of foreign spark under his skin, some kind of wrongness that he’s pretty sure is pure Efron - like his magic’s invading Kevin’s pores, changing little bits of his molecular make-up, and he’d think that was stupid if Frank hadn’t been right about the whole people making morally dubious familiars thing or whatever. A bonding of sorts, he’d said. Like his body’s trying to get used to that flood of Efron’s magic, like at some point, his body might want more.
“He deserves something,” Spencer says, fists clenching and unclenching. “Can I eat his dog?”
“You’re not eating his dog, oh my god,” Kevin says, horrified. “You’re not serious!”
Spencer scowls. “No.”
Kevin groans and flops back on his bed. He feels better - Spencer had at least let Carden’s healer friend, Chislett, fix him up before taking him home, but he’s exhausted. “I think I need to sleep for a week.”
“Don’t come to school tomorrow.”
Kevin arches an eyebrow at him. “No bloodshed?”
Spencer makes a pained face, but says, “I promise,” and that’s good enough for Kevin. He closes his eyes.
*
Kevin ends up taking a couple sick days, claiming a killer headache and flu-like symptoms, and he doesn’t even have to lie. He feels like he’s got the flu, only with less mucus.
On the second day, he wakes up sometime in the afternoon with William hovering over him. Kevin doesn’t even bother asking him why he’s there. He just struggles into a sitting position and makes sure his spaceship pajama bottoms are covered as much as possible.
William sits in his desk chair, leans his elbows onto his knees and steeples his fingers under his chin. He says, “You shouldn’t blame Mike.”
Kevin blames Carden a little. Maybe not for the thing with Efron, but definitely the thing before, in the dressing room - either way, though, he doesn’t want to talk to William about it. “Tell me about you and Gabe,” he says instead.
William’s eyes cool, but he says, “Remember this, Jonas. Familiars are intimates, but intimates are not necessarily familiars.”
“Uh.” Kevin squints one eye. “What?”
“Vampires,” William says carefully, “make horrible familiars. They deflect more than they absorb, it’s kind of annoying.”
Kevin still doesn’t get it. “So you had a falling out with Gabe because?” he prompts.
William sighs. “I’d think you’d know. Vampires are notoriously possessive, and at some point, Kevin, I would have had to take a familiar. Who was not Gabriel.”
Kevin sees it. Kind of. He gets the possessiveness thing, Spencer’s like a dragon with shiny things, but there’s an emphasis on the plural here - Spencer’s kind of magnanimous with his love. He doesn’t blame William for his misconceptions - he hasn’t had a vampire best friend for the past eight years.
“Do you have a familiar now?” Kevin asks.
“Not as such.” William fidgets, straightens up in his chair. He licks his lips. “There’s Travis. Weres aren’t ideal, but we get along.”
“Right.” Kevin bobs his head. “Okay, but you, uh, probably should’ve explained that to Gabe before you broke his heart, he might’ve liked Travis.”
William opens his mouth, then closes it again. And then he clears his throat and says, “Right,” kind of faintly, and suddenly a lot paler than usual - Kevin hopes he doesn’t pass out; he’s still pretty wiped, and he’s not sure he’d be able to catch William before he hit the floor.
“I mean, it’s none of my business,” Kevin says, just to be nice, it’s not like William’s stayed out of Kevin’s business, “but I know a thing or three about vampires, and there’s probably less of a problem there than you think.”
“Right,” William says again, absently biting his thumbnail. He looks like he’s thinking hard. Kevin finds it funny that he’s helping people think, helping Brendon and William, and here Kevin is, social life a complete and total mess. William turns sharp eyes on Kevin again. “I’m serious about Mike. You shouldn’t blame him for this.”
Kevin rubs a hand through his curls. “I just don’t get it, I guess,” he says with a shrug.
“What’s not to get?” William seems honestly baffled. He pulls up a long leg, rests his foot on the edge of Kevin’s mattress. “You’re compatible, you’re obviously attracted to each other.”
“I’m fifteen,” Kevin says, face hot. Seriously, everyone is crazy here, everything sounds like lifetimes, he swears he can hear forever in every conversation about this, and he’s fifteen. “I don’t know, maybe a date would be nice?” He’s not even sure his parents would let him date a senior.
William nods, solemn. “One step at a time. I see.”
“Maybe,” Kevin says.
“Maybe,” William agrees, only it’s the kind of agreeing where Kevin’s pretty sure William’s just humoring him. And then he picks up Kevin’s latest framed family photo that’s sitting on his bedside table and says, “Oh, you have brothers, this is just fantastic.”
*
Kevin is technically not avoiding Carden.
It’s not his fault that he’s a sophomore, and that there is really no need at all for him to interact with any seniors whatsoever, so long as he avoids the short way to get to history.
In math, Frank says, “So Bob says you’re avoiding Carden,” and then he winks at him, like he thinks they’re in on something together, but Kevin has no idea what that something would be.
“Uh. I’m not?” Kevin is not a smooth liar. He tries to widen his eyes and look innocent anyway.
“Dude, you suck at lying,” Frank says.
Brendon drops down into his seat on the other side of Kevin and says, “You’re lying? Why are you lying?” and Kevin gives up with barely a sigh. He’s super easy, apparently.
He says, “I’m avoiding Carden.” Brendon is sure to approve.
But Brendon just taps his pencil on his notebook and says, “I heard he beat up Zac Efron for you, that’s pretty sweet.”
“No, it’s-”
“Dude, no, that’s sweet,” Frank says, nodding. “That’s fucking awesome, Efron’s a douchebag.”
“He-he wants me to be his familiar,” Kevin says in a low hiss, flicking a cautious gaze towards Mr. Bass. “I’m just a kid!” Kevin hates it when his parents treat him like a kid, but this is one time he feels that argument is completely valid. The more he thinks about it, the more he knows he’s got no business becoming anyone’s familiar, it’s just ridiculous.
Brendon blinks at him. “Well, duh,” he says, and then he starts talking about Walker, and Kevin is happy for him, happy that he’s gotten over some of his issues, but he’d really rather not hear about how clever Clover is and how Walker knows the best stuff about everybody and how he’s kind of awesome at kissing, because it just makes him think of Carden and how much it really, honestly hurt when he realized that he only wanted Kevin because Kevin is apparently spectacularly awesome at conducting magic. He’s not sure even having a real date can fix that.
*
“I take back what I said,” Spencer says.
“What did you say?” Kevin says.
Spencer doesn’t answer. He just blows a cooling breath over a steaming mug of something Kevin doesn’t want to know about and says, “I like this place.”
That’s an easy one. “You like that you accidentally touched Greta’s boobs.”
Spencer grins; this slow, pleased, smug grin, full of shiny white teeth. “I do,” he says. “That’s kind of a highlight.”
“I’d find that pathetic if this wasn’t Greta.” It’s actually impressive. Kevin doesn’t know how that happened without resulting in Spencer’s fiery death or a pencil stabbed through his heart.
“Anyway,” Spencer says, “there’s a party at Butcher’s this weekend.”
Kevin shakes his head. He doesn’t want a repeat of the last time he was at Butcher’s for a party; he thinks that’s how this whole mess started. Maybe if William hadn’t spotted him, he’d still be a tenth grade nobody. “You can go without me.”
“I think you’re taking this way too seriously.”
“Uh, okay, but you remember how Zac almost killed me?” Remember how this town is like Gilmore Girls meets Supernatural meets One Tree Hill? In theory-again, in theory that sounds awesome, but living it is kind of a nightmare. He doesn’t even want to think about what’ll happen when Joe gets to high school.
Spencer’s face turns dark. “Efron’s not going to get anywhere near you ever again.”
Kevin appreciates Spencer’s threatening manner, he really does. “Thanks, Spence, but I’m still not going.”
Spencer huffs. “You’re being dumb.”
“Thanks.” Kevin doesn’t care of he’s being dumb, but it’d be nice if his closest friend would keep his mouth shut about it.
“Don’t make me tell your dad,” Spencer says.
“That’s not fair!” Kevin forgets how good Spencer is at playing dirty sometimes, and how he never feels any remorse.
Spencer shakes his hair back off his forehead, takes another sip from his mug and doesn’t say anything else. He just gives Kevin smug eyes and licks his lips.
*
Kevin feels just as out of place as he thought he would - just as uncomfortable as he had at that party back in September, only at least this time people seem to know him. He gets some nods and smiles, so maybe it wasn’t just because he’s a Lacker, last time. New kids are shunned the world over, no matter how many Others are packed into a single school. It makes him feel a little better.
He still doesn’t think he should be there, though. He’s the only Lacker within sight, and there’s a big group of shape-shifters eying him up like he’s a turkey dinner. Or a sailor lost at sea.
Kevin’s so busy warily watching Pete Wentz leer at him - is he winking at him? - that he doesn’t notice Carden until Carden’s got an arm around his waist and a hand up his shirt.
“Whoa.” Kevin tries to squirm away, but Carden’s got a good grip on him, and Kevin can feel his teeth biting bluntly into his shoulder, can feel Carden’s deep laugh pressing into his back.
“We need to talk,” Carden says.
“This doesn’t feel like talking,” Kevin says. It feels like heavy-petting. His skin tingles, and he has to fight not to melt bonelessly back into the cradle of Carden’s body - that would be totally counterproductive.
Carden's mouth moves against the knob of Kevin’s spine; he can imagine the grin, the one where he thinks he has Kevin right where he wants him. Which he does. Kevin isn’t going anywhere, he’s flushed and frozen, the tips of Carden’s fingers are dipping into his jeans, under the long hem of his button-down. He just hopes nobody can tell.
“I was told I had to ask you out,” Carden says, and that spurs Kevin into action; he jerks his elbow back into Carden’s side - Carden’s hands slip off him with a startled oof, and Kevin finds some small satisfaction in that.
Very small, because he’s mostly still hurt. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says tightly. “I think you should just-leave me alone.”
Carden cocks his head. “Kevin-”
“No, just.” Kevin waves a hand. “I don’t get this, and I don’t think I want to.” Kevin is not going to cry. Crying would be lame; he’s just really sick of being jerked around.
“Hey.” Carden doesn’t grin, doesn’t try to coax him with wicked, glowing eyes or whatever. He reaches out and grasps Kevin’s hand, though. He says, “Hey,” again, like he’s at a loss of what to actually say to him.
Kevin blinks, studiously ignoring the moisture at the corner of his eyes.
“I’m not-this isn’t a game,” Carden says finally. “I can find another familiar, Jonas. I want to date you.”
William’s words echo faintly in the back of Kevin’s mind - intimates aren’t always familiars. But like hell is Kevin going to date a mage whose intimate familiar isn’t him. Vampires might not be monogamous, but Kevin’s pretty sure he is. This is all really confusing. He rubs his fingers over his eyes, swallowing hard. “Mike,” he says.
“I’m sorry about before.” When Kevin looks, Carden’s got a what-can-you-do expression on his face, an invisible shrug. “I couldn’t help it. You just. Fuck, Jonas,” he pushes in close again, and Kevin lets him, “you get me worked up, you know.”
He seems almost embarrassed, and Kevin feels warmth pool low in his belly. It’s sexy, knowing Carden isn’t always as together as he appears. He says, “Mike,” again, and Carden must read something in his voice, something Kevin doesn’t even make a conscious decision about.
Carden slips even closer, tips his head up so their lips are nearly brushing. Kevin’s breath is heavy between them.
“I’m not Efron,” Carden says, soft and low. “It’ll hurt, but it’ll be awesome.”
Kevin remembers. Kevin, uh, wants Carden’s colors all over him. Oh, god. He feels tight and hot, and he whispers, “Why?” Why him? He’s nothing special.
Carden says, a little exasperated, “I like you. I like who you are.” He tilts his head in, like he’s telling Kevin a secret, mouth grazing the outer-shell of Kevin’s ear. “I like your best friend. I like that weird little guy who’s always after Johnson. I like Urie, surprisingly, and I like how you fixed Bill without even really trying. There is nothing, Jonas, that I don’t like about you.” He squeezes Kevin’s ass with both hands, like he’s making a point, and Kevin very carefully does not squeak. “You don’t take shit, and you wear a mean pair of tight pants.”
“Um.” Kevin licks his dry lips. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Carden leans back, looks into Kevin’s eyes. Carden’s gaze is still scary-intense, he’s hard to read, but there’s a softness around his mouth, like he’s just waiting for Kevin’s permission to grin. It might be a really stupidly happy grin, too, Kevin is kind of banking on that.
“Yes?” He means yes to the date, but Carden apparently takes that as yes to everything else - Kevin hopes no one’s looking, because Carden’s mouth is really, truly talented; there’s licking of teeth and Kevin never thought that would be hot, but he lets Carden coax his mouth open wider.
Kevin decides he really likes kissing Carden a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Carden clenches Kevin’s sides before smoothing his hands flat over the small of Kevin’s back, and Kevin feels this low level hum, this spread of heat that just gets hotter, until Kevin has to arch his back, like his body’s trying to get away from the pain and push back into it at the same time.
And then suddenly it’s gone, leaving behind just a tingle, just small zings that dart and spread all over Kevin’s insides, trembling, like they’re looking for places to settle in and stay, and Carden murmurs, “Fuck,” and, “Sorry,” into Kevin’s mouth, and Kevin says, “It’s okay,” and he’s pretty sure it is.
Kevin joins the drama club. He’s pretty sure drama isn’t what Spencer had in mind - to Spencer, extracurricular activities usually means science or chess or mathletes or the newspaper, which, you know, if Spencer’s trying to expand his friendships outside the realm of lameness, Kevin doesn’t think he’s going to find it in those places - but Kevin drags Brendon along with him and they both end up painting sets, since whatever play the school is putting on is already cast. Walker is also painting sets, so things get a little awkward.
Walker just throws grins at Brendon a lot; these honest, knowing grins. Brendon avoids his eyes and does this thing where he talks really loudly and pretends everything Walker does was already done, and it only makes Walker laugh; nothing seems to faze him.
After an hour or so, Brendon flops down on the stage and Walker sits down next to him. Kevin props his paintbrush on the open can of blue paint and watches as Walker starts poking Brendon in the side.
He says, “Brendon, Bren, hey, Brendon,” and then sing-songs, “Oh, Brendon Urie,” while Clover sprawls across Walker’s lap, stretching her front legs out to kneed Brendon’s thigh and purr.
Brendon tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. He scoots over so Clover’s paws fall into the gap between them.
Walker sighs resignedly, but doesn’t try to make up the distance.
Kevin scratches a patch of paint that’s dried on his wrist, and thinks about going home. No one’s doing much of anything, really. Johnson’s hammering at something that doesn’t actually look like it needs hammering on the other side of the stage. Ashlee’s talking on her cell and attempting to pin up the hem of Cassadee’s costume at the same time. Butcher is drawing on the back of Siska’s arm in ballpoint pen.
Brendon suddenly yelps, and Kevin’s eyes snap back to him as Walker says, “Oh, man, sorry, she just-”
“I don’t care,” Brendon says, stomping to his feet, and it finally looks like something serious has cracked through Walker’s amused veneer as he looks up at him.
He frowns and presses a palm over Clover’s head and says, “Brendon, listen, just wait for a sec-”
“Don’t you get it?” Brendon says, waving his arms around. “You can shove your destiny crap up your ass, Jon Walker, there’s nothing you can say that would make me hate you any less, okay?”
Walker seems honestly stunned, wide-eyed. “Uh.” He drops his gaze to his lap and says, small, “Okay.”
Kevin bites his lip, feels something in his chest shift and his eyes sort of prickle, because Spencer had been exactly right; this is a real-life, heart-wrenching, overly-dramatic soap opera right here.
Someone sits down on a crate next to him, and Kevin turns away from Walker - who’s forlornly watching Brendon stalk away, geez - to see Patrick. Kevin has never talked to Patrick before. This is mainly because Patrick is always around Pete Wentz, and Pete Wentz is a scary-ass merman, shape-shifting sea creature thing - a lure you to your death merman, with this glamour that keeps everyone from seeing his razor sharp teeth, all the better to eat you with. And people think vampires are scary, at least they don’t tear you to shreds and wear your skin as a cloak. Of course, Kevin’s dad would kill him if he thought Kevin thought that about mer-people, because Kevin’s never actually met one, and Pete seems kind of okay; he’s got a loud laugh and he’s seriously moody, but while deep-down in the pit of his stomach he makes Kevin fear for his life, Kevin doesn’t actually, rationally think Pete would eat him.
Patrick is a were. What kind, Kevin doesn’t know, because it’s kind of impolite to ask.
Patrick smiles at him. “Hey.”
Kevin nods. “Hi.”
“The thing about seers,” Patrick says, gesturing towards Walker, “is that they’re kind of blind.”
Kevin doesn’t know what that means. As far as Kevin knows, Walker doesn’t even wear glasses. “Yeah?”
Patrick rolls his eyes. “Brendon got majorly burned last year.”
Kevin tries not to look too blank, but from Patrick’s huffing laugh, he doesn’t think it works.
“A really bad break-up,” Patrick says, “with Jon’s best friend.” He shrugs, re-settles his hat on his head. “Nothing against Tom, things just happen sometimes.”
“And, uh, Tom’s a mage?” Kevin asks. He’s pretty sure Patrick means Tom Conrad; he’s seen him hanging around Walker before. A scruffy looking chain-smoker; Kevin thinks he’s in a band, and he scowls a lot and takes pictures of body parts arranged in such way that they look mutilated - there’s a gallery of them down the graphic arts wing. Kevin cannot imagine Brendon dating him. Huh.
“Yeah. Yeah, so. Jon figures he knows how the story ends, but he can’t see all the shit in between. Most seers are socially retarded like that.” Patrick tucks his hands in between his knees. He’s kind of flushed, like he’s nervous, which is stupid, because this is him. Kevin knows he’s nothing impressive.
“Why are you telling me this?” Kevin finally asks.
Patrick quirks an eyebrow at him. “Because Jon’s my friend,” he says. “And I’m hoping you can maybe help him out with Brendon. He’s lovesick, it’s kind of pathetic.”
“Okay,” Kevin says. He’ll help out as much as he can, but he’s not promising anything. Brendon can be kind of stubborn about most things.
“Good,” Patrick bobs his head. “Thanks.” He stares down at his knees, then glances sideways at Kevin, and Kevin feels like he’s itching to say something else. He opens his mouth, but then he presses his lips back together when something over Kevin’s shoulder catches his eyes - they go stony, but not entirely unfriendly.
“Stump.”
“Carden,” Patrick says, getting to his feet.
Kevin’s hands clench into fists - Carden really has to stop sneaking up on him, it’s pretty annoying.
Patrick swipes his palms over his thighs, nodding at Kevin, and says, “See you later,” before moving over to join Walker at the end of the stage.
Carden takes his place on the crate next to Kevin and leans back on his hands. He stares at Kevin and says, “Wanna get out of here?”
*
Carden is, first and foremost, hot.
Kevin is not going to deny that he’s got this-seriously, super hot appeal. He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, since Carden’s not conventionally handsome or anything, but he makes Kevin’s mouth dry up just looking at him - Kevin can admit that to himself now; now that Carden’s got his hands on Kevin’s hips and has him backed up against a mirror, because apparently ‘wanna get out of here’ is code for ‘let’s make out in the backstage dressing room.’
There are calluses on the pads of Carden’s fingers, and he’s rubbing them all over Kevin’s skin - technically, he’s not even holding Kevin there, Kevin’s frozen by the pure freakiness of the moment. Carden’s grip is light, just under the hem of his shirt.
“Um-” Whatever Kevin was going to say is swallowed by Carden’s mouth covering his, and then Carden’s tongue swoops in, and Kevin’s not even sure he’s going to be able to remember where they even are after this is over, or maybe even his home address or Joe’s middle name, because there is biting going on, little nibbles along Kevin’s lower lip - Kevin isn’t stone, he’s just as susceptible to hot mouths as the next boy, even if his dad somehow coaxed him into pledging his virginity last year.
There is still something seriously wrong here, though.
Kevin manages to jerk his head away, wincing as it hits the cool glass behind him, and he says, “Wait, wait,” as Carden presses in closer, following him back. Kevin grabs Carden’s wrists and pushes on them as he wriggles sideways, and Carden doesn’t move, but he doesn’t stop Kevin from moving either. Kevin pants a little and makes sure there’s a good two feet between them before saying, “You don’t even like me, what are you-” He cuts off with a startled noise as Carden reaches out and threads his fingers through Kevin’s, effectively holding his hand, and that’s surreal enough to trip Kevin up. He stares down at their joined hands. “Uh.”
Carden whispers something. It’s something in a different language, which should’ve clued Kevin in, but Kevin just stands there, staring, and then all his limbs are tingling and he’s suddenly no longer wearing a shirt.
He feels his eyes get big and Carden chuckles. He chuckles, like this is all a fun joke, and Kevin feels his entire body flush when he realizes the top button of his jeans is undone too.
Kevin stands frozen and says, voice low, “This isn’t funny,” because nothing about this is funny. He just-he wants to go home. Home home, back in Jersey, where the most he had to worry about was if Spencer was getting too creepy with Kitty again.
Carden loses his grin. And then he spreads a hand over Kevin’s bare chest and says, “No, not funny,” and Kevin feels-he feels this bolt, this blast of almost-electricity that starts somewhere in his chest but ends in the arches of his feet, and it kind of hurts a lot. It kind of makes him want to throw up, and his legs go weak and he must black out for a second, because the next thing he knows he’s got Carden’s arms around him and Carden’s saying, “Sorry, I had to, sorry,” and, “It’s okay, you’re fine,” and, “It’s nothing, it was nothing,” softly into his ear, and Kevin is mortified, he has never been so embarrassed in his life, because Kevin is hard. Kevin is pressed up all along Carden’s front and he’s slightly nauseous and he’s turned on, and there is no way Carden can miss that.
“What-?” Kevin wishes he had the energy to pull away. Instead he buries his head in the crook of Carden’s neck.
Carden pets his back and doesn’t say anything and then when Kevin starts to shift, he pulls away and gets Kevin’s shirt, wordlessly helping him back into his clothes, smoothing the fabric and buttoning his pants - and Kevin is already bright red, but he has to bite his lip when Carden’s knuckles brush his erection. He feels like crying.
Carden doesn’t look like he wants to take anything back, he doesn’t say sorry again, or even explain himself, but he does look really serious. He’s got an almost-scowl on his mouth and he keeps close to Kevin until Kevin can move away from him on his own steam. It takes a while.
Just when Kevin’s reaching for the door, fingers shaky around the knob, Carden says, “This isn’t over, Jonas,” and it’s not mean or threatening or anything. Just like he’s stating simple fact, and something warm and static-y shivers up Kevin’s spine.
*
Kevin thinks it all out. He doesn’t tell Spencer - he figures Spencer already knows, anyhow - and he spends a few days just ruminating on it all, and he thinks-he thinks, and he’s surprised at how upset he is about it, but he thinks everything comes back to this familiar business that William is always talking about.
Kevin knows what familiars are. Kind of. He’s pretty sure familiars ground magic users. Like, they absorb their excess magical energy, so they don’t, uh, blow things up. Kevin doesn’t want to absorb anything, though, and he’s pretty sure that’s what Carden did to him, now that he thinks about it. It hadn’t been fun. Well, his body had obviously kind of liked it, but mentally-mentally, it had been a dick move on Carden’s part.
He’s a person. He’s got feelings and things. He’s not a plant or even a particularly intelligent pet - and now he sees what Frank had been getting at before, huh.
Because dwelling on all that is giving him a pounding headache, though, he decides to meddle in Brendon’s life.
Spencer gives him dubious looks, but he doesn’t stop Kevin from sitting down next to Brendon at their lunch table and saying, “So, hey, Jon Walker’s pretty cool.”
Brendon frowns. “Uh, no.”
Greta says, “He’s sweet,” and then slaps at Spencer’s hand, the one that was steadily slipping across the table toward her purse - Kevin tries not to imagine what Spencer would’ve taken out of it, but it probably involves lip gloss or a hairbrush or her front door key; vampires totally don’t need to be invited inside when they’ve got actual unlocking means, it’s a scary little loophole, even if there hasn’t been a suspected vampire killing in decades.
Brendon frowns some more. He pokes at his sandwich and keeps his shoulders tight.
Singer says, “It’s not like he ever did anything to you,” and Kevin thinks his friends are pretty okay, in the grand scheme of things. Singer gives Kevin a thumbs-up, like he knows what Kevin’s up to.
Kevin doubts this - Singer isn’t the sharpest hoe on the farm - but he appreciates his enthusiasm.
“I know,” Brendon says finally. He pokes at his sandwich again. Then he shrugs and says, “It doesn’t matter. He’s-there’s something going on with him, and he’s friends with Tom and I just don’t. You can’t trust them, you know?” He screws his face up. “Besides, I think Ryan’s really warming up to me.”
It sounds a little forced to Kevin, but he nods amiably.
Of course, Spencer has to ruin it by saying, “Dude, I think Ryan’s into Bryar,” and it’s not like it’s not totally obvious that Ross has an enormous crush on Bryar - now that he can observe Ross up close, considering he’s decided to become Spencer’s other best friend, and Kevin doesn’t mind that at all, no siree - but he could’ve let Brendon have his dignity or whatever. His fantasy life with Ross where they’re happy fairies together living in distant and harmonious fairy lands.
Brendon heaves a great big sigh, though, shoulders loosening in this dejected slump. “It’s not fair,” he says, but there’s more resignation in his voice than hurt.
Kevin leans into Brendon’s side and quietly says, “Walker really likes you. And you were really mean to him the other day.”
Brendon pulls a face. “Whatever,” he says, but Kevin can tell he’s thinking, and sometimes that can be a good thing.
*
Zac Efron is super nice. He’s always got a smile for Kevin, and Kevin appreciates his friendliness, he really does, but at the same time, the arm that he swings over Kevin’s shoulders as he steers him out the school doors makes him shudder a little, and not in any good way. Kevin’s skin prickles, and he breaks out in a clammy sweat. He’s not sure if it’s William’s continuous warnings against him, or just something about Efron’s bare arm pressing against Kevin’s nape.
“We should get to know each other,” Efron says, and Kevin wishes Brendon hadn’t peeled off to find Walker after drama club ended.
Kevin figures Spencer is probably lurking around somewhere, but there’s no sign of him when Efron angles a hip into the door and pushes it open without letting go of Kevin.
“Let’s go get dinner or something,” Efron says. “My treat.”
“Uh, I don’t think I should,” Kevin says. He’s trying to figure out how to pull away from Efron without looking like a jerk.
“It’ll be cool,” Efron insists. His smile is turning kind of scary, but Kevin thinks that might be his imagination.
Kevin says, “I need to get home, though,” and that’s pretty much the best argument he has, and Efron eclipses it neatly by saying, “Hey, I’ll just come with,” and squeezing Kevin even tighter against his side.
The November air is cold and damp, but Kevin’s sure that’s not what makes him shiver. And then Carden’s in front of them, scowling, and Kevin thinks oh, this is not good. It’s particularly not good because he’s basically standing in between angry spell casters possibly set on using him as a familiar, and that makes Kevin extra specially panicked.
Carden says, “What the fuck are you doing, Efron?”
Efron just grins wider and says, “Taking my friend Kevin home.”
Carden snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Efron looks momentarily confused. “No, I really-I am,” he says, more confidently.
Carden opens his palm on a burning ball of swirling orange and says, “Really?” all low and dangerous, and when Efron uses one hand to slip out a piece of paper, lighting it up with symbols by breathing on it before crumpling it into a throwable ball, Kevin uses his distraction to duck out from under his arm.
He says, “Stop, okay,” and shoves a little at Efron’s shoulder.
Efron uses all his teeth to smile this time - and Kevin is used to scary teeth, obviously, but something about Efron’s just creep him out even more - and slaps the flat of his hand on Kevin’s wrist, hot and hard.
There’s so much pain, Kevin doesn’t even realize he’s been screaming until after, until Carden’s gripping both his arms tightly, shaking him, and when Kevin tries to talk he can’t - his voice just gives out, a painful rasp.
“Son of a bitch,” Carden says, and he looks-he looks scared.
Kevin’s sitting on the cold asphalt of the parking lot, and Carden’s kneeling in front of him. He can’t see Efron, and he winces when he tries to swallow, and all his colors are messed up, like the sky behind Carden’s head is too bright and too neon and Kevin has to close his eyes - he tilts his head forward, resting it on Carden’s sternum.
“What the fuck?”
Relief floods Kevin’s body, recognizing Spencer’s voice.
“What the fuck?” Spencer says again, and Carden’s chest rumbles in response.
Carden says, “He’s okay,” but even to Kevin’s ears he doesn’t sound particularly convinced.
*
Spencer is mad. Kevin can tell, Spencer is spitting mad. And furious, and enraged, and possibly homicidal - he keeps licking his teeth and growling under his breath.
“That was really stupid,” Spencer says.
Kevin says, “Hey,” because he didn’t even do anything, and then Spencer shakes his head and says, “Efron, Kevin. I’m going to kill him.”
“No, you’re not.” There will be no killing on Kevin’s behalf, none at all. Kevin isn’t still one hundred percent sure what had actually happened, either. Even hours later, he can feel some sort of foreign spark under his skin, some kind of wrongness that he’s pretty sure is pure Efron - like his magic’s invading Kevin’s pores, changing little bits of his molecular make-up, and he’d think that was stupid if Frank hadn’t been right about the whole people making morally dubious familiars thing or whatever. A bonding of sorts, he’d said. Like his body’s trying to get used to that flood of Efron’s magic, like at some point, his body might want more.
“He deserves something,” Spencer says, fists clenching and unclenching. “Can I eat his dog?”
“You’re not eating his dog, oh my god,” Kevin says, horrified. “You’re not serious!”
Spencer scowls. “No.”
Kevin groans and flops back on his bed. He feels better - Spencer had at least let Carden’s healer friend, Chislett, fix him up before taking him home, but he’s exhausted. “I think I need to sleep for a week.”
“Don’t come to school tomorrow.”
Kevin arches an eyebrow at him. “No bloodshed?”
Spencer makes a pained face, but says, “I promise,” and that’s good enough for Kevin. He closes his eyes.
*
Kevin ends up taking a couple sick days, claiming a killer headache and flu-like symptoms, and he doesn’t even have to lie. He feels like he’s got the flu, only with less mucus.
On the second day, he wakes up sometime in the afternoon with William hovering over him. Kevin doesn’t even bother asking him why he’s there. He just struggles into a sitting position and makes sure his spaceship pajama bottoms are covered as much as possible.
William sits in his desk chair, leans his elbows onto his knees and steeples his fingers under his chin. He says, “You shouldn’t blame Mike.”
Kevin blames Carden a little. Maybe not for the thing with Efron, but definitely the thing before, in the dressing room - either way, though, he doesn’t want to talk to William about it. “Tell me about you and Gabe,” he says instead.
William’s eyes cool, but he says, “Remember this, Jonas. Familiars are intimates, but intimates are not necessarily familiars.”
“Uh.” Kevin squints one eye. “What?”
“Vampires,” William says carefully, “make horrible familiars. They deflect more than they absorb, it’s kind of annoying.”
Kevin still doesn’t get it. “So you had a falling out with Gabe because?” he prompts.
William sighs. “I’d think you’d know. Vampires are notoriously possessive, and at some point, Kevin, I would have had to take a familiar. Who was not Gabriel.”
Kevin sees it. Kind of. He gets the possessiveness thing, Spencer’s like a dragon with shiny things, but there’s an emphasis on the plural here - Spencer’s kind of magnanimous with his love. He doesn’t blame William for his misconceptions - he hasn’t had a vampire best friend for the past eight years.
“Do you have a familiar now?” Kevin asks.
“Not as such.” William fidgets, straightens up in his chair. He licks his lips. “There’s Travis. Weres aren’t ideal, but we get along.”
“Right.” Kevin bobs his head. “Okay, but you, uh, probably should’ve explained that to Gabe before you broke his heart, he might’ve liked Travis.”
William opens his mouth, then closes it again. And then he clears his throat and says, “Right,” kind of faintly, and suddenly a lot paler than usual - Kevin hopes he doesn’t pass out; he’s still pretty wiped, and he’s not sure he’d be able to catch William before he hit the floor.
“I mean, it’s none of my business,” Kevin says, just to be nice, it’s not like William’s stayed out of Kevin’s business, “but I know a thing or three about vampires, and there’s probably less of a problem there than you think.”
“Right,” William says again, absently biting his thumbnail. He looks like he’s thinking hard. Kevin finds it funny that he’s helping people think, helping Brendon and William, and here Kevin is, social life a complete and total mess. William turns sharp eyes on Kevin again. “I’m serious about Mike. You shouldn’t blame him for this.”
Kevin rubs a hand through his curls. “I just don’t get it, I guess,” he says with a shrug.
“What’s not to get?” William seems honestly baffled. He pulls up a long leg, rests his foot on the edge of Kevin’s mattress. “You’re compatible, you’re obviously attracted to each other.”
“I’m fifteen,” Kevin says, face hot. Seriously, everyone is crazy here, everything sounds like lifetimes, he swears he can hear forever in every conversation about this, and he’s fifteen. “I don’t know, maybe a date would be nice?” He’s not even sure his parents would let him date a senior.
William nods, solemn. “One step at a time. I see.”
“Maybe,” Kevin says.
“Maybe,” William agrees, only it’s the kind of agreeing where Kevin’s pretty sure William’s just humoring him. And then he picks up Kevin’s latest framed family photo that’s sitting on his bedside table and says, “Oh, you have brothers, this is just fantastic.”
*
Kevin is technically not avoiding Carden.
It’s not his fault that he’s a sophomore, and that there is really no need at all for him to interact with any seniors whatsoever, so long as he avoids the short way to get to history.
In math, Frank says, “So Bob says you’re avoiding Carden,” and then he winks at him, like he thinks they’re in on something together, but Kevin has no idea what that something would be.
“Uh. I’m not?” Kevin is not a smooth liar. He tries to widen his eyes and look innocent anyway.
“Dude, you suck at lying,” Frank says.
Brendon drops down into his seat on the other side of Kevin and says, “You’re lying? Why are you lying?” and Kevin gives up with barely a sigh. He’s super easy, apparently.
He says, “I’m avoiding Carden.” Brendon is sure to approve.
But Brendon just taps his pencil on his notebook and says, “I heard he beat up Zac Efron for you, that’s pretty sweet.”
“No, it’s-”
“Dude, no, that’s sweet,” Frank says, nodding. “That’s fucking awesome, Efron’s a douchebag.”
“He-he wants me to be his familiar,” Kevin says in a low hiss, flicking a cautious gaze towards Mr. Bass. “I’m just a kid!” Kevin hates it when his parents treat him like a kid, but this is one time he feels that argument is completely valid. The more he thinks about it, the more he knows he’s got no business becoming anyone’s familiar, it’s just ridiculous.
Brendon blinks at him. “Well, duh,” he says, and then he starts talking about Walker, and Kevin is happy for him, happy that he’s gotten over some of his issues, but he’d really rather not hear about how clever Clover is and how Walker knows the best stuff about everybody and how he’s kind of awesome at kissing, because it just makes him think of Carden and how much it really, honestly hurt when he realized that he only wanted Kevin because Kevin is apparently spectacularly awesome at conducting magic. He’s not sure even having a real date can fix that.
*
“I take back what I said,” Spencer says.
“What did you say?” Kevin says.
Spencer doesn’t answer. He just blows a cooling breath over a steaming mug of something Kevin doesn’t want to know about and says, “I like this place.”
That’s an easy one. “You like that you accidentally touched Greta’s boobs.”
Spencer grins; this slow, pleased, smug grin, full of shiny white teeth. “I do,” he says. “That’s kind of a highlight.”
“I’d find that pathetic if this wasn’t Greta.” It’s actually impressive. Kevin doesn’t know how that happened without resulting in Spencer’s fiery death or a pencil stabbed through his heart.
“Anyway,” Spencer says, “there’s a party at Butcher’s this weekend.”
Kevin shakes his head. He doesn’t want a repeat of the last time he was at Butcher’s for a party; he thinks that’s how this whole mess started. Maybe if William hadn’t spotted him, he’d still be a tenth grade nobody. “You can go without me.”
“I think you’re taking this way too seriously.”
“Uh, okay, but you remember how Zac almost killed me?” Remember how this town is like Gilmore Girls meets Supernatural meets One Tree Hill? In theory-again, in theory that sounds awesome, but living it is kind of a nightmare. He doesn’t even want to think about what’ll happen when Joe gets to high school.
Spencer’s face turns dark. “Efron’s not going to get anywhere near you ever again.”
Kevin appreciates Spencer’s threatening manner, he really does. “Thanks, Spence, but I’m still not going.”
Spencer huffs. “You’re being dumb.”
“Thanks.” Kevin doesn’t care of he’s being dumb, but it’d be nice if his closest friend would keep his mouth shut about it.
“Don’t make me tell your dad,” Spencer says.
“That’s not fair!” Kevin forgets how good Spencer is at playing dirty sometimes, and how he never feels any remorse.
Spencer shakes his hair back off his forehead, takes another sip from his mug and doesn’t say anything else. He just gives Kevin smug eyes and licks his lips.
*
Kevin feels just as out of place as he thought he would - just as uncomfortable as he had at that party back in September, only at least this time people seem to know him. He gets some nods and smiles, so maybe it wasn’t just because he’s a Lacker, last time. New kids are shunned the world over, no matter how many Others are packed into a single school. It makes him feel a little better.
He still doesn’t think he should be there, though. He’s the only Lacker within sight, and there’s a big group of shape-shifters eying him up like he’s a turkey dinner. Or a sailor lost at sea.
Kevin’s so busy warily watching Pete Wentz leer at him - is he winking at him? - that he doesn’t notice Carden until Carden’s got an arm around his waist and a hand up his shirt.
“Whoa.” Kevin tries to squirm away, but Carden’s got a good grip on him, and Kevin can feel his teeth biting bluntly into his shoulder, can feel Carden’s deep laugh pressing into his back.
“We need to talk,” Carden says.
“This doesn’t feel like talking,” Kevin says. It feels like heavy-petting. His skin tingles, and he has to fight not to melt bonelessly back into the cradle of Carden’s body - that would be totally counterproductive.
Carden's mouth moves against the knob of Kevin’s spine; he can imagine the grin, the one where he thinks he has Kevin right where he wants him. Which he does. Kevin isn’t going anywhere, he’s flushed and frozen, the tips of Carden’s fingers are dipping into his jeans, under the long hem of his button-down. He just hopes nobody can tell.
“I was told I had to ask you out,” Carden says, and that spurs Kevin into action; he jerks his elbow back into Carden’s side - Carden’s hands slip off him with a startled oof, and Kevin finds some small satisfaction in that.
Very small, because he’s mostly still hurt. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says tightly. “I think you should just-leave me alone.”
Carden cocks his head. “Kevin-”
“No, just.” Kevin waves a hand. “I don’t get this, and I don’t think I want to.” Kevin is not going to cry. Crying would be lame; he’s just really sick of being jerked around.
“Hey.” Carden doesn’t grin, doesn’t try to coax him with wicked, glowing eyes or whatever. He reaches out and grasps Kevin’s hand, though. He says, “Hey,” again, like he’s at a loss of what to actually say to him.
Kevin blinks, studiously ignoring the moisture at the corner of his eyes.
“I’m not-this isn’t a game,” Carden says finally. “I can find another familiar, Jonas. I want to date you.”
William’s words echo faintly in the back of Kevin’s mind - intimates aren’t always familiars. But like hell is Kevin going to date a mage whose intimate familiar isn’t him. Vampires might not be monogamous, but Kevin’s pretty sure he is. This is all really confusing. He rubs his fingers over his eyes, swallowing hard. “Mike,” he says.
“I’m sorry about before.” When Kevin looks, Carden’s got a what-can-you-do expression on his face, an invisible shrug. “I couldn’t help it. You just. Fuck, Jonas,” he pushes in close again, and Kevin lets him, “you get me worked up, you know.”
He seems almost embarrassed, and Kevin feels warmth pool low in his belly. It’s sexy, knowing Carden isn’t always as together as he appears. He says, “Mike,” again, and Carden must read something in his voice, something Kevin doesn’t even make a conscious decision about.
Carden slips even closer, tips his head up so their lips are nearly brushing. Kevin’s breath is heavy between them.
“I’m not Efron,” Carden says, soft and low. “It’ll hurt, but it’ll be awesome.”
Kevin remembers. Kevin, uh, wants Carden’s colors all over him. Oh, god. He feels tight and hot, and he whispers, “Why?” Why him? He’s nothing special.
Carden says, a little exasperated, “I like you. I like who you are.” He tilts his head in, like he’s telling Kevin a secret, mouth grazing the outer-shell of Kevin’s ear. “I like your best friend. I like that weird little guy who’s always after Johnson. I like Urie, surprisingly, and I like how you fixed Bill without even really trying. There is nothing, Jonas, that I don’t like about you.” He squeezes Kevin’s ass with both hands, like he’s making a point, and Kevin very carefully does not squeak. “You don’t take shit, and you wear a mean pair of tight pants.”
“Um.” Kevin licks his dry lips. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Carden leans back, looks into Kevin’s eyes. Carden’s gaze is still scary-intense, he’s hard to read, but there’s a softness around his mouth, like he’s just waiting for Kevin’s permission to grin. It might be a really stupidly happy grin, too, Kevin is kind of banking on that.
“Yes?” He means yes to the date, but Carden apparently takes that as yes to everything else - Kevin hopes no one’s looking, because Carden’s mouth is really, truly talented; there’s licking of teeth and Kevin never thought that would be hot, but he lets Carden coax his mouth open wider.
Kevin decides he really likes kissing Carden a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Carden clenches Kevin’s sides before smoothing his hands flat over the small of Kevin’s back, and Kevin feels this low level hum, this spread of heat that just gets hotter, until Kevin has to arch his back, like his body’s trying to get away from the pain and push back into it at the same time.
And then suddenly it’s gone, leaving behind just a tingle, just small zings that dart and spread all over Kevin’s insides, trembling, like they’re looking for places to settle in and stay, and Carden murmurs, “Fuck,” and, “Sorry,” into Kevin’s mouth, and Kevin says, “It’s okay,” and he’s pretty sure it is.