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It was not often that Kevin couldn't sleep. Due to his heavily sun-centred circadian rhythm and, of course, Strex conditioning, it usually came to him quick, unhindered. The moment the sun would set in Old Desert Bluffs and he was far enough ahead on work to be allowed a moment's rest, he was unconscious the moment his still fully-dressed body hit the bed.
Yet now, he lays in a plush, heavily-blanketed bed; dressed in nothing but a large sweater that read "CACTUS PARK UNIVERSITY" that did not belong to him and a knee-high velvet sock; no work or threat related to unproductivity looms over him; but sleep will not befall him. Even the warm desert breeze worming it's way through the house's wooden, concrete, and bone walls into its dark rooms doesn't lull him away. Even the hot body that presses against his, emitting beautiful, quiet, oaky snores isn't enough to pull him into dreams. Even the meltingly relaxing daze of post-orgasmic bliss can't relax him into slumber.
He stares, unblinking, at the ceiling. Of course, he needn't blink anymore except to express emotion and convey silent words, but right now he was especially unblinking. His head aches, but that doesn't bother him. Pain is just a thing that happens to tell you you're doing something right. Or wrong. Just that you're doing something. He is beyond accustomed to pain, so this is not the factor keeping him awake.
If he paid attention to all the pain he felt, well, that'd just be silly of him! At nearly all times he was having some sort of phantom pain, whether it be where his right leg was amputated or his empty eye sockets or one of the many- maybe thousands- of scars that marked his body. At other times, he was having corporeal pains. Perhaps the fragile, incorrectly healed bones of his left leg were splintering or something sharp had gotten into his eye. Or, of course, the sting of his fresh smile was lingering. What simple, pleasurable feelings to remind you of your own existence.
He wonders how Lauren is doing with her smile- now tattooed over with a frown. When she had first, unfortunately, stumbled upon the up-and-coming little town of Desert Bluffs Too, she had been unwilling to let go of the past.
"This isn't then, Lauren. This is now-"
Kevin had told her;
"This is the here and the now. The past is behind us, gone and going farther away! This town- Desert Bluffs Too- is my town. I am in charge, not Strex."
He had continued.
"Not Strex ever again."
Is what he wanted to, but didn't say.
Lauren had fought back against his leadership of the town. She insisted that because she, as President of StrexCorp, had been in charge of Old Desert Bluffs, that she should still be in this desert otherworld. In charge of him. He laughed at this! Oh how he laughed and he laughed! Eventually Lauren began to laugh along too. Not because she understood why he was laughing, but because she felt like she should match his joy for her own safety.
She just didn't understand that he was in charge now! The first few days after her arrival in town, she tried to take control of everything. The businesses, the homes, the rollercoaster, even the lighthouse! She even thought she could retake control over the radio station! Over Kevin! Gosh, what a silly goose she was!
In order to teach her about his current position, he explained it to her during a visit she made to the station. He explained it by cornering her and pinning her still against the wall by his hand around her throat in a friendly hug. He explained it by using his handy smile knife to draw her a bright, gaping smile. Had she really ever smiled before then? He couldn't say. After gifting her the smile, he himself gave her his biggest grin before returning to his desk and preparing for the post-weather segment.
Lauren left the station that day with a joyous grin and the understanding that Desert Bluffs is, has been, and always will be, his town. Of course, he elected her as mayor to show that he understood how much her presidential position had meant to her. After all, his town is all about kindness and happiness!
He wonders, briefly, if any of that has to do with his inability to sleep. "No," he decides almost immediately after having the thought, "Definitely not."
Next to him, Charles shifts in his sleep; the rest coming to him like blood rushes to a drain. His head rests on Kevin's shoulder, his arm wraps around him, relaxed but tight. Kevin idly plays with his beautiful hair. It's soft, still silky and mostly clean from the shower he had taken earlier. He smells like rose soap.
Kevin thinks about Carlos. He thinks about his hair, his lavender soap. He doesn't know how he got that soap in the desert otherworld, but he doesn't know how they got most things in the desert otherworld. He also doesn't know why Carlos stopped talking to him when he left. He very rarely texts, never calls, no mail or emails or congratulatory videos. Sure, it had been years since they were here together, and Carlos didn't have the same feelings for him as he did, but they were still friends. Good friends! And, it's perfectly fine that he never reciprocated his feelings, it's not like Kevin liked him anymore.
That was a lie. Charles had told him that it wasn't healthy to lie to himself. Perhaps he wasn't *in* love with Carlos, but he still loved him as a person, and still had some residual feelings for him. You can't be in love with someone and have all the passion and affection for them fade. Even after months, years, decades, centuries, you'll still feel a warmth in your chest when you hear their name. Still remember happy moments with them. Still miss them when they're not around. It was a tricky thing, and it made him... unhappy in some ways.
He doesn't understand why Carlos couldn't love him the way he loved Cecil. He doesn't understand why Carlos couldn't love him the way he loved Charles, but could still love Carlos himself at the same time. He's not sure he ever will, and he does not like that. It makes him feel not very joyful.
He thinks about Cecil. It's strange how little he really knows about him, considering their double-ness. He knows the things Carlos had told him: the way he grinds his coffee himself and how his hair gets tousled in his sleep; how he's brave and willing to do anything for his town and family. He knows what he had learned in his brief conversations with Cecil: mostly that he's not the best at following orders from giant corporations and that he hates Kevin's smile. He hated Kevin in general. Kevin doesn't know why that is. He certainly doesn't hate Cecil. But, he's just not a fan of his. Not one of anyone in lovely Desert Bluffs.
There's something else about Cecil. Something he knows but doesn't know. When he had first heard Cecil's voice he sounded familiar, but he had never met him before. Something about his voice had made him happy, then unhappy. Now he is... confused. It worsens his headache to try to understand.
He thinks about his father. He can't remember much of his childhood- he can't remember much before Strex at all- but the things he remembers makes him feel... something! One of those strange emotions that feel just so joyful you feel your guts twisting up and like you're going to vomit! He recalls how, during the holidays, his dad would make sweet, sugary caramel. How it burned as he poured its molten form into his and his sibling's hands! The scars on his palms and lips begin to burn and burn from the memory.
He remembers when, as a child and while playing in the living room, he saw a bird fly in through the open window. A little finch! It was adorable! Hopping around on the floor in search of squirming worms to eat and singing a little song! His father came in at the noise and grinned when he saw the bird. How wonderful it was! He had swiftly walked over to it, lifted his foot, and stomped down on the finch. Its bones cracked under his boot, dead in an instant. Still, his father brought his foot down on it again and again and again. He remembers crying at this as a kid. He could still cry then.
He thinks about Strex. StrexCorp Synernists Incorporated. Before they took control of Old Desert Bluffs, Vanessa and himself would joke about and poke fun at the company; how they thought they could take over a town like the Bluffs. He's not quite sure what was funny about that now.
Strex had been... great is his first thought. Wonderful, joyous, fantastic. More and more, however, he has begun to realize maybe it wasn't so great or wonderful or joyous or fantastic. Maybe it could more properly be described as horrible and draining and traumatic and something that had ripped away pieces of him he could never get back- figuratively and literally.
His fingers traced the outline of his eye socket as he wondered what it would feel like to still have his eyes. He has forgotten that feeling. His eyes now, or lack thereof, are something even Carlos couldn't understand. They are seemingly endless despite him being able to sense anything that has found their way in them. Their walls, which exist despite their endlessness, are coated with a thick black substance. It resembles tar and tastes sweet and of petrichor, whatever that was. Sometimes, when he strains, it will drip out.
Most people didn't like his eyes. Many were afraid of them, calling Kevin "horrific" and "monstrous". Others, certain ex-company presidents and mayors who shan't be named, for example, like them because other people don't. Because they terrify those other people. Others still were neutral on them, any interest they have had in them being purely scientific.
Charles, however, beautiful, wonderous Charles, loves his eyes. Genuinely. When they first met, he had looked into them, deep and earnest, and saw nothing other than Kevin looking back. They were just two humans, two people, who had a connection as humans, people do. No fear, no pity, no dehumanization, just honest feeling.
Charles is one of the best things to ever happen to him, he decides. Early in their relationship he had been unsure of that for many reasons: residual Strex-y stuff, Carlos, and, of course, his uncertainty with Donovan.
He thought about Donnie, currently fast asleep in his bed a few rooms over. For him now, it was hard to believe he ever disliked the kid. Well, maybe not hard to believe. It's just such a drastic difference than how he felt now! He loves Donnie! He'd do anything for him! But before, the thought of him of all people letting this tiny, fragile thing into his life, it unnerved him.
It wasn't just concern for Donovan that had made him hesitant. It mostly wasn't that. He, Kevin, had just been... selfish. He wanted Charles to himself. Not even really Charles, he wanted the version of Charles he had created in his head. This child, he thought he had been getting in the way of what he wanted. And that made him unhappy.
Now he knew that Donnie is what he wanted, even if he didn't know it then.
And Charles, who was continuing to snore on his shoulder: how could he have ever wanted any version of him but this one? The one who loved him unconditionally in spite of his selfishness; who loved his family more than anything. He's so patient and caring and all-around amazing. Amazing at teaching and parenting and cooking, at speaking and decorating and working. Not to mention amazing at loving in all meanings of the term.
Kevin's not sure why he can't sleep tonight, but he's deciding to take it as an opportunity. An opportunity to think, maybe have an epiphany or two. His comfortable clothes nor the hot desert breeze nor Charles's heat and love may not be enough to lull him away, but in general they are enough. This is enough. Kevin is happy.