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The dealer is suspicious, but at this moment, Kerry is past caring. She is promising never experienced highs, and that’s exactly what the rocker is looking for. He regrets giving Archangel to V. His hands are itching for the gun like he’s itching for the drug, to the point he became angry at V for taking it and disappearing with it.
It’s been ten days since that strange phone call, and Kerry is becoming crazy along with the rest of the city. His case is more personal: people lost assets, security, a career, he lost the love of his life, so really, he doesn’t give a fuck about them.
Since the gun is unavailable, Kerry has to turn to other means of blowing himself up: he can’t bear his own mind a minute more, and that’s exactly what the girl is selling him.
There are seven pills in the little packet, and only one indication: wait at least six hours between each of them, ideally half a day. The ambiguity of the prescription should raise more flags, and a voice that sounds suspiciously like Johnny of all people, tells him he shouldn’t take that.
He does anyway.
The pill is exactly what it promises: for five hours, Kerry feels free. He still wonders about V, but instead of dread or heartbreak, he only feels floaty. As he continues to think about V, since apparently he can think of nothing else right now, memories of their time together come to him. Their first date after their sexcapade on Kovachek’s boat, that time V tried to do yoga with him in the morning, or that evening Kerry took the merc to a five star restaurant, only for V to ask for a steak and fries.
He’s snorting and giggling all by himself in the middle of the lounge room upstairs. The high leaves him feeling thirsty, but better. The rush slows down and there is no crash, it’s more like a quiet landing.
Kerry takes a swim in his pool, feeling at peace.
It doesn’t last. He takes pills number two three days later, surprised at himself for waiting this long. Outside, the city is burning around him, fires, both metaphorical and real, hiking up the slope to North Oak and again, Johnny’s voice tells him he should start looking for a way out. That’s the moment he takes the pill.
He floats, looking at the stars he can’t see, laying down next to the grand piano. He dreams the ceiling opens and he can see the moon and the galaxies. He flies away with a light heart. At some point, just as he’s starting to feel lonely, arms close around him.
“Hey,” V’s voice says right into his ear. A kiss lands on his neck, fingers brush the hem of his shirt. Kerry smiles and turns his head, straining for a real kiss.
V’s lips are dry against his, and Kerry can taste his smile against his mouth. He turns fully in his arms, and they fall into the universe.
When he wakes up, Kerry can’t help but smile.
The sensation dims too fast, and he wants that rush back. He takes pill number three the next day, and number four the day after. Each time it’s better, each time V feels closer, more real.
Pill number five is hot like a midsummer day. He feels V’s mouth around his hard cock, he arches back with a whine and can’t stop stroking V’s hair. It’s so soft under his hands, just like his lashes when Kerry wipes the tension tears away. V playfully bites his thumb, and continues sucking on his fingers while he teases Kerry open. The musician’s legs fall easily apart for him, and when V’s lips trace a burning path downs to his thighs, he shivers and beg for more.
V’s cock is perfect inside of him, and his hands are strong where they hold his hips, and his smile is devious when he starts thrusting. He moves sinfully, makes Kerry gasp and throws his head back as his brain fizzes with pleasure. The barrier of their skin is too much, Kerry wishes they could fuse, become one, and it suddenly happens: he doesn’t know where he ends and where V starts, and the pleasure is all his. His body takes fire, his blood turns to stardust, and the sounds he makes are not human anymore.
When he comes, it feels like an earthquake.
The aftermath is depressing.
Six hours later, he takes pill number six.
They take a trip through fields of gold, waste hours kissing under a cherry tree, naked, slowly rubbing against each other. The valley is lush and green, no place like this exists on earth anymore. The sun filters through the canopy, and Kerry can see each leaf clearly. He loses focus when V takes him, slow and deep. He wishes it would never end.
Which is why, as soon as the dream fades, he takes the last pill.
He falls asleep in V’s arms, a smile at the corner of his mouth, and a kiss brushed over his brow.
“Sleep well, babe,”
Darkness welcomes him. It’s warm and quiet.
It’s just perfect.
He wakes up to alarm sounds, to people shouting at each other, and to pain. His whole body feels like a giant bruise, but the worst is concentrated around his chest. He tries to breathe and it feels like the air itself is acidic. Intrusive hands rams over his body, moving him this way and that, up onto a stretcher. In flashes, he sees his ceiling, the sky, and the inside of a trauma team AV. He wishes he wouldn’t recognise that so easily but it’s not his first rodeo.
Being alive, awake and himself is really awful for a few days. The clinic welcomed him back with a tired but genuine smile: he knows the staff by name, it hasn't changed much since last time. They keep him for a few days, just enough to make sure the drug has no lasting effects, and offer him to subscribe to their counseling program. Kerry says thanks but no thanks, and gets back home to sit in the dark.
It dawns on him, as he’s sitting on the piano bench, looking at the black and white keys, that this is it. That’s his life. It’s not just a shitty moment to pass, it’s permanent. V was like a match in the dark: it burned bright and fast. Too fast. Kerry barely had time to enjoy his light and his warmth.
The piano makes a discordant noise when Kerry puts his elbows on the board and buries his face into his hands.
He falls asleep on one of the downstairs couches, incapable of taking his old carcass upstairs to the bed. Plus, he nearly died in the sheets, so he thinks maybe it’s best if he doesn’t go there yet.
He dreams of V, of gentle hands touching his face, fingers trembling softly. He dreams that V calls his name softly, and then lies down next to him, gathering him in his arms. It’s a nice dream, so he stays there a little longer, and buries his face into V’s neck with a sigh.
When he opens his eyes, he’s not expecting much. The light of the day is fading, meaning he lost another day but he’s lost so many it brings no reactions in his mind. He registers that he’s warm, and that there is a body next to him on the couch.
He jolts, suddenly wide awake, and nearly over balance, but strong arms catch him.
“Hey, Ker,” V murmurs, because it’s him, or Kerry thinks it’s him.
He’s lost weight and his features seem sharper due to the hollowness of his cheeks. He’s lost his smile, and sleep apparently, if the dark bags under his eyes are any indication.
Kerry looks at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly parted to let out ragged pants. V gives him a tired smile, but when there is still no answer, his expression turns unsure. It snaps Kerry out of his shock.
“Are you really there?” he asks and V winces, eyes suddenly turning sad.
“Yeah. Yeah I’m here.”
“It’s not a dream?”
V’s eyes sadden even more and he shakes his head slightly.
“No. You’re awake.”
Kerry takes a few seconds to assess that declaration: he does feel awake, but he’s not sure he can trust the sensation yet.
“Sorry it took me so long to come back to you. I…” V stops, works his mouth around the words, but they can’t seem to get out.
“I came as soon as I could. The screamsheets said you…”
Oh yeah. Of course it’s probably all over the news, in an attempt to distract people from the fact the world is crumbling around them. His misery is endlessly fascinating to the mass, and reassuring because it means fame and money are no shield against despair either.
“You were gone,” Kerry utters, “I thought you were gone.”
V seems to deflate and he slowly rises to a seated position, briefly looking to the side with a guilty expression. He then reaches for the musician’s fingers and his hands are shaking when they hold Kerry’s. He brings them to his lips, and kisses his palm reverently.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited that long.”
“Why didn’t you — Where were you?” Kerry chokes out, and V’s expression crumbles.
“I was… First I was at Vik's, then… Back at my place. I needed time to… Process things — think. I didn’t — I didn’t realize you would be that worried.”
Kerry wants to laugh, if only because the other option is to cry.
“You called me. It was weird, you were weird. Then the news said something happened in the Arasaka tower. And then you disappeared. I couldn’t reach you I — fuck!”
V winces and nods like he’s listening to a voice in his head. Before Kerry can inquire about that, V goes on.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Ker. It’s just. Johnny’s gone and I…” he stops, and Kerry gets the feeling he wanted to say something more but can’t right now. Instead, he raises his eyes to Kerry’s and begs him to understand “I should have come right away but I was…”
“Lost,” Kerry finishes, because it’s not like he doesn’t know the feeling.
V nods, closes his eyes and his expression turns wounded. His grip over Kerry’s hands gets painful.
“Fuck, what were you thinking? If I had lost you, too…” He murmurs against the musician’s fingers, and he sounds terrified by the prospect.
With a raw sound, V surges up and kisses him, making Kerry gasp into the embrace. He practically climbs in his lap to feel him closer.
It’s nothing like in the dream, it’s so much better because Kerry can feel his weight, his strength when V tightens his arms around him, his heat when he slips his hands under Kerry’s top.
“You scared me,” V breathes between kisses, “fuck, I just needed time.”
Kerry refuses to promise anything, he feels tired, and now that the rush of V’s presence is starting to fade, anger rises instead.
“I’m tired of losing the people I love,” he retorts with a frown, “you don’t get to disappear on me and expect to find me right where you left me. You promised to chase the shadows away, V, you gonna keep that promise?”
The young man looks up at him and through his eyes, Kerry can see his weary soul. It’s strange to see someone so young being so burdened.
“I’m still dying, Ker,” he confesses softly, and the oxygen freezes in the rocker’s lungs. “It — it didn’t work. Johnny’s gone, but it’s only slowing the process. I’m still dying,” he repeats and tears gather in his eyes. V lowers his head and blink furiously, refusing to let them fall.
“t’s why I needed time… To process it all, to… Think.”
Silence stretches between them, and in the silence, one conviction blooms.
“I’m not gonna let you die, V,” he breathes out like it’s the most obvious thing. The young man looks up and in that moment, he really looks his age: barely thirty, and still so hungry for life. It fills Kerry with rage to think of how the world is trying to destroy that.
“I’m tired of losing the people I love,” Kerry says with more force, “Stay with me and we will find a way.”
V chuckles sadly, and gives him a small smile.
“It’s gonna take a miracle, Ker.”
Gently, Kerry wipes his tears and kisses his forehead.
“You’re not dead, you came back, it’s already a miracle, what’s one more?”