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Kevin knew it wouldn’t last; he knew they wouldn’t last.
Cecil and Carlos were too warm, too good for it to be anything but temporary. Every day, Kevin came back to two people who tried so hard to make their house feel like a home.
They tried, but Kevin just knew it wouldn’t last.
He knew it because he still felt some caution from Cecil when he was around. He knew it because even though they slept in the same bed, he would always wake up to find Cecil and Carlos wrapped around each other while he was left cold and alone.
And yes, they tried, but soon enough they would get tired of it and they would leave him too.
But it was fine.
It was just fine.
Kevin was happy. And, well, didn’t he have work to do? It would do him no good to sit around and do nothing when there were things that needed to be done.
(For his show with Cecil. What would happen when Cecil finally had enough? Would their show fade back into just him? Back to how it was before Kevin came along?)
* * *
It started with chest pain.
Kevin woke up one morning (it would have been Wednesday, but Wednesday got canceled, apparently) alone, as per usual. It’s just, that morning, it felt different. Just seeing them–Cecil and Carlos–sent pain shooting through his chest.
Physical pain.
Yes, it always hurt, but never this much. It was never so debilitating that he woke up without a smile. It never hurt so much he had to curl in on himself and press a palm to chest trying to will the pain away.
The pain had been there from the start, from the first day Carlos kissed amd asked him to join him and Cecil. It had been there from the first time Cecil curled into his side when watching a movie. The pain had always been there, but it was always dull. Not this sharp and bright.
Kevin…he hadn’t felt pain like this since Strex.
Cecil groaned. Oh, something Kevin did must have woken him up. Carlos had always been the light sleeper, not Cecil.
“Kevin?” he asked.
Kevin forced himself to uncurl and widened his smile.
“Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
“Great!”
Each word sent another wave of pain through his chest, each breath and beat of his heart felt like knives stabbing through his skin.
“Kevin?” Carlos, this time, asked.
Ah, did he flinch?
“Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine,” Kevin responded.
“You seem like you’re in pain.”
“It’s nothing.”
Carlos sighed. Oh, how Kevin hated being the cause of that. If only he hadn’t let the pain consume him, if only he had ignored it like he always used to do.
“You’re not okay,” Carlos stated. “I’m a scientist, I can tell.”
“I’m not a scientist and even I can tell,” Cecil added. “Do you want to take the day off work?”
“No.”
Kevin would be fine. He could still breathe and speak, that’s all that really mattered. He’d worked through worse pain, and it had been helpful. There was too much to do for him to miss work just because of some pain.
He could feel Carlos’s disappointment radiating off of him.
Cecil, though, had to understand. The radio meant just as much to him as it did Kevin, and it had always been him that stayed up with him until ungodly hours of the night because they had to prepare things for the next day's broadcast. Carlos always ended up dragging them to bed, but Cecil had to understand. Why did he even offer?
“Cecil?” He asked.
“You look, and pardon my frankness, terrible. I can cover for you today. I recommend you take the day to rest.”
“No, no I’m fine!”
Kevin tried to sit up. Almost immediately, the pain in his chest forced him back down. He felt Calrlos’s steadying hand on his back, and tried again, this time making it up.
“Kevin…” Carlos warned.
“I’m going.”
Their concern felt nice, it did, but how long would it last? Work–the radio, the clean studio devoid of blood–it was something that would, even if it meant Kevin had to make his own radio.
So he went.
Carlos cooked breakfast, Cecil helped him out of bed, and Kevin was great! So what if his chest hurt so much he could just barely walk?
He made it to the station fine and he reported that day’s events perfectly. The more he focused on work, the more he let his mind drift off and let his mouth run, the easier it became to ignore the pain.
That is, until Hey There, Cecil. Despite many things being reworked to fit Kevin, that segment remained. Cecil was much too trusted, much too beloved by the town to have it be given up.
Carlos liked to send them messages through that sometimes, so maybe it was on Kevin for not considering the possibility.
“Hey there, Cecil,” The message started, “What would you do if someone you cared about was neglecting their health in order to work? My boyfriend woke up sick today but refused to stay home, what should I do? Signed, Concerned Partner.”
Cecil didn’t even glance Kevin’s way, but he had the distinct feeling everything he was about to say was aimed more toward him than at Carlos. Something about that made him once more aware of the pain.
“Hey there, Concerned,” Cecil said. “Well, funny coincidence, I actually had the same problem this morning. I don’t know that there's much you can do if he’s already out, but you might have to take more…drastic measures tomorrow. His health comes first, after all. I recommend, oh let me think, simply refusing to let him get up, making him the best breakfast he’s ever had, and bribing him with cat pictures. No one can resist cats. I can send over Khoshekh pictures if needed.”
Finally, Cecil did look over at Kevin. He held his gaze as he continued, “Taking care of the people you care about takes top priority, I hope he gets well soon.”
It should have made Kevin happy to hear that, to hear they cared, but it did nothing more than send a fresh wave of blinding pain through his chest.
Why was this happening, and why now?”
* * *
It took two more days before the pain turned into vines.
Carlos and Cecil did not end up keeping him home, but he did end up realizing something. Each word of concern, each kiss on the forehead, and each show of affection made it worse. It came to a head when Cecil of all people kissed him goodnight, and Kevin felt something come to life inside him. Not in the way people always said love should, either.
No, it was much, much worse than that.
There were no mirrors in their house due to Cecil’s terrible fear, but still, Kevin had to check his smile somehow. A quick trip to the handheld mirror he kept in the invisible door under the sink in the bathroom revealed the truth.
Plants. Vines, with thorns. And it grew every time Kevin was shown care. Why?
He knew Cecil and Carlos would hurt him eventually, but not like this. Not in a way that would tear him apart piece by piece, rip by rip, for every time Kevin was allowed some form of true joy. Not from Strex, not from anyone but those who truly did care.
(Did they? Did Kevin have any way to know for sure?)
Carlos found him in the bathroom not ten minutes later. Kevin didn’t even notice he had entered until he felt his hands on his back, running up and down. It was then that he turned his head and noticed him kneeling next to him. He knew Carlos saw it, he knew he couldn’t hide something that big from him.
Slowly Carlos took the mirror from his hands.
“How long has this been going on?” he asked.
Kevin shrugged. Tried to, but those vines–
“How long,” Carlos repeated. Not demanding, never demanding, but urging.
“This just started today,” Kevin admitted.
It was getting more and more painful to talk, but he would manage. He had before, and he would continue to do so.
“I knew we should have tried harder to keep you home. Cecil and I have been worried sick, and now–”
“I’m okay.”
“Stop it, you are not okay, and I wish you would let us help! Let me look at this, let me see if there’s anything I can do. I can find a cure, I can fix this.”
“I’m okay, I promise.”
He wanted Carlos to leave, he wanted him to stay. Why?
Why, why, why?
Carlos kept rubbing his back and it took everything in Kevin to keep up the smile. It felt so nice but it hurt. It hurt so much.
“Please don’t tell Cecil,” he said instead of, well, anything he was thinking. It had taken long enough to build the trust they had now (it was still hesitant, though, and that hurt too). He didn’t want to put that trust to test right now.
(He didn’t want Cecil to leave sooner)
“Cecil is worried,” Carlos said.
“He doesn’t need to worry more.”
“He wants to know what’s up with you! He cares about you, Kevin, let him. Let us. Please.”
Kevin shook his head, to which Carlos sighed.
“Okay, fine. Let’s say that, for now, I don’t tell Cecil. Will you let me study you? Will you let me find a way to fix this?”
Again, Kevin shook his head. Whatever was happening to his body, he would handle himself. He didn’t need anyone else to help him, he didn’t want anyone to.
(He did. He really, really did. Since when was that the case?)
“Please,” Carlos urged. “I want to help you, we both do. If you don’t want me to tell him, fine, as long as you give me a chance to figure out what’s wrong and how to deal with it. That’s all I ask. Just a chance.”
Once more, Kevin shook his head. He was going to get through it on his own. He would.
Carlos sighed. One of his hands moved to Kevin’s head, and the vines started stabbing. Piercing.
He focused on the tiles beneath his knees. Cold, so very cold. What color were they again? Right, yes, purple. Of course. What else would it be?
All he had to do was focus on that instead of the thorns. On the cols, purple tiles. That’s it. He just had to ignore the way Carlos was pressing kisses down his neck, and shoulders, and back, and oh. Oh. It hurt.
“I’m okay,” he muttered. “I promise.”
That was probably the phrase he’d said most in his life. Probably, because the memories before Strex were all fuzzy. But it seemed too instinctual to smile and say some variation “I’m fine!” or, “I’m okay!” for it to be something new.
“You’re really not going to let me do anything, are you?” Carlos asked.
For hopefully the last time that night, Kevin shook his head.
“Fine. Fine, okay. Just…let me help you to bed, yes? Cecil is waiting.”
“Don’t tell him.”
“I know, but if this keeps getting worse, I will. I don’t care how much you beg, if you don’t get better in the next week, I will tell Cecil and I will ask him to cover for you while I figure out what is wrong. I will do it by force if necessary.”
Kevin nodded. He would be fine, in a week. Things like this always went away quickly. Well, he’d never experienced something quite like this, but he’d had a cold before and it only lasted a handful of days. Whatever this was would be no exception.
He let Carlos help him up and walk him to their bed.
Cecil didn’t ask what was wrong–probably because of some form of silent communication between him and Carlos–but instead opened his arms and wrapped Kevin into a hug the moment he got within reach.
The next morning was the first time Kevin woke up with someone curled around him. Somehow, he couldn’t make himself feel good about it.
* * *
Kevin may have been wrong when he said it would go away within a week. After about 6 days, the vines grew flowers.
That was worse than the pain and the vibes combined. It wasn’t as easy to hide his fits of coughs followed by petals spilling out of his mouth. Sometimes it was accompanied by blood, though Kevin always cleaned that up well, knowing how Cecil felt about it.
Sometimes he hesitated, though, because he’d missed having blood-soaked walls. But he was a guest in Cecil and Carlos’s home, he would not be a bad guest.
Truly, it was a miracle they hadn’t caught on yet. Carlos was a scientist, wouldn’t he have noticed how each touch set his skin on fire? How each concerned glance sent him into coughing attacks?
And Cecil! Oh, Cecil. Didn’t he know that each time he acted sweet and caring made the flowers of misery bloom ever so much more beautifully?
No. They didn’t. Because Kevin was a guest. This was it. He could feel it. He was starting to be too much for them and that would be it.
Tomorrow, Carlos would come and offer his help once more, and Kevin would keep refusing. Carlos would give up. Kevin would be left alone.
But he was okay!
For now, all he had to do was worry about getting through that weird weather they put on in Nightvale, giving his portion of the ending monologue, and then preparing tomorrow’s show.
But one thing at a time.
He looked over to Cecil just in time to hear him say “And now, the weather.”
Kevin loved to hear Cecil’s voice. He lived to hear how it changed from when he was talking into a mic to when he was talking normally at home. He loved it, he did, but today, thinking about it made his throat itch in a way that signaled another one of those awful coughs.
The music started playing, and Cecil quickly turned his way.
Kevin could predict what he was about to say before he even said it. He stopped him before he even got a word out.
“I’m good. Just…let me run to the bathroom. I’ll be back before the weather ends!”
Cecil tried calling after him, but didn’t follow. Kevin was glad about that.
(He was, wasn’t he? What purpose would there be in being disappointed?)
He coughed, and coughed, and coughed. The flowers were getting thicker and more vibrant. He wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t thorns piercing vital organs that killed him, but suffocation instead. He could already feel a steady batch of flowers making its home near the base of his throat. It was only a matter of time before they crawled up and clogged his airway in a way no amount of coughing could clear.
Great. Just. Great.
What would it take to be rid of this? What would it take for Kevin to live painlessly again.
The best option was probably the most obvious. If Cecil and Carlos were the cause, then he should leave. It would work out better, anyway. Leave them before they leave him, right?
But he was so selfish. As much as it hurt him, as often as he had to mute his mic to take deep breaths and try to clear the stars from his vision due to nothing but pain, he liked the affection.
He liked having Cecil fret over him at work, him being kind in the small ways that mattered.
Kevin liked having Carlos worry about him and squeeze his hand when the pain started getting unbearable. He liked it.
Why did he like it?
“Kevin?” He heard Cecil call out.
No. No, no, no. Cecil was not going to find him like this. Cecil was not going to walk through that door and see him bent over a sink that was covered in blood and petals, shivering from who knows what. Cecil was not—
But he did.
Cecil opened the door to the restroom, and for the second time that week, Kevin was found weak in a bathroom.
“Kevin?”
Closer this time.
“Go away,” Kevin managed through gritted teeth.
“I’m not going to—what’s even…”
“Please?”
“No. I am staying right here, and I’m calling Carlos. And a doctor.”
“Radio…”
“That’s not what’s important right now!” Cecil exclaimed. Already he had his phone out.
Within moments, he had it held to his ear, probably talking to Carlos. Respectfully, Kevin was much too tired to listen in on their conversation.
Soon, Cecil placed a hand between his shoulder blades and started saying something into his ear. Kevin couldn’t quite make out what it was.
His words merged together, faded into a high pitched ringing.
Oh. That probably wasn’t good.
The ringing only got louder and—wait, was the room spinning. Why were the lights dimming? What intern would have to be fired next?
He thought he felt Cecil’s hands moving toward his face, but by that point, the ringing was reaching a peak and the darkness crowding around the edge of his vision was spreading toward the center.
Oh, Kevin had wondered what it would feel like when he died, but this wasn’t quite what he had pictured, but he really had no say. It was his own selfishness that killed him, his own desire to keep something by his side. To keep Cecil and Carlos by his side. But it seemed that whether it was by their hands or his own, Kevin would go back to being alone.
If that was his destiny, then so be it.
He closed his eyes and let the world fade away.
* * *
So, apparently, Kevin was not dead. Clearly. Otherwise, he would not have been woken up by a bucket of water being poured over his head.
The ringing in his ears had faded away, and the black blobs had scattred, but wow was the pain still kicking. He had almost been looking forward to death. At least then he would be spared from this.
“Kevin?” He heard someone ask. He was starting to get really sick of hearing his name.
But, he did know that voice. Carlos.
Kevin didn’t trust himself to speak right then. Each breath he took sent another thorn digging into him sending waves of pain along with it. He had a feeling talking would only make it worse. In place of that, he settled for raising his hand in a small wave.
Was he smiling? He couldn’t tell.
“Kevin! Good! You’re awake! Can you talk?”
Kevin sent a thumbs down.
“Alright, that’s okay. How do you feel?”
Kevin’s hand remained in the same position. He hadn’t brought himself to open his eyes yet, but he might as well try.
Carlos kept asking more questions, each one making his head spin, but Kevin mostly tuned them out in favor of trying to blink his eyes open.
“Can you hear me well?”
A tiny blink, followed by a thumbs up.
“Can you smell anything?”
A slightly bigger blink. The light was too bright. But, wait, did he smell anything? Yes, he did, he smelled…Cecil’s shampoo. Carlos always used a separate one, claiming Cecil’s gave him a headache. That meant Cecil must be here too. All the more reason to open his eyes.
He gave Carlos another thumbs up.
This time, instead of taking a small blink, he opened his eyes wide. The light burned, but after a few blinks, he got them back open.
It looked like he was in his bed at home, he glanced to the left and found Cecil sitting on a chair next to his bed. On his right was Carlos, and behind him some woman Kevin didn’t know. Probably the doctor Cecil called.
“Morning, Kevin,” Carlos said.
On his left, Cecil breathed a sigh of relief.
“Sorry to wake you up like that, but we don’t have much time.”
Kevin furrowed his brows, hoping it would be enough to convey his confusion.
“We did what we could, but we only managed to snip a couple of those flowers off. They’re growing back, though, and there’s some thorns a little too close for comfort to your heart.”
Kevin could tell he was trying to sound calm, but the shake in his voice gave him away. Was that because of him? Yes, of course it was. What else would it be?
Cecil cleared his throat, and Carlos snapped back into his chatter.
“Right,” Carlos continued. “There’s, uh, good news and bad news. The good news is that we know what’s wrong, and we know the cure, but the bad news is that you should already have the cure, so. Uh.”
“Kevin,” Cecil cut in, “it’s called Hanahaki disease. It’s caused when a victim experinces unrequited love.”
Oh. Yes, that would explain quite a lot.
Carlos sighed. “We just…we don’t get why you have it. We love you, Kevin, so we need you to talk to us. Is there someone else?”
Kevin shook his head. No. No, there was no one else.
Carlos glanced at Cecil, then to the supposed doctor. She raised her hand.
“If I may interject,” she said, “is it possible just…doesn’t believe you? I’ve heard of it happening before, I wouldn’t rule it out.”
“Oh…oh, Kevin,” Carlos whispered. “Is that it? Is that what this is about? Do you just…do you not believe we love you?”
Kevin didn’t reply to that. Because honestly, did he? Did he believe?
“We’re not going to leave you,” Cecil said. “I know I probably haven’t been the best at making you feel included but I just thought you needed space. I don’t know, I guess I just thought you’d come around. I should’ve tried harder.”
He looked at Carlos. “We should’ve tried harder. But I promise you, I promise that we love you. That I love you. I don’t want to lose you, please just…believe it.”
“How about after all this, we redecorate a bit,” Carlos said. “I know your style doesn’t really…mix with ours, but I had to make sacrifices for Cecil. I can make some for you too. Those awful purple tiles in the bathroom? Not my choice, but they make Cecil happy so we have them. I think it’s about time we pick a part of the house to make yours, yeah?”
“I…may be a bit squeamish, but Carlos is right. You’re a part of our house, and you are a part of us. We can find a way to make this house yours. We should have made you feel welcomed, but we didn’t, and I am so, so sorry.”
“Stay with us, Kevin. We’re not going anywhere. You’re stuck with us. Like those ants in the kitchen we can’t get rid of. I love you, please believe me.”
And for once, Kevin thought he could. He didn’t know what did it. Maybe it was the promise of having something permanent in the house, or maybe it was the words being said allowed. Maybe it was even the explanation as to why he was given so much space. But for once, Kevin did believe.
For the first time in two weeks, he took a deep breath, and there was no pain.
* * *
Kevin never thought he’d feel domesticity like this. He never thought he would get to wake up squished between two people and not even complain about the tentacles cutting off circulation in his arm because it was more endearing than anything.
He never thought he’d get greeted with a kiss and an ‘I love you’ every time he woke up, or got home from work. He never thought he’d be scheduling dates over community radio, and spending the weather cooing at pictures of Khoshekh with Cecil.
He never thought he would, but he did. And it gave Kevin the hope he needed to keep believing that this would be forever. Cecil and Carlos would not leave him.
And for once, that was a fact.