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Spencer can’t sleep. Logically, he knows there is no reason why he can’t ; he’s safe, the others are safe, they’re all at home, the doors are locked, it’s warm, he isn’t hungry, he’s safe. Yet as he stands in the doorway of his room and looks towards his bed he may as well be looking down the barrel of a gun.
Go to bed he scolds himself. His feet finally move, but in the opposite direction, taking him down the stairs and back into the living room. He sits on the sofa for lack of anything else to do and grabs the remote. There was that whale documentary I wanted to watch .
The documentary ends and he stares blankly at whatever plays next, feeling stubbornly untired.
No. He is tired. He just can’t sleep.
The TV screen turns into white noise and his eyes slide shut. The tension leaves his shoulders. And just when finally, finally, he can feel the hazy feeling that means he’ll be asleep soon if only he stays very still and quiet, someone opens the door.
Swearing, Spencer opens his eyes again and blinks against the bright light of the lamp, spying red hair and careful movements.
“Tala…” He rubs his eyes, forcing himself to focus. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he replies, and the next moment Spencer is wide awake as he sits down on the sofa next to him and steals the remote, flicking to the opening credits of some shitty movie.
“What are you doing? D’you need something?”
“I need,” says Tala patiently, “For you to be quiet and let me watch the film.”
He mutes the TV completely.
“Tala,” Spencer mutters, frowning. “This is stupid.”
Tala is meant to be resting . He insisted on discharging himself from the hospital as soon as he woke up, insisted on coming back to Russia as soon as it was clear BEGA was no more and Boris was arrested, but he isn’t recovered, not by a long stretch. They won’t even let him start physical therapy yet, not until he’s healed more. Spencer looks at him sometimes and worries he’ll never heal; just moving round the house hurts, even if Tala won’t admit it. He doesn’t like taking the painkillers and utterly refuses to use the cane. He’s sitting completely upright on the sofa because even just doing that hurts. Spencer is this close to picking him up and carrying him to bed when the door opens again.
“Hey, what’re we watching?”
Ian comes in, followed by Bryan. He doesn’t think it’s an accident that Ian sits on Spencer’s lap and stops him from standing. Bryan climbs over the arm of the couch because he can’t sit like a normal person , throwing his legs across everyone.
“We’re not watching anything.”
“Santa Claus Conquers the Martians.”
“Shut up, Spence, I wanna listen!” Ian says with his mouth full. Where did he get popcorn?
Spencer knows when he’s beaten and sinks back into the cushions, trying to be grouchy, but it’s hard when he’s so warm and comfy and the sound of everyone’s breathing almost like a blanket all on its own, his eyes already closing again.
“Go to sleep, Spencer,” says one of them. He can’t tell who. He’s already asleep.
***
When he wakes up the TV is still on and the others are just blinking awake. Ian is upside down in his lap. Bryan’s head is hanging back over the arm of the sofa. Tala is still bolt upright besides him, his cheek pressed into Spencer’s shoulder.
“You’re all idiots,” Spencer tells them.
“Fuck you.” Bryan says.
Ian rights himself. “We couldn’t sleep, so why not sit out here not sleeping together?”
Spencer hits his head against the back of the couch. “Fucking idiots.”
“And you’re a moron who doesn’t ask for help.”
Look who’s talking . He curses some more and then says, without meaning to, “Some nights I don’t even try to lay down. It’s not the nightmares, it’s…” The lying down and waiting. Which sounds stupid. Because it is stupid. Who hates waiting to fall asleep because they think something bad is going to happen at any moment? It’s stupid. Which is why he didn’t say anything.
The others press in closer. We know . Spencer exhales for what seems like the first time in weeks.
“Okay,” he says, even though it isn’t, but it’s one of those times he thinks one day he will be okay.
“You’re an idiot.” Bryan climbs off the couch.
“You can make it up to us by cooking breakfast.” Ian scrambles away before he can catch him and Spencer can’t help but laugh.
He turns to the left and feels himself start frowning again. “Fuck off,” Tala mutters, without looking at him, before he can say anything. Sitting on the couch all night wasn’t a good idea and now Spencer can tell with just a glance he’s stiff and aching.
“Do you need–”
“No.”
He tries to stand and falls back onto the couch, panting with pain.
Spencer’s had enough. He stands. Tala looks up at him, half wary, hunched in on himself, tense. It would be scary. If Spencer didn’t know better.
He doesn’t ask if he needs help – he already knows the answer, and giving Tala a semblance of choice is a good idea right up until he says no and Spencer has to go and do the thing against his wishes anyway.
Tala must guess what he’s about to do because his eyes widen. “Don’t you dare.”
“Shut up,” Spencer replies, picking him up in one fluid motion. It’s easier than it should be. He’s lost weight. He can’t kick and fight like he normally would.
He can still glare, though. If looks could kill Spencer would be six feet under right now. That, too, makes him feel bizarrely better. Things can’t be that bad if Tala can still be stubborn.
“Nice,” comments Bryan, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “My plan was to let him sit there until he passed out.”
“I considered it,” he says. “But I’m not that patient.”
He pulls a packet of cigarettes from his jacket and follows them out into the hall, pausing by the kitchen door and watching them start up the stairs. “Ian’s plan was stupid.”
“What was his plan?”
“Shout at him until he listens. But he never fucking listens.”
Tala kicks his shoe off, though it misses by at least a metre, thunking harmlessly onto the carpet. Bryan just laughs, grin wide, ducking into the kitchen. Spencer laughs too, though softer, determined not to jar his captain even the slightest bit.
He stops at the top of the stairs. “Bed?” he asks. “Or bath?”
He watches him consider, expression not so unreadable to someone who knows him so well. Tala is the most expressive one out of them all, except for maybe Ian. His emotions play over his face like the clouds in the sky, one after the other.
“Bath,” he says at last.
Spencer nods approvingly and takes the right instead of the left. He sets him down on the edge of the bath as gently as he can and fusses with the taps and getting the water temperature just right. “Do you think you need the painkillers?” He asks without looking at him. Sometimes it just makes it easier.
The bath is half full before he gets an answer. “Maybe.”
Spencer nods. “I’ll go fetch them.”
The painkillers are kept in Spencer’s room, as if Tala’s hoping that if he can’t see them he can forget he needs them at all. It’s not as if Spencer doesn’t understand, he does; memories of the Abbey have left them all with a hatred of all things medical, and he knows Tala also has memories of his father’s addiction underlying that. But Spencer also knows when the pain has reached the limit and when pressed he can be just as stubborn as Tala.
When he gets back to the bathroom Tala has gotten himself into the bath, strands of hair sticking to his neck, pale beneath the flush of the hot water, dark circles under his eyes but also looking completely relaxed.
Spencer hides his smile and holds up the cereal he grabbed. “You need to eat before taking the pills.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“So?”
With a sigh he accepts the bowl and glares at it, drawing the spoon through the milk in slow circles. “I’m really not hungry.”
Spencer expected this. “I might’ve raided Bryan’s secret stash,” he admits. “If he finds out he’ll kill me, so I’d appreciate it if you'd eat it and hide the evidence.”
Tala laughs until the pain makes him stop. He manages a bite. Spencer manages to act completely casual, turning his attention to the pile of clothes on the floor and sorting them into the laundry baskets. Whites, lights, darks. The others laugh at him, but he laughed harder when they accidentally turned all their clothes pink.
He hums to himself, sorting clothes, listening to the soft clink of the spoon against the bowl.
He eats all of the cereal, which makes Spencer inordinately happy. Tala can tell, squinting at him and then scowling as he hands him the pills. “I don’t need them anymore.”
Spencer just scoffs.
He scowls harder. “I don’t!”
“Could you get out of the bath on your own?”
He doesn’t even try, head lolling against the side, limp with defeat. He swallows the painkillers. Spencer imagines they taste bitter. He puts the bowl on the floor out of the way and touches his shoulder. “Once you recover, you won’t have to take them any more.”
Tala doesn’t look at him. “And what if I never recover?”
“We don’t give a damn. You’re – our captain. Our friend. More than that. You’re our whatever you are and we can live with you however you are.”
His expression twists in disgust. “I might never be how I was before.”
“Nothing is forever,” Spencer says. Not even the Abbey. “Give yourself time, I guess.”
It’s no dramatic, grand speech, but it seems to be the right thing to say, for Tala softens slightly. “I’d feed any of you cereal in the bath if you needed it.”
“We know,” Spencer assures him. Each of them is better at taking care of the others than themselves, clearly, but he knows if it was him who was injured he’d be taken care of. Hell, he’s experienced it. More than once. For good measure he adds: “I’d carry you up the stairs for a bath every day if I had to.”
“Look on the bright side,” comes Ian’s voice, startling them both. The steam starts to steal away out of the open door. “They say takeout containers float in the bath.”
Spencer face palms. “That’s so gross.”
Tala raises an eyebrow. “And no one’s eating takeout.”
“I bet cereal floats too.”
“That won’t get you out of washing up duty, shrimp.” Spencer puts the bowl in his hands and shoves him out the door, shutting it behind him. He looks back to Tala and as soon as their eyes meet they both laugh. Ian kicks the door.
“Hey, I can hear you, assholes!”
“Good!” shouts Spencer. He frowns – “Wait, why is Bryan shouting?”
“Bryan’s always shouting.”
He and Tala sigh in unison. “I’ll go,” Tala says. He makes to get out then stops, eyeing the newly-cleared floor.
“I’ll get you some clothes. D’you want me to bring the cane, too?”
He clenches his jaw. “I’ll try it just this once.”
Spencer nods, trying to seem casual, not triumphant, or happy. This is not success, but it is progress, and he thinks he’s allowed to feel pleased about that. Secretly. Where Tala can’t see him. “Be right back.”
***
As soon as Spencer leaves the bathroom, Ian takes his place. Gone is the earlier humour. Instead he creeps in without a sound, looming over him when Tala cracks open his eyes. “How are you feeling?”
He shrugs. It hurts. He bites back a wince.
A splashing sound, then a red-hot towel is pressed against his nape. “Should I put more hot water in?”
“No.” Tala grimaces at the rasp in his voice. “But thanks.”
Ian nods, biting his lip; a habit not even the Abbey was able to put a stop to. “Kai called,” he says.
Tala thinks – easier, now the painkillers are kicking in. “Is that why Bryan’s angry?”
He nods.
“Why did he call?”
“Bryan didn’t let him get that far.”
“I see.”
Ian nods again. He slips out of the room and Tala hears him going down the stairs, quiet, light footsteps compared to Spencer’s steady tread as he comes back up the hall. The painkillers are effective, but getting out of the bath and going down stairs is still going to hurt. Everything hurts these days. Tala closes his eyes again. He can stay here for a while longer.
***
Ian disappears back downstairs before Spencer can see he’s just left the empty bowl on the floor. He pauses with one foot on the last stair, listening. The house is quiet. That’s usually a bad sign.
He checks the living room: Empty. He spies the phone left on the couch and takes it with him to put back in its cradle in the kitchen. At least it’s still in one piece. The kitchen is also empty, but when he looks out the window he sees bursts of snow being kicked up high in the air, accompanied by muffled swearing.
Ian sets the table and debates whether he goes out into the garden or not. There’s a loud crash, which kind of decides things for him. He sighs and pulls open the door, shivering. “What’re you doing?”
He knows what Bryan’s doing – the answer is right in front of his face; messy footprints and piles of snow until he starts using Falborg to break things instead.
Bryan doesn’t look away from the blue sparks shooting out over the snow. “Fuck off, shrimp.”
“What did Kai want?”
He glares harder. “I don’t give a shit what Kai wants.”
Ian rolls his eyes. Typical . Snow crunches beneath his boots. It’s cold and Bryan’s not about to calm down any time soon. He’s always been the one most prone to bursts of anger, but it’s been worse since BEGA, when Tala was in the hospital and all any of them could do was wait . “Come inside, I’m making breakfast. Do you want cereal?”
“I want to punch Hiwatari until I break his stupid face!”
“What did he do this time?”
Bryan glowers so hard it might be that melting the snow and not his beyblade. “ Existed .”
“Right.” He gives up, going back inside. He leaves the door open, despite the cold.
***
It’s cold when he steps out into the garden, not just snow crunching beneath his boots but ice, the cane slipping precariously. Fuck , Tala thinks. He shuts the door behind him and navigates down the steps to the equally frozen grass, observing the destruction Bryan has wrought. Fuck .
He hobbles a few more feet, watching, the noise loud enough to wrench the sky apart. It’s cold and the sky is completely white – Falborg is invisible against the snow, flashing occasionally like a knife, the only splash of colour in his vision Bryan’s jacket as he paces near the fence, stamping the snow down until it’s as thick as pack ice underfoot.
Tala makes it to the bench before Bryan notices him. “What the fuck are you doing? Go back inside.”
“No,” he replies at length, brushing the snow away and sitting down. “The cold out here is numbing the pain.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Bryan repeats, aghast.
He squares his shoulders. “Watching you.”
He turns away, breaths making angry bursts of steam in the air. “You’re a fucking freak.”
Tala laughs. It hurts. He waits. Successfully: eventually Bryan’s pacing brings him closer, Falborg wrecking less destruction and instead just gliding across the snow, quiet enough it could be mistaken for the wind.
Bryan looks over, looks away again just as quickly. “Seriously, go back inside, you idiot. It’s cold.”
“Come back inside.”
“Not yet.” He kicks at the snow again. The noise starts up again, a fallen log turning into millions of tiny frozen splinters a safe distance away.
Tala waits.
“Hiwatari pisses me off,” he growls at last. Tala nods. Bryan’s gaze slides back towards the house a little guiltily. “Can’t go inside if I’m angry. I know Spencer doesn’t like it.”
“He doesn’t want you to freeze to death, either.”
He snorts. “Then he can get Hiwatari to stop calling.”
“Would that help?”
“No,” he concedes, sulkily.
Tala waits until he can’t feel his legs anymore. He shifts and hisses a curse under his breath. Bryan must overhear, because the scowl returns. “Go back inside.”
“No.”
He growls, “Tala…”
“Make me,” he dares. They glare at each other.
Bryan sinks down onto the bench next to him and buries his head in his hands. Falborg comes to spin by his feet, occasionally knocking against his boot.
“I’m not angry,” he says.
Fucking finally. “I know.”
“I’m fucking…” He searches for the right words, gazing out into the distance, as if there’s answers to be found in the empty sky. “Scared.”
Tala nods. “Of what?”
“Are you kidding me?” He scrubs a hand through his hair violently. “Fuck. Spencer isn’t sleeping, you were in the hospital less than two weeks ago, Ian won’t leave the fucking house!”
“And Kai?”
Bryan shakes his head in disgust. “He’s fucking… off in a different fucking country with naïve… babies . How the fuck are they meant to help him?”
“Sounds like you’re not scared, you’re worried.”
He scoffs. “Whatever.”
“What else?”
Anger, quick and lethal. “Is that not fucking enough?”
Falborg zips off and crashes into a tree trunk, sharp like a thunder cloud. Bryan stands back up, snarling, cursing. Tala watches him as he stands with his back to him, the sharp lines of tension in his shoulders. “Is it Boris?”
“Why the fuck would it be Boris?”
“I don’t know, Bryan, but seeing as you’re incapable of just saying how you’re feeling you kind of make the rest of us play guessing games.”
Chastened, Falborg falls silent, weaving between the trees. It’s a good job their house is out on the very edge of town with no one around. Anywhere else the neighbours would have filed a hundred noise complaints by now.
“What is it?” Tala asks when it becomes clear he isn’t going to continue unprompted. He shuffles, staring at the ground. “Spencer doesn’t like when I get angry.”
“Right,” he says, not following.
“And… Boris did care about us.”
What the fuck . Thankfully he bites his tongue. “Maybe.”
“You don’t think?”
He genuinely considers it. Answering takes a long time. “I don’t know.”
Bryan still won’t look at him. “He did. Remember when we won our first championship?”
“Right…”
“And Boris is a complete… bastard.”
He laughs slightly. “Yeah.” At least they agree on that .
“Well…” He shrugs helplessly. Falborg hits the same point of the boundary wall over and over again. “I can be a complete bastard sometimes.”
“Bryan,” Tala says, voice soft with understanding. “You’re not a bad person.”
“I nearly killed Kai’s catboy. And he wasn’t the first.”
“What you did when we were in the Abbey doesn’t count. You didn’t have a choice. None of us did.”
“I haven’t changed.”
“Does it matter?” His head whips round. Tala shrugs. “Even if you haven’t changed, your environment has. The team has. We’re not… in that situation any more.”
“What if I hurt one of you?”
Bryan’s in such anguish about it and yet the answer is so easy. “We’ll work through it, I guess.”
He stomps away in frustration. “You don’t understand!”
“Don’t I?” He tries moving, testing to see. No, there’s no way he’s getting up and going after him if he storms off. “Remember when we first left the Abbey?”
He watches Bryan as he remembers. The adjustment period was in some ways worse than the Abbey itself. Bryan smashed so much glass he cut both arms open and that was one of the better days. “We were all assholes,” he reminds him. “You don’t think this way about us. Don’t think that way about yourself.”
Bryan scoffs, but the tension is gone. “You’re smarter than you look, Ivanov.”
“Shut up,” he laughs. “Are you ready to come back inside now? It’s fucking freezing.”
Falborg returns to Bryan’s outstretched hand and he nods, turning and moving back to the bench.
Tala can’t hold back the wince when he stands, can’t even scowl or protest at how Bryan’s hovering anxiously, can’t stop himself nearly slipping when he hits an icy spot, struggling to keep hold of the cane, his hands completely numb.
“You fucking idiot,” except there’s no heat to the insult. He takes Tala’s arm and helps steady him. “It’s fucking freezing.”
“You’re the idiot.” The next step is steadier. He manages another couple of feet, Bryan’s tight grip never letting up.
“We’re both idiots, how has Spencer not killed us already?”
“He’s waiting for us to die from our own stupidity – he’s always been patient.”
Bryan laughs, looking suddenly, startlingly happy. Tala laughs too. This time it almost doesn’t hurt.
***
Spencer watches Tala and Bryan walking back towards the house at last. “About time. Any longer and they’d have got hypothermia.”
“You worry too much,” Ian says suddenly. He sounds serious in a way he usually isn’t. “No wonder you never fucking sleep.”
“Stop giving me grey hairs,” Spencer replies, reaching over and grabbing him by the collar and plucking him away from the precarious position he’s established on top of the counter trying to reach the top shelf.
“Make me taller or pass the syrup.”
“You’ll grow.” But Spencer waits until he’s rooting around the shelves to say it.
They think it’s partially to do with the experiments and part malnutrition that makes him so short, but Ian’s missed his last two appointments with one of the string of professionals they’ve been forced to see since leaving the Abbey, because most days he never leaves the house and no amount of gentle coaxing from any of them can even get him more than a couple of steps out the door. He refuses to blade anymore and Spencer can understand that and will never, would never force him, but it was Ian pushing them to compete in the championships this year, providing them tech support over the computer and probably going days without sleeping without anyone else around to check up on him. Spencer can’t understand it. He can’t push the issue either. Not yet. He doesn’t know how and thinks this half-life with better and good days is better than the complete isolation that might happen if he fucks it up. Bryan and Tala are letting him take the lead on tackling it and part of Spencer wishes something would happen to force the issue. He’s the best at being patient, but even he has limits.
He passes him the syrup. Ian pours an ungodly amount onto his plate. “You make the best pancakes, Spence.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Spencer chides. The door opens at the same moment, swinging wide to let out all the warm air and admit two shivering team mates.
“ Fuck it’s cold!” Bryan makes a beeline for the stove, sticking his hands in the residual warmth, brow furrowing in relief.
Spencer bites back a laugh as Tala makes a face behind his back, one that says you went outside, you fucking idiot . He waits for Tala to sit down before taking his own seat – he still isn’t used to the cane, unsure where it should go when he doesn’t need it, eventually leaning it against the wall behind him and pretending it doesn’t exist.
He cranes his head over his shoulder to look at Bryan, “If you’re still cold maybe we should just set you on fire.”
He flips him off but comes and sits down as well. He has almost as much syrup as Ian, a goofy smile melting over his face as he takes the first bite. Even Tala is willingly eating, albeit slower.
Spencer is so glad things have improved after the complete shit show of this morning that he almost can’t taste his own food. He doesn’t make Ian do the washing up, either – the shrimp has conjured a GameBoy out of… somewhere, he and Bryan are engaged in competition to get the high score, heads bent over the tiny flashing screen. Spencer collects their plates and takes them to the sink himself. He doesn’t mind. Tala sips the last of his coffee and offers to dry.
“Okay.” Spencer passes him the first soapy bowl and the tea towel. They get an efficient system going and soon enough clean crockery is stacking up in neat shiny piles on the table. The repetitive, easy routine is almost like a ritual; Spencer feels all the worries of the morning slip to the back of his mind.
So of course that’s when there’s a knock at the door.
No one visits them, not even Mr. Dickinson, and at first Spencer thinks he’s hallucinating. Then comes another knock. Barely a moment afterwards they hear a key clinking and the door opening anyway. There’s only one person besides them who has a key. But why the hell would–
“Oh yeah,” says Bryan, tipping his chair back so he’s balancing on two legs. “Kai said he was coming over.”
It’s almost humorous how their heads snap from the door to him. “You never said.”
“I just did?”
Spencer could strangle him, honestly.
The footsteps get louder as he approaches and they all turn to watch him open the door, as if this is a shitty horror movie. Run, Spencer thinks absurdly, and almost laughs at himself. Kai comes in and it’s… really anticlimactic. He looks decidedly unimpressed, raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms, leaving the door open and letting all the heat out. “None of you are ready.”
Ian crosses his own arms in imitation. “Ready for what?”
He shoots Bryan a look . Unfortunately for him, Bryan is Bryan: he just smirks. “To go.”
“Go where? ” Tala’s tone is sharp, a knife’s edge away from losing patience. His gaze darts away over his shoulder and Spencer moves to block Kai’s view without having to be asked; so he can’t see the laborious process of retrieving the cane and bracing a hand on Ian’s shoulder in order to stand up. The jealous tension between the two of them has (mostly) faded away since they left the Abbey, but Spencer knows how much it will sting that he struggles to stand up when Kai is standing here almost fucking fully recovered.
Kai sighs like they should know this already . “The BBA want statements as part of their case against Boris.”
Tala says what they’re all thinking. “We’ve given them statements before.”
“They want new ones.”
Bryan sits forward and slams all four chair legs back onto the ground with a crash. “How many statements do they fucking want ?” he snaps. He pushes away from the table and storms over to the back door to light a cigarette.
“Does it matter?” Kai demands. “We should give them as many as it takes!”
Spencer can’t help it: he scoffs. “Because that worked so well last time. Or did Brooklyn hit you so hard you’ve got amnesia?”
Tala nods in agreement. Ian adds: “Where are BEGA in all of this? Why isn’t what happened to them enough?”
“I don’t know, I’m not a lawyer.”
Bryan grinds his half-smoked cigarette underneath his boot and lights another, taking sharp, shallow drags, ash spilling over his sleeve. “Boris is a bastard. There’s your statement. Now fuck off, Hiwatari.”
“I’ll fuck off , Bryan, just as soon as you’ve all made a statement.”
“Oh yeah,” he laughs. He stubs out this cigarette. Lights yet another. “It’s always the same with you, huh? You visit when you want something and when you don’t you’re quite happy to pretend you’ve forgotten us too.”
The cane taps loudly against the tiled floor as Tala steps sideways and intercepts Kai before he can lunge at him. “That’s not true,” Kai grinds out instead.
“Where have you been?” It takes Spencer a second to realise he’s said it out loud. Everyone turns to look at him instead. He pauses, considering, then figures he’s already opened his mouth and there’s little point shutting up now. “We haven’t seen you since this year’s championships. We didn’t see shit of you after the Abbey until you wanted to join the team.” He laughs only it’s not a laugh at all. “Did you even visit Tala in the hospital?” Him and Bryan wouldn’t leave his bedside for days even after they were threatened by security. He’s lost count of how many times in how many different places Ian had a panic attack trying to get to the airport to come and be with them. And through it all they didn’t hear from Kai once.
Tala’s expression softens.
Kai’s expression hardens. “You want me to talk? Let’s talk. You all talk a good game about supporting each other, until it comes to having amnesia. You talk about being there for each other – well, then why the hell did none of you come to me?”
“You left, asshole!” Bryan’s out of cigarettes, settles for throwing his lighter down on the counter instead. It skitters away, immediately forgotten. “You left with Tyson after he won and we didn’t see you again for months!”
“I didn’t hear from any of you for months!”
“Oh, fuck you, you asshole.” Ian stands, the noise of the chair scraping against the floor stopping either of them interrupting. He plants himself squarely in front of Kai, glowering, shaking with fury. “Do you really think we don’t care?”
Kai looks away.
Ian shakes his head. “We worry about you, you prick! Spencer’s so worried he’s hardly sleeping, Tala thinks you won’t come to us because he’s not recovered yet and that means he’s weak, Bryan’s angry because we don’t know where you are, and I’m – well, we’re not even gonna get into it. And you have the fucking nerve to turn up every once in a while and act like we don’t care about you, as if we didn’t choose this house specifically so we had a room for you as well, you idiot!”
The look on Kai’s face is almost funny. Almost. Spencer just feels sad.
“You… I have a room.”
“Yeah, Kai,” says Ian quietly. “You have a room.”
He raises his head, turning to the rest of them in turn, as if looking for confirmation that it’s the truth. They nod – even Bryan, without exasperation, the weight of the truth quivering in the still air.
He swallows, emotions playing over his face. The rest of them don’t move, allowing him the moment of realisation, giving him that, at least.
Kai’s never been one to be overly emotional and soon enough the moments over; he shifts and takes a step back, face going blank again. “What time is it? Mr Dickenson wanted us to be there by eleven.”
“We’ve got time.” 8:02 the clock says. How can it still be so early? Spencer feels like this morning has lasted a hundred years. It’s a struggle to remember everything that’s happened since waking up, has he… “I’m gonna go shower.” He shoots Bryan a warning look on his way out. No killing him whilst I’m gone .
He gets a smirk in return. No promises .
***
Ian folds his arms and glares. He knows he’s scary when he glares, despite his height. Kai doesn’t look impressed, though, damnit. “I still don’t see why we have to do all this shit again.”
“Because,” his sigh is long-suffering and put upon, “They need it.”
He rolls his eyes. Decides he’s done caring. “Whatever.” He turns away and pretends to accidentally bump into Tala to nudge him to sit back down. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Ian…” Kai warns.
“I’m not fucking going!” he snaps and walks out of the room. Fuck this. Fuck Kai. Fuck the BBA. He’s got stuff to do. Stuff that isn’t repeating what he’s already told multiple people multiple times.
He slams the living room door behind him and decides he’s going to take advantage of the empty house and watch whatever he wants on TV. He gets as far as turning it on, and he’s staring blankly at the muted screen when Bryan comes after him, not really seeing it at all.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t fucking want,” he grunts. “Tala’s told Kai he won’t let him make you.”
“I can’t stay inside forever, though, can I?”
Bryan shrugs. He only tried picking him up and carrying him outside once and he’s still sorry for it.
“I hate it outside!” It’s as if now he’s started to talk he can’t stop. “People stare at me for being so short, people stare at me and recognise me. I hate people.”
He chuckles. “Now you sound like me.”
“I wish I was more like you,” Ian replies, more genuinely open and sincere than he intended to sound. “Every time I go outside, I’m convinced someone will try to take me back to the Abbey.”
“I’d kill them.” If the others didn’t get there first.
“I know you’d try.” They would – Ian knows that as surely as the sky is blue. They would try. They would try and it may not be enough.
Bryan comes up behind him and, after hesitating, grasps his shoulder. “I’d kill them. And if you ever ended up back in the Abbey somehow we’d come and get you.”
“I know.” The hand on his shoulder feels like a weight. Ian stares at the floor, his heart sinking beneath that weight. “Some days even knowing that doesn’t help.”
The grip on his shoulder tightens.
***
The steam from earlier has still not fully dispersed from the bathroom, puffing out in a warm mist as Spencer opens the door. He’s about to go inside, get in the shower and enjoy however long he gets before the others try to kill each other when a shadow enters his peripheral vision.
It’s Kai, silent as ever, also frozen just further along down the hall. He’s staring at the slightly ajar door to his room without making any move to actually go in.
“It’s a door, genius,” Spencer tells him, more gently than he intends. “Just go in.”
He hears him do just that as he locks the bathroom door and smiles.
***
Today has gone unexpected and unexpectedly well. Still, when Kai goes back into the kitchen he feels a pang of regret, seeing Tala still putting the clean dishes back in the cupboard, every movement slow and painful.
“Ian can wait in the car when we get there,” he mutters.
Tala pauses and turns to look at him. “Then why don’t you go and tell that to Ian?”
Kai looks towards the door and doesn’t say anything. What is he supposed to say? What can he say?
His eyes linger on him for a long moment before he goes back to clearing away the dishes. Muffled conversation from the other room and the creak of the boiler and footsteps upstairs and Kai hums to himself. He wasn’t surprised that Tala discharged himself from the hospital practically as soon as he woke up, but looking at him now he considers calling Mr Dickenson and asking for everything to be rearranged somehow.
“Can I do anything to help?”
He pauses again, face unreadable. “I’ve got it. Thank you,” he adds, hurriedly.
Kai nods though he isn’t looking at him.
Tala finishes and closes the cupboard door. He turns though makes no move to sit; he leans against the counter, trying to obscure the cane, head tilted back to look at the ceiling. Perhaps it’s a tactic, a strategy of some kind, because soon enough Kai feels the urge to fill the silence.
“Did you really think I didn’t care?”
“Did you really think we didn’t?”
No. Yes. No. At times it was easier to tell himself that than consider any other option. He left with Tyson after he won in Moscow all those years ago and he didn't look back – he had to, he had to, he had to before he broke, and Kai’ll always remain firm that he had to. That doesn’t mean he’s proud of it, liked it, that he doesn’t feel guilty still. Looking after yourself if not a betrayal but it sure feels that way sometimes. Being around the others makes the guilt worse. Being part of the Blitzkrieg Boys this year was hell and also… not hell. It felt good to be with people who understood; a lack of pressure stemming from shared history, thinking his decisions are stupid but not having to question why he’s making them. This year is not what Kai wanted. He wants his memories back. Not his childhood – he’s been reliably informed that the boys in the Abbey didn’t have a childhood. Still, he wants it back. The lack of remembering is its own wound, a phantom limb that still pains him and the others just… don’t get that. He knows they cannot understand why he wants to remember when he was lucky enough to forget.
Tala’s looking at him again. Kai sighs and moves to stand next to him. “It’s complicated.”
Tala laughs. It clearly hurts. “Yeah, it is.”
The silence turns comfortable. Kai checks the time. 08:57. They have time. The noises from the other room have stopped. Tala shifts his weight from foot to cane to foot and back again. “How’s Japan?” It’s not an insult. He seems like he genuinely wants to know.
“Fine, I guess.” he turns and gazes out into the garden – there’s a load of crap strewn around, which is weird. The rest of the house is always so neat. “Everything is going back to normal.”
A noise. It’s not a sigh. Not anything he can name. Tala’s looking at him again. “You’ve moved on so much…. You’ve moved so far ahead and you have your life in Japan, but then when we do see you sometimes we see signs that show it’s still all there in you. That’s why the others are worried.”
“I like Japan,” he defends, instinctively. Most days it’s true.
He shrugs, not accusing. “Can people who don’t know what it was like help you?”
Another genuine question, holding nothing except honest curiosity. “Healing… is hard,” Kai manages eventually. Tala laughs again. “I like it in Japan, because, because… They don’t know anything. They don’t believe bad things can happen. Being with them makes me want to be a good person.” He feels flayed raw to be airing his feelings out like this. He’s waiting for the blow that accompanies vulnerability, even though he knows it’ll never come, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop waiting, no matter how old he gets.
“That makes sense,” Tala says softly.
Kai sighs in relief. He nods and then, unable to stand it any longer, moves and goes out into the hall to get his coat. He can hear increased movement upstairs which means Spencer will be done soon and the quicker they can get Ian in the car the less chance he has to change his mind. To his surprise Tala follows him, the tap of the cane conspicuously loud. “Are you coming back here with us when we’re finished? It’ll be easier to convince Spencer to let us get takeout if you stay.”
He has a sudden vision of Spencer as the mother hen to ducklings and hides a smile. “Okay.”
It must be the right answer because Tala brightens, not quite hiding his own smile. He moves far slower than Kai: movements stiff and stilted, only just reaching for his own coat by the time Kai is ready to go.
Kai pretends not to hear the groan he emits when he reaches up and takes his coat off the hook. He moves to help without asking, one sleeve and then the next, stands back to let him have the dignity of at least buttoning it himself.
“Seriously,” Tala grumbles, struggling with the zip and never quite meeting his eyes, “How are you fucking fine right now? We both got fucking hospitalised.”
Kai shrugs. He’s wondered that himself. The only answer he can come up with is that life’s not fair. “I had it easier, I guess. That twink isn’t as strong as he looks.”
“Still, that doesn’t – wait, a twink? Brooklyn’s gay?”
“Yeah,” Kai deadpans. “Come on, Tala, haven’t you seen the way he dresses?”
Tala laughs until he’s coughing, clutching his ribs and still laughing between gasps of air. Kai can’t help it. He laughs too.
Bryan comes out to see what the noise is and the panicked expression is so unusual and bizarre that Kai laughs more. Between choked giggles they tell him what’s so funny. He doesn’t find it funny, looking at them like he thinks they’ve both finally lost it, and that only makes them laugh harder.
“Fuck,” gasps Kai eventually, still chuckling. “Are we gonna be late?”
“No.” Spencer’s tread is heavy on the stairs. He grabs his own coat. “Not yet.”
Kai nods, the prospect of the outside world finally sobering him. “Let’s go.”
The others shuffle into line. Bryan’s hand never leaves Ian’s shoulder and Tala stands behind them closer than is necessary, Spencer bringing up the rear.
“Fuck,” Bryan says suddenly, “Are you driving?”
“No, Mr Dickenson sent a car.”
“Oh phew.” Sarcasm is obvious in Ian’s tone. “You’re such a shit driver I wouldn’t survive to have pizza tonight.”
Before Kai can protest that he is not a shit driver, they’re arguing over if they’re having pizza or Chinese.
“If we’re late we won’t be having any damn takeout.” Spencer herds them out the door and they crowd out onto the porch. It’s started snowing again; tiny, gentle flakes that disappear as soon as they hit the ground.
Ian sighs, just once. “I can’t believe we’re doing this again.”
“Hey, look on the bright side,” Bryan says as the door closes behind them. “Perhaps they’ll lock Boris away for good this time.”