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This was something Kevin knew about Thea. The media face she held was a lot of work, no matter how effortless she made it seem. Everything she did in the eyes of the public was elegant. Even on the court, it only took a cool glance and precise twitch in her smile to floor the opposition into fear.
He was familiar with it. He was much the same, he liked to think.
She crashed the same, too, albeit she was more defiant to her feelings. He’d never seen the full extent until then.
The impromptu interview had come and gone, and Kevin watched as every step they took away from the crowds brought on more spiralling doubt in Thea’s mind. She was elegant, yes, undeniably, but her mind was the same broken chaos as every other Raven before her.
“Don’t touch me,” she instructed as soon as the hotel door was shut behind them. Kevin had only offered a hand. She was rigid as she walked past the open suitcase, spilling clothes on the floor — a detail she would never allow Kevin to see under better circumstances. She had pills out on the bedside table. Pills that she’d never mentioned before. Accented with a half-drained liquor bottle.
Tragic that they had this in common. Tragic that most of the things they shared were going to kill them.
Still, he waited at the breakfast bar. Swinging back and forth and back and forth on the barstool, pretending he didn’t want to finish off that bottle and the minibar. Both of them had been avoiding their terrible handling of the fall of the Ravens. Thea had the sense to see it coming. She read articles on past-Ravens and their spectacular deaths like she was trying to solve a mystery. When Riko died, she called to talk, but Kevin said nothing of substance.
If they walked that line, there would be no going back. They’d both have to admit that there was an ugly truth haunting them, and that meant accepting how the Nest mangled their minds and moved their limbs for years, and how the strings were never cut, even when they got out. Kevin admired Thea for how she persevered. He thought her to be the strongest Raven he’d met. Clearly, he realised, that strength came with sacrifice.
She came back to the main room like a corpse. There was no light in her anymore, no fight left. She must have used it all up in the mirror.
“It’s a mess,” was all she said. Her arms were squeezed around her body, still.
It didn’t alarm Kevin as much as he’d expected, seeing her like this. He’d worried that the crash would overwhelm him. Fire to tapestries; the crumbling Colosseum. Instead, he ached to hold her. Touch her. Anything that could bring her out of the labyrinth the Ravens carved in her brain.
“It’s allowed to be a mess,” he answered.
She sniffed. Partly from the dried tears below her eyes, partly from the sentiment. “I’d like it to not be a mess.”
Kevin smiled. Couldn’t help it. Something about being around the likes of Thea and Jean gave him the feeling of recognition. I know what you mean. No one else understands. We can have this imperfection between us. I love you, I love you, I love you.
He knelt down beside the suitcase and began folding clothes. Thea twitched like she wanted to stop him, but there was no follow-through. Instead, she sat on the corner of the bed, close enough that Kevin could lay his head on her thigh if he chose to, and watched. It was clear to anyone that knew her that Kevin was doing it all wrong, but she said nothing. Just watched with a vacant stare, lips giving away small amusements when he silently fretted over how to fold a halter top.
The last thing to organise, a cropped tank top, made him pause. He held it up to her, seeing how the muted green looked against her eyes. Her skin was warmer now than it had been in Nest. He pictured her in the Texas sun for amount, overwhelmed with a feeling he hadn’t known enough to name before.
“I like this,” he said.
She lifted an eyebrow. Coming back to herself in pieces. “It’s cheap.”
“It’s nice.”
It suited her better than the harsh red blood she’d chewed out of her lip.
Kevin folded the top. Lay his head against her thigh and closed his eyes to appreciate the harsh and soft of her. He knew that when he looked up to meet her eye, he was the image of a love drunk addict; half-lidded gaze, dopey smile, hair a mess, and he didn’t care.
She came back to herself. Tongue poked out and pretending to be disgusted, falling back on the bed with a laugh so exhausted it sounded like relief. “You’re so…”
“Uh huh?”
“Stupid.”
“Yeah.”
He kissed her thigh, content to stay that way for a while.