Chapter Text
A low growl came from the motorcycle as they made their way down the path to the cabins. Kaius sighed as the motorcycle came to a stop. “Well, this is it.” he said, bringing his foot to the kickstand to keep the bike in place. Cayde, still clinging tightly to Kaius, kept his forehead pressed into the leather of his jacket. He realized he’d been holding on for quite a while and reluctantly unwrapped his arms from around Kaius, shivering at the cold winter air hitting his face as he dismounted the back of the motorcycle.
Uh.. T-thanks, Kaius.. For the ride.” he stammered, standing adjacent to the bike and looking at the ground. His unsteady hands found their way to his tie, stroking the fabric to soothe himself. Kaius had also dismounted the bike at this time and stood in front of Cayde with his hands in his pockets. “No problem.” He noticed Cayde’s anxious demeanor and inched closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to comfort and tilting his own head down to look at him. “Look, Rejection’s tough. Not everyone’s gonna like you back, but, there’s always more...er—“ He paused. It wasn’t really the right time for that idiom. “Nevermind. But you get what I mean. You’ll find the right person, Cay.” He patted Cayde’s shoulder and smiled.
Cayde looked back up at him, his face still red and puffy from crying. “Thanks, Kaius. I—uh.. I appreciate it,” he said, the words followed by a quiet sniffle. “I’ll see you later.” He added. “Alright. See ya Cayde.” Kaius replied, hopping back on the motorbike and cruising off. Cayde quickly gained his composure, fixing his hair and face so his parents wouldn’t notice he was crying. There was nothing wrong with being emotional in their household, if anything, it was encouraged to let your emotions out. To put it simply, they were more... traditional, when it came to relationships..
He pulled the house key from his pocket, his hands trembling so much he could barely grip the key. He fumbled with the lock, the cold metal slipping through his fingers as he struggled to align the key with the keyhole. The weather didn’t help with his already horrible nerves. He was cold and shivering with unsteady hands while also trying to mentally prepare himself to face his parents after the events that had unfolded back at the dance. His cheeks as well as the tip of his nose were a rosy pink, both from the low temperature and the fact he’d been crying. He figured they wouldn’t notice because, well.. it’s freezing outside.
His anger got the best of him and he gave up on trying to unlock the door, doing the signature family knock they came up with to signal it was him. After a couple of seconds had gone by, the lock clicked and his mother opened the door for him. “Cayden? You’re home early, hun.” She said, tilting her head out of curiosity. “I thought the dance ended at 10? It’s only 8,” She added. “Yeah.. I—uhm.. It was really boring. Not many people showed up and I figured there wasn’t really a reason to be there if none of my friends were there.” Cayde responded, a sheepish laugh following his words. “Come in. It’s freezing outside.” His mother said with a concerned tone, extending an arm to his shoulder and lightly pushing him to get him inside. Cayde followed her and entered the cabin, the feeling of the warm air helped him calm down and temporarily forget how he felt the moment before.
“It feels nice in here, mama.” He said, looking around the room. He noticed his father wasn’t in his usual spot on the couch and turned back to his mother. “Where’s dad?” He asked. “Oh, he had to do a double shift today, so he’ll be home sometime around midnight.” She replied, stirring her tea and taking a sip. “Okay.” Cayde yawned. “Well i’m pretty tired, so i’ll be sleeping after I take a shower. Love you.” Cayde said, walking towards his room to gather his clothes.
He continued walking down the hall until he reached the staircase, hesitating for a moment before walking up. He didn’t know why he hesitated—maybe it was the fact he lied. It triggered the fear of no longer being their perfect little boy. They always claimed to love him unconditionally, yet they couldn’t even fathom a scenario in which their son had romantic feelings for another boy. How is it unconditional, yet you’d throw everything you had away because of a simple little detail like that? Why can’t we just keep our promises? You promised to love me no matter what, yet you’d abandon me at the mere thought of your son wanting to be happy. Why should it matter who I like? Why should it matter so much if I'm different? What’s so wrong with individuality? Are you sure you love the real me, or just the idea of me you mapped out in your head?
Cayden gripped the banister until his knuckles matched the pale white of the wood. “..The hell is up with me…?” He mumbled to himself, shaking his head to avoid his thoughts and forcing himself to take the first step. He made his way up to his room and took a deep breath before turning the knob and entering the room. He sighed, eyes half lidded as he pulled out the drawer and searched through his clothes. He came across the shirt he bought at the mall with Adder, holding it in his hand and staring at it for a minute. He felt the familiar tingling sensation in his nose when he was about to cry. He sniffled as tears started to well up in his eyes; his face scrunched up in a desperate attempt to hold it together. He dropped to his knees, holding the shirt close to him and quietly sobbing into the soft fabric.
A rhythmic knock vibrated the door a minute later. “Cayden, you okay in there, hun?” His mother asked. Cayde’s breath hitched. He shoved the tear-stained shirt back into the drawer. He quietly sniffled and wiped his face, trying to hide any sign he was crying.”Y-yeah mom, I'm alright. Why’d you ask?” he called out, his voice sounding more pinched and fragile, the words having trouble escaping his throat. “I was walking down the hall and it sounded like you were crying, so I came to check up on you.” she said, her voice filled with concern. Cayde’s heart skipped a beat, his breathing more shaky than before. “Oh. I-I’m alright! No worries mom.. I just have—uhh...” He paused, thinking of an excuse.
“Have what?” his mother asked. “Uh.. A-allergies! Yeah, really bad allergies. They’re making me sniffle a lot and stuff.” Cayden replied hurriedly with a sheepish laugh following his words. “Anyways, I love you. I need to go shower. I’m really sleepy and I wanna get it over with.” he added. “Okay. Love you too, Winnie. Sleep well.” she smiled and walked away. Something about her smile seemed.. off. Cayde disregarded it and huffed at the nickname. Winnie? Seriously? What’s with the childish nickname every time I have any sort of negative emotions.. it’s like they WANT to infantilize me.. And why is it only towards me? Don’t we all have the same last name? he sighed, reaching for his clothes and made his way to the bathroom. Once he entered, he placed his clothes in the closet and started to take off the uncomfortable, fancy formal outfit he had once felt confident in.
He reached up and slid his glasses off first, setting them on the counter with a quiet click. Without their weight holding his bangs in place, the hair immediately fell down, the long strands covering his eyes and reaching the slightest bit down past the bridge of his nose. He moved the bangs out of his face like a curtain and tucked them behind his ears, then hooking his fingers around the rubber band holding the top layer of his hair up, pulling it loose, his hair falling right back down. “I really need to get a haircut...” he mumbled to himself, tilting his head and moving the strands covering his eyes while looking at the length in the mirror. He reached for his hairbrush and swept it through his soft blonde layers, often shaking his head to get the hair out of his eyes.
He took a deep breath and turned the knobs of the faucet, stepping into the shower and feeling the warmth of the water soaking through his hair, then flowing down his shoulders, to his back, and eventually pooling down into the drain. He leaned and rested his head on the cool wall, staring down at the water spiraling into the drain with a blank expression on his face. He yawned and sat on the floor of the shower, bringing his legs up to his chest and resting his head on his knees.
He drifted into deep thought. The events from earlier replayed in his head like a childhood memory—a bad memory. A memory he wanted to forget about and erase forever because of the horrid embarrassment and heartbreak he felt in that moment. He only sees me as a friend. Why did I even try? I should’ve known. He was just being nice, he never viewed me like that. Cayde felt tears well up in his eyes again, but he quickly pushed those feelings down. He didn’t feel like draining himself and crying over something that would’ve never worked out, even if Adder actually did say yes.
He reached for the faucet with trembling hands, twisting the knob until it let out the usual high-pitched squeak before the water stopped flowing. He didn’t even have the motivation to take a proper shower, he just wanted to feel anything other than hurt. He planted a hand onto the wall and pushed himself up, the heavy dripping of the faucet echoed against the silence of the room, making his skin crawl. He quickly got out, the feeling of being soaked and now hit with cold air was unbearable. He shivered, quickly grabbing the towel and wrapping it around himself.
Cayde then made his way to his room, locking the door and getting changed as fast as he could. It was clear that he was starting to get impatient, wanting to sleep and get the night over with. He took a hair tie off of his nightstand and gathered his damp hair, tugging it into a lazy low ponytail. A few wet strands escaped almost immediately, clinging to his neck, but he didn’t have the energy to fix them. Before he climbed into bed, he noticed his journal peeking from under the bed. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly kneeled down to investigate. He usually kept it tucked exactly four inches from the leg of the bed, the corner being directly touching the middle of a marking on the carpet beneath with a specific coin on the corner parallel to the one on the marking.
He froze. The corner of the journal wasn’t where it was supposed to be. His stomach did a slow, sickening flip. He always made sure to keep the journal in that exact position every single day. He knew exactly where and how he left it and the fact it was messed with made him sick. His mind raced through the possibilities: how he could’ve accidentally kicked it while getting out of bed one day, how his cat could’ve hid under the bed and accidentally moved it out of his place. He proved that idea wrong immediately, reminding himself he trained his cat specifically not to move the journal, and the coin was too neatly placed to be messed up by a cat. He then remembered back when his mother called him that god awful nickname. She really only calls him that when he “messes up”—like if he’s done something he shouldn’t have, but she doesn’t want to tell him directly.
His eyes widened. He didn’t reach for the book. He couldn’t. He just stared at the displaced coin on the opposite side of the corner. It was on the right side, when usually it should be on the left, facing tails side up. Another fact about his mom came back, she had an obsession with things being on the right side and whenever she had a coin, she’d place it where the heads side was visible to shy away any “bad omens”. He whispered the realization into the dark, a cold sweat breaking out across his neck. “She knows.”