The Sky is Falling

There's a notebook in his two hands, straining with folded yellow edges of sticky notes peeking out from between the pages.

He waits to be noticed before speaking, and even then, refuses to cross the threshold. A vampire that doesn't actually want to be invited in.

Hue isn't the only one feeling apprehension.

B understands that even the most innocuous interaction between them poses an existential risk.

Kismet is not like Obelus, content to match his energy and leave it at that. He's a whirlwind of ravenous hunger B has only ever recognized within himself. Whatever he wants, he is likely to eventually get, even if only through persistence alone. And like B, K has a bad habit of wanting everything.

Knowing this does not inoculate him from the temptation of the ghosts of his past walking alongside him in adult bodies.

"You got Saturn in your class?" Hue asks gruffly.

Destiny's Child's Lose My Breath blares from a CD run speaker sitting on top of the scattered desk that is the history professor's office. Textbooks all but abandoned at this point and assignment drafts half finished, clearly this song took priority to his ongoing drudging of actual teaching material. A pen swings in the air with the rhythm, much less conducting as it is 'feeling the music'.

Kismet's eyes are closed, head swaying while his expression reads one of deep relation to the song.

"Hit me hard, make me lose my hah, hah," he hums to himself passionately when his eyes open, and there is a figure that definitely was not there a minute ago.

He does a fast double take, make sure he isn't actually seeing things, and immediately hits the pause.

'No fucking way.'

It was K's lucky day. A grin is plastered all over his face. He really does get everything he wants.

"Comin' back to an orphanage for the 'crazy'. Sounds like rock fuckin' bottom to me. I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Please,” Kismet rolls his eyes as he kicks his feet up on top of the desk in casual leisure, “I’m as much of a target as they are, something I’m more than sure you’re privy to by now. I see no harm in providing a little returned attention where and when it’s due.”

The bite in his colleague’s words hold not much conviction against a man with such a love for degradation. In fact, he doubts much of anyone has even held any kind of conversation with cold Hue for this long, despite its contents. They’re even staring into each other’s eyes now. This is practically flirting.

Kismet is no stranger to aggressive, mean flirting anyway. That was most of the attention he got from his best mates B and by extension Obelus as kids, and it almost always ended in them in some entanglement of hot, close bodied desire; whether that be for violence or pleasure. Didn’t so much matter to him, both were physical enough and pulled the attention right where it always belongs—on himself, of course. Name calling, hair pulling, throwing punches, kicks to the stomach, or burns on his flesh and glass in his skin is all just foreplay. It is a language he knows how to speak quite fluently.

”Aww. Like me? I think I can arrange that for you again. I have a nasty habit of reverting people back into their worst selves. I think I’d quite like to meet that you, Hue. And I think you’ll let me. Eventually.” To say, he will wear him down, like a tiger stalking a running gazelle. Given the motive of never ending hunger, K is difficult to make run out of steam for his prey.

They are already a bit the same, after all. Two burn outs not quite dulled of spark enough to be ignored being called upon by the prestigious genius orphan academy that still held standard for both producing and providing the best of the best. And here they were, on equal playing field, both a head of their respective teams in a similar regard. An outsider and an inside man.

“I’m sure you’ll regret me too. Most people do. But you’ll have a ball in the meantime. I make sure of that, too.” Supple neck exposed, he can only think about sinking his teeth in the same spots an inked, buzzing needle had probed previously in coating his neck. K would coat it in bruising, blood, and saliva if given even the slightest opportunity.

Rock bottom. Yeah right. No one hits rock bottom when they live down there. This was Kismet’s chosen pit, and he chose to roll in it. He was thriving at the bottom; what does Hue know? What does anyone know?

Maybe he hasn't been frozen in time all these years; maybe he actually came back worse.

How much worse? B would be lying if he said he wasn't itching to find out.

The difference is that K is no longer the teenager he once was. The foolishness of youth, tragic upbringing, boys-will-be-boys, and other such excuses for his bad behavior he weaponized so effectively back then are forfeit.

He is the adult now, a professor with the authority to pass, fail and punish, encourage or degrade - to mold any young mind misguided enough to take him seriously. As ill-suited as K is to power, influence and responsibility, here he is, lounging on the other side of the desk as blithe and poised to kill as any carnivorous animal. All sanctioned by this oh so reputable institution, nonetheless.

Not a single thing about Kismet implies professionalism or good judgement. One look at him or his classroom with everything haphazard and half-assed makes Hue out to be a square in comparison. Still, constant rumors of indiscretions aside, Wammy's House sees him perfectly fit to assist in the grooming of their freshest batch of juvenile tools.

B supposes this should be reassuring to him.

Hue can serve his purpose, poke and prod around, gather the information he needs about the declining second generation and the up-and-coming third so that B can effectively sabotage them both. Wammy's House will produce nothing but failures again, and with a scapegoat like Kismet around, it doesn't even look like B will need to be on his best behavior to pull that off.

It seems they're still using each other, even now.

Someone else weighs on B's mind. Whether he can be anything more than a liability now is questionable.

"You and Obelus both, right?" Hue sneers, apparently giving up on debating ethics with someone who has no interest in examining his actions in the first place. "I've heard the rumors. He isn't even bothering to hide how much of a hopeless drunk he is these days. And he seems to think you're the best of friends. You come up with this bullshit together? It's an even playing field 'cause you used to be them? Does he quote Freud?"

B stops himself there. Hue thinks they're repugnant enough to cut into with such mockery, sure, but he has to be careful not to let his own jealousy bleed through. Kismet would smell it like a bloodhound.

"Wow...you are persistent, I'll give you that; delusional, too. You think I'd give up my sobriety for community dick? Bet you never worked hard for something a day in your life," Hue lets out something resembling a laugh, dry and gravelly as it is. "If anything, being around you losers just makes me wanna give up cigarettes and booze, too. Go full teetotaler and just be done with it all so we won't have a single fuckin' thing in common."

Hue drops his arm and lets it hover limply over the ground, creating distance between himself and the cigarette as if to prove his point. He watches it burn, basking in the waste. Eventually, though, he fails to resist turning his eyes back on his peacocking counterpart.

'I have a nasty habit of reverting people back to their worst selves.'

His worst self has a few ideas about what he'd like to do to him right now. It wouldn't be that hard to wipe that cocky look off his face and make him pathetic and yielding again. A little attention is all it takes to make K soft and amenable. Obedient, even. At least to a point.

He misses those desperate little puppy dog eyes. Who does he think he is, playing like he's the one in control here?

Hiding and fleeing do not suit B.

Would it really make any difference? One night, call it a drunken mistake, go back to ignoring him at every available opportunity. It would be fun. He knows it would be fun. Why be so worried about something so inconsequential on its face? In fact, giving in might just get K off his back. He'd become another name in that little black book of his. He'd lose interest.

He'd lose interest.

B's blood runs cold. It's in his best interest if K loses interest in Hue. Much like Obelus deciding he wants nothing to do with him. Less eyes, less attention from people who knew B well enough once to recognize something familiar in Hue. More freedom, more focus.

It's in his best interest for them to lose interest.

Yet the thought makes him want to put out this cigarette right on Kismet's pretty face.

'I think I'd quite like to meet that you, Hue. And I think you'll let me. Eventually.'

B bites down on his tongue, setting Hue's jaw as a consequence.

"That me is long fuckin' dead, Kismet. Sorry to disappoint. I don't think your little boyfriend would appreciate that, anyway, and you two really do deserve each other. I'd hate to get in the way."

Does B regret Kismet? Does he regret Obelus? Does he regret refusing to leave with one, only to leave the other behind in that all too familiar cycle of abandonment? Does he regret coming back for revenge and looking them both in the face again behind a disguise?

No. Of course not.

Hue smirks. He and B are both being rewarded for their efforts. The change in tone is imperceptible to the average person but impossible for B to miss. K has been a wonderful sport, taking Hue's worst like a good boy without swiping back in earnest. This is his first proper jab, light as it is. It means he managed to get under that thick skin even if only for a moment.

This is still so much fun.

As if he's finally decided to get comfortable in Kismet's presence, Hue stretches out long and lazy into his chair.

"Everyone's a sucker for something, Kismet. Some are just better at hiding it than others," he yawns, pinching the burning stick between two fingers and holding it above his face for inspection.

He watches it burn and watches it burn and watches it burn.

"...But you're not wrong. The people that bought my art were at the top; vapid parasites who didn't know or care about a thing. It was about tax evasion or blowin' smoke up their own asses in front of their friends. Suckers."

Finally, Hue pops the nub back into the corner of his mouth and takes one last puff before it's snuffed out. It hangs there, limp and ineffective as a bad habit.

"And I was a sucker, too. Doin' my little song and dance for 'em. Artist from the dirt. I was for sale. Nice thing about these kids is that they can't buy me. If the old man doesn't like how I do things, I walk. But you? This is home for you,"

He shrugs.

Little boyfriend… the way Hue is talking almost makes him want to bound out of there and hear it off Obelus’s lips himself. Best friend might not be a label that would mean much to Hue outside of a childish habit, but Kismet knowing Obelus’s previous prestigious best friend knows that title does not come lightly and what that position might entail for him. The idea tantalizes him with thoughts threatening to set him adrift onto a different float. Focus stops him, however, both needing to hold up his pride and work in wearing down the man in front of him.

All in due time. Though patience is not a virtue that comes easy for Kismet.

“Listen,” he starts, stretching his arms above his head as sobriety looms its weight inside of it. Ash ticks down onto his lap that is simply brushed to the floor. “I get it. Why bother with the low-life, right? All I’m suggesting is it pays to have some kind of acquaintance in here for better or worse. I’m really not as bad a guy as I’m cracked up to be, really. You could understand, I’m sure, as a misunderstood and under appreciated artist type. I do work hard. I’ve worked plenty hard. I think the issue is for people like us either people don’t appreciate the kinds of things that you or I put that time and energy into to find it deserving of calling it hard work, or maybe the real hard work goes into making all the struggle look effortless so it goes unnoticed or unrecognized. Workin’ hard or hardly workin’, am I right?”

At least for long enough for it to count. Kismet takes a long drag from the end of his cigarette, and watches the billow of smoke in front of his eyes imagining again a similar sight of engine smoke pouring out from the crushed front end of a staged yet all too real car crash from years ago. The weeks leading up to a fateful day spent lamenting to concerned teachers, slowly draining pints of his own blood and storing it cold until it was needed, scoping the perfect crime scene, scoring discrete getaway means, and hardest of all playing innocuous all that time to some incredibly perceptive eyes.

What a rush it added up to. Late night speeding, stone sober yet feeling as high as ever on delirium, the cold bite of the salty air at night and fog fading him and his life back into the safety of obscurity once again to be molded back with his own hands. So good, it was almost as if he really did kill Kismet. Yet here he was, back again in the flesh, given the shock of life and dragged in by the shell of his ear.

The cigarette is put out on an empty square of desk and flicked into an overflowing waste bin. It miraculously lands to sit on top of it all. A throne of garbage. Top of the refuse.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Wammy’s isn’t exactly your average group house, Hue. It isn’t a home for anyone; it’s a death trap. Something I apparently picked up a little faster than the top mind of a generation. And they call me the attention whore, hah.

So, what? Yeah, I left. I wasn’t about to waste the peak years of my youth behind tattered wallpaper and a boring game that wasn’t interested in my talent. Then, yeah, I get the opportunity to come back, on my own terms, and get to be on the other side of how the show’s running? Sign me up. I can walk any time I want too, and I will. You’re not special for that. But why would I now? The going’s good while they’re scrambling to fill the shoes my generation left behind, I’m treated like the prodigal son, and as soon as things start turning south— which it will have to eventually, given the sinking hole in the pit of it all they keep trying to fill—I’ll be long gone again. Because home isn’t a singular place for me; it’s where I make it. It’ll be an entertaining watch in the meantime though.

I can show you how much I really know, if you’re interested. Maybe over drinks? I used to get paid big bucks just being conversational company, ya know. Maybe we can trade New York stories, see where our lines might have ever crossed? We could get to know each other, like real coworkers.”

There's a notebook in his two hands, straining with folded yellow edges of sticky notes peeking out from between the pages.

He waits to be noticed before speaking, and even then, refuses to cross the threshold. A vampire that doesn't actually want to be invited in.

Hue isn't the only one feeling apprehension.

B understands that even the most innocuous interaction between them poses an existential risk.

Kismet is not like Obelus, content to match his energy and leave it at that. He's a whirlwind of ravenous hunger B has only ever recognized within himself. Whatever he wants, he is likely to eventually get, even if only through persistence alone. And like B, K has a bad habit of wanting everything.

Knowing this does not inoculate him from the temptation of the ghosts of his past walking alongside him in adult bodies.

"You got Saturn in your class?" Hue asks gruffly.

Destiny's Child's Lose My Breath blares from a CD run speaker sitting on top of the scattered desk that is the history professor's office. Textbooks all but abandoned at this point and assignment drafts half finished, clearly this song took priority to his ongoing drudging of actual teaching material. A pen swings in the air with the rhythm, much less conducting as it is 'feeling the music'.

Kismet's eyes are closed, head swaying while his expression reads one of deep relation to the song.

"Hit me hard, make me lose my hah, hah," he hums to himself passionately when his eyes open, and there is a figure that definitely was not there a minute ago.

He does a fast double take, make sure he isn't actually seeing things, and immediately hits the pause.

'No fucking way.'

It was K's lucky day. A grin is plastered all over his face. He really does get everything he wants.

"Comin' back to an orphanage for the 'crazy'. Sounds like rock fuckin' bottom to me. I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Please,” Kismet rolls his eyes as he kicks his feet up on top of the desk in casual leisure, “I’m as much of a target as they are, something I’m more than sure you’re privy to by now. I see no harm in providing a little returned attention where and when it’s due.”

The bite in his colleague’s words hold not much conviction against a man with such a love for degradation. In fact, he doubts much of anyone has even held any kind of conversation with cold Hue for this long, despite its contents. They’re even staring into each other’s eyes now. This is practically flirting.

Kismet is no stranger to aggressive, mean flirting anyway. That was most of the attention he got from his best mates B and by extension Obelus as kids, and it almost always ended in them in some entanglement of hot, close bodied desire; whether that be for violence or pleasure. Didn’t so much matter to him, both were physical enough and pulled the attention right where it always belongs—on himself, of course. Name calling, hair pulling, throwing punches, kicks to the stomach, or burns on his flesh and glass in his skin is all just foreplay. It is a language he knows how to speak quite fluently.

”Aww. Like me? I think I can arrange that for you again. I have a nasty habit of reverting people back into their worst selves. I think I’d quite like to meet that you, Hue. And I think you’ll let me. Eventually.” To say, he will wear him down, like a tiger stalking a running gazelle. Given the motive of never ending hunger, K is difficult to make run out of steam for his prey.

They are already a bit the same, after all. Two burn outs not quite dulled of spark enough to be ignored being called upon by the prestigious genius orphan academy that still held standard for both producing and providing the best of the best. And here they were, on equal playing field, both a head of their respective teams in a similar regard. An outsider and an inside man.

“I’m sure you’ll regret me too. Most people do. But you’ll have a ball in the meantime. I make sure of that, too.” Supple neck exposed, he can only think about sinking his teeth in the same spots an inked, buzzing needle had probed previously in coating his neck. K would coat it in bruising, blood, and saliva if given even the slightest opportunity.

Rock bottom. Yeah right. No one hits rock bottom when they live down there. This was Kismet’s chosen pit, and he chose to roll in it. He was thriving at the bottom; what does Hue know? What does anyone know?

Xrphansrevival

The finger slides in. He leans over to kiss and nip at Kismet's collarbone.

”That’s what you were doing? Could have fooled me. I thought our troublemaking was a mutual endeavor,” Kismet smirks with a contented groan as the warm hand better stimulates his arousal. “And you’re telling me that was your attempt at taming? I don’t think you couid bare to rope me that loosely. Maybe you could give me a taste of what that’d be like now, hm?”

Greedy hands roam the exposed body in front of him, running up his chest then down his sides until one dipped below the waistband and gave a kind tug to what awaited him inside. Yup. Just as menacing as he remembered. And just as happy to see him too. As the lube is brought to light as K is never one to come unprepared, a same grace is reciprocated onto Obelus as the boxers slide down his legs to reveal his full girth. Kismet is hungry for it, even looking past the rude comment.

"Roping you in, haha... No, I think it would work the other way. You'd make me worse." The psychologist is much more self aware of his flaws, and he's certain his life would be much different had Kismet been his best friend years ago.

Obelus doesn't move slow. He fingers Kismet hard, not quite aiming for his spot yet. A second finger quickly joins the first, pumping in and out easily. "Did Gamma treat you nicely for once? I'm sure you would have liked a more personal touch."

Kismet has always been the attention whore.

His body leans in to press against Obelus’s, one hand still pumping his girthy shaft while the other digs fingernails into the muscles of his broad shoulder like they clung for dear life itself. “Of course not… Not nearly as nice as this warm welcome…”

"Yeah? You liked when I played keep away...?" Obelus kisses down Kismet's neck, punctuating it with a bite when he finally pushes his dick into the tight little body under him. Despite their differences, he's always felt that the smaller man's body was plenty warm and welcoming.

And he missed him.

If B were here, he’d be pissed. That only makes this feel that much better. Of course, if B were here, he’d probably be a lot less missed. So really, it works out well on Kismet’s end. A win-win— Obelus gets a remnant of his old flame brought back to life, and Kismet gets the attention that comes with being that idol of transferred energy. Both get to relive their past a little in the meantime. Nothing wrong with a little living in the past.

His right leg throws itself up over a broad shoulder as he shimmies himself closer in taking his cock down to the hilt. His left bends to rest himself fully on top of the desk. Brunet locks stick to each other’s foreheads as they press together their lips and tongues to fully entangle themselves into the heat of the moment.

Xrphansrevival

The finger slides in. He leans over to kiss and nip at Kismet's collarbone.

”That’s what you were doing? Could have fooled me. I thought our troublemaking was a mutual endeavor,” Kismet smirks with a contented groan as the warm hand better stimulates his arousal. “And you’re telling me that was your attempt at taming? I don’t think you couid bare to rope me that loosely. Maybe you could give me a taste of what that’d be like now, hm?”

Greedy hands roam the exposed body in front of him, running up his chest then down his sides until one dipped below the waistband and gave a kind tug to what awaited him inside. Yup. Just as menacing as he remembered. And just as happy to see him too. As the lube is brought to light as K is never one to come unprepared, a same grace is reciprocated onto Obelus as the boxers slide down his legs to reveal his full girth. Kismet is hungry for it, even looking past the rude comment.

"Roping you in, haha... No, I think it would work the other way. You'd make me worse." The psychologist is much more self aware of his flaws, and he's certain his life would be much different had Kismet been his best friend years ago.

Obelus doesn't move slow. He fingers Kismet hard, not quite aiming for his spot yet. A second finger quickly joins the first, pumping in and out easily. "Did Gamma treat you nicely for once? I'm sure you would have liked a more personal touch."

Kismet has always been the attention whore.

His body leans in to press against Obelus’s, one hand still pumping his girthy shaft while the other digs fingernails into the muscles of his broad shoulder like they clung for dear life itself. “Of course not… Not nearly as nice as this warm welcome…”

[txt] woooowww [txt] worried ur gonna get ur phone taken away? :( poor baby [txt] will they take away ur gold stickers next?? [txt] NOT UR PRECIOUS EXTRA CREDIT!! [txt] soooo sorry i didnt know i was talking to king DWEEB right now

[IMG: sent] Kismet is upside down on a table. The picture is clearly self taken, considering the awkward angle, but what you can make out is that he is shirtless, pants on but undone.

[...] [txt] don threatnining me w a good time [txt] betr hry [txt] that sunonds miiighty entici ng

Backup is grateful for his eyes at times like these. The pictures are shit, but not incomprehensible to him. And although it is a lot of trouble to drop his studying, slip through the gate, and make his way into the bowels of Winchester, the possibility that Kismet might climb into the vehicle of the next random is a very real one. Though he would not die, who knows what might happen to him. He might not be as fun when he came back.

Even with the pictures, it is admittedly not the easiest task to find him. The deadline is an utterly self-imposed aspect of the challenge that Backup nonetheless refused to fail.

K is an attention-seeker, and a talented one. He knows how to appeal to his audience.

[txt] I'm close [txt] are you conscious?

It's about 28 minutes in when Backup nearly stumbles over his prize on the sidewalk.

Oooh. Bad idea. Head rush. He stumbles a bit, gripping his head.

"B! You made it~! And'a whole," he whips out the phone, still miraculously in his hand, to put really close to his face to get a clear, steady look at, "two minutes early! Can you believe the two whole cars that passed completely ignored my thumbing?" He frowns, as if really hurt he didn't get trafficked today.

He approaches his friend, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Oh, yeah no he's going to need both arms around him to keep himself up straight. And lays a head on his shoulder. You know, for good measure.

"I said I would. Did you doubt me?" He's obviously pleased with himself. "And you're whole, too. I'm impressed."

Backup glances over to the flat Kismet must've stumbled out of. College age kids are filing in and out of the place with cans. He doesn't get the chance to comment before party boy throws himself at him.

It's mostly reflex to keep him from sliding completely to the ground. This happens a lot. B strokes the hair on top of his self-destructive head.

"What, no one felt sorry enough for you to come and ask you if you're okay? Stroke your hair, bring you water? You love that part," B pouts with pseudo-sympathy. "You must've been lonely...too drunk to pull. Poor baby."

Kismet shows no sign of letting go of B anytime soon.

"I know you missed me. You always do. That is, once again, why I block you when I'm in class."

Since K was able to stand up long enough to greet him, B figures he can probably walk. He takes a step back from him, still holding his shoulders in case he decides to fall over.

He is by the miracle of God’s great grace and B’s capably supportive arms, still standing. And he is staring at his savior with the most lovesick puppy eyes at a miracle standing before him, lids heavy with alcohol and lips spread wide in a light headed carefree glee.

B came for him.

K wins again.

But the good news for Backup is when he loses to Kismet, he still gets to win too. He licks his lips.

“I pulled you, didn’t I?”

He turns on his heel, latching his hands on to B’s wrist to pull him back inside to the house party at the tune of being dragged back to that house of drab. Kismet is not letting him go that easy, and he promised a party. No body cuts off his good time.

Still, K always ends up stumbling his way back home and inevitably, worming his way into B's life again.

"Did you...?" he fights back returning the smile, losing that battle pretty quickly, too. Being with A feels like a neverending game of chess; intense, all-consuming, complex, cerebral, high stakes. Being with K feels a little more like Russian roulette. On nights like this, when he's exhausted from trying so hard to be good, be the best, all the while knowing his work won't be done until his opponent is buried in the ground, he's not sure which he prefers.

There's no resistance when Kismet drags him toward the party, but he's going a little too slow for B's taste. He's too sober for this, and K is too drunk.

B stops, pulls K behind him, kneels, and hikes him up onto his back like luggage.

"...You're lighter. Probably can't keep anything down when your stomach acid is 99% proof, huh? You're not gonna be able to throw me off next time we get in a fight."

When, not if. Spoken as casually as if he were talking about the next time they'd go out to a restaurant. When things are good between them, they're really good. When they're bad, they're really bad. Even now there's no telling which kind of night this would turn out to be.

The base of loud, droning party music, the contrast of dark rooms and electronic lights burning bright, the haze of smoke and stranger's bodies feel familiar and like a relief compared to the stern, dull wood of the orphanage hallways. Perfectly extroverted enough, B still has no interest in these people who live entirely different lives than him, with homes, parents and a future they could at least believe was of their own making. The truth is, he is here for Kismet.

Stopping short at a table with jello shots, he slides K off his back and sucks down three like it's absolutely nothing. He's ready to stop being Backup for the night. They can't hit him fast enough. He shoves one into K's hands. He wants to make him worse.

”Ughh… Do not bring up vomiting right now… unless you want it running down your pretty back…” he groans, but still peppers the boy carrying him in graciously wet kisses into the side of his neck and head in gratitude for the lift. “I’ll jus’ be that more agile an’ nimble anyways. Heheh, can’t hit what ya can’t caaatch~”

Kismet giggles within his slurring at the thought of their next tussle, knowing just as well it’s inevitable. He looks forward to them almost as much as he does their hook ups. It’s just so exhilarating getting B all riled up, both positively and negatively. The passion behind his hands and eyes is always just as hot either way.

As he easily slides off his ride back in, he watches with glee as B knocks back three shots in a row and, not one to be left behind even in his head start, grabs another in addition to the one shoved into his hand to match his doubling word.

Lime. Delicious. They both slide in unison down the back of his throat with ease, much in thanks to his skilled practice.

“Oh, B—“ he nearly chokes then in his sudden excitement in remembering, “is there fucking ever! I barely wanna even spoil it for you, ya gotta see thisshit. Come on!” His usual grin turns a touch more sinister as he pulls the equally degenerate teen down the steps to where K had sent his original photo.

Sure enough is the array of spirits he had allured to mixing in his texts sitting on the table he had previously hung himself off of, as well as so much more. A litany of drugs, as well as tools and toys lay strewn about under the flashing lights illuminating the otherwise dark interior. In the middle of the floor sit five male individuals, all hooded and tied together. A sign sits at their feet, labeled ‘free use til sunrise.’

There's a notebook in his two hands, straining with folded yellow edges of sticky notes peeking out from between the pages.

He waits to be noticed before speaking, and even then, refuses to cross the threshold. A vampire that doesn't actually want to be invited in.

Hue isn't the only one feeling apprehension.

B understands that even the most innocuous interaction between them poses an existential risk.

Kismet is not like Obelus, content to match his energy and leave it at that. He's a whirlwind of ravenous hunger B has only ever recognized within himself. Whatever he wants, he is likely to eventually get, even if only through persistence alone. And like B, K has a bad habit of wanting everything.

Knowing this does not inoculate him from the temptation of the ghosts of his past walking alongside him in adult bodies.

"You got Saturn in your class?" Hue asks gruffly.

Destiny's Child's Lose My Breath blares from a CD run speaker sitting on top of the scattered desk that is the history professor's office. Textbooks all but abandoned at this point and assignment drafts half finished, clearly this song took priority to his ongoing drudging of actual teaching material. A pen swings in the air with the rhythm, much less conducting as it is 'feeling the music'.

Kismet's eyes are closed, head swaying while his expression reads one of deep relation to the song.

"Hit me hard, make me lose my hah, hah," he hums to himself passionately when his eyes open, and there is a figure that definitely was not there a minute ago.

He does a fast double take, make sure he isn't actually seeing things, and immediately hits the pause.

'No fucking way.'

It was K's lucky day. A grin is plastered all over his face. He really does get everything he wants.

PREV B has to focus on the distrust and apprehension Hue is supposed to be feeling when their eyes meet.

"Just seems kinda... random. You seein' him or something? I mean. No judgement here. Again, he just doesn't really seem the type." He's teasing, but maybe he's pushing it. He'll pull back a bit. Make him want to stay. At the least for a few minutes more. Just enough to be able to pull him back in later.

The notebook falls with a slap onto his desk. It is begging to be ignored and pushed to the side with their adult bodies taking its place.

But clearly this holds some sort of importance, at least to the situation at hand, so he gives it a proper glance. Oh yes, the silk road conundrum. God, Saturn was annoying about that one. Does he even know how hard it is to make a cohesive syllabus with his demands? But he's willing to give the boy more work if it means getting him off his back for a few days. Besides, builds character or whatever.

Still though, no matter how irritating, he can’t help but see just a small piece of himself sitting across from him during class. Not just in looks either—though that was its own can of worms—but a young smartass with a little flame of passion he keeps hidden away inside himself, lest he lets the harsh environment around him snuff it out of him. Real light like that is hard to come by.

Plus, he was fun to pick on.

"Yeah. Real bright, that one."

The actions glide through his reflexive memory like butter: one for him self, one for the mate, Zippo from pocket to palm and flipped open with a flick of his wrist. When Hue finally breaks the invisible wall and apprehension meets pining, Kismet can't help but follow suit with a winning smile, leaning in himself just close enough to light both sticks at the same time. Sharing the same flame. So romantic.

He takes a drag as he leans back into his chair comfortably.

"You seein' any of your students?" he hits back, although he almost immediately regrets it, because Hue gets the feeling that there's a good chance K is and he really doesn't want to know.

B wouldn't mind knowing.

Kismet was the first person B told after sleeping with a Wammy's House professor for the first time. Knowing the others would shoot him some concerned look, it's nice to simply get credit where it's due. It's not easy tempting someone into doing something that might cost them their job; which is why he and his equally self-destructive friend turned it into a bet. To his disappointment, K beat him to the punch just a few hours prior - with the same teacher.

They laughed about getting that professor fired for days.

"...He's a nice kid, so I'm doin' him a favor."

Hue watches Kismet's face as he flips through the notebook, keeping an eye out for any sticky notes fluttering free. He and Saturn almost look a bit alike when they read.

B, and - as a consequence, Hue - has been told there's a certain sharpness in his eyes when he's taken in by intense focus. S and K, in contrast, almost softened their gazes when they became engrossed in their history books. The way you soften when taking in the sight of something that brings you joy.

"Yeah. Bright."

The first time B saw it in K was during one of their very few and far between 'study sessions'; he learned to refuse these misleading invitations. There was hardly ever any studying. Not that they really needed it.

In a house full of young prodigies that Backup sat (mostly) comfortably on top of, he was always starving to be impressed. Even with the drugs and devil-may-care attitude, B realized very quickly that Kismet could've easily broken top 5 if he really wanted to. Why waste all that potential? He could never figure it out.

There's a memory of Kismet talking for an hour straight about the sacking of Constantinople as they passed a joint around that never quite faded from his mind. Animated and overflowing with obscure knowledge about the Byzantine court intrigues and scandals of the day, it could've just been the weed, but B remembers being fascinated and listening the entire way through.

Yeah, when K finally ran out of steam, he smiled at him just like that.

Hue can't put distance between them fast enough.

Settling into the chair across from him, he gives his colleague a once over as the cigarette burns lazily between his fingers.

“I asked you first.” He smiles as he pushes the notebook to the side for now. Joining the pile, he would probably remember to hand it back over to its rightful owner. Probably. “Right, a favor. Maybe he’ll owe you one back then, Mr. Saturation?” Teasing came as easy as breathing with Kismet. It makes it difficult to take anything he says seriously, but it just so happens to be so much fun. He can’t help himself, it’s just who he is.

His eyes wander to the cancer stick held delicately between the other’s slender digits. Unblinking eyes watch religiously as it sits on his pale lips, how they purse ever so slightly to suck in its toxins, how his chest contracts with the inhale, and how it steadies as he holds it in before letting it leak back out through that mean frown that refused to budge in any other direction.

Their gaze connects once again. Hue’s retain cold distance, even as Kismet’s reach out so warm and cordially. He just knows there is more spark hiding behind them; he’s seen it during stolen staring as his colleague worked on his projects in the other room. That piercing, obsessively wide-eyed inspiration. He wanted that. K needed that on him, and he was ready to do just about anything to get it.

And he is quite skilled at getting what he wants, even if he has to work for it. The work can be the best part— so long as it’s interesting and fun. Hue looks like he can more than provide.

“Business, huh? Yeah. You seem the ‘all business’ type. Though…” and he flicks down to under his eye, then neck, then forearms, and back to his eyes again, “maybe that wasn’t always the case?”

It is his turn to take another inhale from his own cigarette, letting the nicotine sit and seep into his gums for a minute before exhaling to continue. “I’m not much the quiet type unlike you, if you couldn’t tell by now. I came back for the crazy. No one does it quite like Wammy’s.”

That was the truth. As much as he chased for something better, more exhilarating in the concrete jungle, it just was not the same high. He supposes he was trying to find that high again but in a different position this time.

”Were you ever aggressively horny Yorkie? Or were you just all bite bite bite grr like a little rabid doggie? Can you even feel anything down there or are you all dried up? That’d be so sad….” He takes a sip of hot coffee, and immediately dribbles it out of his mouth back into the cup. And pours it in the trash. Then pulls out the bag, shoving it in her face.

PREV

"I mean, is this friendship of teasing not the 'something worked out' conclusion of times gone by? You are not in the chaos as much for me to be the designated driver anymore."

”Could you? We can make this the ghastly threesome you’ve always wanted if it’s the devil I think you’re alluding to.” He smiles at the thought. Why didn’t they ever fool around together anyway? Yoriko could clearly hold her own and Kismet had no qualms with any kind of company that stood in his way or general line of sight.

Xrphansrevival

The finger slides in. He leans over to kiss and nip at Kismet's collarbone.

”That’s what you were doing? Could have fooled me. I thought our troublemaking was a mutual endeavor,” Kismet smirks with a contented groan as the warm hand better stimulates his arousal. “And you’re telling me that was your attempt at taming? I don’t think you couid bare to rope me that loosely. Maybe you could give me a taste of what that’d be like now, hm?”

Greedy hands roam the exposed body in front of him, running up his chest then down his sides until one dipped below the waistband and gave a kind tug to what awaited him inside. Yup. Just as menacing as he remembered. And just as happy to see him too. As the lube is brought to light as K is never one to come unprepared, a same grace is reciprocated onto Obelus as the boxers slide down his legs to reveal his full girth. Kismet is hungry for it, even looking past the rude comment.

[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver

Light scratching of pencil and paper is all that fills the quiet of the singlet bedroom, at a time before looming roommates and broken hearts sits a young Saturn alone in his bedroom hard at work on the rewrite of an essay. He softly sniffs to himself, a little upset still his first draft had been so openly ridiculed in front of an audience of his peers during biology class.

The formatting was all wrong as he was more familiar with Chicago style over APA to begin with. The introduction was way too long as it was too involved in the backgrounding, and lacked focus in the actual study at hand. It was brought up as a great example of what not to do. But at least he finished it! There was real thought behind his draft over some of the others who turned in half finished slop. It isn't fair, why is he always the one picked on...

"Hey, freckles," Hawk invites herself in through a door left unlocked.

"Oi, Hawk! What are you-"

"You should really lock that, there's a lotta weirdos crawling these halls. Anyway, can you believe this inane project they put me on? My teacher wants me to work with two - TWO - of my other completely incompetent-- Ew. Wait a sec, why do you look like that."

Saturn rubs his eye a bit with his knuckle, embarrassed now. "Ah, it is nothing, really. I just need to rework this essay is all..."

Hawk crosses her arms, annoyed. "Okay. That doesn't explain that pathetic look on your face. I'm not blind, don't brush me off like I'm stupid, eh? Spill it."

"Ah... I suppose I just feel like I can't get anything right... My best is never good enough and I just get berated when I put in my efforts. It makes me feel so worthless. Maybe I should just give up..." His gaze drops back to the paper, looking at it with dissatisfaction in both his work and himself.

The explanation only makes her more annoyed. "Grow up, would you? If I have to hear any more of this pity party I will put a bullet through both our heads. You're here to become the best, no?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Good." She walks over to a nightstand, flipping on the radio. Close to the start of the song plays L'aventurier by Indochine. "So drown that whining ninny in your head and get to work. Show them why they were ever wrong to doubt you. If you're so smart, give them no room to judge and say otherwise. Do it your way. Prove it."

The knob is twisted to pump the sound louder and she walks back over to shove his pencil back into his grasp. She situates herself on his bed to ensure he gets to work, then starts taking out some materials to start her own. Independently, as she had wanted. Her way.

Saturn stews a bit frustrated at first, but as the music goes on he starts to nod along and lets her words better sink in. Again, she was right. So what if he did it a little wrong the first time, this was his opportunity to get it more than right this time.

So both get to work, and as the determination grows on his face Hawk slips out her camera to snap a memory. The spark in his eye was bright as ever, and beautifully captured. The boy was more than used to being her little model at this point, paying the snapshot no mind as he continues his work over the blaring French classic rock.

The formatting would be fixed. The methodology and study filled out. But he was doubling down on the background. They were getting everything. From the beginning.

”Were you ever aggressively horny Yorkie? Or were you just all bite bite bite grr like a little rabid doggie? Can you even feel anything down there or are you all dried up? That’d be so sad….” He takes a sip of hot coffee, and immediately dribbles it out of his mouth back into the cup. And pours it in the trash. Then pulls out the bag, shoving it in her face.

PREV

"I mean, is this friendship of teasing not the 'something worked out' conclusion of times gone by? You are not in the chaos as much for me to be the designated driver anymore."

”Could you? We can make this the ghastly threesome you’ve always wanted if it’s the devil I think you’re alluding to.” He smiles at the thought. Why didn’t they ever fool around together anyway? Yoriko could clearly hold her own and Kismet had no qualms with any kind of company that stood in his way or general line of sight.

Apocalyptiacs

“Of course I missed you O-face… but I even more so can’t believe I left before I got to experience all this…”

Whether it's true or not, hearing Kismet answer positively to the question makes Obelus happy. In a matter of months, everyone around him dropped like flies. Kismet came back. Kismet is here.

Obelus moans, groping Kismet's outer thighs. What started as a confrontation has become something he didn't realize he needed, some sexual release. "Yeah, Keg, you did miss out." He grabs hold of Kismet's ass and lifts him up, moving them from the creaking, stressed chair to the desk. In the process, he knocks various papers and whatever else down to the floor.

"Still good with your mouth, huh..." he pushes Kismet's shirt up past his chest, out of the way enough for Obelus to play with his nipples. He's grinding against him, matching his movements from moments ago. Obelus snatches the bottle again, drinking some from himself before pulling the same move Kismet did earlier- kissing him and letting the shot flow into his mouth.

"Ah... Remember the first time? Maybe I should use your mouth more..."

“Mmm always~” he hums happily as jeans tempt to grind holes into each other. Just as happily too he laps up the spit of alcohol from Obelus’s mouth to his own with a satisfied gulp.

K giggles at the memory brought up to the surface as he wipes a bit of the dribble from his bottom lip with a thumb. “You used to be so mad at me, so mean. It was hot. You think back on that as fondly as I do?”