h o u s e o f w o l v e s .

she really shouldn’t be out, the little voice in her head kept griping about practice this and homework that. it was hard for her to willingly enjoy herself, this being amplified by her solitude. the usual suspects were out being busy, making plans of their own. even daniel had been preoccupied with him and kellan’s kissing booth, the thought bringing a touch of melancholy. she didn’t want to touch on it, not when she was denied the grace of closure with kellan, not when her heart leaps the same way it did the first time she saw him, not when she continued to hold on to a little sliver of hope that one day she’d be brave enough to follow her own path. it’s sadistic to think like this, she knows, but divulges in the wistfulness because she also knows that she’ll be spending the rest of her life chasing that fraction of brief happiness. 

perhaps her lack of focus brought her here, or all those videos explaining the magic of manifestation really were real, because his unmistakable presence hits her like a freight train. maybe it was the nostalgia that made her brave, or more likely the xanax she just got refilled, but some part of her is compelled to talk to him for the first time since their little break up. “oh,” she breathes, a little disappointed. “i was hoping i’d get the pleasure of being the first customer. what kind of stories are they telling? think they know anything about the secret to how you get your hair so nice, or are you still going to keep that a secret from me?” 

Kellan hears the familiar voice and stops midway, dart between his fingers, blinking once before turning to where he sat on the high chair. “It is a first come first serve kind of booth,” he supplied, standing up and giving Fleur a small smile. “If you’re willing to wait, that is. Daniel should be here soon.” Not that he was pushing Daniel to Fleur, the relationship between the two, at best, are akin to siblings. Although it was generously revealed to him that Daniel was Fleur’s first crush—Kellan thought it was adorable. That aside, if he was honest, them bumping into one another was long overdue. (Then again, apart from winter sports, what else did they have in common? They ended, and suddenly everything’s blank.)

He almost groaned when he realized who he just approached. Mason was in no mood for their usual back and forth– Camille had already monopolized the rest of his evenings for October, and he really only had the tolerance to do that with one person at a time– but he figured he couldn’t let Kellan sour his current disposition any further. “I would think you would want to get your picture taken. Come on, vain guy like yourself?” he teased, smirking at the other. There was no way in hell he was gonna let Kellan shoot an apple off of his head, even if he was drunk. He wasn’t about to lose an eye over some dumb fair pictures. “And you may never miss, but you look like the kind of person who would– intentionally, might I add– for sport.” He all but rolled his eyes.

Mason took the camera strap off his neck and placed it around his right shoulder instead, his right hand holding on to the strap to secure it. He may not have seemed too enthused about taking photos for the fest, but he valued his cameras– some would say more than he valued most people. “And I wasn’t even asking for your picture. I was asking for his. I think he’d look better on next week’s edition of the school paper than you would.” Mason gestured to the person Kellan had been speaking with a while ago, and threw the guy his second salute for that evening.

Kellan laughed at Mason’s comment, nodding his head in agreement. “We’re giving everyone else the option to miss my pretty face for next week’s paper, babe,” he countered, using his favorite petname for the other. “I’m capable of being generous.” A rhetorical joke, he’s in good company (yes, even Mason, believe it or not). Hearing Mason’s remarks and how he’s seemingly taxed on the job, Kellan inwardly felt for him. “I will never ever deliberately miss and hit any of your vital organs, man. You’re not that special,” he added with a chuckle.

“It’s also illegal, Kellan,” Tristan commented, amused while Danny laughed in agreement.

Daniel’s brow quirk in curiosity as he regarded Kellan. He heard about the broken taillight and the dent on his car, but only from other people, and the stories varied too much that he didn’t know what to believe. Well, if he was being honest, he knew not to believe what other people said, considering they almost never got things right. “What did happen to the taillight?” he asked. He was curious, but if Kellan didn’t want to indulge any information, he wouldn’t press. That was their friendship; even though Kellan could read Daniel sometimes like a freshly printed book, they always knew when to not cross lines. And for that, Daniel was grateful. The thought that someone would know everything there was to know about him… Those who knew most about him didn’t even know everything. “That was a pretty great car,” he said, his words followed by a soft chuckle. Daniel’s knowledge about cars was slim to none, but he knew to appreciate a good car if he saw one. 

The change of scenery was very minimal, even when they were away from the Academy. There was nothing but trees and greenery outside, and Daniel quite liked that. It was a far cry from where he and his father lived in D.C., as well as the hustling and bustling city of Seoul, but it did remind him of a trip to Gangwondo he had taken with his mother and father once when he was a child. He’s snapped out of his reverie when Kellan asked him another question. “A little less than an hour.” He has always liked taking the bus, though that didn’t compare to small day trips he’d take with Florian and Vera. “Is it difficult? Ice hockey?” 

“I got sideswiped,” said Kellan, “it was during that night when I went to the light show at the Tech Museum in the city.” Up to this day, it remains a vivid memory. “I’ll have you know I wasn’t even planning on having an, uh, interesting night at the time,” he recalled, “one of the guys mentioned a sideshow and everyone wanted to go.” It was Timo, a classmate, who suggested a drop-by. “We went and then,” he animatedly moved his hands against the wheel, playing it off as two cars almost colliding. A video of the incident was uploaded, the person who took it, however, had a shaky hand, and Kellan’s car looked like any other Maserati out there. “Do you prefer taking the bus or driving?” He asked, glancing at Daniel. “You like both?” When was the last time he took public transportation? His freshman year, he took the bus then. As for ice hockey, “Not to me,” he admitted; ice hockey was akin to a religion in his family. “If you know how to rollerblade, it helps.”

Instead of taking the usual road, an idea came to mind. “Has Florian or Vera driven you to the tree tunnel?” Kellan offered, pointing to their left before making a turn. A few additional minutes to their drive, the scenery was usually worth it. “That one,” he looked ahead of them, at the avenue lined with trees forming an extended canopy overhead.

“This road’s so eerie if you’re driving late at night,” Kellan expressed, chuckling. “Beautiful during the day, as you can see.” Then, they’re back on the usual road, approaching the town. “Maybe we’ll find the actual brand of that cheap-o vodka that’s still sitting in our fridge,” he joked, finding an open spot and parking his car. “You’re okay—good?” He looks at Daniel before grabbing his keys and stepping out of the vehicle.

“Yes, that’s a large part of it! It’s the option that I’m leaning towards, as well,” she smiles at Kellan, excited to hear that he at least has some concept of the program. Her mother had been so confused when she’d expressed her interest, probably half convinced that she would follow in her own footsteps. Isla enjoyed objects that sat upon shelves, but she had no desire to be turned into one with an expensive ring on her finger. “I’ll try to contain my excitement while you’re away,” she smiles, teasing the boy, but genuinely excited to hear whatever it is that he has to say. Isla loved stories of any kind.

Isla looks up from her journal as Kellan appears, reaching for the drink with an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Kellan.” His question causes her to raise an eyebrow, curious. “I haven’t, no. Is it any good?”

“Most people like it,” Kellan remarked, grabbing his book and noticing a dog ear, “I tried it, and it’s not for me.” He straightened the corner of the page, setting it down on the table once more. “It was somewhat fruity? If you’re into that, you’d like it.” He was never partial to fruity tea or coffee, playfully blaming his grandmother for making him drink said tea when he was little.

open

The Academy grounds were abuzz with activity that particular evening, students excitedly checking out all the booths that were prepared in celebration of the opening of the All Hallows’ Fest. Mason stood on one side, camera in hand, taking pictures of the flurry of activity every now and then, and when Camille Troy caught his eye, he flashed her a too-eager grin. She was standing by the school paper attraction, a booth that promised a ‘horrifying literary experience’ by letting a student sit inside a dark make-shift room and listen to some horror audiobook. That evening’s selection was Agatha Christie’s works, and Mason could remember Camille glaring at him when he told her it was a lame idea. He still stood by his word, and perhaps it was due to Camille’s abrasiveness that there were actually two students standing by the booth. Two. Mason shook his head in amusement. 

He took some more pictures, and walked around the grounds. Mason stopped by a specific booth and sighed, clearing his throat once he was standing behind someone, and bringing up the camera to his chest. He inwardly groaned as he thought of what he was doing, and what he would be doing for the next three weeks. “Hi,” he said flatly. “Would you mind if I took some photos? It’s for the paper.” He didn’t even bother to hide his distaste for his current task.

Since he and Daniel wouldn’t be opening their booth in the next few hours, Kellan decided to wander. While the usual suspects of booths are rooted on the same path ever since his freshman year, newer ones have made appearances. It was always risky, coming up with something new, a little inventive, out of the box, and all that.  There was a mystic booth offering tarot and palm reading. That cool enough even though he skipped that one. His own teammates (ice hockey team) has set up a small booth for some hockey 101, basic lessons. That was helpful of the guys, but he skipped that, too. There’s a food booth, and he had to snap a picture and sent it to Daniel because there are cakes and even cream cheese churros. After chatting with some other students, something about an underground party (he said yes, he’s going), he went back to look at the other stalls. One particularly struck his interest, and the students behind the counter are ones he’s familiar with.

“Think you’ll be able to squeeze this one in your always-oh-so busy schedule?” Teased Danny, Kellan’s former classmate, as the latter grabbed a pen and signed up for lessons. They discussed possible dates for meet-ups, how everything will be formalized and set. Kellan was asked for his preference, and he told them. Minutes must have passed, their small group talking, dispersing until it was only Kellan, Danny, and Tristan. When Kellan hears a voice—someone familiar—behind him, he couldn’t help but smirk. Turning around as he grips the compound bow and arrow, aiming it at Mason. “Yeah, I do mind,” for the fun of it, “if you let me shoot an apple on top of your head—you can take a few photos. Sound good, Mason?” Kellan offered, lowering the hunting weapon and grinning at the other. “I never miss, promise.”

“I’m on the fence about that story, but I like that he thought you were in jail,” she was thinking about how much she’d love to tell her Father the same thing although it would never happen. She wanted nothing more than to rebel against him and make him truly embarrassed by her actions but she would never allow her reputation to go down the drain in such a reckless manner. All she did was carefully measured by risk and reward, she took no chances in her pursuit of what she wanted. She looked at Kellan still, her head tilted slightly to the side, “At least you enjoyed yourself,” she remarks, a small smile twiching at both sides of her cherry red lips before her attention turns back to the water.

She is thinking about a lot of things, mainly her promise to open up. She doesn’t burden anyone with many of her truths because even when she tells them things about herself that make her seem weak or like an open book, she will be equally as quick to make those facts seem worthless. She could reel off a speech and cry on your shoulder and then the next day remind you that it meant nothing at all. She is not heartless but she fashions her words as a weapon rather than an offering most of the time. Isla’s words are still on her mind although she thinks it has been a long time since her phone has buzzed with news. “I was meant to be a son, you know, Kellan,” she tells him, “Our Father wanted a son so badly. When two girls came out then he decided that he would raise one of us as one, to be as ruthless and powerful as him. To do anything and ignore the cost when it came to getting what you want,” she looks at him, her eyes saying that she is somewhat sincere even if it is not the truth. “But I couldn’t change the way that I look, I’ll always be a woman. You were right about that, I don’t do anything to impress your species although sometimes… I feel I am one.”

Rather abruptly she stands, looking out across the lake as she shrugs her jacket off letting it drop onto the decking with the jingle. Whatever moment she created previously is lost, the same hint of a smirk on her lips. The night air may be growing cold but she wraps her hair around her hand and stares outward still. She turns back to him, “I’m getting in,” she regards, one shoe kicked off to join her jacket and then the other with equal disregard.

Kellan set his eyes on Reese, studying her. As strange as it was, he thought about Veronica—how the two are seemingly alike yet so different. Are the two acquainted? It made him wonder. He listened attentively, weighing in Reese’s words, which was fiction and which was close to the truth. “Are you anything like your father, then?” He questioned, adding, “Now when you say sometimes you feel like you’re one of us, are you implying that you don’t feel as evolved?” He grinned this time, “Or it’s that adage… man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is?” They’re actually having a decent conversation, it was surprising but a positive. 

Now Reese switching the subject had Kellan frowning in amusement, shifting slightly where he’s sitting and looking up.

The kissing booth isn’t opened, not yet. Kellan’s waiting for Daniel, and he even urged Daniel to take his sweet time with whichever he’s doing. Storytime… When Kellan arrived at their pre-made booth, it was ready. He was informed by a sophomore in their science building that a few students volunteered to do it. Something about them being smitten during that science fair last term and Kellan was bored midway while the incident was being recounted—he did nod his head, an auto-reflex. The booth’s nice, excessive glitter and sparkles on the sign, maybe the volunteers are Twilight fans. While waiting for Daniel, Kellan managed to borrow a big map of the world from their neighboring booth (about world travel), and three sets of darts from another booth (about other sports). He smoothed the map on the makeshift wood of a wall, tapped it, and leaned back against the counter of their booth, throwing the darts on various countries.

He’s played a few rounds, about to start another when he sensed movement behind him. “Sorry,” Kellan began, throwing a dart and hitting Spain on the map, ”the booth’s not opened yet.” Holding up another dart, aiming the tip at Asia this time, “Try the Urban Myth booth, heard the stories are pretty wild.” @astorstarter​

Maybe Kellan was right, and Florian wouldn’t take it all too seriously– he was innocent after all. But Daniel couldn’t help the awful feeling that weighed his chest, couldn’t shake the thought that he’d done this to him. He never thought him being an Arsonist could ever result to any of his friends being suspected like this, and he felt awful for that. And what made matters worse was that he knew Florian wouldn’t resent him at all, or even suspect him. No, Florian would be Florian, and he would probably even be worried about Daniel. He felt more awful by the minute, and he both dreaded and couldn’t want to talk to Florian. “A grain of salt, yeah,” he echoed absentmindedly. Kellan’s next statement caused him to chuckle softly, knowing well that Florian would have reacted in such a way. People gave one of his oldest friends such a hard time for being easygoing and a bit of a prankster, but he was a good person, through and through. “A little too social, if you ask me,” Daniel laughed again, remembering a time when Florian was too inebriated. “Let’s just say there shouldn’t be any pretty girls around. Just Vera. She’s used to his drunken flirtatiousness, at least.”

“Yes, we’re out of shampoo,” he admitted, glad to be distracted from his worries about Florian. They would meet later, once Florian was free, and Daniel hoped doing some grocery shopping would be his much needed distraction. He was worried about how mad Vera surely was at him, too. “Shampoo and conditioner, alright.” He followed Kellan to the parking lot, making a mental note of the things he wanted to get. When they got into his car, he slipped in the front seat, and thought about his question. “I can never get over how great your car is,” he said, admiring his friend’s ride. Daniel usually took the bus to town, not one for driving. He’d long since discovered that Florian was the driver in their trio. “Not really. Should it be the same as my shoe size?” 

“Finally got the taillight replaced and the dent’s fixed,” said Kellan, realizing that he never told Daniel about either. Although the incident itself was something else entirely. That was last term, wasn’t it? A few (inconsistent) stories spread, a possible hit and run, how Kellan hit some wild animal, there was even a Big Foot story because it’s Montana as well as a midnight drag race. He’ll hand it to those storytellers, they’re slightly creative. “I do like that it is quiet,” he added, glancing at the side mirror as he steers the wheel. “And I will never get on board with the loud car hype—I like it smooth and stealthy.” He didn’t add that loud cars are annoying, too, especially when it comes to muscle cars. Damn waste of quality. “You would’ve liked my previous car,” and he glanced at Daniel, they’re passing the lush green of the avenue, a path familiar to most Astorians. “It was the same car Natasha Romanoff drove in The Winter Soldier film.”

Daniel nodded his head, but not quite understanding. He wondered how on earth did the administration choose who to be interrogated, and he couldn’t, for the life of him, think of a reason why they would include Florian. Sure, he got himself into trouble sometimes, but Florian couldn’t hurt a fly. Not that Daniel could, but he’d become more suspicious of the things that he was actually capable of ever since he became an Arsonist. Still, to him, it didn’t make sense that Florian was interrogated, but then again so were many other students. Perhaps it was his guilt that was making him overthink everything that was going on. He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair– another one of his nervous habits. “I’m not worried about him being in trouble with the administration or anything. Just… worried about how he’ll take all this.” 

He heaved a sigh and flashed the other a small smile, secretly hoping that the investigation would be put to rest soon, but somehow, he doubted it. There wasn’t anything he could do now, however. “I am, actually. I have a focus group discussion at six, but until then, I’m free,” he said, shrugging. Daniel noticed one of the books in his bag peeking out and he pushed it further so that he could close the clasps, straightening his back before fixing his gaze on Kellan once again. “What about you? Do you want to accompany me to town? I forgot to bring shampoo.”

Kellan studied Daniel, took in the nervous ticks his friend was displaying. No, this isn’t Daniel showing some form of vulnerability, this is Daniel without his walls, Daniel aware that even if he tried Kellan will see right through him. That’s another base when it comes to their friendship, isn’t it? They never did draw a line. Sometimes, Kellan can’t distinguish where Daniel’s sea of calm ends, and his own storm begins. “Knowing Florian, he’ll take it with a grain of salt,” he assured Daniel, offering a small smile. “This is Florian, yeah? I showed him that one video of a musician trashing a music studio and wrecking guitars, he was horrified.” Of course, he couldn’t help but bring up, “How’s Florian like when he’s drunk?” He mused, then another thought hit him—how’s Daniel like when he’s drunk? Perhaps now is not a good time to verbally ask…

… Did Daniel say he forgot to bring shampoo?

Isla hums slightly at his response, a small smile on her lips. Many of the books on her shelf had also started off as required reading, but turned into ones that she reread for genuine enjoyment. “Yes, it’s a memoir,” she nods. “Physical ones. It’s actually really interesting, the book is mostly about his efforts to trace a family heirloom and understand the personal connections that led to him inheriting it.” Her tone is excited, and although she has a reputation for being rather quiet (perhaps only in comparison to her twin), it seems not to apply as much when discussing her studies.

“I’m a museum studies major,” Isla answers. “And you’re studying…astrophysics, is it? I think I remember Andrew mentioning that.” The brunette laughs lightly at his offer, giving the boy an appreciative grin. “Well, if it’s for the sake of solidarity,” she teases, shaking her head slightly. “That would be lovely, thank you, Kellan. I wouldn’t say no to a London Fog.” 

“Family heirloom’s significant,” Kellan commented with a nod, “leaning more to the positive side of things, of course.” His dad has quite a collection, and so does his mom, there’s an ongoing playful banter in their family that he and his brother will inherit the lot of them. When he was thirteen, he was mortified at the thought of receiving his great-grandfather’s swim shorts until he was assured that it was a joke. “Yes, astrophysics,” he affirmed, smiling at Isla. “Museum studies—that involves curating, right? That’s one option?” And when Isla agreed to have a drink with him, he considered it a triumph. “Excellent, I’ll get your drink—actually, I have an heirloom story to tell,” he stood up and playfully fingered gun at Isla, leaving the table to buy her drink.

“You don’t have to worry about my shoes, I’m a professional in high heels. It’s a Kensington tradition.” She anticipated his answer somehow already knowing which suggestion that he would pick. In a way Reese felt that was the easier one but much like the event in the dinner hall, she was wondering whether she would get to eat tonight. She ignored his joke, her arm looped respectively through his as they exited the building. “I don’t think that counts as a meal, there’s not enough pieces to make up three courses. Unless chocolate counts as all of them.”

“Would I like to sit over there?” she asked, peering at him with a hint of amusement. “Such a gentlemen, allowing me to choose which spot to sit in. How lovely,” she unhooked her arm and instead gently grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the decking. To be honest, his point about the shoes had been fair but Reese was not one to be shown up, she didn’t even stumble on her journey across the uneven terrain and she released his wrist only when they arrived at their destination. 

It was getting darker, the stars not yet on show but the sun past set. It was heading into winter and the chill was apparent, “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself, Kellan?” she suggested, her eyes fixated on him. She turned and lowered herself down, sitting on the edge of the decking with a short glance to the water before she looked back at him, “Something fun.”

Kellan shrugged mildly, he’ll take the barb, any of form it. “Options are beneficial.” Chuckling, he trailed after Reese, mindful of the wooden pier as they walk over it. He felt his mobile phone vibrating inside the pocket of his suit jacket, he can think of a handful of names messaging him at this hour. It must be dinnertime at the Napoleon House.

“Something that isn’t on my CV?” He offered, chewing on his bottom lip. That was a loaded question, wasn’t it? He was the kind that, when put on the spot, no matter how informal the query was, providing one answer will not do. It was like being asked for his favorite genre of music or fiction. “Let’s see,” there’s plenty of stories to tell, sharing was another matter. Sitting down on the wooden deck, he glanced at Reese. “Fun. Sure. A couple of summers ago,” he began, “I went to Colorado for this gathering. And the only way to get there was to take the train. I thought I had it all worked out, triple checked all the stops, the train number. Then I went ahead and boarded the train.” Kellan was smiling fondly, sitting cross-legged now as he idly looks up at the sky. “I was about fifteen minutes in, enjoying the ride when I realized that the train hasn’t made its first stop. And when it did, it wasn’t the one I was expecting to see. I got off on the next stop--more than half an hour went by—and then my phone rang. It was my dad. As soon as I answered, I said, ‘Dad, guess where I am?’” He made a motion with his hand as though he’s holding an invisible phone next to his ear. “’Jail!’ Was my dad’s reply, we both started laughing. Eventually, I told him about my predicament, my spontaneous adventure, as he called it. It turned out I took the wrong train, obviously, and had to check the schedule once more. The train I was supposed to take wouldn’t be stopping to the station—where I am until seven in the evening, and it was two in the afternoon. I went and made most of my time in this mountain village, did the ATV tour, did paintball with a bunch of kids. It was productive.” He left some details, deeming it unnecessary.

@atomiicas​

that morning, maggie had picked up her phone to shoot kellan a text, done with waiting to see if their paths would happen to cross. there was enough going on that she didn’t necessarily have to wait for pure luck and actually reach out without feeling bad. tapping her phone against the palm of her free hand, she sat waiting for him at starbucks, an easy enough meeting place. when kellan finally walked in maggie gave him a smile and kicked the chair across from her out so he could take a seat. “so i believe we have a bit of catching up to do, hm?”

Maggie, for some unknown reason, has a way of reaching out to Kellan and slipping through the cracks—this might be a terrible metaphor, yet it’s what it is. Case in point, as he parked his Maserati GranTurismo Sport on his usual spot after a night out and routinely checked his messages. A few from Daniel: reminding him about dessert, later on asking if he’s ‘sleeping over’ someplace else, one from Agata about a book, an ‘emoji’ message from Florian which he’ll de-code later, and a suspicious furry pic from Andrew. A few from unknown numbers. And, of course, Maggie—the most recent message, asking for them to meet up. Quickly checking his face in the rearview mirror: the cut above his browbone was no longer bleeding (seemingly), uneven red spot on his jaw, and his knuckles are slightly discolored. Same shit, different day. He composed a short reply, “Be there in a few, see you,” and sent the text before stepping out of his car.

When Kellan noticed what was his occupation, he didn’t make some stupid comment and Andrew was glad he didn’t. “No, i’m actually training my fingers for…” he responded with an obvious look but a serious tone. Andrew didn’t know if he had made a thousand yet, but seeing how his life turned up, he would say he didn’t quite get to that number. “I don’t know about chance, but here, take it.” That little fox was rather well done, and he worried about its survival if Kellan would take it with him in their imminent little escape. 

In his friend’s car, Andrew took the passenger seat and his headphones off before being reminded but Kellan to put his seatbelt on. “What do you think I am ? Friends with the cops ? White ?” he joked while fastening his seatbelt. He then proceeded to connect his phone to Kellan’s car radio and go through his Spotify playslits to chose something to listen to. “Yeah, I did…” he was still scrolling. But he found the perfect playlist just right after. “Hum, I think I might dress up as sexy nun, or a furry, or both. I don’t know. You ?” He pressed play on his phone, and Abba’s Dancing Queen started to play loudly in the car. Andrew didn’t flinch nor said anything, acting like this was totally normal. 

“You might be friends with the fuzz for all I know,” Kellan joked, laughing as he produced the fox origami from his jacket pocket and setting it down in the middle console, near the spare tin of wintergreen mints. “It’s not some sci-fi inspired character, is it?” He remarked, keeping his eyes on the road, looking to the side before making a turn. “What’s a sexy nun?” It was for context, he’s seen a variant of the ‘sexy nun’ costume throughout the years. “Going to show some legs, fishnets, and all that?” He was teasing, briefly looking at Andrew and smirking. “Fishnets’ sexy, I’ll give you that.” If done and worn correctly, Kellan’s all for it. “You might need to shave or wax, Andy.”

When Dancing Queen blasted from the speakers, Kellan laughed some more. “ABBA,” he remarked, playfully drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Cool, yeah. I dig it.” It was true enough. At one point during his childhood, his older brother was obsessed with the Swedish group. “I’m partial to Gimme Gimme Gimme,” he contributed, “and Mamma Mia.” As for his possible Halloween costume, “I might go for an Egyptian Pharoah look—wear a Nemes,” Kellan thought out loud, “maybe pull a Darth Vader or Jareth, King of the Goblins. His ball outfit was badass.”