"Who's winning, me or my hair?"

In that moment Thespian was absolutely convinced they’d just run into the cutest man on the face of the planet. The fact that they’d had the exact same thought about a different man earlier that month was totally irrelevant, because that was the past and Thespian knew they practically had hearts swirling above their head as they watched Seth slow down his pace for the drink.

Even if Seth was notably not that chatty. It was fine, because Thespian was chatty, and they also had very little issue with feeling awkward during silences. “Ah, not that many.” A lot of them were pretty common sense, at least. Less so rules and more so just being uninterested in people who were rude or too crude.

They got out another glass to fill with water as they gave a thoughtful hum, given water was free, and placed it down on the bar next to Seth’s drink. “I think I’d like for you to find them out on your own, though.” Made it more interesting, and it required Seth to spend some time around Thespian. Which was really the end goal. 

Thespian met a largely varied amount of people at their job, but rarely did they meet someone they immediately wanted to get to know. People were fun, sometimes they clicked well together, but for the most part Thespian considered their job just a place for work.

“I will give you the hint, though, that there’s one about people with curly hair specifically.” Because who didn’t love curly hair? Especially when it was all wild and natural looking like Seth’s. 

As if the action had been ordered by Thespian’s words along, Seth lifted his hand and his fingers caught some of the curls between them. Then he ran his hand through his hair and smiled. “You mean like this?” he said, his eyes dancing. “Well, you see. For my father, it was the eyebrows. They were a sign of his power. I’m pretty sure I in-hair-eted that gene.” He quirked an eyebrow and smirked. “But mine... well...” He pointed to the top of his head. “Often, I know how good of a day it’s going to be based on how my hair holds up before I leave.

“Also, it’s... natural to be drawn to petting it.” Apparently, allowing him to ramble about himself was a good way to get people talking. But it wasn’t so much for arrogance as it was for his lack of self-confidence. He talked about himself because he assumed nobody else ever would. He complimented his hair, both because he thought it was his best feature -- not his blue eyes or the dimples on his cheeks -- and because it was the easiest thing to say good things about concerning himself without seeming too arrogant. 

It was easy to joke. And to brush off anybody else’s opinion on the matter. 

“Mostly, it is important to know that my hair does like to be pet. Carded through. And because I know this, I... enjoy playing with other people’s.” Was that weird to say? It was probably weird. He laughed and blushed again. 

Thespian’s lips split into a larger smile, and the picked the drink back up to add mint – and an additional slice of orange as a symbol of appreciation at both the politeness and the openness to mint – before they put the drink back down in front of the man, officially complete. It looked pretty, if they did say so themself, and they hadn’t done anything strange enough that it was likely to taste bad.

“Mm, a little, but I personally can’t stand highball glasses.” They leaned in closer conspiratorially, lest their bad-mouthing of the glass be overheard by the sparse amount of customers nursing their own drinks. “They’re just normal glasses. It looks so boring. I think if you’re going to be drinking, you should be doing it out of something fun.” Their voice is hushed, and they move back after to start aimlessly cleaning some glasses. People get touchy, sometimes, if Thespian isn’t doing anything with their hands. They’ve gotten yelled at for being lazy before because of it.

“…keeps the drink from being competition-ly sweet.” They finish, grinning. The raspberry juice had, indeed, had a point beyond aesthetic value – it was to balance out the flavor of grenadine, given coconut rum already had a unique enough taste that adding in syrup uncontested would have left the two flavors to fight instead of highlight each other. It was nice to make drinks for people who actually cared enough to parse the contents and make notes of why things either worked or didn’t. “And the mint lightens the whole thing.” Makes it easy to drink, because rum can often slow people down. “Very chug-able, but I will be heartbroken if you chug it.”

“Nice to meet you, Seth Cohen.” There was something terribly endearing about him offering his full name, although Thespian wasn’t sure exactly what. It was also, undoubtedly, the first time Thespian had been thanked for telling something their name, and their expression was equally sweet as it was amused.

“You’re doing a pretty good job at it.” Especially considering the lack of general practice. “I’ll let you know if I stop liking it.” Leagues better than most of the flirting they were on the receiving end of, as a bartender. Most of it was more hitting on – sometimes nearing attempts at dirty talk. Usually in the hopes of free drinks. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you.”

They put down the glass, elbows on the bar again as their gaze flicked to the drink in question before back to Seth. “Don’t have too many. I have a rule about giving out my number to drunk people.”

Seth was, in a word, blushing. He had always been the kind of kid in high school who was ignored. And here this person was, giving him direct, unwavering attention. Sure, there was work to be done. Seth himself had once worked at a place called The Bait Shop. Mostly it had been janitorial work. But the point was that he knew there were times to talk and times to flirt. 

He also remembered trying to impress that bartender by looking like a tough guy and getting drunk and vomiting all over the merchandise table. But honestly, what 17-year-old wouldn’t get sick after a fifth of Jack.

Encouraged as he was to keep chatting, and wanting to stay clear minded (even before the added incentive), Seth sipped slower, removing the straw from the glass. 

With Thespian’s warning, Seth pulled back from the glass, eyed it, and considered how many he thought would be too many for his tolerance. He could maybe get through a third one. Two for sure. Enough to actually give him the courage to text the number given to him. Definitely no more than three.

“Yeah,” Jonas sighed, “you probably should. We still don’t know what’s been killing these kids..” He knew she had helped handle the similar collapse on their beach recently, and knew that that girl was also the only survivor. Around the island, four other young people had just collapsed over the last few weeks; witnesses said they’d seemed to just sort of slowly melt down. Despite rescue efforts, none of the victims at the other beaches had survived; Jonas wasn’t sure whether that meant they were faster to respond here at Gold Bay Beach, or if they’d just gotten lucky. Unfortunately, if a drug was responsible for this, it had yet to be identified in any of the corpses, and the one survivor had claimed to know nothing about any kind of drug. 

Frowning, Jonas shrugged and shook his head. “Maybe also ask him what happened last night. I know he went to the bonfire.” Jonas figured she’d heard about it; the beach community, including the city employees who provided services, was much smaller than most might expect. “He’s usually pretty responsible there. But his hand’s messed up. Noticed it when we were carrying him. Got a pretty bad cut in it, looks like it happened on the beach, and he glued it shut. He also mentioned Tito – another surfer, local, hangs around and tries to learn from the better guys. Tito seems like a nice kid, never known him to do anything harder than marijuana, but Ben mentioned him. Seemed upset. I’ll call the hospital – and text you – if we find anything else out.” This shit has to stop. Whatever’s going on, whatever the fuck is killing these kids, it has to goddamn stop. Jonas looked past her to where Seth had stopped to reassure Ben. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could see the worry in Ben’s sweet, dark eyes, and he wished he was free to just send Seth to the hospital with him now. 

-

“Don’t call anyone,” Ben said, and he closed his eyes. “There’s no one…” His manager would want to know everything, but Snoke could go fuck himself. The thought of any of the other information getting out was enough to make Ben feel sick and cold, and he opened his eyes to meet Seth’s, too out of it to feel any shame in pleading. “Don’t tell Tito where I am. Please. Please. Don’t tell him. He’ll come to the hospital… I just want you… I don’t want him there. Please.”

I just want you.

To his credit, Seth was trying to stay focused on the emergency at hand. But with the second paramedic taking charge in helping Ben, giving him oxygen, watching his heart, it was proving to be really damn hard to not zero in on that one phrase. But Ben was... straight, for all Seth knew. And he definitely wouldn’t be into a comic geek. Guys who looked like Ben never were. 

Seth shook his head. “I won’t call Tito. And we’ll make sure that he’s not allowed in your room before you’re ready to see him. Because while I won’t call him, man, there are a few witnesses here.” He would be surprised if footage of the rescue wasn’t already on YouTube. 

Unsure of what the fuck he was actually doing, Seth took Ben by the hand and squeezed it firmly. “As soon as I’m free to leave the beach, Ben, I’ll come check on you, yeah?”

Zandra nodded once at Jonas and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out. I know we’re not the authorities, technically. You’re a lifeguard and I’m a paramedic but we are going to figure this out. I’m tired of taking kids to the hospital.” 

She was about to say more when Seth joined them. He was frowning. “Make sure they don’t let Tito in his room. I know they’re... I mean, we all believed them to be friends, right? But he seems adamant that he doesn’t want Tito called. He does’t want him to show up at the hospital.”

Zandra’s expression only hardened. People were their most honest, she thought, in the back of her truck. They spoke of their fears, mostly. And if he was fearing his friend. “I’ve gotta go. He needs to have a tox screen run as soon as possible.” 

For a moment, Thespian was worried that they’d perhaps been a little too forward. It was generally hard to tell which people got embarrassed that easily, at least to them, and they were ready to lean away again to give the man space when he spoke instead.

Thespian’s smile grew, no longer worried about the blush dusting the customer’s cheeks, but they schooled their expression at the request to give a solemn nod. “Pineapple juice is severely overrated.” A wink before Thespian spun away to start prodding around, coconut rum the very first thing they pulled off the shelf, and they glanced over to the man when he spoke again.

“Oh!” Thespian set down a cocktail glass, bringing up their hand to rest on their chest as they looked down. No name tag. Hardly the first time they forgot, and Thespian offered a sheepish expression. “I’d forget my clothes if I wasn’t so thoroughly dedicated to being a fashion icon.” Not that the loose T-shirt and lace-up skirt they were sporting really counted as the most iconic things Thespian owned. 

“Theoretically I own a name tag that says ‘Thespian’ on it, but it hasn’t made an appearance in a while, so it’s heading towards cryptid status very quickly.” A generous helping of coconut rum, filled up orange juice with only enough room for a splash of mango rum and a careful small pour of raspberry juice then grenadine to let them settle through the drink and gradient it from red to pink to orange before Thespian returned back to the counter, placing the drink down in front of the man, their bottom half hidden from view again.

Not a super interesting drink, really, but fruity and coconut-y and entirely sans even a pineapple nearby while it was being created. “I was very tempted to add a sprig of mint, but I’ve found it’s one of those things people either specifically request or viciously hate.” Even if it did freshen up flavors so fruit didn’t hang so heavily on the tongue. “Do I get your name, or is this already tragically one-sided?”

“Then, may I have a sprig of mint to top it all off?” Seth’s smile was a little wider now, which made his dimples all the more prominent. He’d been watching intently as the bartender, Thespian, concocted the drink. Which also meant that he hadn’t missed the outfit. California was an incredibly progressive state -- which Seth was grateful for, but it also meant that he was more conscious about how he addressed people. How he thought about people. The pronoun in his mind shifted to something more neutral until (unless) he learned different.

“Thespian,” he said, looking up as the drink was officially delivered to him with the mint now in it. He leaned in to take one sip and smiled. “It’s like a California sunrise.” They were, undeniably, good at their job. “See. It’s the raspberry that does it. It has that bite that...” Seth took another, longer drink. This was the kind of thing he knew he could drunk off of -- “girlish” as it might be, and not have to gag against the piss taste that came with beer.

As the final question came, Seth looked up to meet those same beautiful eyes. Tragically one-sided. They hadn’t asked for his card or his last name for the tab. That didn’t feel like that was what this was. This felt like... like someone asking for his name. Asking to know hime a little better.

It had been a nice change, the heat and light of Los Angeles welcoming Thespian out into the world as the sun rose and the nostalgic twinge that came with the pounding music of clubs which dialed up the nightlife. They still dipped in, occasionally, never really going that terribly long without kissing a stranger or dancing the dark straight through. Significantly less often than they used to, however.

Part of it was the requirement of having a job – Thespian couldn’t just wave riches from thin air like they could back when their connection to heaven was strong, and that meant having to actually work for a wage for once in their life. It was quite enjoyable, really, and they’d floated around the world from bartender job to bartender job. 

Quieter places were their favorite, although the places they worked always got busier as they worked there. Growing times, partially, but they were used to getting teased about drawing more costumers in. Been told a few times by some drunker patrons that they looked like an angel. It had been weirdly flattering.

“Hey!” Thespian smiled, easy and warm, and rested their elbows on the bar to lean in so the man didn’t have to talk as loudly in order to be heard. Thespian had learned early on that light makeup got them bigger tips, so their eyelids sparkled softly under the warm lighting of the bar. 

Specialties weren’t really something Thespian did, more like an oversized enjoyment of tinkering, and their smile curved into something playfully mischievous. “I like making new things.” And the place certainly wasn’t so busy that they didn’t have the time to waste perfecting an off-the-cuff drink that probably wouldn’t be terrible, hopefully maybe. They’d certainly find out. “Give me a few things you’ll like, I’ll whip up a custom drink just for you.”

The only true experience that Seth had with bartenders had been ones like Alex. The no-nonsense women and men who preferred to treat bartending like the job it was. People who were too busy to lean across the bar like this one was doing and actually -- good lord he had beautiful eyes. Seth felt his cheeks warm and he looked down at his own hands where they were folded on the bar.

“Um...” He returned his gaze to the bartender and managed a dimpled smile in return. Don’t judge me. “I like coconut. And fruits. But I wanted something other than the... pineapple juice, you know? Something more interesting.” He’d spent a lot of time in high school being called queer just because he wasn’t athletic. And now, as an adult, the guys at his work expected him to like beer and, for some reason unknown to him, enjoy watching sports.

Given his experience with bartenders and people in general, it was difficult for Seth to not be flattered at the friendly demeanor and smiles that were being shot in his direction. Which, in turn, made him compelled to introduce himself. People gave their names in order to start a tab, right? That was a thing? Or was he just supposed to hand over his AmEx?

As soon as he was ready, Jonas stopped Seth’s CPR efforts. He did it silently, pushing him back with one hand, then slit Ben’s wetsuit open down the front. A couple more cuts were required to open the neoprene enough to completely bare his chest. Jonas grabbed a towel and rubbed Ben’s skin dry quickly, then dropped it near Seth’s knee. 

“Don’t give up on us, Solo,” he said, finally speaking, as he placed the AED pads. In the back of his mind, it occurred to Jonas how strange it was that whenever they had to do a rescue on someone beautiful, that beauty vanished. Helpless people weren’t attractive. Dying people weren’t beautiful. Someone in desperate need of lifesaving actions might have the most appealing body in the world, but only when they were in control of it. Only when they were alive, when they were well. 

“Hands off, Seth,” Jonas said, “make sure you’re not touchin’ him anywhere.” He had his own hands resting firmly on his legs, to resist any temptation to touch Ben. 

“No shock advised. Begin CPR.” The machine said, and Jonas’s hopes plummeted. They both knew that even the best CPR wasn’t always going to bring someone back once they were in cardiac arrest. CPR was a way to buy time for more advanced medical care to get there; it wasn’t a guarantee. It wasn’t magic. He began CPR immediately, doing rapid and efficient compressions to the tune of Stayin’ Alive; it wasn’t an intentional memory aid, but because it was the way CPR was taught now, and thus the way he taught CPR, the song always came back. 

“Gonna have you breathe in three, two, one,” he told Seth, and he stopped compressions just long enough for Seth to give the rescue breaths. Distantly, Jonas could hear the faint wail of an ambulance siren, and he was aware of the few early beachgoers who had gathered around them, but most of his attention remained on Ben Solo as he resumed compressions. Seth cared about this big, dumb, sweet puppy of a man, and Jonas prayed Ben would live. He wanted every patient to live, but he especially didn’t want to let Seth see this one die. He didn’t want Seth to feel haunted by what he’d inevitably perceive as his own failure, even though he knew the survival statistics as well as Jonas. 

Please live, Ben. Come on, AED. Pick something up. Pick something up.

If there was still no shockable rhythm…. 

“Analyzing heart rhythm. Do not touch the patient.”

“Don’t touch him. Stay clear, analyzing,” Jonas repeated, his voice calm and firm. What they never said in training sessions for civilian rescuers was that the reason you repeated the machine’s orders was because of how much could be going on, how noisy things could get, but most of all, how desperately some people would want to touch, to hold on, to give them encouragement and love. 

“Shock advised. Charging. Deliver shock now.”

Jonas made sure nobody was touching Ben, then pushed the button to give the shock. Unlike movies, he didn’t give a huge lurch and arch into the air. His entire body gave one small but significant twitch, but just as quickly seemed to relax. 

Jonas was praying silently, with all his heart. 

“Analyzing heart rhythm… Begin CPR.”

Jonas tried to have more faith. They’d been able to give him a shock and that was something. It meant that Ben’s heart was still trying to wiggle and spasm. It might not be beating right, but it was doing something now, and that was hope. He did another full set of CPR – 

And after the next shock, Ben started to breathe. Jonas checked for a pulse and laughed happily and once when he found it. This didn’t mean the kid was guaranteed to live, but it already felt like a victory. 

“What…" 

“Hey, Ben. You relax and stay awake, buddy. We’re gonna get you on this backboard.” The sirens were closer, but that didn’t mean anything was over. Jonas and Seth got Ben strapped to a board and into the litter. “Oxygen,” he said, knowing Seth would get it going. “You doin’ alright, Ben?" 

"Um… no. Tito. I feel bad.” Ben’s eyelids fluttered and his cheek twitched. He coughed, a rougher sound than his weak voice. Once the oxygen mask was on and the air flowing, he looked up at Seth’s eyes, his own dark with worry. “I’m not okay,” Ben mumbled. 

Jonas, meanwhile, recruited beachgoers to help them. The beach access was via a short but steep path, and carrying Ben out towards the ambulance was his best chance. He positioned everyone around the litter, then looked at Seth. “You stay on the head end. You’re in charge now. Tell us when to gift and move. Everyone, you do exactly what Seth tells you. It’s gonna be alright. We’re gonna get Ben outta here.”

“You’re going to be,” Seth said quietly, softly to Ben as he brushed hair out of his face without thinking about it. Those few minutes had been some of the more terrifying in his life. It had taken him back to the moment he’d seen Ryan carrying an unconscious Marissa down a dark, dirty, Tijuana alleyway. To a time after Luke had been in a car accident, when his grandfather had… But now, if nothing else, Ben was awake. And that was progress. “We’re gonna get you checked out, Ben. Just hang on.”

Doing as he’d been instructed, Seth shifted just enough to stay at Ben’s head, holding it steady as they’d rolled him onto his side and slid the backboard beneath him. Then he helped strap his shoulders. Seth walked a step at a time backward, warning of any uneasy rocks or slopes of which the others should make note.

“Lift. Now.” At least they had enough people that lifting Ben high enough to keep him steady shouldn’t be too much of an effort. But anxieties, he knew, were running high and he was overly concerned about people tripping themselves up while trying to move a little too fast. Up the hill, he stayed in his position, walking backward, guiding the others until they reached the back of the ambulance, where two EMTs hopped out of the back doors.

“How’s he doing?” the woman said. Her eyes were locked on Ben as she took over for one of the volunteers.

“He was without breath for… Shit. I… We did four rounds of CPR, I think…” He was losing track, trying to think back to the combination of his own actions alongside Jonas’. ”Shocked him, then another round. He’s awake and responsive. Talking a little. Only mildly coherent, though. We’re unsure what caused… It seemed like the cardiac issue started before he even went underwater. He was just sitting out on the ocean, on his board.”

Zandra frowned, but nodded at the assessment. She looked at Jonas, knowing him well since she’d responded to her fair share of calls to the beach. “Anything else I should know?”

Seth backed into the ambulance as they got Ben loaded, and then, as he worked his way back along the side of the truck toward the exit, he stopped long enough to squeeze Ben’s hand. “You’re going to be okay, yeah? I’m going to come visit you at the hospital. Ben. Is there anybody you want us to call?”

continuation for @powertobehandsome 

Summer and Marissa had flown home. Ryan couldn’t blame them, but he also couldn’t help feeling some small sense of relief. So much had happened the night before, and everything felt quieter now, inside and out. It wasn’t just that the hair dryer wasn’t going in the bathroom or that their chatter was gone. Those were sounds Ryan liked to hear and would always be a comfort. What relieved him was the absence of the discordant energy; Summer had been anxious and aggressive since the night before. Marissa had emotionally checked out and never come back. 

Home was better for them. Safer. They might find rest there – 

And he might find rest here. 

“I’m back,” Ryan called quietly as he stepped into the hotel room. The heavy door clicked shut behind him and his car key clattered and scraped as he set it down on a table. Ryan locked the door, then walked further into the room, looking for Seth – just like he always was these days. No matter where they were or who they were with, his eyes always sought Seth’s familiar form. He found himself always standing close to him in a crowd, feeling incomplete – and maybe a little anxious – when he went too long without him. He was needing Seth more than before these days, and last night had only made that clearer than ever. 

Last night. That was another reason he was glad the girls were gone. 

“Their plane left fine.” He walked up to the bed Seth was stretched out on and stopped, close enough for his jeans to brush against the blankets. Sunlight was streaming in dark orange through the window, cut with bars of shadow from the half-open blinds, and for a moment, none of this felt real. Ryan’s hands twitched and clenched halfway into fists. Halfway. Half fists, blinds half closed, truths half spoken. Everything was just a little out of place. 

Including him. 

Making his choice, he lay down on the bed next to Seth. Ryan stared at the ceiling, hands clasped on his chest, and for a few minutes he just listened to what Seth must have been listening to. The AC hummed. Music from the next room was muffled – probably something on the TV. The cord for the blinds tapped on the wall. 

Ryan closed his eyes. “You’re not okay,” he said, voice quiet but not at all questioning. There were a lot of things they needed to talk about, but the most important thing was this. He needed to make sure Seth would be okay. He needed Seth, the center of gravity that held him in orbit, to not be broken, and Ryan would do anything to help him. 

He turned his head to look at him, eyes searching.

After saying his goodbyes to the girls, Seth had opted to not ride along in the car to take them to the airport. He didn’t care to ever get back in that rental car again, if he could help it. It held too many memories. Too many certainties that he was going to die. That was the moment he kept replaying in his mind. The gun pointed at him, knowing that she had every intention of firing. Hearing Ryan silently willing him to stay in the car while he unbuckled. Feeling the jerking in his wrists at the gun fired toward the other car. Feeling the bile rise in his stomach and chest until they could pull over and he could throw up. This experience, some how, was even worse than the last time they had come to Vegas.

Once Ryan had left with Marissa and Summer, Seth had put in his headphones and turned the music up a little too loud. He wasn’t listening to it so much as he was trying to drown out everything else. He was fine. They were fine. Safe. So why did he still feel anxious?

When he saw the light from the hall as Ryan returned, however, he pulled his headphones out and just lay on the bed, staring at nothing. He should reach out and try to comfort Ryan in what way he could. Or to offer... something. But he didn’t know how. What he wanted to do instead was roll to his side and curl up against his best friend, head on his chest, listening to his heart as it beat. You’re not okay. To put it so simply was something only Ryan could do. But it didn’t feel simple. It felt worried, loving, like he was offering comfort.

“I feel like my arms are still vibrating from the force of the gun. When I close my eyes, I see it pointed at my face. I hear her hateful words as she spit them at me. I... No. I guess I’m not.” Seth rolled to his side and tucked an arm under his head and pillow. “Are you okay, though, Ryan? Growing up in a rough neighborhood doesn’t get someone used to something like this, I think. Especially after five years in... well... Newport has its drama, I suppose.” Seth looked at the way Ryan folded his hands over his chest and for a moment, he wished he dared to reach out and take one of them.

Of course Solo is worrying you, you’ve been in love with – 

Shit. 

Jonas had just been about to put the flags up, officially opening the beach and announcing they were now on duty, when Seth darted over and said what he did. Frowning, Jonas dropped the flags in the sand and ran back up for another pair of binoculars. He sighted Solo quickly, but as he watched, Ben finished his slow collapse. It wasn’t dramatic, it wasn’t violent, and it didn’t really look like he was in pain; it just looked like his body gave up. The surfer slid into the water, and Jonas’s blood went cold. Something had to be very wrong for that young man to just go down like that, and he suspected this was going to be more than a rescue. 

“Go!” he shouted to Seth, although he was sure the younger man had probably already gone. Jonas set the binoculars down and grabbed the phone. Keeping his bare eyes trained sharply on Solo, refusing to lose his position, he called 911. 

“This is Jonas, out at Gold Bay. I’ve got a surfer in trouble. Seth’s going out to get him, but looks like the guy lost consciousness real quick. We’re gonna need an ambulance, there’s no way this kid isn’t going to the hospital after this.” Or the morgue, he thought grimly. He could see that Ben was still with his board, but that was about it. If he was even remotely capable of saving himself, he would still be on the board – 

And this wasn’t the first such collapse emergency workers had witnessed in the last few weeks. The slow melting, the way they’d just go boneless. Nobody had figure out yet what was causing these collapses. They always looked like exhaustion or dehydration, but they also almost always ended in cardiac arrest.

So far, one of the five people who’d melted down into unconsciousness from unknown causes had survived. Just one. Granted, that one had been on their beach, the other four scattered around Oahu, but it still felt the unfolding of a mystery – 

Or a horror story. 

As soon as he saw Seth getting close and had confirmed the EMTs would arrive as soon as they could, Jonas got off the phone. He grabbed a tank of oxygen, the AED, and a litter and ran down to the water’s edge to do the hardest task: 

Wait. 

-

This wasn’t scary. 

It should be. Ben knew it should be. From the moment he fell into the water, he understood that he was going to die. He was about to drown, and there was nothing he could do about it. Just like last night, his body wasn’t responding. His heart was racing, beating so hard and fast that it was painful, and pain was shooting through his shoulder and down his back, but it wasn’t frightening. He felt emotionally numb, almost content. He could see that his hand was still holding onto the surfboard, could see the way the sun shone on the smooth black surface of his wetsuit, but he barely felt the texture under his palm. He was dimly aware of the slight tug from his tether as his legs moved aimlessly in the water, that familiar bit of drag, and he was aware that the water was cool and clean feeling, but he wasn’t afraid. 

When he heard himself cough and felt himself swallowing, then choking, though, that all changed. 

I’m drowning. 

Terror pulsed through him. He tried to thrash and couldn’t, and the terror only grew worse. The arm around his board tensed and he managed to pull it closer, although the effort felt Herculean. No, no, no. I don’t. Not yet. I don’t want to die. What’s wrong with me. I have to get up. I have to get up. Ben got his chin onto the edge of the board, but another jolt of pain rocked through him and then he felt the thing that made all fear meaningless – 

Darkness. 

Inside his body, inside his chest, darkness and quiet, like a light had been turned out, like a tiny little sun inside him had just been lost to night. 

Ben stiffened, then went slack. 

The moment of thrashing was a relief. It meant Solo was aware enough to fight. And it came just as the water crashed against his legs, just above the knees, and with the board he dove. All Seth had managed to leave on the beach was his shoes and the binoculars. His shorts were heavy against the morning waters. Time and again he rode over the waves, eyes locked on the board, feeling himself sink as Solo did. Seth pushed harder, faster. He didn’t hear anything but the water, feel anything but his heartbeat. His eyes burned with a combination of the strain and salt water.

Jonas would have already called paramedics, Seth knew. But it meant that Seth had to find him, to bring him to shore. Beneath a wave, Seth dove. His hand reached out, legs kicked as if he’d been doing this for years. As if... as if he stood a chance of rescuing Ben.

Finally, his hand wrapped around the tether to the board, and he followed it to Ben. Seth felt as his own lungs burned. But that ache was easy to ignore. Familiar. Necessary in this instance. He pulled Ben up then grabbed the knife he kept on his waistband and cut Ben loose. He brought them both to the surface. With some effort, he pushed Ben onto his rescue board. Seth climbed on behind Ben then kicked. Again, Seth pushed himself with all the strength he had in his legs. He wasn’t athletic, but he wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t.

Seth didn’t know how long he’d taken. How long Ben had been without oxygen. He didn’t know anything other than the direction of the shore. Nothing else mattered until he felt Jonas’ hands on him. Them. Pulling them to land. Once there, Seth rolled Solo to his back, tilted his head back, then started CPR without even checking for a pulse. There had been no response their entire way.

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

Five...

In another reality, Seth might have had the mind to enjoy the moment he pressed his mouth to Ben’s, but now he was breathing for the man, offering air, the chance at life.

Please live. Please live, Ben. He started the rounds over again. His arms and shoulders screamed. His eyes watered. “Come on, Ben,” Seth said, urged.

Begged.

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

for @powertobehandsome – thanks for being willing to do this one with me, bae! I really appreciate it more than I can actually say <3 

Gold Bay Beach, Oahu, Hawai’i – 

Tropical storm Anna didn’t come near Oahu, but the swells she sent  transformed Gold Bay Beach into an intense, thrilling new world for nearly three days. 

The beach was always popular with beginning and intermediate surfers, although it was known as more of a family beach – a vacation beach where thousands of tourists flopped out on their towels to read impulsively purchased novels, cool off in the surf, and let their skin sizzle, hoping it would turn into a tan. Any normal day saw surf lessons and snorkel rentals, a long line at the shave ice vendor, and the shrieks of delighted children. But the skies had clouded just enough to look menacing, the water changed from blue to slate, and the crowds of visitors with selfie-sticks and $3 grass mats and inflatable toys scattered as locals hurried in. The lifeguards officially closed the beach to swimming, but no one really minded. 

For those three days, swimming was the farthest thing from anyone’s mind. 

An impromptu surfing competition was put together; someone suggested everyone chipping in to a victory pot, and it happened. Judges had been organized, friends filmed it on their phones, and the entire atmosphere was one of breathless excitement and fun as the competitors enjoyed themselves in a part of the island that usually never offered that kind of ride. 

-

Last night and the post-Anna party had been a mistake, Ben thought as he paddled out. It was easier to be angry about it than it was to keep choking back the tears. They felt acidic and he was too raw; if he gave in again, he might never stop. I’m not a little girl. I’m just in idiot. 

His mouth felt dry and his head ached, his stomach was tight, his shoulder throbbed, and the few hours of semi-sleep he’d managed to catch under a towel on the kitchen floor had done nothing but exhaust him more. As the sun slowly rose higher and the water turned from gold to blue, he felt the compulsion to just give in to it all, just turn around and go home. 

“Hey Ben!” he heard someone call. “Heard you won! Good job, bro!” 

Ben waved, but he didn’t look. Good job. Right. I sure fucking won.

The ocean was supposed to make a person feel clean, but it wasn’t helping. 

He wasn't hurt, he’d checked, but this might’ve felt easier to handle if he was. If he was hurt, he’d know how to feel. He could be angry. He could scream. He could find Tito and lay him out. He could put a label on what had happened. He could ask someone if it was normal to feel like his body suddenly didn’t belong to him anymore, or how long he’d feel this weird, cold ball of tension inside, the new weight that didn’t belong. 

Why the hell should he want to cry when there was nothing wrong with him?

 What the fuck was I thinking? It was only half a beer. 

The sun was already starting to warm his thin neoprene wetsuit, an amazing contrast to the unusually chilly water, so he tried to just feel that, to focus just on sensations. Ben knew he needed to do what he always did, to read the water, to feel it and the sky together and understand what the energy of the day would bring, but he couldn’t. 

He’d taken two showers since last night’s bonfire and neither had helped wash away the mistakes – or the strange feeling hangover. 

Neither helped him put his own skin back on.

-

Senior Lifeguard Jonas Black had watched all the impromptu competition with a mix of concern and admiration.The waves hadn’t been clean or particularly attractive, and the surf was rough enough that rescue would have been difficult, had it been needed, but the sheer joy that permeated the beach had been incredible. There had been one particularly bad wipe-out, enough that Jonas had grabbed his board and started racing down towards the churning white water, subconsciously counting the seconds since the young man’s head was under, tracking the progress of the jet ski coming in from the other side, but another surfer – Ben Solo – had gotten there faster. 

Ben was both a local resident and a global competitor, and Jonas had breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled the less experienced surfer out and helped him get out past the breakers, leaving the strange magic of the competition intact. 

After that, the lifeguard had watched Solo – or Kylo Ren, as he supposed the younger man was professionally called – with a keener interest. Solo emerged as the winner, to no one’s surprise; he had a raw, fearless sort of grace that captivated people and seemed to always keep him safe out there. He was an awkward, quiet young man, especially when his agent flew in, but there was something sweet about the boy, Jonas thought, something untarnished. 

He’d been glad to see him win. 

Today was the first day since the high surf that the beach would be open for swimming, and it promised to be a beautiful one. The sun rose brilliant gold, quickly warming the early morning air, and Jonas was smiling as he arrived and unlocked the tower. 

-

A glint of light from the beach caught Ben’s eye and he looked over in time to see the lifeguard tower shutters being opened. That put a small smile on his lips, and for a moment he forgot. 

Ben knew their schedule; that always unreadable but gloriously fit and beautiful (and weird) Jonas would be opening today, and the sweet kid with the hair, Seth, would be there with him. The senior lifeguard would be in a white shirt and barefoot, and the one with the hair would be as awkwardly charming as always. He’d come from California, Ben thought he remembered him saying. I should’ve asked why he moved to Hawai’i. 

Seth. The least shy person in the world. Seth the problem.  Ben’s problem. Seth, who Ben had never found a reason to speak to for more than two minutes, but who made it into his dreams more often than not these days. Seth, whose infectious smiles just might be part of the reason he’d let himself get curious after Tito brought him over that drink he hadn’t really wanted, not being much into alcohol, but aware he might be into boys.

It had been Seth’s lips he’d shamelessly imagined on his – until Tito was too sloppy, too rough, too enthusiastic. It had been Seth’s hands he’d imagined on his chest – although one of his nipples was still tender and touching it that morning had made him wince. When Tito pushed him down into the sand with a sweet laugh and put a not-careful-enough hand in his shorts, Ben too dizzy to really fight and almost aroused enough to want it, he’d imagined Seth laying down gently with him and kissing him again and again and probably babbling about superheroes – he’d picked up a few of the guy’s comics a month ago, after even more months of searching after hearing rumors about them.

But that wasn’t the reality. 

Tito was.

You’re so pretty, man. And you’re so good out there. I just wanna be with you. Just relax. It’s gonna feel good. 

I’m trying. 

Look, I got you. Relax. Let me get you off at least. 

I’d rather just… 

But the kiss that silenced him was as sweet as Ben could want and for a few minutes, it was easy to imagine again, even as something strange and quiet seemed to be happening to his body, making it feel still, the opposite of what Tito wanted, like a weight was settling into him.

All too quickly though, it had gotten impossible to imagine anyone else, especially Seth. Kylo had shyly fantasized about the beautiful, vibrant, outgoing lifeguard many times before, but he’d never shared so much as a kiss with another man. He had certainly never imagined Seth hurting him. 

He hadn’t been ready for Tito to get up and come back with a condom. 

Everyone had still been laughing and dancing and drinking by the fire, music loud, and Ben had been turned over on the cold sand, just outside of the light, and his shorts had been tossed aside before he really understood they were off. There were more sweet words, but they were harder to understand because the pressure and heat were suddenly distracting.

He told himself that he needed it. He needed to know if he was gay. He needed to know if he had the right to ask Seth out – 

But he wasn’t gay. He was sure of that now. If he was, he would have liked it. He’d have been turned on. He wouldn’t have squeezed that rock or shell or whatever the sharp thing was he’d found in the sand until his palm split and bled because his body was too drunk to want to cooperate with his brain’s orders to tell Tito ‘another time.’ He wouldn’t have struggled to coordinate his limbs as he pulled his shorts back on long, long minutes after Tito kissed his shoulder (Ben you okay? You asleep? Ben?) and neck (you want me to walk you home? Hey man you’re kind of freaking me out. Get up. Move or something, man) and gently pet his side (hey I’m sorry, you don’t have to move), asked if he was okay, (but that was fun, right?) then returned to the party when Ben didn’t answer. (Catch you later, okay? Stay on your side or you might like puke or something if you’re drunk, don’t wanna choke on it.) 

He wouldn’t have been moving slowly, still uncoordinated, as if it was all a dream. He wouldn’t have let go of whatever thing he’d opened his hand with and hated that thing because it hadn’t helped him. He wouldn’t have slunk home, bare feet sinking in the soft sand until they were on pavement that didn’t feel all the way real, heart strangely mute. He wouldn’t have been so dizzy from the one cup of alcohol because he wouldn’t have needed it to loosen up to begin with. He wouldn’t have dry heaved three times in the first shower. Or, later on, hyperventilated and dug through a drawer for his Neosporin and checked again and again for blood, or been suddenly grateful to live alone, while simultaneously lonelier than he’d ever been. 

His hand was the only thing damaged, but he hadn’t even thought about it again until morning, and by then the sand was already a part of his scabs so after breaking them open and washing his hand, he didn’t really try to get the sand out. It didn’t matter. Ben superglued it shut.

-

The tower smelled the same as always inside; dust, sunscreen, soap, chlorine, sterile medical packaging, and the eternal mildew of any beach property. Jonas turned on the radios and the computer, then went back outside to open the heavy storm shutters over the windows. By the time he heard the soft tread of Seth’s approach, Jonas was back down at the base of the tower, hauling out their rescue boards from the shed under it. 

“I’ll get the weather reports,” he said, giving the younger man one of his friendly grins, “but last I heard, we’re expectin’ it to get up over a hundred.” It’ll be busy. He looked out at the water, picturing just how many colorful little dots they’d see in it later as the swimmers sought relief. It almost felt strange now to see the waves breaking and curling so sedately. When it was quiet like this, it was practically paradise. For others, he reminded himself, it is. 

He looked back at Seth. 

“Check over all the day’s gear, then go up to the east end and make sure there’s nothing dangerous left in the sand from that bonfire they had last night. Broken bottles or whatever. I’ll go through medical and messages before we open the beach.“

Save for a few surfers and early morning swimmers, all of whom knew the lifeguards were not yet on duty, their golden sand and rich blue water was uninhabited, quiet, and peaceful. 

-

Ben felt like he’d donated too much blood and then drunk half a bar’s worth of booze, but it would be fine. His smile faded, but he turned his board and ducked under a wave, so the smile would’ve had to go anyway. 

When he surfaced, his heart was pounding and he felt dizzy enough that it was hard to focus on what he was seeing, but the hangover would pass. They always did. Ben continued paddling and ducking out beyond the breakers, out towards where he knew it would be serene, the world where nothing else would matter. His racing heart protested and his shoulder ached more, but he pressed on. Just a little pain. Doesn’t matter. 

He instantly wished he hadn’t thought it that way.

Out past the breakers, although he usually never hesitated, although he usually turned and took the first wave in that he could whether it was a good one or not, Ben sat on his board and stared at the empty beach. From here, even the lifeguard tower looked far away – unreal. It made his chest tighten and his heart flutter. When he took a deep breath, it didn’t help relieve any of the building pressure, and he had the sudden, sinking sensation that something terrible was going to happen.

What’s wrong with me today?

Ben pressed a hand against his chest and let himself halfway slump over, taking a deep breath against the worsening lightheadedness and tightness. 

Am I that fucking dehydrated? 

When Seth had moved out to Hawai’i, he’d done it with the impression that all surfers were the same. Those he’d known in California. Even when he’d stayed a summer up in Portland with Luke -- Luke who gave surfing lessons out at Rockaway Beach while Seth manned the surf shop in Portland, they’d all seemed the same. But there was a different vibe in this state. Especially with the locals. The island had a silence that reminded Seth of nights on Catalina. Island silences were different than on the mainland. And it made early mornings Seth’s favorite part of the day.

There had been plenty of ways to get involved in the beach and water life here in Hawai’i. He’d thought about offering sailing lessons. Going back to working in a surf shop. He’d thought about just working on his art again while sitting on the beach or a pier. Being a lifeguard was something he’d kind of stumbled into. Literally. He tripped over the sign announcing the vacancy. And then there had been a surfer standing at the base of one of the towers, board in arm, signing freaking autographs like he was some celebrity. 

Turned out he was, but Seth didn’t really learn that until after he’d gotten the job. He learned who Kylo Ren was -- and slowly he’d been learning who Ben Solo was in contrast. Of course that was a bit more difficult. Ben was, amazingly, less talkative than Ryan. They’d shared a handful of glances, which Ben always broke off first, and even fewer words. Most of what Seth knew about him, he’d learned from either Jonas, or wikipedia, or other surfers. None of which told Seth what Ben’s type was. 

You see girls around him all the time, Seth. Why do you always have to go for the most unavailable ones? Ryan hadn’t even looked up from his work when he’d said it and so he’d missed Seth’s offer of a mocking expression. Besides, has he even said enough to you for you to know that you like him? Maybe you could drop in the hint that you’re interested in guys.

Seth could tell that Ryan was done with the conversation when he didn’t even hum a response to what had been Seth’s witty, yet somewhat self-deprecating reply.

Somehow, though, here on Hawai’i, Seth had managed to at least become well enough liked -- even with the kids he was certain had played water polo back in high school. He was goofy, sure. And a lot of times he told jokes or made off-hand comments that seemed to go over all of their heads. But there were times that one surfer or another would come up and casually drape their arm over his shoulder as if he was their best bud. Becoming a lifeguard had changed everything for him. Jonas was certainly well respected. Well liked. And he hadn’t been shy about introducing Seth to all the regulars on the beach. 

Which had what led Seth to the party the night before. He hadn’t drank anything -- he never had handled his liquor particularly well -- but he’d sat around and talked with various surfers about how sick Ben’s last wave had been. How great he’d been. And when it seemed like the person he was talking to was ready to move on to another topic of discussion, Seth instead moved on to another person. He hoped eventually it would lead him to talking with Ben himself. Seth had had one eye on him throughout the night.

Then Ben had disappeared. Seth tried to be casual when he’d gone looking for the object of his affections. But when he’d caught sight of them -- Ben and who Seth thought must have been Tito -- in the shadows making out, his expression fell and he backed away before he could be called a freak for watching.

On the one hand, it let Seth know that at least on some level, Ben wasn’t against being with a guy. But it also meant he was with someone. Or maybe it had been a casual thing. The questions had kept him -- and consequently Ryan -- up all night.

As soon as Seth had arrived at the tower and Jonas started going through the activities that needed to be done before they opened the beach, Seth felt like things were back to their usual. He looked out to the water, to the early morning skies. “Sure thing, boss. I’ll do a walk along the beach at the water, too, to make sure nothings come in with the tide.” It was pretty standard for Jonas to do at least three things for every one he asked Seth to do. But the paperwork, as important as it was, wasn’t the job. Keeping people from getting themselves killed was the job. And that was something they participated in equally. 

He grabbed one of the larger trash cans and started dragging it toward the area where there’d been the bonfire. He picked up bottles, beer cans that had, somehow, been torn in half, leaving jagged, aluminum shards in the sand. He was meticulous, careful. Bandaging feet was never a pretty process, but it was part of the job. When he was satisfied, he walked along the beach, picking up any other trash he came across. Before he headed back toward the tower, though, he looked back out at the water and finally caught sight, clear enough sight, of Ben out on his board.

This is a short, sort of cracky game, casual, entirely unplanned game from Discord. I’m writing Ryan and Summer. @powertobehandsome wrote Seth, and @musesatyourservice wrote Marissa. Fair warning to anyone who reads this: this was extremely casual writing, please don’t expect quality. 

It was late. The presence of other cars on the highway had all but stopped, the last being a truck trailing chicken feathers that had blown past them twenty minutes ago; the driver had stared at them as the two cars passed, a smug look in his eyes. All around them, the Mojave seemed to glow under the crescent moon. The gravel of the unpaved, almost-two-lane highway the new GPS unit (because it was like 2000-something) had directed them to take crunched loudly under the tires.

Vegas was hours away. In theory, it was hours closer on this road, wherever it was.

In theory.

Ryan reached up and tapped Seth on the arm. “Seth. Hey, if you want me to drive,” he said, feeling shitty that Seth had been stuck behind the wheel the entire time.

“He’s fine,” Summer snapped.

Ryan glanced at her, but most of his focus was on Seth. “My headache’s… uh.” He had noticed the gas gage. Fifteen minutes ago, when he’d glanced up the last time, it had been half full. Now, it was almost empty. A few more miles would be all they’d get – and he was pretty sure there wasn’t any cell service out here. “Seth?” Maybe we need to not road trip…

“How long til Vegas?” Summer turned the AC up.

Lance laughs, not minding the terrible flirting one bit. It’s a nice distraction, and he hasn’t flirted in a while, which just makes it all the better. “I don’t know. They haven’t told me yet, to be honest. They wanted to wait until they got all the volunteers they needed before giving it a whirl. But you’re thinking more… Maximum Ride than science, I think.” Not that Lance knows much about science, or what they’re doing or how they’re doing it. 

“They’re taking advantageous parts from animals, but less flashy than where you’re thinking,” Lance explains, setting his drink down and facing Seth more fully. They’re going for sustainability, right? Because the earth is getting over-crowded and food is harder to come by. I think they’re largely focusing on animals that don’t have to eat often or much to live, right? So like snakes and sharks. But they’re also working with at least one sleeping gene to see if they can cut down on the needed hours of sleep. And the rest of it is… pretty far beyond me.”

“Fascinating. Though, I admittedly would rather them give me a gene so that I could hibernate for months at a time. That would be... okay, so maybe it wouldn’t be entirely different from what I do now, but it would be kinda neat?” He smiles wide at Lance. As Seth’s elbow leans on the bar, he’s glad that they’re in a place like this meeting. For starters, it means the bar top is much cleaner and not a danger to be touched. But secondly, it makes Lance feel less... sketchy. 

It’s a nice coincidence that they both somehow ended up here, sitting in the same room at the same fundraiser, so very far from home. Each for their own reasons, but reasons that landed them here. “Well, the bare bones of it is gene splicing with animals with the intent of changing the human species to make us better equipped to deal with an overwhelming population and limited resources.” He swirls his drink and gives a light laugh. “I know I’m basically a lab rat, but it seems like a nice cause. And they’re paying nicely. I think we’re the last three in their startup group.”

He shakes his head and snorts, dipping back the rest of his own drink and declining another. “Well that’s fine, then. If you start getting tipsy, I’ll just fight you for your drink, and I’ll win.” Though, to be fair, Lance isn’t great at fighting, either. He’s just in shape. “But you seem like a smart guy who knows his limits; I doubt it’ll come to that.”

After being in a town where everybody seemed to ignore limits entirely, he had managed to at least learn his own -- that much is true. And Seth has already made a mental note to make this his last drink. Though, the thought of fighting this guy to a point that will leave him pinned on the floor or against the wall isn’t the worst idea he’s ever head.

Seth pushes the last half of his drink away. Clearly he’s had enough if his thoughts are any indication.