#arc five.

     the salon of his nein-sided tower is empty, but for the two of them. caleb came here to study and so he pretends not to notice what she is up to. whether she is pulling books off the shelves, drawing dicks in them, and putting them back, or summoning and cooing at cat-servants, or curling up in one of the reading nooks — wherever her presence shines brighter than the fireplace, he isn’t — is — isn’t paying attention to it.

     in short, the salon is empty, but for him and jester lavorre, and he has not gotten any work done at all.

     he pays attention when she speaks to him, though. his eyebrows furrow as he squints at his spellbook.

     there is certain tone jester takes, one he’s heard before, when she has noticed something particularly wonderful about the world; something she is still turning over in her mind, the way he used to turn over odd-colored rocks from his mother’s garden. it is a privilege to be allowed into those thoughts. except — she isn’t — she cannot be talking about him.

     but he can feel her eyes on him, and he wants to hide from her. he has not felt the need to do that for some time. perhaps not since a tunnel beneath the dwendalian-xhorhassian border when he unwound his bandages and let her see his scars.

     she is still looking at him. and he is —

     he is going to open himself up to some really terrible jokes if he doesn’t reply eventually.

     “spoken like an artist.”     his voice comes out soft, but not quite diplomatic, because it’s true. ( and there is no reason to think she is talking about him. ) because he turns to meet her gaze, and he can’t help smiling at her.

though his frustration was contained, it was obviously just barely, if the way the table creaked under his fingertips was any indication. ❛ yes, and neither does anyone else, it seems. ❜ while his return to freedom was still rather recent, he was annoyed regardless at how little information he'd been able to gather about his enemies. ❛ not only are they the largest coven in the world, but they are also considered both royalty and the vampiric authority, ❜ he hissed at that, ❛ yet no one seems to know anything about them. how infuriatingly convenient for them. ❜ despite his intense need for vengeance boiling under his skin, he outwardly remained calm. ❛ could their interest in you not provide an opportunity to gather some of that intel you are sorely missing? ❜ @unwytch.

isn’t that how it always goes? kurt has a tendency to push down his suffering, hide it from view as much as humanly possible. how many times had ryder witnessed kurt hurt? how many times had he watched kurt have a complete breakdown? none of this could last forever, none of this could be hidden to no end. it’s even harder as he gets older, fighting to keep ryder while also fighting to keep his dignity — something he seems so certain that he’d lose if he just let himself be truly vulnerable. he doesn’t have quite as much choice in the matter this time, the injury his mom dealt him had left him far more broken than it ever had when kurt was young. he’s not in hospital anymore, but he clearly still needs help. they have the wheelchair, the cane. he goes to physical therapy, he takes his medication. if he would just commit to his healing things could get a lot easier. but instead he insists on pushing himself, on leaving the cane and the chair behind, convinced he can walk around the house as usual and ryder would be none the wiser about the pain he was in or how he was struggling.

its the middle of the night, desperation leading him here. he didn’t want to come to ryder, he wanted to try to be strong on his own. he’d never been great at that, strength not something that kurt attributes to himself. especially when it came to being away from ryder, dealing with things on his own. more than anything, he needs support from someone who truly loves him. and as the bruising that forms around his eye makes clear: his parents do not love him. he’s embarrassed to be standing here, embarrassed for ryder to see that he’s hurt. he just wants to curl up and go to sleep, but after his parents kicked him out for the night he has nowhere to go. it’s quickly becoming clear to him that he has no one who’s there for him the way ryder is, no one he can depend on as much.

running away was not a good decision, did nothing for him except make him spiral into a worse addiction than he'd already been through. the boy has undoubtedly fallen from grace, fallen from the world he'd gotten used to. he hadn't realized the world was crumbling around him, blissfully oblivious to his own downfall. but within a span of a few hours the lost boy's breakdown would become clear. all it took was one photo, snapped at just the right moment to very clearly show the presidents grandson – who hadn't been spotted in months – hidden in an alleyway snorting a line of coke. the picture was in articles within the hour, comparing him to tj in every headline. an addict, just like his father. only worse, it seems, running away to live life on the streets.

@livingprophecy,    seleste    :    “It  doesn’t  have  anything  to  do  with  trust.  You  don’t  have  to  tell  me.  But  I’ll  listen,  if  you  do.”

          reuniting  with  allie  scares  the  shit  out  of  him,  he's  well  aware  that  he  hurt  her.  he  knows  that  the  things  he  said  and  did  weren't  okay,  that  he  treated  her  horribly.  he  hopes  she'll  forgive  him  for  it,  will  understand  why  he's  like  this.  he  can  only  hope  that  things  work  out  for  the  best.

@loetise    :    “  please  don’t  scare  me  like  that  again.    i  can  take  a  lot  of  things,    but  not  losing  you.    ”