#snitchiing

A... monster? Kevin’s smile twitched. Dodger didn’t mean that. Dodger loved him. He thought that Kevin was wonderful and amazing and fun and loving and he wanted Kevin to be happy. He... could never mean that. Not the way it sounded.

“You mean the way a helpful librarian is called a monster?”

But no. The look Dodger gave him left nothing to the imagination. Not even the imagination of a man like him, whose reality was so frequently... not reality.

Blood and ink tears slid down his face, over the creases formed by his impossible smile. Dodger hated him. But why?

The host’s smile fell slightly. Almost human. He poked Dodger’s side again with a painted nail. There were ladybugs on them. Ladybugs are the third happiest bug. Gentlemenbugs are the fourth (they get less recognition). 

for a starter where my muse has no memory of ever meeting yours

“And that brings us to… the weather.”

As the report began to play Kevin took off his headphones and leaned back. Today had be a very good day. A very productive day. According to Lauren he had been away for a few weeks. Sick, she said, in the hospital. It was possible. His memory of the last few weeks was mostly a blur. Something to do with a black ink like substance dripping onto the floor. A vague sense of the reeducation center but that couldn’t be right because he’d not been reeducated for a long time. Oh well. 

With a shrug he left the booth. The weather was particularly complicated today. He had a moment. A moment to stand out in the hall and smile his gaping smile at anyone who happened by. The deepest part of him, which cried out for the moon and pulsed against the stitches he wore, also cried for a person that had been taken from him. Ripped away the same Strex had ripped away his home town. 

That’s never a good start to a conversation, but Dodger’s always been blinded by his trust for Atlas. Objectively, knowing Atlas, what he wants to show him is probably a knife in his throat, or some new torture method. But Dodger follows him anyway, expecting to be teased and abused again.

“Go ahead,” He says carefully, waiting to see if he’ll get what he hopes for, “Show me.”

Atlas... Patrick... Atlas smiled over his shoulder. Dodger was a good friend. Good enough at least. Loyal. Obedient. Everything he needed and more. Easy to manipulate.

“Look.” He nodded his head, indicating the crate that he’d shoved in the corner. It was the best present he’d ever let men die to get him. ADAM. Stolen from right under Ryan’s nose. New Tonics that Sinclair hadn’t marketed yet. Just the look of those glowing bottles made his skin tingle. It was perfect. It was power. It was a way to tip the scale in their favor. And he didn’t even had to face fuck someone to get it.

♡ :Is there a certain scent that brings about nostalgia? If so, describe a memory this scent brings back.

Kevin grinned. As he always did. A scent that made him nostalgic?

“Of course whenever I smell—”

Pine. Trees that had no right to grow in the desert and yet there they were. Fire and blood from stones and cotton uniforms. A boy who was like him but was not him. A little younger than he was but not by much. Both in the uniform. The other boy had more patches but Kevin didn’t mind. He was learning just not as eager as the other. The boy who was not him had a friend. Another boy who was not like either of them. That boy had the most badges. They were trying to be higher levels. More and more and more. Learning things. Fire making, and knot tying, and knife fighting, and invisibility, and subversive radio host. All badges they could earn. All things that made them better and happy. A cold night where he could wrap up in a blanket and look at stars. At the strange lights in the sky that had no meaning and yet meant everything. The boy who was like him but not like him asking questions about the moon. About the lights. About the sun and mountains that didn’t exist and far away lands and close by neighbors. Never waiting to hear the full answer. He himself finding the answers without moving. Seeing further than eyes could see. Not telling the whole story once he knew it. A purple glow from his own face–

The host snapped out of it. The vague memory crushed once more under the cold bright light of a Smiling God.

  His lover...? Oh no...

  Cecil wished he could take back what he said. He wished he hadn’t been so stupid. He wished he would have kept his damn mouth shut. He almost physically flinched when the other spoke. It was rare for the radio host to be utterly speechless, but he was at a loss. 

Kevin took a deep breath of desert air. He had been gone so long. So... very... long... How long had it been? He could remember getting out of the Desert Other World. He knew that he was back in the Bluffs where he belonged. He knew--

Long fingers reached up to touch the stitches on his forehead. The hot sun shone off the new metal even though the points of penetration were already healed as if the wire had been there all along.

He knew that Dodger was in trouble. Because there had been a time when there were no stitches- it was fixed now of course, no reason to stay unproductive. But while there were no stitches Kevin had learned a thing or two. About Dodger. About other places. About Jason and Minnie and Trevor and Charlie and all the others. About how much he LOVED Dodger. 

    “There y’are, lad -- I’ve been lookin’ all over for ya.”

     He hadn’t, but the act of buttering up his favoured      lackeys had a tendency to work in his favour      more often than it failed to. Atlas beckoned him      over with a sly grin and a crooked finger, waiting      with a relaxed sort of patience that the Irishman      could so rarely afford to display around others.

     He kicked a chair towards him whilst leaning      back in his own, taking an especially long drag      of the half burned cigarette clamped between       his lips.