Chapter Text
‘You were screaming again.’ Ging hands Kite a mug of black coffee.
Kite takes it, bleary eyed and sweating. His hair clings to his damp neck; his clothes are soaked through.
Ging stares out the window at the darkened city. Kite sits beside him, weak, propped up with pillows. He sips the cold coffee and shivers.
Ging sits close to Kite, so they’re shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. He touches his hair.
‘You should take a shower.’
‘With me.’
Ging follows him to the bathroom and sits on the toilet as Kite strips. The floor tiles are blue, and Kite’s blue night clothes blend into them when he drops them on the floor.
‘I fucking hate it.’ Kite puts the shower on hot and lets it burn his skin. He stands, hands pressed to the white tiles of the wall and lets the water wash over his back.
‘Yeah,’ Ging says. He bites his lip.
The water washes down the drain. The water moves the bright green shower curtain. It feels nothing like rain.
Kite stops the shower and wraps himself in a red towel. He leaves his clothes, and Ging follows him out. They sit on the bed together and Ging strokes Kite’s soft, damp hair.
‘Do you want to die?’ Ging says to Kite’s hair. ‘Are you gonna kill yourself?’ Ging says to Kite’s hands.
‘No,’ Kite says. ‘I don’t want to fucking die. I want to live. I want to live until I’ve had every wrong righted. I want to live until I can’t fucking remember them. Until I can’t remember fucking anything.’
‘Okay,’ Ging says. He holds Kite’s hand. ‘You’re really brave.’
Kite cries. Kite cries, and his shoulders shake, and his sobs fill the room and turn the silence into something bitter and too elongated.
Ging holds Kite, arms firm around him. He says, ‘I’m not gonna let you go.’
Kite sobs, and his sobs turn into a wail, and a dog starts to bark, and Kite falls forward, crumpling over his own knees, shaking and silent.
Ging holds him, and his breath is hot on Kite’s ear, and he says, ‘I’m gonna keep you safe.’
And Kite cries because he doesn’t know what safe is so he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel.
Kite wakes up at noon and Pariston is sitting on the balcony, dressed in white and lilac, petting the dogs, eating a croissant.
‘Good morning,’ Pariston says.
‘Morning,’ Kite answers and stumbles up to get dressed. He puts on a shirt and shorts and gets a mango smoothie from the fridge and takes it out on the balcony. ‘Where’s Ging?’
‘Ran out without an explanation.’
‘Okay.’ Kite sits on the chair and puts his feet on the railing. His toe nails are black, dotted with sparkles like stars. He stares at them dully, sipping his smoothie.
Pariston smiles pleasantly. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Okay.’
The trees are green and so soft. The leaves rustle in the breeze, sweeping up and down.
Pariston places his hand on Kite’s shoulder. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, sweetheart?’
‘Sure.’ Kite sips the smoothie.
Pariston stares out the sky. ‘Ging said you had a nightmare.’
Kite doesn’t say anything. He wishes Pariston didn’t know that.
‘I have nightmares.’ Pariston laughs. ‘I didn’t get a childhood, so now I’m trapped in it. Isn’t that stupid?’
Kite nods. He doesn’t know what to say. Pariston is strange and abrupt. He switches between gentle and wicked.
Pariston feeds the rest of the croissant to the dogs. ‘I have an eating disorder.’
Kite nods again.
‘I killed my parents.’
Kite looks back at him, over his shoulder.
‘What about your parents, Kite?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kite says. ‘Guess they sold me.’ He puts his empty glass down.
Pariston hums and sips his coffee. His hair glints in the sunlight, and his eyes gleam. He looks sweet and shy, but his eyes have a malicious spark.
Kite draws his legs up to his chest and hugs his knees.
‘Did Ging say when he’d be back?’ Kite asks finally.
‘No, he just ran off all excited about something. Who knows when he’s coming back.’
Kite pets the dogs. Kite tries to keep a scream inside of his throat, and it runs up his nose and burns his eyes.
Pariston touches Kite’s hair. ‘Beautiful.’
Kite looks back at him again. The scream makes his brain dizzy as it rattles around inside his skull.
‘God, you’re just falling apart.’ Pariston gets up and looks down over the edge of the balcony. ‘Do you want to die?’
‘Why do people ask me that?’
‘Oh? Did Ging ask you? I didn’t know he was that observant.’
‘Uh huh.’ Kite strokes his dog’s ears.
‘It’s because you look half dead.’
Kite looks down. He knows he’s too thin, with eyes set too deep, sockets showing.
‘That’s because I almost died too much,’ he says. ‘Not because I want to fucking die.’
‘No wonder Ging likes you.’ Pariston pulls out cigarettes and a lighter. He stares at them and takes a cigarette out, holds it up, drops it. It falls through the air and lands on the grass below them.
Pariston leans over the balcony, and then suddenly he falls.
Kite screams.
They’re six stories up.
Pariston laughs as he lands, soft as a feather, arms outstretched like wings. He smiles up at Kite.
‘Did I scare you?’
Kite sobs because his heart is beating too fast, and he hates being scared and weak.
Pariston comes back up in the elevator, unlocks the apartment door. He sits beside Kite on the balcony and pats his shoulder.
‘Don’t cry now.’
‘Fuck you!’ Kite screams. He shoves Pariston away. ‘What the fucking hell was that!’
‘I don’t know,’ Pariston says.
Kite shudders. The trees are so green.
‘I wish you would leave me alone.’
Pariston hugs him, and he’s so close, and he smells sweet.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, baby,’ he says. ‘Hasn’t Ging ever done that?’
Kite shakes his head. ‘Ging doesn’t like to scare me.’
‘Ging is sweet to you. What kind of spell do you have on him?’
‘I don’t,’ Kite says. He turns and hugs Pariston. ‘I don’t have anything on him...’
‘You don’t have anything, baby.’ Pariston strokes Kite’s hair. ‘You poor, poor baby.’
They go inside and lie together on the sofa and watch tv, and Kite clings to Pariston even though he’s angry at him because he wants someone to hold him. Because he’s scared and pathetic and so used to being touched, but not used to being touched gently, and Pariston is gentle and strokes his hair and back and rubs his thumb in circles over his shoulder blades.
Kite closes his eyes, lets the laugh track buzz in his head. He doesn’t concentrate on the jokes or the stories that he doesn’t understand. He concentrates on Pariston’s heartbeat, on his slow breath, on the way his hands move up and down his body, gently caressing him.
‘I’m sorry I scared you,’ Pariston whispers. ‘I didn’t know you’d think I was going to die.’
Kite nods and holds onto him.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Pariston kisses the top of his head.
Kite likes that. It makes him feel small and loved, like a pet. He wants to be loved. He wants to fall asleep in Pariston’s arms and wake up to him smiling, smelling sweet, pretty and nice.
He’s never going to get that. Not from Pariston, who always turns around and becomes wicked. Not from Ging, who holds him and says he’ll never leave him, but is always gone when Kite wakes up alone. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for a couple days. Once he was gone for two weeks, and Kite bought his own groceries with the money Ging had left and prepared for the day he’d be back out on the street. But then Ging came back with a bag of gold laughing about the adventure he’d been on. And he said it was fun, and Kite forgave him.
Kite stretches, and Pariston moves him so that they’re both more comfortable. Kite lets him stroke his hair, lifting it and letting it fall down again. Pariston is gentle. He cradles Kite’s cheek with his long hand and says, ‘It’s a lazy kind of day.’