Work Text:
It’s easier to be vulnerable with Kian than it is to be vulnerable with Rolan. It feels weird to admit that to himself, but it’s true.
A holdover from when they were kids, he’s sure. When Kian and him would get high together, and get a little too emotional. When it was late at night, Rand would get Kian to sneak out because he knew Kian’s parents wouldn’t care and he didn’t want to get Rolan in trouble.
When Kian was the one who’d deescalate all their fights. Sit and listen to Rand rant with some non-committal hums, and strangely sage advice.
He doesn’t feel bad about admitting it. He’s sure it’s the same for Rolan. Neither of them argued when one of them would suggest Kian stay while they talk things through. His steady presence was reassuring. Calming.
It was probably a weird position to be in, but it’s not like they didn’t try to support him in other scenarios. And it’s not like Rolan didn’t ever support Rand, either.
Just that if Rand had to pick someone to spill his guts to, it’d be Kian.
He knows it isn’t mutual.
He’s not sure when he first noticed. Maybe he always knew Kian was never getting vulnerable with them in a way that actually meant something to him. In the way they did. Most likely, though, he didn’t realise until Kian was almost in tears confessing that he wasn’t a rockstar.
When something in Rand’s brain shattered a little as he realised Kian’s been lying to them the entire time. For over a decade. Straight through his teeth, and so easily that Rand wouldn’t even have thought to question it.
When he remembered that Kian doesn’t cry. Ever. Because it ruins his make-up, apparently. Or, well, he supposes that is true. But that’s probably not the only reason.
Even knowing that Kian was lying, he doesn’t think he can pinpoint when it started. There’s no sudden clarity. No memory of an awkward moment on the phone that suddenly makes sense. He had other things to worry about at the time, but that realisation stays with him.
Kian’s a great liar. Fantastic at it. He lies so easily as he checks them all into one hotel room, the receptionist too charmed to question anything. He lies so easily when they get to his penthouse suite. Almost like he’s already forgotten they know the big things now.
They’re obvious when they fall through his lips now that Rand knows to look for them. Kian’s facade never quite grew back right after the resurrection - after everything in Galloway. The cracks are obvious.
And he still doesn’t tell them anything.
Rand wonders if that makes him a bad friend. Kian’s always prompting them to talk about their emotions. Suggesting therapy. He doesn’t give up straight away when he meets resistance, either.
But Rand’s never been a good anything, so it makes sense that he’d be shit at this.
Rand does try to approach it. He knows Rolan does, too. But Kian’s a little too good at spinning the conversation away from him. At dropping just enough that it seems like they’re getting somewhere with him.
It’s easier to be vulnerable with Kian. But at least he knows where he stands with Rolan. He can tell when Rolan’s getting overwhelmed. When he needs to halt all his shit to clumsily support Rolan back.
He’s sure Kian’s noticed the change. Kian’s an odd mix of distant and too present right now. And Rand wishes he knew at all whether the two are connected. Whether Kian feels like they’re trying to cut him out.
He’s been standing outside Kian’s room for too long. Rolling scenarios and outcomes around in his head - the best way to approach this situation. He’s always been good at that as a DM.
Once, Kian had laughed and told him he shouldn’t think like that so much in real life. That he’d be paralysed with indecision, and he just needs to go with the flow more. He’d bristled at the time. Kian made it sound like he was Rolan.
But standing here in front of Kian’s door, he finally fucking gets it.
He grits his teeth. They’re going to talk about things. Not everything. Just whatever Kian wants to give him as long as it’s more than that shallow vulnerability he’s been throwing at them the last couple of weeks. The last decade. The last however-fucking-long-since-he-started-doing-this.
He twists the handle.
The first thing he notices is that Kian’s playing his guitar. He hasn’t played anything since they got back, apart from drumming nervous little beats onto whatever surface he can find.
The second thing he notices is that it sounds shit.
Kian’s humming to himself. Sitting on the edge of his bed, and rocking back and forth slightly as he picks out the jarring melody like his life depends on it.
He doesn’t acknowledge Rand entering. Doesn’t stop. His eyes look distant. Unfocused.
The swirling in Rand’s stomach that had slowly built up every second he spent waiting outside the door twists up into a crescendo.
“Hey. Kian.” He walks closer. Waves a hand in front of his face. “What the fuck are you doing? Sounds like shit.”
Kian hums a little louder. And then he’s clicking. Not like the bugs did - he can’t mimic it all that well with a human mouth, but it’s unmistakable what he’s trying to do.
“Kian.” He claps. “Hey! Snap out of it!”
He’s not sure what to do. He’s seen Kian distant before, and he never knows what to do then, either. He mostly just lets him be and stays close enough to monitor the situation.
But this is different.
He grabs Kian’s strumming hand. That stills without a fight but the rest doesn’t. The soft picking dying down into an even quieter twang of the strings as Kian hits them over and over again.
Rand’s hands are sweaty. Kian’s probably going to hate that when he snaps out of it. But Rand’s hot. Uncomfortable. The rising nausea quietens with the song, but his heart’s still racing.
They’re all fucked up. He knows what that looks like for Rolan, and he thought he knew what it looked like for Kian.
Rand wrestles the guitar out of Kian’s grasp with only a few muttered curse words. Kian’s hands fall limply into his lap, the humming and clicking dying out.
He blinks a little. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he takes in the scene around him. Then that easy, fake grin is crossing his face.
“Rand, dude, what’s up?”
Kian’s not even going to ask. Rand feels warm for an entirely different reason now. That familiar thrum of red hot rage sweeping through him.
“What the fuck was that all about?”
It’s easy to get angry. Even moreso these days. But he doesn't think he’s ever been this angry at Kian. Not like he gets at almost everyone else.
“What’re you talking about, man?”
Kian’s eyebrows furrow in confusion again. And Rand feels sick with the realisation that he can’t tell whether it’s real or not even though he just saw the real thing earlier.
“The- the fucking-” Rand shakes the guitar in his hands for good measure. “That song you were playing! What the fuck was all that?”
“I dunno.” Kian shrugs. “Just something new.”
He never gets angry back. He never got angry back. That’s why Rand stopped getting angry at him.
Well, sure, Kian would snap sometimes - frustration leaking into his tone. He’d get angry at other things, too.
But never at Rand. Never at Rolan.
There was something careful in the way he held himself back from all that that only clicks in Rand’s mind because he’s seeing it right now. After Kian’s mask has cracked.
It’s easy, now that he knows to look for it. Kian’s always so possessive over his instruments. And recently, over his cars. But he’s not saying shit about Rand holding his guitar almost tight enough to snap it.
“You didn’t even notice me come in-”
“It happens, dude.”
“You were trying to click! Like those fucking bugs!” Rand sighs. Harsh and angrier than he really has any right to be, but he’s so tired of not knowing what’s going on with Kian. “That’s not just fucking nothing, man!”
Rand remembers Kian as a bug. Rand knows Kian has memories of being one. If there’s some kind of bleed over effect happening, they need to know. Because they can’t trust Kian like they can trust Rolan.
Kian’s mouth opens. And then he sighs, looking more tired than Rand’s seen him since those first couple of nights out of Galloway.
“If there’s some shit happening with you we need to know, okay?” Rand continues, some of the anger leaking out of him as Kian still refuses to fight back. Still refuses to fuel the flames.
“It’s nothing, dude, don’t worry about it.” At Rand’s dubious look he continues - too measured to be hasty, but some of it slips through. “Like, I’m not just gonna go out and start, like, killing people on the streets, man, you know?”
It’s such a flimsy verbal promise from a known liar. But Rand takes it.
He’s sick of the paranoia. He’s maybe even a little sick of the anger.
He unclenches his fingers from around the guitar neck and sets it down against the bedside table. Too roughly, if Kian’s wince is anything to go by.
He sits down on the bed next to Kian and wishes he had some weed left. Maybe then this would be easier.
“I’m worried about you, too, man.”
Kian shrugs. “I told you, dude, I’m fine. I’m not gonna start attacking-”
“I just wish you’d fucking tell me shit.”
Kian goes silent. Rand feels bitterly pleased that he’s caught Kian off guard enough that he doesn’t have an easy retort. Another lie or misdirection.
“I do.” Kian says quietly.
“Then what was that song?” He bumps his shoulder into Kian’s. “Are you, like… okay?”
“I don’t know.” He doesn’t clarify which question he’s answering. “The song is just… it’s all I remember.”
“Of…?”
Kian shakes his head like Rand’s not getting it. Grief, and panic swelling up through the cracks.
“It’s all I remember.” He repeats, insistent that Rand understands. “I can’t- ask me to play you anything else, dude - I can’t.”
“Wait, what? How?”
“Becky.” Of course. It’s always her. Or, well, the bug version of her. “She- she killed me, man, but I was still-” He takes a breath in. Rand watches as the emotion sinks back into the depths of Kian and he shrugs. “I stayed. I dunno why. Maybe it would’ve been different, maybe not. But she played me this song, and it’s like every other song just got tipped out.”
“Fuck, man, that’s…”
He wishes he knew what to say. Everything feels inadequate. His chest aches.
“I mean, it’s, like, whatever, dude.” Kian shrugs again. “I was just trying to see if I could relearn some basic shit. And then - I dunno. Guess I fucking zoned.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Rand feels more miserable than Kian looks. Not that that means anything these days.
“Why would I?” Kian rolls his shoulders, and leans back on his palms. “Like, it’s not that much of a big deal, dude.”
“Because- because we’re your friends, asshole! Because we’d get it - we’re the only people alive who fucking would!” And it is a big deal. Music’s everything to Kian. But Rand doesn’t know if he should push that right now. He sighs. Runs a still-shaky hand over his face. “You scared the shit out of me, man. I thought- I don’t- I don’t know what I thought.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt you-”
The sick feeling swoops through his stomach again.
“I don’t care about that! I care about you!”
Rand wonders where the fuck this is all coming from. Surely, during his time away from Galloway. Surely, Rand didn’t miss this when they were kids.
But he was filled with so much grief back then. It was hard to focus on anything.
“Rand-”
“No, listen, okay? You don’t- like, obviously we don’t tell each other everything. But you don’t tell us anything, man!” He takes a shaky breath in. When he speaks again, his voice is rougher than he’d like - throat clogged with tears he doesn’t want to shed. “I thought I was gonna lose you. Again.”
Second time, third time - does it really matter that he keeps coming back? One day he won’t. Rand’s sick of losing people.
Kian inhales sharply.
And then in that same halting tone of his confession, he says, “It’s hard.”
“I know. Fuck, I know, man, but… like… you gotta give us something.”
“Give you something?” There’s that frustrated tone. Darker, and lower than Rand’s ever heard it. “You two know everything. You two know shit I haven’t even fucking told my therapist.”
Rand scoffs. “No fucking wonder you’re still in therapy after all these years then, if your therapist knows less than-”
Rand’s mind goes blank as Kian pushes himself off his palms, and spins to straddle Rand’s lap. His hands are clenched around the collar of Rand’s jacket, and there’s a burning anger in his eyes that Rand’s never seen directed at him.
“Don’t you get it yet, Rand?” Kian’s voice is practically a growl. “You two know something about me that could get me killed.” Then he blinks. His grip loosens, and the anger gives way to that neutral smile - his voice normal again. “Do you know what that’s like? Growing up with that?”
Rand’s lost. He’s sure his eyes are wide. His cheeks are definitely red. It feels impossible to put together Kian’s vague comments when he’s certain his brain has shut down.
He shakes his head no. It’s all he can manage.
“Yeah. It’s difficult, okay, dude?” Kian messes with the collar of his jacket. Smoothes it out. “I’m, like- I’m trying.”
“Okay.”
He doesn’t know what Kian’s talking about. He feels like he should.
“I had to hide all this shit for my safety. And then - with Hollywood? I- I couldn’t-” Kian’s voice gets choked up. “Fuck, dude. I had to. It’s- it’s weird, okay? I’m trying.”
“Okay, just…” He trails off, mind still scattered. Everything he said before Kian misinterpreted. “I… I want you to be safe. I want to help you be safe.”
“Fucking… right on, dude.” Kian sighs, and the tension spills out of his body. Rand wonders if it’s another mask thing. “I’ll try, man.”
“Cool. Nice. And, uh, okay - sorry, what exactly were you talking about just then?” Kian just stares at him, so he hastily continues. “You’re just so, like- like you’re so vague, and I just wanna make sure we’re on the same-”
Kian slides his hands up to cup Rand’s cheeks, and pulls him into a kiss.
Rand’s pretty sure this is his first kiss. The first one he’d count, anyway. He presses eagerly into it. Wraps his arms around Kian’s back to try and hug him closer.
His head’s spinning. Nausea rolls in his stomach again as he realises what the fuck he’s actually doing. He’s kissing a man. He’s kissing Kian.
He’s not sure which fact is freaking him out more right now.
He doesn’t even have time to kick his body into gear and push Kian away. Kian’s already scrambling back out of his grasp. And Rand’s a little too shocked to try and grab him, so he tumbles off Rand’s lap and off the edge of the bed. His back hits the ground with a dull thud.
It at least gives Rand something else to think about for a bit.
“Shit, man, are you okay?”
Kian’s eyes are distant. Glazed over. His breaths are coming in quickly.
“I… I’m fine.”
They literally just fucking talked about this.
“Kian-”
“Dude.” And he sounds close to tears. “Not now. I’m fine. I’m fine, okay?”
“Okay. Okay, man, you’re fine.”
With less grace than Rand imagines Kian would usually use, he stands up and climbs back onto Rand’s lap. He cradles Rand’s cheeks again. Presses in close, but not quite touching.
“I’m fine.” Kian breathes. Rand feels it more than hears it. “Do you want this? I’m fine.”
“Do you want this?”
Kian pulled away from the kiss first.
“I… yeah. Yeah, dude, it’s just kissing.” Kian leans their foreheads together. His voice is strained. “Kissing’s great. What’s a little kissing between the boys, yeah?”
“Man, you sound like you’re freaking out more than me, and I-” That’s what Kian was talking about. The fact that he’s queer. And this probably makes Rand pretty fucking queer, too. “Oh god. Oh fuck.”
“Rand, hey. It’s okay.”
He needs Kian off of him. Everywhere Kian’s touching him feels like it’s on fire, and he just needs to cool down, calm down, and think.
“Rand- I’m good at it, right? It’s nice.” Kian pulls back a little, and Rand feels like he can breathe. “Just kissing. Not a big deal, dude.”
“Fuck, man.” He backs out of Kian’s grasp, and flops onto the bed. Kian doesn’t move. “This sucks. Yeah. Okay, I get it.”
“You… uh, you do?” Kian sounds unsure.
“Yeah. The, uh- the fear. The safety. Fuck. Your whole life, huh?”
“Just about.”
“Shit, man. Wish I had some fucking weed. Or cigs.”
“Should I, um, leave?” Kian just sounds awkward now. Rand assumes it’s being put on.
“Nah, just… give me a second.” He sighs, and tries to calm his breathing. The small distance is already helping. “I’ve faced the bugs, right? This is easy.”
Kian laughs. It sounds a little bitter.
“Didn’t mean it like that.” He huffs. “Obviously, you’ve got thirty fucking years of survival instincts to deal with, but I don’t, so… I just need to adjust.”
“Whatever, dude.”
His heart rate is slowing. Approaching normal again. That twisting coil of anxiety in his stomach is loosening into just general nervousness.
“So…” He drums his fingers against the sheets. “What about you and Rolan?”
“He knows how I feel. It’s like, up to him now, yeah?”
“Man, if you think Rolan is gonna make the first move…”
“I don’t need him to, dude. He’s my friend first.”
“And me?”
It’s a little cowardly to ask like this. Staring up at the ceiling where he can’t see Kian’s face.
“Whatever you want, man.”
He pushes himself back up to meet Kian. Kian grins.
“Okay, but first just… tell me why you freaked out?” Kian’s grin turns strained. “Like, was it something I-”
“No, no, dude.” Kian rests his hands on Rand’s shoulders. “I was just being stupid-”
“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m not.”
It doesn't look like he’s lying. But Rand doesn’t think he believes him, either.
One more try. And if Kian freaks out again, they stop.
“Okay.”
“Okay? Radical, c’mere.” Kian goes for his cheeks again, tilting his head up. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?”
Not really. But Rand can hazard a guess.
“Since we were teens?”
“Yeah.”
Rand’s face feels warm. Pleasantly warm. Not that same heat from anger, and panic earlier.
“You’re really fucking hot, Rand.”
And then Kian kisses him.
It’s better now that he’s not freaking out. Kian was right - he is a good kisser. Rand kind of just goes along with whatever Kian does. Tries not to let his brain completely melt out of his skull so he can keep an eye on Kian’s comfort levels.
He seems fine. Relaxed.
Maybe too relaxed? Maybe he’s putting it on?
Fuck, this is confusing. He wraps his arms around Kian’s back again and clings onto his shirt. Kian flinches a little, but relaxes again quickly enough.
Then he pulls away, and slides his hands down to grab Rand’s jacket. Presses small kisses down his jaw. Down his neck. Then he just stops. He lets out a shaky breath, and Rand realises all of him is shaking.
“Hey, man, you okay?” He tries to keep his voice soft.
“Yeah.” Kian’s voice is muffled. “I’m fine.”
“You’re fucking lying to me, man.” He says it without any heat. Still keeps his voice soft.
Kian doesn’t respond. Not to argue, or agree, or even defend himself.
“Look, we don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to.” Rand reaches up and runs a hand through Kian’s hair. “Just… I dunno, man. You said whatever I want, but I don’t even know what I want.”
“You want someone who can, like, actually kiss you, dude.” Kian says shakily.
“I don’t give a shit about that, man, don’t put words in my mouth. I just want you.” Kian’s hands tighten around his jacket. “I just… don’t know what that would look like. What do you want? Because you keep asking me shit, and not answering anything.”
For a bit, Kian just keeps breathing shakily. And then, “I just… I want you to stay, man.”
“You’re the one who left me.” Rand reminds him bitterly.
“You stopped calling. Becky left, and everyone else stopped calling.” Kian sighs. “Did you know that the last time I was in a relationship that lasted longer than, hm, two weeks was with Becky? Everyone fucking leaves, dude. They find out pretty quickly I’m not what they want.”
“Well, I won’t.”
Kian inhales sharply. Presses a kiss to Rand’s neck.
“Is that okay?” Rand asks. “Kissing me like that?”
“Yeah.”
“So, when’s it bad, man? Where’s-”
“Dude, can we, like, talk about that later?” Kian sounds exhausted.
“Oh. Uh… yeah, sure.”
With one more kiss to his neck, Kian pulls away and straightens up. He looks tired. But he’s smiling - just a little.
“Can we take a nap?”
“Now?” Rand’s eyes dart to the bedroom door. “Rolan’s right there.”
“It’s just a nap, dude,” Kian rolls his eyes, “chill out.”
“Okay.”
Kian climbs off him, and crawls under the covers.
“Besides,” Kian flashes him a grin, “maybe he’ll want to join us.”
Rand takes his jacket and sunglasses off, and crawls in next to Kian.
“Would you, like, be okay with that, dude?” Kian asks.
“I mean… for a nap?” He shrugs. “Sure. For, like, everything else you’re implying? Can we, uh… I’ll think about it. We can, like, talk about it later, man. Right?”
“Right on, dude.”
Rand’s never been in a relationship - it’s not something he really gave a shit about pursuing. But it means he doesn’t really know how these kinds of things work.
He’s not going to get in the way of whatever Rolan and Kian have going on, though. Even if maybe he should want to.
It kind of sounds nice, actually.
Kian presses closer to him. Wraps his arms around him.
Rand does the same. Presses a quick kiss to Kian’s cheek, and almost laughs at the red that erupts across his face. It’s nice to know he can fluster Kian like this.
This is nice. He echoes the thought out loud.
“Are you sure you want this?” Kian murmurs. “I won’t be weird about it if you, like, want to dip.”
“What? Because you might not kiss me again?”
Kian hums in confirmation.
“Man, don’t you think if I cared about that kinda thing I would’ve tried dating earlier?” Rand shrugs as best as he can while lying down. “I said it before, man. I just want you.”
“Wait.” Kian pushes himself up slightly. Just enough so they’re face to face. “You’ve
never
dated?”
“Yeah.” His face feels warm. “Shut up, man, it’s not weird.”
“No, no, it’s perfectly fucking fine, man, I just mean…” Kian bites his lip - a nervous gesture. “Was that your first kiss, dude?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Fuck.” Kian flops onto his back - moving him away from Rand. “That was such, like, a shitty first kiss, dude. Sorry.”
Rand laughs. “Man, you care way too much about this shit. I don’t.” He tries to tug Kian in closer again. “I was about to, like, freak out and push you away, anyway.”
“Why? Oh, wait, your…” Kian rolls over and shuffles closer, “sexuality crisis.”
“Yeah.”
It feels nice to hold and be held. Kissing would be the last thing on his mind right now if it wasn’t for Kian bringing it up.
“Rand…”
“If you’re gonna try and talk me out of this relationship again can you wait, like, at least a couple of days?”
“Fine.” Kian huffs, but there’s no heat behind it. “Asshole.”
“C’mon, man, I wasn’t even being a dick!” Rand complains.
“It was your tone.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Kian laughs. He has such a nice laugh.
“Go to sleep, idiot.” Rand says. “You wanted to, didn’t you?”
“Hm.” Kian tightens his grip briefly. “Wake me up for dinner.”
“If you’ve got me trapped here, I’m going to sleep, too, man. We’re at the mercy of Rolan.”
“Wouldn’t worry about it, dude.” Kian’s voice is starting to slur, sleep overtaking him. “Rolan’ll pitch a fit if we don’t eat what he makes.”
“True.”
“‘Night, man.”
“Night.”
Kian falls asleep not too long after. And Rand can confidently say that Kian was right all those years ago - because no matter how much he ran this scenario over in his mind, he never could’ve predicted this.
It’s nice, though. Maybe the first properly good thing to happen since Galloway.