Date: Thu, 13 Mar 2008 11:43:17 -0600 From: Karla Schulz Subject: Carrots and Celery Series: Damage Deposit (Chapters 14 to 18) Ugh! Sorry it's been so long AGAIN since I last posted. What can I say? March equals final papers and massive stress about grad school accpetances, I've just been going crazy. But thank you SO MUCH to everyone's whose written in, I hope you guys are getting used to the new tone and developments in the story! I'm trying to use the journal for the story more, because it gives me the opporunity to repond to feedback a lot easier and it's just nice to interact with people reading the story, so if you feel like it, please check out the Damage Deposit journal at: http://karlaschulz.livejournal.com/ And now, here's the story! --- Chapter Fourteen; what do you do with the pieces of a broken heart? (Shelly) When his parents had told him they were moving again, he hadn't understood at first why it felt so much like a punch. He'd been moving his whole life, one year here, two years there. And sure, sometimes it bothered him more than others, leaving an especially good team or comfortable group of friends, but it wasn't until Kyle's face flashed before his mind, the confused, `there must be a mistake here somewhere that I can fix' look he got on his face when things didn't go exactly according to his carefully laid plans, that he got why it felt like all the air had gone out of the room. He'd never had a friend like Kyle to leave behind before, but always when this happened before he hadn't told anyone until the last minute, preferring to duck out quietly without a lot of fuss. This strategy, however, proved largely ineffective when it came to Kyle, who was a persistent mother fucker, not to mention way less inclined to buy his `everything's cool' façade. When that didn't work he'd tried simple avoidance, and it nearly got his ass kicked, so he finally agreed to go over to Kyle's and after an interminable silence, he'd just, told him. And he swears, even now, that he didn't know what would happen, never saw it coming. But at the same time, he didn't hesitate for a second, never stopped to wonder how he suddenly found himself with Kyle's lips on his. And he couldn't, after the fact, put the thing on Kyle either. It hadn't been about one of them kissing the other, touching the other; it had been about them kissing each other at once, hands moving at exactly the same time. Those moments together with Kyle in a way that had never occurred to him before but at the same time had made perfect sense, stood out in his mind, all the years they were apart, until the day he finally saw Kyle again, and found him so different and yet so unchanged, as the most perfect and terrifying of his life. And if Kyle doesn't get it, the patience he's forcing himself to have with this situation when all he wants to do is TAKE what's his, what's always been him -- even when he was too young and foolish (stupid, stupid, stupid) to know it, well that just proves what he already knew, simply that Kyle was and is a far better person than he is, the best person he knows. Because even if Kyle doesn't think so, he knows he needs to atone for what he did, to earn the forgiveness Kyle handed out without pause or question. He has to wait, and help, and do whatever it is Kyle asks or needs of him, because -- and this is what he knows even if he hasn't admitted it to anyone -- this is all his own fault really, it's nothing more than what he should have known would happen and what he knows he deserves. Because he's the one who left. And sure, the moving part was out of his control, but that's not what he's talking about. After they fell into each other and took each other to a place they'd never been before, not with each other or anyone else, he'd felt Kyle falling asleep, face tucked into his neck and he'd wanted, more than he had thought it was possible to want anything in his life, to curl even tighter against him, and never let go. But instead, he'd shut his eyes against the tears that were suddenly threatening to fall, before pushing himself slowly, carefully, but surely, out of Kyle's arms and then out of his bed. He'd slid into the jeans that had been pushed frantically to his ankles, found his shirt, and then stood, swallowing furiously, hands shaking, staring at Kyle's peacefully sleeping form, wondering how the hell he hadn't noticed until now that he was the most fucking beautiful thing in the world. Yet even as he understood this for the first time, even as everything Kyle meant to him became suddenly, inescapably clear, instead of slipping back into Kyle's bed and arms he'd turned and walked from the room. And then he'd hid like a coward, locked up in his room, until they left. So he knows what he did, knows this is what he deserves, what he's earned. And so its not nobility on his part that's making him wait, staying his hands when they're screaming to reach out. It's penance. And he meant what he said to Kyle, he'll wait, keep waiting, forever if he has to, because he got himself into this mess, and it's the only humane way to try and get out of it. So that's not what's keeping him up nights, what's killing him bit by bit, making him want to break things and need to go out on punishing runs at 2 in the morning instead. What fills him with a kind of fury that has no visible end is that while he may deserve what he's got -- Kyle never did a fucking thing, expect love too easily and too faithfully. And it's that same courtesy that was extended to him which is now also keeping Kyle from him, trapping him between Shelly and Jonas. So as much as he wants to beat this kid to death and call it even, he knows he can't, really, not just because of what it would do to Kyle, but because he knows they're a lot more alike than the others think or he'd like to admit. And he's got no interest in being a pretender to the thrown. He wants Kyle, like he's never wanted anything in his life, and there's nothing he won't do, won't go through, to have him again, but it has to be on Kyle's terms, and because he's done what it took to earn him. He just wishes he could figure out what that is. --- He didn't come here for Kyle, for this. Or maybe he did, but it's not what he told himself at the time, not anything he let himself know. He really did -- does -- want to be a doctor. Not the see patients everyday, work in a hospital kind maybe -- but he loves the research, the fast, almost breakneck pace of the knowledge being discovered even as he's rushing to acquire it. His greatest interest is in the brain -- the mysteries and complexities therein. The secrets of the universe are in there, the only ones that matter anyway, and learning, and maybe even helping to develop, some of the tools to help unlock it, well, its worth all the years and time and money he has to throw at this thing to see it done. And the U of M has a respected Med School, maybe not the most prestigious, but he can see it as a stepping stone. Or at least that's how he thought of it at the time, maybe now, looking back, how he justified it to himself. It wasn't as if he had expectations -- hopes, maybe, but that was all. He'd meant to ease reintroductions, himself, back into Kyle's life, had imagined they could be casual, easy. He had even tried to convince himself he would feel nothing, just the simple uncomplicated friendship he had once associated so effortlessly with Kyle. But when he heard about Kyle's parents, all thoughts of laid back reentry had become impossible. He'd been overwhelmed with the need to see him, to offer everything he had just in case something happened to help. He hadn't anticipated Jonas -- but certainly something like it, if not like him. He hadn't expected to find Kyle so broken, although knowing now, it changes nothing. The offer is still everything he is for whatever Kyle might see fit to use it for. He can't imagine it any other way. Can't even remember a time, now, even though it's been so long since they've even seen or really known each other, that he hasn't been willing to do anything for Kyle, to give him everything. --- In the midst of everything else, all the confusion and anger and sadness and hope, it's just so fucking good to be with him again, to be with all of them. He loves his parents, feels they've done as right by him as they were able, but he's never felt a sense of family, of home, like what it is to simply sit around a dinner table with these people, eating food and talking about each others day. And its not just Kyle's capacity for love and forgiveness that blows his mind on a daily basis, it's all of them. These people who have lost so much but still have so much love to give, provided you know how to ask the right way. He knows he hardly deserves this either, no more from them than he does from Kyle, but for whatever reason he feels less guilty accepting it. Maybe because they're not the one's he betrayed, not directly, or maybe just because they don't know what he's done, what he did. Whatever the reason, he's not throwing away the gift of these people just because he knows he probably doesn't deserve it, deserve them. Instead, he'll take everything they're willing to give, and offer up all of himself in exchange, and maybe, just maybe, that will be something resembling enough. Chapter Fifteen; I've got this store bought way of saying I'm okay, and you've learned how to cry, in total silence (Celery) All his life, because his life began the minute he locked eyes on Carrots, he's been fiercely proud of him. Proud to stand beside him, to have won his friendship, and then, even more incredibly, his love. But he's never been prouder than he is now, so much that his chest swells with it whenever he looks at him, watches him being the man these events have led him to become, the challenges he's met with grace and determination. People think, and it's probably true, that he's largely blind to Carrots's faults, almost physically incapable of recognizing them, but he knows that noticing other people and their problems has always been one of them. But he's seen Carrots rise above that personal limitation time and time again these past months, seen him place himself way at the bottom of his own attention and focus on the people he loves. Seen him struggle to understand and to help, seen him over and over again, determined to do whatever it took, whatever was needed. And he knows, too, that even as he's doing the amazing job that he is that Carrots thinks it isn't enough, too little, or too late, sometimes. He knows deep down, Carrots is consumed with guilt, for them, and for his parents. He knows, specifically, that Carrots hates himself, in moments, for the fact that he hasn't cried since his parents died. Thinks it proves that there is something fundamentally missing or wrong with him. And Celery wants to tell him, show him that he's wrong, but he doesn't know how. Doesn't know how to tell Carrots, who's clinging to this strength even as he hates himself for it, that he knows it isn't true because he's the one Carrots wakes up in the middle of the night, still dreaming, hands clenched into fists around bits of his hair, tears streaming silently down his face. Chapter Sixteen; we haven't missed a good day of television yet so far (Carrots) In pop culture news -- because if you thought my parents dying would be enough to stop me from shallowly basing at least half my life around TV and movies, you don't know who you're dealing with here -- here's what's going on. This summer, as you may have noticed, we've developed a passion for the movie Boondock Saints, bordering on mania, particularly where the twins are concerned, for what I suppose are obvious reasons, and other than that we've stuck to our old faithful loves, that is, Wes Anderson movies, the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, 80's movies and of course the Princess Bride. In the fall we began watching Lost, primarily at the time because Dominic Monaghan was in it (trees! Climb a tree! / Right. Buckleberry Ferry) and this has worked out great, because Shelly and Kyle can take a break from all the poorly repressed sexual tension and talk about how hot Shannon is, or we can all talk about how stupid Kate is, and I can loudly deny loving Jack because of his big jaw which makes him look like Kyle to avoid admitting that its really just that every time he cries in the jungle I love him more, and Kara can made us all proud by being unabashedly committed to Syiad and his man bun. Also, you haven't lived until you've heard her impression of Sawyer, not to mention her main man Syiad. That, and, you know, quality television or whatever. I so need to know the mysteries of the island. Yes. We've also developed a new love for buying DVD box sets of HBO shows, and have been gorging ourselves on Entourage, the Wire and Deadwood. I don't know where to begin with the awesome, but let me just say the following: Let's hug it out / All those who doubt me -- suck cock by choice / I'm embarrassed for y'all. Thank you. Finally, we've somehow managed to become totally obsessed with Numb3rs (EVERYTHING is numbers!) even though we only started watching it to appease Celery's inner math nerd. Well, that and the fact that it has Bernard from The Santa Clause (haven't you people ever heard of basting?) and Joel from Northern Exposure, which we all loved as kids, and have recently rediscovered via the DVD's we bought, half because of the whole childhood appreciation thing, and half because the DVD's are so adorable in those little parka things. I mean, have you seen them? They have moose zippers for god's sake! They're awesome! Ahem. Anyway. Numb3rs. Like I said, I don't really know how it happened exactly, but it's the break out hit of the year in casa Vasskez. Kyle, in correlation with, or as the direct cause of, his new found love of theoretical science and the philosophy of science ("it's the best of both worlds!") is, I suspect, suffering from a case of extreme hero worship bordering on a full out man crush on Professor Fleinhardt, or Larry, if you will. And I'm going to come clean and own up right now to being kind of inexplicably yet helplessly in love with Don, an attraction I'm channeling into Celery by trying to force him to wear shades and chew gum a lot, which he responds to with eye rolls and occasional compliance. Perhaps best of all, however, is that the twins have sudden coughing fits sometimes when Charlie smiles a certain way or lays down a particularly forceful and impressive math analogy, and they always get really red and avoid looking at Braden for awhile afterwards. Who, in case you somehow weren't picking up on the symbology there (who remembers! Five seconds ago! Boondock Saints! Anyone? Anyone?) looks a lot like a short haired Charlie, only you know, younger and with a smaller nose, and yeah, I'm going to have to go ahead and say, hotter. And this always causes his to smile shyly, which does happy things to my insides. Because I mean, let's be honest. It's not as if the twins were ever going to be able to have anything approaching normal relationships anyway, and that whole casual sex with friend's thing really freaked me out, even only hearing about it largely after the fact. Plus, Braden is a total champ, and he really understands them, I mean, in ways none of us even do, so I know he can handle them. Make them happy, if they let him. Which I'm staring to think maybe they will. And sometimes, yeah, I worry about whether or not they'll be able to make him happy back, if they're even wired for that, but then Charlie will launch into a math rant and look really hot doing it and the twins'll get a half confused, half glazed look in their eyes, and when Braden actually looks at THEM with the shy smile usually only the rest of us see, they'll both blush, and yeah. So I think maybe it's going to be okay, and what with the whole pointy painful mess that is the Kyle / Shelly / Jonas triangle carrying on with no foreseeable end in sight, well, we'll just about take any good news there is to be had around here. Even if it does happen to be semi creepy threesome love news, in which two out of the three members are my 16 year old brothers. And like, Kyle and Celery and I have had the whole `should we be freaking out about this' conversation, and we all came down on the side of being okay with whatever makes them happy, so long as that doesn't make anyone else UNhappy, which frankly less more likely with Braden than random girls they don't care about. If you follow me. We've decided not to freak out, at any rate. Cause I mean, its like I'm saying, considering how they are, its not like their prospects were ever what you could conventionally call good, or that they had any real chance of avoiding being at least somewhat unsettling, if not all out creepy and fucked up anyway. Considering, I'd say we, they, got off pretty easy. Pretty okay. Good, even. And maybe it takes knowing Braden, or seeing them together, to get that, but I really think it's true. Everything I've seen but not really understood my whole life, everything I've seen especially these past few months, has really convinced me of that. And at this stage in the game, I guess I really much have to, you know, let myself be convinced, but whatever way you like it, there it is. And all this just because I wanted you people to be able to keep up with the Numb3rs references. Chapter Seventeen; if I kiss you where it's sore, will you feel better? (Shelly) He walks in the house, and as always, the first thing he looks for is Kyle. After coming up empty in the kitchen, living room and a shout up to the second floor, he tries the study. The door is partially open, and he gives it a gentle knock before easing himself into the room. "Kyle?" He asks quietly, something about the room's dark colors and leather bound books always making him feel a sense of solemnity. Kyle is sitting rigid at the large oak desk at the back of the room, the large stained glass window behind him casting reds and yellows against his shoulders. He looks up, startled, face going from the glazed empty look it had when Shelly entered the room to some forced okay. "Hey," he says, voice coming out in a croak, whether from emotion or unuse, Shelly can only guess. "Hey man," he says back, coming closer to stand at the side of the desk, near enough to touch, but not. "How you doing?" He poses the question as gently as he can, not wanting Kyle to feel pushed, but knowing something's wrong. "I'm okay," Kyle says completely unconvincingly, looking away in disgust with himself, knowing it. Shelly inches closer, kneeling down, just below eye level, his hand coming to rest on Kyle's shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?" Kyle shakes his head, won't look at him. "Nothing. Really. I'm fine." "Kyle," Shelly says, an exasperated little laugh in his voice, "You're not fine. Come on, talk to me." He looks beseechingly into Kyle's eyes, forcing the contact, but Kyle just looks away again, swallowing furiously against tears. Shelly backs up, giving him the room he knows Kyle needs in these moments of weakness. He leaves his hand on Kyle's shoulder though, gently stroking the ridge of his collar bone with a thumb. "I just," Kyle chokes out, he pauses, shrugging, "I just really miss my dad." Shelly's face crumples at this, and he has to move in closer again, turning Kyle's body along with the wheeled chair he's sitting in to face him and moving in between his legs so both hands can rest on his shoulders. He just looks at him, concerned and full of love, and Kyle continues. "I mean, it's not like we ever really talked about this kind of stuff, you know? I mean, he was always there if we wanted to talk, but he never pushed or anything and it just wasn't really the kind of things we would talk about, but he just, he just had this way of... he'd just look at you, sometimes, when something was really bothering you, and... you wouldn't have to say anything, you know? He'd just know and I don't know... he'd squeeze your arm or look at you in this way he had that just seemed to be able to make everything seem like it was going to be okay, like he'd make sure of it and... I just, I just really miss him." Shelly's hand has moved up to cup Kyle's face, and his thumb comes to brush away the tears that have collected in Kyle's eye lashes. He's leaning in, and almost before Kyle knows it, he's placing the lightest of feather kisses against his lips. He's moving away before Kyle's had time to respond to the kiss, but his hand shoots out, catching Shelly's neck, and he holds him there, inches away from his face, staring wildly into him. "Do it again." "Kyle," Shelly protests softly, trying to move back. In response to this, Kyle just grips him tighter. "Do it again, Shelly. Please." And it's not as though Shelly could ever deny him anything, so he moves in again, and this time kisses him for real, a deep and steadying kiss, full of love and reassurance. He tears himself away from it just before it becomes something he can't control, but they remain connected, foreheads resting against each other for a moment, before Shelly pulls all the way away. They stay there, Kyle sitting and Shelly kneeling beneath him, just looking at each other and trying to remember how to breathe, for a long time. Chapter Eighteen; we have got to take cover, brother (Carrots) The door bell rings, but for once we don't all jump in surprise and alarm. Kyle's taking a rare and well earned night off from making dinner and we'd been waiting on the Thai food we ordered for awhile, so I approach the door with a wad of bills and a relaxed mind. What I find when I open the door shoots that straight to hell. It's Jonas; standing at the door like it's any other day. "Listen man, I'm aware I happen to be prone to hyperbolae -- but I actually wasn't kidding about the whole beat the shit out of you if you came back thing." Jonas smiles in that weird way he did the last time, and inclines his head backward. "I brought backup." I lean to look past him, sure enough, there's another guy standing just at the edge of the lawn. It takes me a second to realize its Colin. I don't believe this shit. "I don't believe this shit. What are you, in league with this asshole now?" I demand, loud enough for him to hear. Colin shrugs. "Just giving a friend a lift." I've got my face in my hands, I'm so without ability to process this nonsense. "Just get the fuck out of here. Please -- for the love of god or whatever it is you value in this world -- go away. Don't come back." They don't move, but this is Kyle. I'm in no way above begging. "Please -- Jonas. Don't do this. Don't make me go in there and get Celery and the twins and get them to help me MAKE you leave. We used to be friends, we—" I stop, and shake my head in disgust. "I don't even know why I'm bothering. Obviously we never meant anything to you in the first place, how could we have if you were able to do what you did? Why should I expect anything's changed now?" "Carrots, I just want to talk to him. He's the one who came to see me -- I just want to finish what we started." I just stare at him. He keeps going. "I'm not lying. Carrots, really. He came to my apartment." "I know." I do. Kyle told us the night it happened. We had a family meeting about it and everything. Jonas holds out a hand. "So -- you see -- I just—" "That was a mistake -- not an invitation. You're not getting through this door and no one in there's gonna let him out. This is just not going to happen. Just get that through your head. Please." "Carrots, if he wants to talk to me you guys can't stop him." "Sure we can. And that would only be necessary if he actually wanted to talk to you -- which he doesn't. So just go. You're putting me through this, and it's fucking killing me. How do you think it would make Kyle feel? Huh? I mean, you get it right? You get that you fucked him up so bad he practically doesn't know who he is anymore right? Which makes you the last person I'm ever gonna let near him, understand? I'm not letting you hurt him again. I swear to god, I don't care what it takes. You're not getting near him." He looks at me, long and hard. And then just shakes his head. "I'm proud of you." "Fuck you." He smiles. "I'll see you tomorrow." And then he's off down the stairs, nodding to Colin, and they're getting into his car, driving away. I go back into the house, shaking from adrenaline and anger, and tell everyone what happened. The twins want to go out and find him, Celery doesn't look far behind, but behind his eyes I know the prospect is killing him, and Shelly is just sitting there, eyes fixed tightly on Kyle, waiting to see how he'll react. He doesn't say anything, for a long time, but finally he gets up, and moves to sit closer to Shelly, putting his hand on his knee. He looks at him, and they smile tightly at each other. Finally, my heart starts slowing down. We may not know how yet, but it's gonna be okay. As long as we're got each others backs, nobody can touch us. And then, just like that, just like I always feared, we're under siege. Jonas starts coming to the house every night, knocking on the door or ringing the bell. The second night, when we didn't answer, he just stood there, on the porch, blowing warm air into his hands and stamping his feet, for an hour, until I finally went with the twins and we yelled at him for awhile, and eventually, looking weirdly happy to have seen us, them, he left. Since that night, Shelly has taken to sitting on the steps inside the house, waiting, and when Jonas rings the bell he jumps up, yanks open the door, and just stares Jonas down, arms folded across his chest, a look of cold fury on his face that, if directed at me, would have me running literally for the hills. Jonas never asks who he is, or what he's doing at our house, he just stares back, and they do that, have their weird freaky macho standoff thing, night after night, for a whole week, until Kyle finally demands we put a stop to it. "I'm not five -- I can actually handle seeing him for five minutes if that's what it's going to take for him to leave us alone." He's pacing around the living room, and we're all sitting around him, looking worried and skeptical. We've taken to gathering in the living room, not unlike we would have before, but always with a sense of tension in the air, every night, waiting for the bell to ring. Now, on the seventh night, we're waiting again. "Kyle, its not that we don't think you can handle it," Jon is saying, although, I suspect him and Dave have their doubts, like we all do, in our way. Not that Kyle can't handle himself, but that it'll hurt him even if he thinks it won't, that Jonas'll be able to get to him somehow, because he's still too open, too good, too forgiving. We don't share that problem. "It's just, why should we give him what he wants? Why should we give him anything?" Kyle looks around at us all, resolved faces, and he sighs. "I just want to be able to protect you guys from this, that's all. Please, just let me do my job and keep our family safe and undisturbed okay? I can do that, I can just answer the door and tell him to leave and he will -- I know him." I'm not sure whose cough of disbelief he hears, but it's either mine or Dave's, or maybe both, cause he's sharing his glare pretty equally. "Whatever you may think -- I know Jonas. What he is and what he's capable of. I always knew," he sighs, "I just happened to love him anyway. But that's not what this is. This is just me wanting us to be left alone. I can make that happen. Let me." We look, as we're tending to do more and more, in the times where Kyle's doing something we can't quite figure out, to Shelly for guidance. He sighs. "Let me come with you," he says, looking straight at Kyle. Kyle swallows, and then nods. "Yeah," he smiles. "Yeah that'll work."