21
Lathan
Lathan wakes before his body does. He has to force his eyelids to peel apart, heavy and stuck. His vision is slow to adjust from the blackness he was consumed by before passing out. He glances around with initial haste, not fully recognizing where he is, so he sits up and rubs his face—quickly seething and pulling his hand back at the sting of his sunburns.
“Woah, lay back down. Your body needs to rest and reacclimate.”
Lathan stares at Lucas—at first seeing through him until his brain recognizes the new face in its archives. Confused, he rolls his woozy gaze over himself, lacking half his clothes. He rests a hand on his abdomen, bent over slightly, and sees his cut shirt on the floor.
“Kylo’s just grabbing you a change of clothes,” Lucas says as Lathan searches his surroundings, fanning a tacoed magazine at him. Each soft pulse of wind makes Lathan almost angry in the space between the next; the overexposure to the sun has his head pounding, his skin smouldering. He hasn’t fainted from sunstroke since he was a kid and didn’t know better.
“Your scars,” Lucas says, peering down at the claw marks down his back, the bite sunken into his shoulder. “Did he do that?”
He already knows the answer. He’s been standing here staring at them for, well, he doesn’t know how long. But they’re undeniable; he’s testing Lathan by asking.
“First time I saw a werewolf face-to-face. Served me right.” He traces over the hypertrophic lines enmeshed in his honeycomb-patterned tattoo, narrowly missing the mugunghwa flower blossoming down his pec.
“And you stayed?” Lucas asks without hesitation, his dark eyes like the cold earth before spring, where nothing yet grows—but the potential is there with a little nurture. The full moon happened before they were an item. Kylo’s face, being asked out after almost tearing Lathan apart, is a small trophy the vampire keeps tucked away.
Lathan lets out a small, exhausted chuckle. “Where was I going to go? He’s all I care about. And I never blamed him for it. I just wanted to keep him from getting in trouble or doing something he’d regret the next day.”
Lucas matches his halfhearted laugh, the hint of something beyond a withered frown curling the edges of his lips. It’s the closest he’s come to showing a positive emotion all day.
“Thank you,” the older brother forces himself to say, but his voice is softer in a way that Lathan understands immediately; he’s overprotective, “for looking out for him.”
He looks at Lucas for a moment, and then nods. “Of course.” Surprised by his response, Lathan relaxes. “You should laugh. He’s a lot stronger than me. Humbled me pretty quick.”
“Who do you think he wrestled with when he was a pup?” He flicks up an eyebrow. “I taught him everything he knows,” he taunts lightly, flexing his own strength.
Comforted by Lucas’s smile—even small, it reminds Lathan of Kylo’s—it’s as they’re laughing together that Kylo returns. He looks around, checking over his shoulder as if he’s missed something that’d explain the lightness in the room, then back at the two, now suddenly chummy with one another. “Did I enter an alternate universe? What’s happening?” He says with a nervous laugh, walking closer, clothes draped over his arm.
Lathan continues to smile as Kylo laughs nervously with them, clothes draped over his arm, and glides over to sit next to him. “You scared me, you know? Next time you’re wearing sunscreen, and I’m buying you a parasol.”
“Oh, great, yeah, I can’t wait for a parasol .” Lathan’s eyes soften and he reaches a hand, still weak, to brush a ringlet from Kylo’s face. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to leave. Thank you”—he looks between the brothers—“for helping me. Both of you. Now go back to your family. Tell them I’m sorry, and that I’m a dumbass. But I think you should spend the day with them.”
Kylo chews his lip, hesitating, wanting to argue with the loitering worry in his eyes. “Let’s just get you up to the room first, okay?”
Lathan lifts his fingers as a gesture for Kylo to stay seated. “I can walk. Go on. I’ll see you later.” He pushes off the couch with his fists and steels himself through a wave of dizziness.
Kylo jumps to his side at the threat of a wobble. “No, I’ll help you upstairs.” He collects the scrap of shirt, leather jacket, makeshift ice pack, and magnetizes to Lathan, a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Lathan wants to reassure him he’s fine, but he knows there’s no point. Kylo worries, and he cares a lot. He’s always been like this, he assumes. It’s how they met. And he won’t feel okay unless he sees Lathan get into their beds. So he looks back at Lucas to give him a respectful nod, which is reciprocated, and then walks with Kylo to their room.
Kylo opens their dorm and places the items down, chucking the damp ice shirt into the sink to melt before bounding back to help Lathan lower onto the mattress—even though he’s already squatting down.
“They really like you,” Kylo says, holding out the half-emptied bottle of water.
“Yeah?” he asks, despite the generous reactions of the Garcias.
“Yeah, you’re quite the charmer.” He smirks. “And I’m sure Mateo has made a friend for life.”
Lathan laughs. “He’s a cute kid. I didn’t know you’re an uncle.”
“Yeah. Feels weird to say. I was an oopsie, which is why I’m so much younger. Kianna’s thirty and Lucas is thirty-three. Ten years is a lot. Guess that’s why he was being a bit weird earlier.”
“Lucas is fine,” Lathan says, knowing they have some sort of mild understanding between them now. And all it took was for him to see you almost killed me. “I think he’s just really worried about your safety. But I think he knows now that I am, too.”
They exchange a sweet kiss before Kylo agrees to go back to his family. Usually Lathan doesn’t like watching him leave, even if it’s just to go to class, but watching him go today, on his own, makes him feel relieved. They’re such a good support system for him. He should lean on them more.
◆◆◆
The door reopens hours later at sunset, shades of pink and oranges casting into the small bedroom with the quieted commotion of visitation. Kylo tiptoes inside, even with the loud plastic rustling of bags in his arms, and clicks the door shut with care.
Lathan cocks an eyebrow, sitting up in bed, on his laptop. “I’m still awake,” he says, but appreciates the attempt. Werewolves are much heavier sleepers than he is, though, if sleeping next to Kylo proves anything, so had he been asleep, he wouldn’t be anymore.
“Oh.” Kylo looks up and relaxes his shoulders. He lets the doorknob go and it jiggles noisily as he continues in, plopping the bags on his desk. “How’re you feeling?”
“I’m okay. Headache comes and goes. Mostly tired, but, y’know—vampire.” He shrugs; he wishes he could sleep as much as others. He wishes he could withstand the sun like them, too, and could have enjoyed the rest of the day with Kylo’s family, feeling almost like a proper son for the first time.
He nods his head toward the bags. “What’d you get?”
Kylo pouts his lower lip, like he feels bad he didn’t bring anything back for Lathan. “Well”—he scours the first two bags—“I apparently have some new clothes, toiletries, and”—he reaches into the third and pulls out containers of food—“it wouldn’t be complete without my mom’s cooking.” He laughs. “You hungry? She made chicken tamales, potato salad, a layered bean dip with sliced pita, and her famous Tres leches cake,” he lists off while pointing to each dish, now in a row on his desk.
“Wow,” Lathan breathes. He’s never been given gifts, not like this, not for something as trivial as visitation day. He isn’t jealous, necessarily, as impressed. “Yeah, I’m starving, actually. And that all sounds incredible.”
Kylo beams and retrieves a couple paper plates and plastic cutlery from that same third bag to pile on a tasting of each for Lathan to try. “Bon appétit!” he exclaims, placing both plates on Lathan’s desk before returning to put the containers in their mini fridge.
Sliding out of bed, much more stable now than he was a few hours ago, Lathan slinks in behind Kylo, his hands on his hips. “Thanks, baby,” he says deeply, and kisses the length of Kylo’s ear. “And thanks for introducing me today. Your family’s great.”
Lathan watches Kylo shake with a small shiver, heat caressing his cheeks as he turns away from the fridge to face him. “ You’re great. It went better than I thought, honestly. I’m lucky to have you in my life, and they see that.”
“No, I’m lucky. I had a good time. And I didn’t expect to.” He holds him closer, tighter. “I’m glad you went back to spend the rest of the day with them.”
“Me too.” Kylo sways his body, rocking them both delicately. “Turns out, they’re going on vacation over winter break, so I won’t be seeing them until visitation next term.”
“Mm. Does that mean I get you for Yule?”
Kylo’s grin moulds his lips above his canines. Draping his arms around Lathan’s neck, he tilts his head cutely, solidifying the tender moment as he says, “I’m all yours.”
Lathan smiles. He hasn’t spent a Christmas with anyone in years. Not his parents, not friends, nor a partner. His heart flutters thinking about it, and he catches Kylo’s lips with his own. I want this to be special.