4. Chapter Four #2
I close my eyes, pressing two knuckles against the corner of my eye and my brow. I can feel the low thrum of a migraine building. It’s the last thing I need right now.
Correction: it’s the second to last thing I need right now.
The absolute last thing I need right now is Keaton falling down this dangerous rabbit hole all over again.
We all have our coping mechanisms, but Keaton’s have always aired on the more destructive side of things. Helping him has always been less about convincing him to stop self-destructing and more about convincing him to only do it a little bit at a time.
When Keaton spirals, he doesn’t do it halfway.
He drinks and smokes and takes drugs. He starts fights and lets himself get the shit beat out of him for a while before fighting back.
He’ll go into seedy clubs and find someone who will wreck him just short of beyond repair, then go home with them.
He’ll take contracts without letting us know, often coming out the other end with a slaughter in his wake and another close call under his belt.
On his worst days, Keaton stands on the edge of metaphorical and physical cliffs alike, just waiting to see which way the wind will decide to blow.
On the better days - and it’s only ever better days anymore, Keaton not having a good day for a long time now - his self-destruction is quieter.
It’s death by a thousand cuts instead of tossing himself into open fire - still dangerous, just slower.
He’ll shut himself down, not sleeping or eating, and not answering calls.
He’ll spend days just watching the security feeds of active operations, burying himself in them until he forgets any good in the world exists.
The last coping mechanism has always made me a little nervous, like any second it could tip over into something far more dangerous.
Even Adam hadn’t liked it when he’d found out about Keaton’s little extracurricular activities with the operations.
There’d been worse things to focus on, though.
With Keaton’s hierarchy of self-destruction, we had to prioritize.
We didn’t know what would become of it. We didn’t know it’d become his most dangerous habit of all. Maybe we should have. By the time we figured it out - by the time I figured it out - it was too late.
I don’t know the first time he set eyes on the survivor that changed everything.
I don’t know the circumstances. I don’t know what made this one different.
I don’t know what made this one special.
All I know is that one day Bryce Jacobson had barely even been on my radar, just another survivor in the Roarke compound, and the next I had discovered that Keaton had made Bryce Jacobson the center of his universe.
Now, Bryce is a grenade in Keaton's hand. Neither of them would survive the fallout if things went south. Maybe Keaton would be okay with that, but I sure as shit won’t be. Not to mention how Kellan would take it.
God, if Kellan ever found out about Keaton’s obsession with Bryce Jacobson, he wouldn’t just forbid it, he’d likely cut Bryce right out of the equation.
Out of any equation. He’d wipe him off the face of the planet before he ever got the chance to hurt Keaton.
He wouldn't even blink before making that choice. Before picking Keaton over Bryce.
The thing is, Kellan loves - as much as someone like him can love - in layers.
He loves himself in that kind of single-minded selfishness that many people are afraid of admitting they have buried deeply inside themselves. The world exists for him. It’s his playground.
He loves his job like an anxious man loves a ritual. It's something to do between the time he spends with Keaton and the time he spends chasing his own selfish sensations. It's a sacrifice, an offering - solely for Keaton.
He loves me like a parent loves the stray cat their adorable kid begged them to save.
It's a love that balances knife sharp on the line between caring and indifference.
When the kid is around, he smiles longsufferingly and acts like a martyr.
When they're alone, he secretly dotes on the cat, spoils it, confides in it.
But it's still just the stray cat they took in. It's not really family.
With Keaton, though, it’s different. It always has been.
Kellan loves his little brother in a way of worship, Keaton the God that rules over the world Kellan holds in his hands.
The world may exist for Kellan, but it exists because of Keaton.
Their parents were terrified of this when they discovered the issue, but no doctors or punishments could get him to stop.
Keaton was his compass. He always will be.
I don't know if Kellan would be human without him.
I don't know if Kellan would even want to be.
It’s unhealthy. It's dangerous - not for Keaton, never for Keaton, but for anyone coming into contact with him. Definitely for Bryce, if this obsession continues. Kellan would destroy humanity itself if it protected Keaton. Hell, even if it just made his little brother happy - as long as the thing making him happy isn’t a danger to him.
If Keaton keeps this shit up, he’s going to get Bryce fucking killed. He knows that. It’s why we made the deal we did - he would let Bryce go and I would take over the job of ensuring he’s okay. If Bryce’s safety is what Keaton cares most about it, it solves the issue.
It should have solved the issue.
I remind him of that, knowing I sound as exasperated as I feel when I remind him, “You promised you’d let him go, Keaton.”
“I know.”
“It’s a good deal.”
“I know.”
My migraine is settling right in, unpacking its bags, tracking dirt across the floor, being a real dick about the whole thing.
“You’re cut off now. Cold turkey. I’m not doing this with you, man. I’m not fucking doing this.”
He sniffles. It’s such a soft sound, but it kills me. Just like his next words do. “Please? Please, Ace.”
Ah, god.
Fuck.
I let my eyes drift to the screen displaying the live feeds of the house. The lasagna is being taken out of the oven.
I’ve lost my appetite.
I can’t let Keaton into these feeds, can't let him fuel his obsession, but I can give him something at least. I can even pretend it’s not all about Bryce to make myself feel better. It probably isn’t, anyway. Not entirely. The whole Carter-Maison-Travis thing really fucked him up, after all.
“They’re all doing okay,” I tell him. “Well, okay as they can be.”
I’ll just start with the news that will be the easiest for him to hear, the ones with the lowest emotional stakes to him personally, and go from there. Who knows, maybe he’ll get distracted by something before we reach the updates I’m truly dreading.
Wishful thinking, sure, but sometimes wishful thinking is all you’ve got going for you. Especially when you’re the only one left keeping it together and currently hanging by a fucking string.
“Nolan is slowly but surely getting more comfortable. Made a damn good breakfast for the house. Even went around and got all the survivors to come out of hiding to eat.” I don’t mention that he’s already had two pretty big breakdowns, once because of a broken plate and the other because of Travis.
Keaton doesn’t need to hear that side of things.
“He and Matt are sticking close together. They’re roommates. ”
“Yeah? Good. Matt talk yet?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t think so?
Not out in the open, at least. I’ve told Adam and Deacon that I don’t want to know anything they learn about the survivors unless it’s life-threatening.
It feels weird getting reports on them when I’m living with them, you know?
It’s a line I don’t want crossed. He’s got good friends here, though.
A good support system. They’re already practicing sign language with him, from what I’ve seen. ”
I realize that’s too close to mentioning Bryce Jacobson, so I quickly veer to a new subject.
“Casey hasn’t really made friends with the others yet, but it’s not like we’ve been here very long.
There’s time. He and Carter will warm up to everyone soon enough, I think.
In the meantime, they’ve got each other, and Casey has the pool.
He’s in the thing as often as he can be.
He’s one of the last to not see the doctor, but I have a feeling Jake is working on convincing him. ”
“How’s he doing? Jake, I mean.”
How is Jake doing?
Jake is… split in two, trying to be there for the ones he cares about without smothering them - Casey especially - while still trying to help me. We were supposed to be pillars together post-operation, knowing Maison and Travis would be caught up in Carter more than anything.
All it took was a single look at Jake when he showed up here and asked where Casey was for me to realize I was going to be on my own instead.
“Jake’s hanging in there,” I tell him. “He’s keeping busy.
Seems to have gotten pretty damn attached to Casey.
He’s rarely far away from the man, whether that means having to join him in the water or just sit nearby.
I’m pretty sure Casey’s equally attached, at least. I’ll keep an eye on it.
Or maybe ask Adam to. He’s better at that stuff.
The last thing we need is another Travis and Carter situation on our hands. ”
His laugh is a little too tight at that. “How’s Mais?”
“Maison is - well, he’s a fucking mess, honestly.
But I think he’ll be alright. He will be alright,” I correct with as much conviction as possible.
Maybe if I believe it - if I can make him believe it - it’ll have no choice but to become true.
“He seems to have made a friend, actually. Nolan, of all people.”
He makes a noise that I can’t interpret. “Didn’t see that one coming.”