Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Working at the Pistis Sophia wasn't glorious. Oldest hotel in all of Pacifica, as could attest the peeled paint under the balconies and the elevator out-of-order for the second time this week. A sore eye in the District, currently being restructured into a luxury tourist trap. The place looked old, felt old, smelled old as well. Especially on the third floor, the smell of death seemed to follow you even outside. Henry kept saying it was the ghost of 307, an affair gone wrong about two years ago, leaving blood stains on the carpet that still hadn't been fully cleaned up.

No, working in this piss pour hotel left nothing to envy, especially since the Osos opened up. Literally next door. Newer, cheaper, with working AC in every floor, not every other room, like in here. But what the Pistis Sophia lacked, it made up for in ambience.

The Osos wouldn't have accepted the drunkards and other addicts, so out of their minds their words would start making sense again. Those unfaithful and love-lacking souls looking for some secret comfort in some stranger's arms just picked off the street. Those shady looking mercs, shining their guns at him for information he always told slightly wrong. Those faceless runaways with the soft-spoken voice, purchasing one last night of dreams before disappearing forever. Less and less guests were coming in, but they became more and more interesting.

It was a night like any other for Kerry, working a double shift after Henry sent him a message telling him that he couldn't come today, which translated to 'I'm high outta my mind right now'. Kerry didn't mind, not really. That only meant Henry owned him, that he could lie and put the blame on him next time he screwed up. That arrangement had worked so far.

Nobody ever registered at night. It was more of a surveillance duty. Watching the cameras to make sure no one was trashing the balconies or stealing a car in the parking lot. Waiting for a guest to call for an emergency of some sort or to complain. There was barely anything to do during night shifts, which meant it was the perfect opportunity to get out his axe and run his fingers across the strings. Unplugged guitars never sound great, but he didn't care. He had to get out those melodies constantly haunting his mind one way or another. He felt somewhat uninspired tonight though, replaying the same riff over and over again. There was something missing, something his fingers and mind hadn't found yet.

"Need a room," came a voice, anchoring him back to reality.

"Hum-hum," Kerry nodded, eyes glued to his axe. Not like he was paid more for giving a warm welcome, "30 for a night. You pay up front."

"Book me for a week."

Great, and now Kerry had to take his mind off his music to do math.

"That's… 60, 120-" Kerry started to count with his fingers, right before having a few bills thrown at him.

Kerry finally looked up, a shocked expression on his face. He was about to fuss, when his eyes met with the guest's. Cold dark eyes that made him swallow his words. Too young to be called a man just yet, even though he was straightening up his posture to look taller, older. He was still a kid, just like him, with a wallet that definitely wasn't his. A kid barely older than he was, but looking as tired as if he had lived twice their lifespan. An unreadable expression on his face, a mix of melancholy and aimlessness. Kerry couldn't look away from him.

"What?" the teen asked, putting the wallet back in the back pocket of his jeans.

"Nah, nothing."

He took the money, not bothering to check if the count was even right, and tended the guestbook to him.

"You gotta sign."

"I can't."

"Not my problem," he shrugged, "Got rules to follow."

The guest looked at him in defiance for a moment. Kerry didn't care. He could stare at him the whole fucking week if he wanted. Money was already in the hotel's pockets. He was one strike away from getting fired. He had to make that last one count. The teen eventually complied, pulling the guestbook closer to him before taking a pen from the counter.

"Just gotta sign?"

"Name, date and signature," he corrected, fingers back on the strings. Another melody had occupied his mind.

"What's the date?" he asked after a pause, forcing Kerry to stop once again and think.

"July 3rd," he grumbled, hoping for the guest he had heard because he wouldn't repeat himself twice.

"Here."

Kerry checked, mostly out of curiosity. Worst handwriting he had ever seen. Shaky letters he could barely read. He could tell the kid had used the wrong hand. He'd seen a couple of runaways do that. Gonk move. Easier to write in all caps.

"John Smith?" Kerry read out loud, a mean grin on his lips, "Geez, ain't you a creative one?"

"Got a problem?" he snapped back in a tone that made Kerry physically back off.

"Room 501," he said, quickly handing out the access pass, "Only opens from the outside, though. So, you need to go back out, take the stairs up to the-"

"Fifth floor?"

"My, creative and clever," Kerry replied before he could bite his tongue.

He looked up from the guestbook, afraid his loudmouth had gotten him in trouble again, but the guest had already left.

Kerry didn't see that teen for the whole week he was supposedly staying in. There weren't many people in the hotel, all of them regulars at this point. He spotted the old man from 405 walking his poor excuse for a dog in the morning, waved back at Sandra from the sixth floor, a bottle of gin in one hand; the arm of some joytoy in another, smiled at the pregnant girl from 202, who he could still hear crying for her dead input some nights. He saw them all, all the regulars, but no young runaway that gave him the chills. Even the maid didn't enter the room, still labeled as not to be disturbed.

Kerry figured his parents had found him and brought him back home by the ear. Maybe something more sinister, stealing from people he shouldn't and disappearing into the night with one last cry for help. He kept wondering each time he glared at the camera set on the fifth floor. He asked Henry, but neither of them ever saw that door to Room 501 even open. Yeah, that John Smith was gone. One way or another.

Kerry didn't check until the end of the week. He wasn't about to climb four sets of crumbling stairs just to satisfy his curiosity. There were enough unoccupied rooms anyways, so it didn't really matter. Still, his eyes kept glaring at that door, forever closed each time the camera panned to it.

"You think he's dead in there?" he asked on the seventh day, sitting behind the counter, legs on the desk.

"Huh?" Henry asked.

Whenever Henry didn't know where to go, he'd come to Pistis Sophia, even if he wasn't working. Sometimes, when his mind was clear enough, he'd bring his bass, and they'd come up with riffs just for the fun, but more often than not he'd be there just to bother the younger teen.

"501," he clarified, "Think he's dead in there?"

"No complain about a weird smell so far," he shrugged, leaning on the wall behind Kerry, head turned towards the monitors, "Why do you care so much, huh? He's, like, cute or something?"

"Hmmm, I dunno," Kerry said, trying to find the teen's face in his memories. The guest appeared as a mere shadow in his mind, except for those dark and vacant eyes, "Didn't take a good look at him. He's tall, though."

"Huh-huh. Tall, scary and not some creepy old fuck," Henry enumerated, "Kinda dudes you love getting in trouble for, huh?"

"Fuck you," Kerry snapped back, throwing the first thing he got his hands on at him. An empty plastic bottle that time. He didn't appreciate Henry's tone, feeling like he had just been called a whore.

Beah, the maid working that day, called him a few hours later to open up Room 501. The time was up. She was one of the few that stayed even after witnessing the gruesome things people did in a place that wasn't theirs. She always asked not to be alone when taking care of a room with disappearing guests. Something about being assaulted, years before Kerry started working here. He never really asked, Beah usually tearing up at the mere mention of the event.

So, he went up the four sets of stairs, tiny old Beah at his heels. Management should've fixed the elevator, at least for their maids carrying their cleaning gear. They climbed up, carrying that little chariot so it wouldn't chime and clang against every single step they took. Beah waited by the corner of the building, eyeing Kerry getting closer to the door.

"Yo, holmes," Kerry called, knocking loud enough for the neighbor to hear, "It's been a week. Open up."

He wasn't even sure anyone was still in here, but talking to the void was a better idea than barging in and getting shot. You learn those things fast living in Night City.

"Fine, I got the key," Kerry announced after a pause, "Opening up right now."

He was about to slot in the access token, when the door opened ajar. He winced at the sudden pungent smell of sweat hitting him. Yep, that door definitely stayed closed the whole week. Those piercing cold eyes peered through the opening. Kerry could barely see his face.

"What'd you want?" he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet. As if he hadn't used it in a while.

"Bought a week, been a week," Kerry clarified, glaring at Beah, who had taken a step back. He could barely see her either, "So you gotta fuck off."

"Hmm," was all he got before the door slammed shut.

"You better open up," Kerry sighed. He hated when departures went south, "Before I kick you out."

"You?" The guest retorqued, opening the door back up, "Kicking me out? I'm paying for another week. Here."

He threw more bills at Kerry, smaller ones dodging his hands to land on the floor. He looked up at the guest, giving him an expression clearly stating his displeasure.

"Yeah, fine. But one more thing," he said, sticking his foot against the door so it couldn't close, "Should step outside a moment and let the maid do her job. Smells like a horny teenage party in there. Dunno how you can breathe with that stench."

"Huh-huh, thanks for the advice," he said, not even looking at Kerry anymore. He pushed the door harder, Kerry's foot sliding on the floor. He gave up, let him close it back up.

"If I get a complaint about some weird smell, I kick you out, asshole," Kerry yelled, picking up the loose bills.

"Sure thing, dickwad."

"Dickwad?" Kerry snorted, eyeing at the windows, though the blinds were closed, "What kinda insult is that?"

"Fuck off," he heard as the guest threw something at Kerry's direction.

"Hey-hey! You break the window, I also kick you out," he warned, walking away.

"Said fuck off."

"You alright?" Beah asked when Kerry was close enough. She had heard them yelling.

"Yeah, just some kid tryna act tough. Fucking gonk."

"Don't mock him," she chastised, maternal instinct kicking in as she pushed his shoulder, "That's mean."

He hadn't even realized he had been grinning.

Chapter Text

"Dude, he moved!" was the very first thing Henry told Kerry when he entered the lobby to start his shift.

"Huh? Whatcha talking about?"

"501. Saw him walk back to his room. He ain't dead yet."

"Yeah, I-" he stopped, gave up and sighed. He already told Henry about their short encounter a couple days back. He guessed he wasn't that clear-headed when they spoke, "What? You spying on him now?"

"Nah, but hey! Thought you wanted to know since you couldn't get him outta your mind last week," Henry said with a grin.

"Ahah, fuck you!" Kerry snapped back, shaking the chair he was sitting on, "My shift, you dick! C'mon, move your ass!"

"Oh fuck, already?" he stood up in a panic, and Kerry finally noticed he had swapped his usual oversized shirt for an almost unwrinkled buttoned-up one, "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gotta go!"

"What? You got a date or something?" he teased before sitting down.

Henry gave him a look, a bright smile on his lips.

"Wish me luck," he said.

"Nah, no way! Hold on! Who lost a bet here?"

"Name's Denny. She's- she's real nice," he said, a softness in his voice Kerry had never heard before.

"Well, tell her I said good luck," he yelled at Henry, already at the doors, "She's gonna need it!"

Henry left, flipping him off. A gesture Kerry echoed before taking a glance at the monitors. He didn't care about John Smith currently residing four floors up. He didn't wait for the screen to switch to the fifth floor, watching that door that was still closed, before opening his guitar case and starting playing. Waiting for a guest, new, or old, to come and bother him.

He played a song sending him in front of a crowd. People crying his name as he went for a wicked solo. The spotlights focused on him, and only on him. Burning his skin, forcing him to take off his shirt. He sent it flying into the dark mess underneath him, and watched them fight for his gift.

He played pieces he learned throughout the years, and songs he made up himself, stringing together a few lyrics that never sounded quite the same each time he sang them. Fingers hesitating a second too long, trying to make his song sound better, trying to make it sound perfect. The crowd faded, bored of waiting.

It was his phone that got him out of his riff. He tried to ignore it, at first, still working on that song stuck in his mind, missing that little something he couldn’t find. The ringtone simply wouldn't die down. Kerry ended up giving in, not bothering to check who was calling.

"Yeah, was it is?"

"Drunken Bears are missing their guitarist," a voice he immediately recognized as Nancy replied, "You interested? It's only for one night, though."

Probably the only from his old school  that he still talked to, Nancy worked at the Red Dirt, some shady bar in Santo Domingo. Her boss always complained loudly when a group changed plans at the last moment, and she always thought of Kerry to save their asses.

"Yeah, maybe," he shrugged; the band didn't ring any bell, "What's their shtick?"

"Mostly rock covers. Stuff from the sixties and seventies. I'll send you what they plan on playing."

"Thanks, Nance. You're the best."

"Hum-hum. Don't be late, this time," she warned accusingly.

"Hey, I didn't-" he retorted to the telltale ringing on the other end, "And she hung up. Of course she did."

She was one of the very few people from Rancho Coronado he was still in contact with, but God could she never chill. He sighed, looking at the set she sent him. He recognized all the songs, and knew how to play them. From bands he liked and listened to, to songs so mainstream everyone knew about them. He liked the songs no one talked about better, the ones the bands couldn't make a dime off of because the text was too raw, too real. That set though, those were just ballads. Huh, whatever. He'd get paid for having a good time anyway.

He was about to work on the first songs of the set, just to make sure he remembered them correctly, when the phone on the frontdesk rang. That was rare, most regulars liked complaining to his face.

"Yeah?" he picked up, not that happy to have been bothered twice tonight.

"Hi, yeah," he recognized the girl on 503 through the static, "Could you go check next door? They're making some really weird noise. My kid can't sleep."

"Next door?" he asked, quickly checking to see which rooms were occupied. 505 had been vacant for a while, which meant-

Ugh, that kid.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm on it."

He climbed the four sets of stairs with heavy feet. He didn't even try guessing what those noises could have been. He was being dragged away from his music by the stupid teen living his rebel fantasy. Stupid lazy kid that never got out of his room. Stupid, lazy annoying kid that seemed to have set his mind on bothering him.

"Yo," he called and knocked, probably too loudly, "I know you're awake. So open up."

He waited, hearing shuffling and trashing from the other side. The door eventually swang open, the teen half hidden behind it. Kerry tried not to look, but noticed he was naked. He forced himself to focus on his face and not the hip peeking through the door. Last chance, he couldn't risk anyone getting the wrong idea.

"What?" he asked Kerry, his breath smelling of strong liquor. He noticed John Smith was leaning heavily against the door so as not to fall over.

"Noise complaint," he said, wincing at the mix of smells coming from the room, "Whatever you're doing in there, better do it quietly."

"Hey, I'm no 'it', asshole!" came a feminine voice from within the room. Kerry didn't need much more to put the pieces together.

"Oh," he let out, "Yeah, whatever. You both gotta keep it down."

"Or what, huh?" the teen snorted, leaning his head out of the door frame, "You gonna kick me out?"

A shiver of apprehension ran down Kerry's spine. The teen wasn't really that much taller than he was, a lean body with barely any muscle to hold his tone. But those cold, piercing eyes… Those definitely made him step back.

"Gonna have to, yeah," he answered, holding his head high, keeping his voice from shaking.

"Kinda wanna see you try," he grinned, opening the door wider to drunkenly step closer. Yep, definitely naked. Only wearing dumb dog tags that were either fake, stolen, or attesting of some daddy issues, "What you gonna do, huh? Go cry to the cops?"

"Think I can't beat your sorry ass outta this room?" he asked, taking a step closer, heart racing faster as the guest tilted his head.

"Go on, try."

"I could. Beat you til you beg me to stop, then throw you off the balcony," he threatened, anger and fear making him forget how to think, "No one cares when some runaway kid like you trips and splatters on the pavement."

"That maid friend of yours'd be pissed though," he said back, unfazed by the threat.

"Means you better keep it down," Kerry calmed down as well, taking a step back.

"I'll try my best," he grinned at the woman in the room. Kerry tried to peek through the blinds and see her face, but they were still closed.

"Don't make me climb up here again. You hear?" he warned, already turning on his heel and heading back down.

Kerry ran down the first flight of stairs, heart thumping in his temples. The rush of adrenaline heating up his face, making him a little dizzy. He stopped on the next floor, leaning against the guardrail, and caught his breath. He wasn't sure why he reacted that way, raw rage taking over him just by the way the teen was looking at him. He waited until the rush had died down to go back to the lobby, pick up his guitar, and play a new riff he had just come up with.

Something rough, too fast for his hands to follow. Missing a note or two, but he didn't care. Putting his anger into sound, holding the handle so hard it hurt. Letting the pick fly off his hand, letting his fingers run raw on the strings. Repeating the same notes over and over again, faster and faster. Gritted teeth and hitched breath. Letting the feelings out, his frown growing into a grin as he got into the groove.

A van stopped right before the doors of the lobby, tires screeching against the asphalt, caused by their sudden stop. Kerry looked up, the last string he strummed vibrating against his fingers. He turned his head to the monitors, taking a closer view at the vehicle and the red letters carved on it : The Blood Razors. Kerry froze as the men got out, visibly packing iron. He was about to raise his hands, when he noticed that the gangsters were heading towards the stairs. Up the second floor. Up the third floor. One man yelled at the other before pushing forward. Up the fourth floor. Kerry swallowed, holding his breath. They stopped on the fifth floor and immediately turned right, knocking on door 501 before barging in.

"Oh fuck," Kerry let out. He didn't want to witness what was about to happen, but he couldn't look away from the screen either.

A woman exited the room, stumbling into one of the gangster's arms before kissing his lips. She walked down the stairs as her input walked into the room. Kerry tended an ear, the room being too dark to tell what was happening. He waited, heart ticking faster than the delayed seconds, tears itching the corners of his eyes. He waited for the decisive bang, for the gangsters to empty their mags in that small hotel room. He heard nothing, guessed they didn't need to risk alerting the neighborhood to off one simple kid. He waited, and the Blood Razors eventually got out.

They ran down the stairs and quickly got back into their van. Kerry waited until he heard them speed up to lean back on the chair.

"Fuck," he sighed, keeping his eyes closed until his mind fully registered what had just happened.

He eventually stood up, after a moment that felt like years. He stood up and headed up the fifth floor. Each step made his feet feel heavier, made it harder to breathe. He had to see, make sure. Some gruesome curiosity forcing his way up. He stopped right at the busted door of Room 501, broken bottles littering the floor, the smell making his head spin.

He stepped quietly into the room, apprehension knotting his stomach, making him feel nauseous. He slowly got used to the darkness and perceived a form lying on the bed.

"Hey?" he called, his voice uncontrollably quiet, "You okay?"

He waited, but received no answer. He stepped closer, careful not to step on the broken glass.

"Hey?" he repeated, his knees hitting the mattress the teen was lying on, "You still alive?"

He leaned, hand reaching for his shoulder. Only then did he notice that his left arm was missing.

"They did that to you?" he asked, feeling gonk the very next second. There wasn't enough blood to justify such a recent injury.

His fingers were almost touching his skin when the teen briskly turned around, cold eyes staring at him. A mix of rage and embarrassment written on his face. Broken nose, bleeding from the mouth. Badly beaten up, but still breathing.

"Oh, okay. Okay," Kerry mumbled to himself, kneeling on the bed, moving closer.

They stared at each other in a silence betrayed by the teen's labored breathing. He probably had a few bruised ribs as well. Kerry gave him a sympathetic smile, watching him struggle to sit back up on the bed. The teen winced, leaning his back against the wall. His right arm searched around the night table and grabbed what seemed to be the only bottle in the room still intact. He stuck it between his legs and opened it with his only hand before taking a long swig. He hesitated for an instant, but ended up handing the bottle to Kerry.

He didn't feel like he could refuse. He drank from the unknown bottle, the liquor burning its way down his throat. He suddenly coughed it up, alcohol sputtering out his mouth and dripping down his chin. He winced and swore until hearing a quiet chuckle from the man on his right, right before swearing himself at the sudden pain hitting his chest. Kerry grinned back.

"Messing with some B.R.'s output, huh? How fucking gonk are ya?" he teased the teen.

"Think she told me that?" he retorted, taking the bottle back from his hands and drinking some more.

"It really didn't feel weird to you? Some doll willingly coming to your stinky ass room?"

"Said I was cute."

"And you fell for it," Kerry rolled his eyes, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

He put one between his lips and lit it up. Letting the nicotine calm down his nerves. He almost offered one to the teen, before remembering his bruised ribs.

"We got a ripper behind the hotel," he told him after a pause.

"They took my money," he mumbled, holding his torso.

Kerry looked at him from the corner of his eyes, a sorry feeling taking over him. Some teen barely older than he was, drowning in booze to forget his visible and invisible wounds. His gaze fell back on his missing arm.

"What happened?" he asked, bumping their shoulders.

"Born like that," he said, his voice growing quieter.

"You're such a bad liar, John Smith," he teased.

"Fine," he gave in, gulping down the rest of the bottle, "Lost it in the war."

"Right," Kerry chuckled. Well, at least he was getting creative. He'd give him that. His trail of thoughts shifted as he noticed the blood still dripping on the sheets, "Stay here. Think I got some stuff to patch you up."

Chapter Text

Kerry's mind was still back in Room 501, thinking about the beat-up teen he helped bandage up, as he set foot on the stage of the Red Dirt. He played the covers naturally, fingers strumming the strings without missing a single note. His heart, however, wasn't into it. Something in his mind other than music, he wasn't used to the sensation.

The Drunken Bears still patted his back approvingly when they were done playing. Praising his skills, though he didn't need them to know how good he was. He refused their offer to sit with them as the next band got ready to play, preferring to sit at his usual spot: by the counter, right where Nancy would come and go.

He knew not to try anything with the barman whose name he completely forgot. He remembered almost being barred the last time he tried ordering a beer. So, he asked for a soda instead while Nancy was finishing up cleaning some tables on the other side of the bar.

"You okay, Kerry?" she asked, taking a small break to sit next to him, "Felt you a little off."

"Huh, I'm alright," he shrugged, taking a sip before feeling Nancy's inquisitive gaze on him. God, that girl sure could get anyone to talk, "Just have something on my mind."

"Something? Or someone?" she teased, as she knew him quite well.

"It's not like that, though," he chuckled to hide a genuine smile creeping up his lips, "Been thinking about some guest. Some dude our age. Caught a beating from B.R. for messing with their girl. Guess I'm just, y'know…."

"Oh, Kerry," she sighed, taking a gulp down his soda, "You gotta stop getting attached to every lost puppy you find."

Oh, she knew him well, knew his soft spots for runaways and other forgotten souls, the ones he always ended up in trouble for. The ones who forced him out of Rancho Coronado, forced him to hide in Pacifica.

"I know. This one - he's different, though."

"Not the first time you said that," she pinpointed, eyeing at the barman silently telling her her break was over, "Just, be careful, for once in your goddamn life, alright?"

Kerry had already forgotten about Nancy's advice by the time he parked his car behind the Pistis Sophia. He was careful not to be seen. He didn't want Henry to know he was already there, hours before his shift. And yeah, maybe he was so out of his mind he wouldn't notice, but he didn't want to take the risk of having to explain what he was doing here.

He had told the teen he might come back after the concert, just to check on him. He didn't promise, not wanting to sound too eager to climb four floors just to check if his bandages needed to be changed. He didn't promise to the teen, but he silently promised himself. He didn't want to leave him on his lonesome. He felt like he had no one at all. That thought squeezed his heart painfully.

He gently knocked on the door, still broken, that he tried closing as best he could on his way out. He had cleared the room, gathered the pieces of glass in one corner, the empty bottles still intact on the counter. John Smith wasn't on the bed, where he left him. He didn't see him anywhere in the room. A wave of anxiety hit him, making him frantically look around. He noticed the bathroom door had been closed.

"Hmm… Holmes? You here?" he called, slightly opening the door to see the light was switched on, "Can I come in?"

He didn't wait for an answer to get into the bathroom. He had seen him naked already anyways. He froze at the scene before him. The teen was sitting on the ground, head slumped to the right, leaning against the sink. Pills Kerry definitely didn't give him spilled around the small room. He didn't move. He didn't seem to breathe.

"No, no, no," Kerry mumbled, dashing on his knees to lift his head. He was heavy in his hands, lolling left and right, "The fuck you did now?"

His hands slid down his neck, checking his pulse. He sighed in relief as he felt his heart thump weakly against his fingers. He wasn't gone, but barely there. Kerry looked down, breathing out loudly. His heart hurt from the roller coaster of emotions he felt right now. Anger peaked above the rest. The teen was still clutching a bottle of unmarked pills in his hand. He slapped him awake, tears burning his throat.

John Smith barely reacted, his cheek flushing bright red. He emitted a quiet grown, the blow finally registering. He tried opening his eyes, his hazy glare slowly focusing on Kerry.

"Hey," he greeted, voice heavily dulled out.

"What did you take?" he asked in alarm.

He just shrugged, slowly lifting his hand to show him the pill bottle, now emptied out.

"Painkillers. I think."

"You think?" he yelled, making the other wince in pain.

"What he said."

Kerry sighed in exasperation. This was going nowhere. He took the bottle off his hand, to little resistance from the teen mumbling a complaint. Black market medicine. Those things were expensive.

"How'd you pay for it, huh? Said you had no money left."

"Said I'd owe him."

"Sounds like a bad deal," Kerry mumbled, mostly to himself.

"Needed the pills. Everything hurt."

"Huh-huh, right. And you needed to take them all at once," Kerry tried not yelling again, but anger was filling his lungs. He looked away from him, trying to remain calm, only to spot a beer bottle on the ground spilling on the floor, "Pills and booze. You always go for the worst ideas you can think of?"

"Shaddup," he whispered, shifting on the floor, feet sliding on the tiles, too numb to articulate, "Not like you could understand."

"No, I don't," he bluntly replied, "Think you're just a fucking dumbass with a death wish."

"Okay," he chuckled, a cold laugh that fueled Kerry's worry, letting his anger die down, "Maybe you do get it."

"C'mon," Kerry said, standing back up and pulling at his arm, "Let's get you to a ripper."

The teen jerked his wrist out of his hold. Kerry let go, reluctantly so.

"No need. I'm fine."

"You're not," Kerry confessed, kneeling back to get his fleeting attention, hand on his shoulder, looking deep into his eyes, "You're a fucking mess right now, and I'm afraid of what little will be left of you in the morning."

"Why you care?" he asked, head lolling to the right until his cheek hit the back of his hand.

Kerry opened his mouth, but no answer came to mind. There was no real reason to care about the kid. Teenage boy trying to act like a man, with his lidded eyes and numb limbs. Teenage boy almost forgotten by all, almost lying on his own in the dimly lit bathroom of the worst hotel of the district, itself almost forgotten by all. Teenage boy pressing his cheek closer onto his hand, stealing what little affection he was allowed to.

"I don't know," Kerry eventually whispered, fingers briefly stroking his cheek before the teen moved, probably made uncomfortable by the gesture, "C'mon, don't stay there. Let's get you to bed, at least."

The teen accepted to be pulled back to his feet, this time. They gingerly made their way to the main room, Kerry holding him tight as he helped himself with the walls to keep standing. He fell on the bed, momentum pulling Kerry with him. He wanted to fuss, lying on sheets covered in blood, sweat and fuck knows what else. But the teen was drunkenly smiling at him, head pressed against the mattress. He answered in kind, shifting them both closer to the head of the bed, making sure the teen rested on the pillows. They laid there, in silence, lost in the other's eyes.

"I don't even know your name," he eventually said.

His voice was so soft. Just a murmur on the pillow, fingers creeping the other teen's way, seeking any kind of comfort.

"Kerry," he replied just as quietly, his heart fluttering as their hands touched, "I'm Kerry."

"Kerry," he tried his name on his tongue, a spark lighting up in his hazy eyes.

The back of his hand came to rest in Kerry's palm. He gave it a gentle squeeze, thumb running across the pinky, worrying a small scar denting the skin. The silence grew between them, eyes repeatedly flicking up into the other's. 

"You?" Kerry eventually asked, before adding as the teen frowned, "C'mon, no way your name's John Smith."

"Nah," he sluggishly shook his head, "But John's fine. My name now."

"Doesn't suit you," Kerry admitted, answering his puff with a soft smile, "Makes you sound old. Like "deadbeat father of three" old."

"Your dad," he mumbled.

"Huh?"

"His name? John?"

"Nah, but might as well be," he trailed on, focusing on the hand resting on his rather than memories he didn't want to replay in his mind right now.

"Keep it for now," he muttered, looking down at their intertwined hands, watching Kerry's drift down to caress the side of his palm, "Need a new name for a new life."

"Can't have that if you don't make it through tonight, though," Kerry reminded him, thumb pressing against his wrist, feeling the slow beating of his heart.

"Then, bury me as John."

"I'd rather not."

"Don't wanna see me splattered on the pavement anymore?" he chuckled, a drunk chuckle that never seemed to end.

"Not anymore, no," he answered, seriously, truthfully.

Kerry didn't add anything else, afraid of the words that would come out of his mouth at that moment. Their eyes met again, Kerry's heart dangerously beating faster at the drunk grin directed at him. He wondered if John felt it as well, or if he even realized what Kerry had felt at that instant. If he did, he didn't say anything, didn't ask, didn't press on, his eyes fluttering shut. Kerry tried to keep his thumb pressed against his wrist, lulled by the soft thumping against his fingers. He tried to remain awake, in case that rhythmic pulse ceased, but eventually joined the teen in a dreamless slumber.

Chapter Text

A familiar ringtone jolted Kerry awake. His hazy gaze tried to read the name on the screen, but the high-pitched melody was too much to handle.

"Yeah?" he asked, puzzled. He definitely wasn't home.

"Yeah, where you at?" Henry replied, "You're late, choom!"

"Late?" he sleepily asked, head slowly turning to the right, seeing the teen from Room 501 laying at his side.

Oh yeah, right. He remembered last night.

"Fuck, what time is it?"

"It's already past eight. Hurry the fuck up, alright? I'm not working double shift!"

"Yeah-yeah," he yawned, getting out of bed. He didn't need to check John's pulse. He was  breathing evenly on the pillow, "Be there in a sec."

He hesitated at the door, one foot out of the room already. He didn't want to leave John alone, especially with those pills still lying on the bathroom floor. He looked back at the sleeping form on the bed, weighing his options. He had to go. He had no other choice.

He still went back, quietly looking around for anything he could use to write down a note and tell John he didn't leave for no reason. It was useless, the room in utter shambles. Nothing but broken bottles and the heavy air of loneliness hanging in there.

"Be right back," he told John, though he was still sleeping.

He never climbed down the sets of stairs faster in his life, skipping steps, almost colliding with a new guest heading up on the second floor. He dashed to the lobby, Henry telling him something he didn't bother to hear.

"Just, gimme a sec," he told him, tearing up the first piece of paper he could find to write on it.

He was about to run back upstairs when Henry grabbed him by the arm.

"Fuck you doing, Ker?" he asked, visibly worried by his behavior.

"Gotta go back up, just for a sec," he told him, trying to get out of his hold, in vain.

"Go back up?" he tsked, "Kerry, really?"

"Not what you think," he corrected, "Now let go of me!"

Henry eventually let go, and Kerry ran back to the room. He tried to control his heaving breathing as he gingerly made his way to the right nightstand and put his note.

Gotta go back to work. See you later???

- Kerry :p

"501, huh?" Henry asked, eyes on the monitors, as Kerry reentered the lobby.

"Not what you think, Hank," he said, leaning on the wall behind him, out of breath.

"Mean to tell me you didn't just spend the night in some guest's room?"

"Okay, yeah, I did," he confessed, "B- But nothing happened. I swear."

"You know management won't believe that."

"Then, don't fucking tell them!" he yelled back, "For fuck's sake, Hank! If you tell them anything I-"

"Chill, I won't," he cut him off with a dumb chuckle that went right under Kerry's skin, "We both know it won't change anything, though. Can't stop chooming with the clients, huh?"

"Not what you think, Hank," he repeated, watching him stand up and leave.

Kerry took his seat, feet on the counter as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His hand mechanically looked for his pack of cigarettes. He wasn't supposed to smoke on the job, but he really didn't care right now. Sure, he trusted Henry, but he also knew management would know, one way or another. They always did, whoever 'they' were. Always sending him the same formatted text telling him his behavior was a breach of contract, forcing him to beg the owner for one more chance. Mr. Quintana usually agreed, but he made clear this was his last. Fuck, he really wanted to make it count. Too late now.

He left his post long enough to get his guitar case from his trunk and went back to sit at the front desk. He felt angry and powerless; better to put it into a song than trash the room he was stuck in for the following hours. He hoped none of the regulars would call. He didn't want to try acting nice today.

He got lost in the melodies he played, letting his emotions flow against the strings. Notes of anger and worry that didn't always sound right. Fingers strumming out of control until the hostility he felt slowly died down, replaced with deep tiredness. Back hurting from sleeping in a weird position, feeling like the smell of sweat and blood had imprinted his skin. Tired of working in the piss pour hotel for little to nothing, tired of getting in trouble for others. His mind slowly shifted back to that shitty room and that lonely, broken teen. A haunting melody came to mind, echoing abandonment and insecurity. A lump formed in the back of his throat the longer he played. He hummed to make it go away, mumbling something about being ill from the pills,

Sliding down the hill,

Forgetting who I am,

The only thing keeping me alive.

Ill from the-

"That about me?"

Kerry jumped, almost letting his guitar fall on the ground, looking up towards the voice. John was sitting on the counter, leg crossed, facing him. He didn't notice him entering, didn't notice him sitting there.

"How long you've been here?" he asked, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

"Long enough," he shrugged, chin resting in his palm, "You're Kerry, right?"

"Huh-huh," he nodded, looking around the room not to meet with that piercing glare of his.

"Read your note. What happened yesterday?"

"You don't remember?"

"No, I don't. Remember taking some pills and then, nothing. What happened?" he repeated in a sharper tone, leaning closer. Those cold dark eyes locked into Kerry's very soul.

"N-nothing, I swear," he said, putting one hand up in defense, clutching his guitar in the other, ready to swing if needed, "I didn't do anything to you."

"Chill, not gonna hurt ya," John assured, his gaze drifting towards his axe, "Just tell me what happened, alright?"

"Found you in the bathroom. Almost knocked out cold cause of whatever you took. Put you to bed, and I fell asleep watching over you. Nothing else happened, I promise."

" 'kay. I believe you."

Kerry relaxed his hold on his guitar, breathing out. His heart thumped in his temples, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was glad John trusted him, knowing from experience that most boys would’ve jumped to conclusions. He watched him a moment, propped on the counter, still eyeing at the axe with an expression Kerry couldn't read. Lonely teen with a busted face, dark circles around his eyes though he just woke up.

"How you feeling?" he eventually asked John, sitting the guitar back on his lap.

"Empty," he shrugged, leaning down to take the pack Kerry had left lying near his feet.

"That a good thing?"

"Hum-hum."

Kerry let him take a cigarette, helping him light it up. John took a long drag, wincing in pain and coughing the smoke up. He seemingly had forgotten about his recent beating. He smoked in a silence filled with Kerry's melody. The one about the broken kid from 501, though the song sounding lighter now. He kept his eyes down on his fingers, John's gaze burning his neck. He bit his bottom lip, making sure he wasn't still humming those half-thought lyrics.

"You're kinda good," John said once he crushed the butt of the cigarette on the counter. Just another stain on the furniture. No one would notice.

"Kinda?" he choked, offended. He was so used to being told how great he was, at such a young age.

"What kinda stuck-up asshole taught you how to play?" he asked, a mean grin growing on his face. He visibly enjoyed Kerry's reaction.

"Former corpo with a gambling addiction. Ended up living right beside us after losing it all. Strict as hell. A real pain in the ass," he explained.

"Huh-huh. Can tell."

"Bullshit," Kerry spat, "Just a lucky guess."

"Thought I was a bad liar," he teased.

Kerry clicked his tongue. Damn kid annoying him again. He thought about punching him right in the chest, but that felt a little too mean.

"You, you can play?" he asked, changing subjects.

"Yeah," he nodded, before correcting himself, nodding to the left, "Used to."

"You were any good?"

"Better than you."

"Right," Kerry scoffed, standing up to look down at him, "Good thing for you you can't prove it no more."

"Good thing for you, you mean?" he retorted, a nauseatingly prideful air on his face, "Wouldn't want to break that fragile ego of yours."

"Careful," Kerry mused, finger poking right at his chest, savoring a hiss of pain, "You're starting to piss me off again."

That made John chuckle, his cold eyes having taken a warmer shade during their conversation. Kerry shook his head, trying to hide the smile betraying his words.

"You needed something?" he asked him, remembering John was still a guest here, "Or you just came down here to be annoying as fuck?"

"Got a computer I can use? Looking for someone. A ripperdock. Nauman's the name."

"Not gonna need it," Kerry replied, curiosity piqued, "I know Milt. Patched me up a couple times when I was still in RC. How you know him?"

"I don't."

"So," Kerry trailed off, puzzled, "Why you wanna see him?"

"Met his son in the war."

"Right," Kerry rolled his eyes. Worst liar ever, but at least he could remember the idiocies he told, "Fine. Sure, keep your secrets, I guess."

"Can you get me to him?"

"Me? Getting you to RC?" he scoffed. He hated that place. Those dumb houses they copied and pasted next to one another where dumbasses bred bigger dumbasses. Lucky for him, he wasn't born there and never caught the stupid, "No way."

"I really need to go there," he confessed, with furrowed eyebrows. John was trying the good old puppy-eyed trick on him, and his heart immediately fell for it, "I really need you to get me there, Kerry. Got no one else to ask."

The other teen groaned. He knew he had already given in. Curse him and his inability to say no to those kinds of eyes!

"Fine, fine. But I'm not gonna wait for you in the car. I'm going in," he said. In Milt's clinic, he'd feel safer there than waiting outside, eyeing in every direction for people of his past he didn't want to ever meet again.

"No, none of your biz."

"Either that or find a cab or some shit to get there on your own."

The teen looked at him defiantly, just like the first time they met. It yielded the same results, Kerry patiently eyeing him back, an eyebrow crooked up. He had all the time in the world to wait for John to finally approve his request.

"Okay, whatever. You're one noisy fucker, ain't ya?"

Chapter Text

Kerry parked his rusted car down the street Milt had set up his clinic on, and Johnny finally let go of the grab handle. He had warned him he wasn't the best driver, having learned on his own with cars that weren’t ever his. He'd laughed at his reaction if their destination hadn't been Rancho Coronado. If he didn't mind the Western part of Santo Domingo, he hated the residential side of the district. Same boring houses lined up in nice long rows, nothing to tell them apart. An army, falling to pieces from neglect. A village of broken hopes. A ghost of the past only looked at fondly with delusional nostalgia. The unlikable shadow of the City of Dreams. Hands deep in his pockets, face hidden by the hood of an old sweatshirt, Kerry didn't want anyone to recognize him walking the streets he grew up in.

"Still far?" John asked him, at his heels.

"Almost there," he nodded at the blue neon cross hanging off the clinic window.

Milt operated from home, in a room you could only access through his garage. He talked about owning a real clinic, at some point, but aiding half the kids of the district for free meant this was just a sweet dream for now.

"Wait," Kerry stopped him from opening the garage door, noticing the neon turned off, "It's occupied right now."

"I need to see him," he pressed, hand on the door handle that Kerry quickly swatted away.

"Just wait," he repeated, standing between John and the door, "Won't be long, trust me."

John sighed, but complied. He leaned on the garage door, by Kerry's sides. They watched the cars pass by in silence, hearing some child cry somewhere up the street, her mother yelling at her to come back home. Kerry kept looking around, pulling his hood further down his face.

"Got a cig?" John eventually asked, the back of his head hitting the garage door repeatedly out of boredom.

"Last one," he told him, handing him his pack, "Buy your own next time."

"Huh-huh."

Kerry helped him again. His lighter was almost empty of fluid, cracking it several times before the flame could burn up the tip of the cigarette. John took a long drag, coughing a little, chest still in pain. Kerry waited for him to breathe the smoke out, grabbed his wrist, and put the cigarette to his lips, mimicking his action. He needed the nicotine to calm the anxiety of setting foot in Rancho Coronado again. His eyes met John's as he let go of his arm.

"What?" Kerry asked him, feeling scrutinized, "That's mine, remember?"

"Didn't say anything."

Kerry looked away, failing to act casually as he leaned lower on the garage door. He looked up at the neon cross, still turned off, the hood badly covering his face sliding down.

"Is that- Fuck you doing here, Eurodyne?"

A voice came from across the street, forcing a swear out of Kerry's mouth. He pulled his hood again, no matter how useless that was now. He had been spotted. He didn't need to look to know who was crossing the road to meet with him. Two teens his age he would’ve rather never seen again.

"Hey, girl," the taller of the two called, fake high-pitched voice making Kerry scowl, "That your new input?"

"Don't tell your cousin, Jim," he spat at him, his head held high even though his heart was racing, "He'll be heartbroken."

"Didn't think you'd ever show your face again," the other continued, now both standing right before them, "Know what your brother told us to do if we ever saw you here?"

"Try me," he said, tone aggressively cold, fists clenched in his pockets.

"Feeling brave, huh?" Jim said, stepping so close Kerry had to crank his head up to keep his eyes locked on his, "Or just eager to feel two real men fuck you up? Make sure he never gets in trouble again, he said. Wonder what a whore like you'll do without-"

Blind rage took over. Kerry swung his fist before he could think. His knuckles hit the other kid straight on the jaw, making him stumble to his left before falling on the ground. The other teen froze an instant, watching his friend laying at his feet, shocked expression on his bleeding face, before dashing at Kerry in retaliation. He instinctively covered his face with his fists, but the boy never even touched him. His head and back violently hit the garage door. John's hand had wrapped around his throat, cigarette between his fingers, the burning tip about to mark the teen's chin.

"You gonks are gonna fuck off right now," he told them, his voice so calm a shiver ran down Kerry's spine, "Before I mess both your faces so bad, your mothers won't ever recognize you."

He pulled him forwards, aiming for Jim, who was slowly getting back on his feet. They stumbled into each other, not weighing their options long before running away.

"Better fuck off before Billy gets here, Eurodyne!" Jim swore, disappearing around the corner.

"Old friends of yours?" John asked, still looking down the street where the kids left.

"Just some douchebags," he shrugged.

"Billy? Gonna fuck us up?"

"Don't worry about him. Just some stupid asshole that can't take no for an answer. Learned his lesson, though. Bastard 'slipped' and broke his nose on the urinal last time he tried putting his hands on me."

"How clumsy of him," John said, deadpan expression making Kerry chuckle and relax the tension riddling his body.

John answered with a grin, gaze warming up at the noise. He looked up, and Kerry followed his gaze. The neon cross had turned back blue.

"Let's go," Kerry told him as John crushed what little remained of the cigarette on the pavement.

They crossed with Milt's last patient as they walked into the dimly lit garage, yellow neon flickering above them, making their skin look sick. The girl with half a metal face shyly nodded at them. He nodded back and  knocked before entering the clinic. He wanted to greet Milt, but John talked first.

"Mr. Nauman?"

"Call me, Milt, kid," he chuckled, drying his hands dripping with water before winking at Kerry, "How you're doing, boy? Haven't seen you in a while."

"I need to talk to you," John pressed on, stepping closer, making sure the ripper kept his focus on him, "It's about Matt."

His smile dropped flat, gaze flickering at the face he knew, then back at the stranger. He swallowed hard.

"How you know my son?"

"Meet him in the war."

"John," Kerry called, watching the ripper's face crumble down. He knew about Matt, who enlisted shortly before leaving Rancho Coronado himself. He heard rumors he would never come back. Not the kind of topic a stranger should make light of.

"Said he's sorry he didn't listen to you," John continued, ignoring Kerry, "You were right. Gonk was too nice for his own good. Told me to give you this."

He took a crooked stained picture out of his back pocket and handed it to him. Milt stared at the still a moment, softly straightening the picture. A bittersweet smile formed on his lips. He eventually looked up at John.

"Our first day there," the teen said, voice going quieter and quieter, "When we still believed we made the right choice. Said you'd want to have it."

"Never been one to smile in pictures, my boy. Glad I finally have one," Milt put the picture in the front pocket of his coat, before considering John a moment.

"How old are you, kid?" he eventually asked.

"Seventeen," he said, eyes flicking at the wall behind the ripper, incapable of holding his gaze anymore. He was visibly trying to control his breathing.

"No need to lie to me," he reassured, voice warm and soothing. Both kids relaxed their shoulders at his tone, "You're safe here."

"I'm fifteen," John corrected, an audible lump in his throat, chest heaving, "In four months."

"And they let you go to Mexico," Milt mumbled, tilting his head, trying to grasp the kid's fleeing gaze; he stepped closer, a sympathetic smile on his lips, "And they let you go to die."

"Said I could finally make something of my life," John's voice quivered. He wasn't trying to be a man anymore, just a kid with blurry eyes who had trouble breathing, "Didn't fucking know what I was signing for. Matt didn't either. The things we did-"

"Hey," Milt grabbed his shoulders, trying to anchor him to reality before he could drift further into the past. Whatever he wanted to tell John was quickly forgotten, gaze drifting to the left, "See they kept a memento of you back there."

"Cover got blown," he nodded, voice growing eerily distant, "Bombed our position. Barely made it out. Was the only one. Patched me up. Pumped me full of fuck knows what and sent me back. Couldn't shoot straight anymore. Said I'd be more useful upfront."

Words were spilling out of his mouth in quick bursts. He wasn't talking to Milt anymore; his haunted, clouded stare lost someplace no one should ever set foot in.

"They used you as cannon folder," Milt said, earning another nod from the kid trying his best to keep his composure.

"Matt - he came with upfront. Said he wanted to protect me," he mumbled, right hand clutching the ripper's coat, head falling heavily on his shoulder, "He died 'cause of me. Died 'stead of me."

A choked sob bubbled up his throat. His breath hitched as he swallowed it back down.

"Should be here 'stead of me."

Kerry could barely hear his words, trying to blend into the wall. He finally believed him, though he didn't want to. He finally saw through the lies, the feigned apathy. He was just a kid in the ripper's arms, trying to hold back tears not to fully break down. Kerry decided to step outside, leave them alone, the thick air in the room making him feel nauseous.

"Lemme do something about this," he heard Milt tell John as he squeezed his left shoulder, right before Kerry closed the door leading to the garage, "Please."

Kerry sat down on the ground, leaning against the wall next to the door. He felt miserable, the itchy feeling of utter uselessness creeping up his spine. John would be alright with Milt. Better than on his own in that awful room he stayed in. If he left right now, John would have no choice but to stay in Rancho Coronado and maybe get that new beginning he told him about. He could’ve just left, taking his car and running away. Still, Kerry remained in the garage, waiting for John to come out of the clinic, or for Milt to invite him back in. He didn't want to go anywhere on his own, especially if the person he left behind was John.

That thought made him jolt, the back of his head butting against the wall. Nancy's words came back in his mind. Another puppy he got attached to, alright.

"There you are," he heard Milt call. He hadn't even noticed the door opening up, "How's life been treating ya, Kerry?"

"Been worse," he shrugged, getting back on his feet.

"Good to hear," he mused, a genuine smile that always helped Kerry relax. Milt looked back into the clinic as he grabbed Kerry's shoulder and mumbled, "Listen, he's gonna be here for some time. You should probably head home. I'll drop him off."

"It's fine," he insisted, "I can stay."

Milt looked right back at him, an expression mixed with sympathy and worry on his face. He could hear the pitiful tone his voice unconsciously took. He could stay. He had to stay. He needed to stay. Partly because he didn't want John to think he had abandoned him. Partly because-

"You had a rough night," Milt noticed, still looking at him. The remark made Kerry realize how tired he felt.

"An emotional one," he corrected.

The vision of a teen lying almost unconscious in the bathroom came back to mind. He could now picture said teen fighting back dark, twisted memories Kerry couldn't even fathom.

"Then, rest. You need it," Milt almost implored, paternal tone making Kerry keep silent and nod, "Ah, Kerry… You and that soft heart of yours. Gotta think about yourself first, boy."

"I know."

"Give me your number, then go home. I'll text you if anything happens."

Chapter Text

Kerry didn't hear of Milt or John again for over a day. He never expected those 24 hours to feel that empty, that lonely. Laying on his couch at home, alternating between playing lazy riffs on his axe and staring at the ceiling. Part of him kept thinking he'd soon have work to occupy his mind, before the message he received came back to mind.

They took the video surveillance, and saw a troublesome employee leave Room 501 in the morning. They knew, and gave him one last strike that meant he was fired. Mr. Quintana tried to call the very next second. Kerry preferred to ignore it.

[We need to talk.]

The hotel owner sent him instead, and Kerry knew what he'd say. That apartment he was living in was also his, a place he rented cheaper since he was his employee. A shitty day that never seemed to end.

He ended up nodding off, staring at the same white ceiling for hours on end. His ringtone woke him up, still tired and disoriented. He answered without checking who was calling him first, which could've been a bad decision once Kerry realized what he had just done.

"Yeah?" he asked with a sluggish tone as he sat back on the couch.

"Kerry? It's Milt Nauman," came a voice sounding just as exhausted, "Operation went well. He's slowly waking up. Hum, mind picking him up? Don't trust myself behind the wheels right now."

"Sure, coming right now," he assured, quickly picking up his keys after making sure he was still wearing his shoes.

"No need to hurry, son," Milt laughed, "He can wait for you a little longer."

Kerry quickly hung up, feeling a heat creeping up his cheeks. Something about Milt's tone made him feel embarrassed.

He entered the clinic by the garage to meet with the ripper and the teen. Milt welcomed him with a bright, although tired smile. He had taken off his coat that probably was covered in blood, judging by the chair John had spent the day on. The sight made him feel queasy. Kerry looked away, staring at the teen, arms crossed, leaning against the wall opposite the door instead. He noticed it immediately, that shiny new arm holding a cigarette. John was trying to act casual even though his gaze was as much locked on Kerry as his was on him. Kerry smiled at him, answered by a quick nod.

"Should be good for now," Milt muttered, "Just- Kerry, mind bringing him back in a week? Just to make sure I calibrated it alright?"

"Hmm-hmm, sure," he assured, a thought suddenly hitting him, "Listen, Milt. I don't know what he told you, but for whatever he owes you now-"

"You two don't owe me anything, kid. Piece was preordered forever ago, but the patient went missing. Kept it in some corner of the clinic before Arasaka asked it back to resell it."

"They can do that?" Kerry asked, dumbfounded.

"Written in the order form alright," he shrugged, "Had to fiddle with it for some time so it could fit just right."

His eyes drifted back to John's arm as the other teen stepped closer, mesmerized by the way the neon lights reflected on the metal. Too bright to be made just of chrome. Pieces missing, showing the wires mimicking the muscles and veins. Attached by the shoulder and collarbone as to hold the weight of the heavy prosthetic. He looked more threatening now, almost dangerous. Maybe that was just because Kerry knew now, what those hands were trained to do. With that thought in mind, he felt hesitant to look into those dark and cold eyes again, even though they had warmed up to him lately.

They stopped in the parking lot of the Pistis Sophia. Kerry didn't need to get out of the car, this wasn't his place anymore, but John stayed there as well, looking up at the hotel. A guest was smoking on the fifth floor. There was a tense silence in the vehicle, Kerry having so many questions burning the tip of his tongue. He watched him take the bottle of painkillers Milt gave him and slip a few more pills in his mouth than prescribed.

"Milt said to take only two," Kerry reminded him, mostly to fill the silence.

"And? Gonna snitch on me?"

"Don't wanna drag you off the bathroom floor again, is all."

"Then, don't. Simple."

Sharp and harsh words came out of his mouth. Kerry wasn't sure what had earned him the hostility. John's right hand came to squeeze his own shoulder, skin red around the prosthetic.

"You've eaten? At Milt's?"

"No. Wasn't hungry."

"You are now?"

John shrugged, only lifting his right shoulder, still looking away from him. Kerry wondered if he should've stayed there, wondered if John thought he had left him there in the hands of some stranger. As if he himself wasn't a stranger to John anymore.

"There's a hot dog stand by the pier," he told him, opening the car door, "Cheap and tasty. Want one?"

John only shrugged again, but followed him towards the beach. He felt him behind him, a dark bitter shadow. Kerry kept his mouth shut, but he was getting seriously irritated by his behavior. He glared at him from the corner of his eyes, but John was still only looking at the hotel, hands anchored in the front pocket of his dirty cargo pants.

Kerry paid for the food, and turned around. He was about to head back to Room 501, before John stopped him.

"You really wanna eat in there?" he asked.

"You're right," he agreed, "Follow me, then. We're going to my place."

He didn't live far, in a small apartment building past the new Osos hotel, the Pistis Sophi's rival that had opened literally next door. He led him up the few stairs into a small hallway. He lived on the first floor, first door to the right. The smallest of all apartments, meant for the janitor until new laws passed making hiring one discretionary. A single-bedroom apartment that couldn't fit a double bed without ripping the door off. Kerry had tried.

"That your place, huh?"

"For now, yeah. Probably gonna get kicked out soon, though," he said, watching John looking around the main room and added when he frowned at him, "Landlord also owns the hotel, and I just got fired."

"From sitting on your ass doing nothing all day?"

"From helping your sorry ass," he replied, a little mean, a little harsh. John turned towards him, arms crossed, dark eyes looking coldly at him again, "Saw me exit your room. They thought I- Y'know…."

"Found a way to earn yourself a hefty tip?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "Not the first time they get the wrong idea like that."

"Uh, you really planned on staying there your whole life?"

"I mean, nah. But-" he stopped, watching John almost putting his dirty ass on his couch, "Oh, no! You don't! Wanna sit down? You gotta change first!"

"Seriously?"

"Actually, scratch that: first, you shower, and second, you grab some clothes from my room. Then, you can sit down."

John tsked, took a step closer, then one more. Slowly towering over him, though he was barely taller than he was. Dark eyes locked into his, crooking up an eyebrow.

"I'm serious, Johnny," he said, unimpressed, pointing at the bathroom.

"Fine," John rolled his eyes after a pause, "Pick some sweatpants for me and throw it in the bathroom."

Kerry didn't like how commanding his tone felt, but still complied, a mischievous smile on his lips, slamming the door shut on his way out as John was turning on the shower. He ate his hot dog, still warm enough for his taste, while waiting for the teen. John came out of the bathroom too fast for his liking. He looked clean enough, though.

John came to sit on the couch, next to Kerry, taking all the room left, laying on it with his back propped against the arm of the sofa. He took his food and ate in silence. He said nothing about the hot pants Kerry had given him instead of the sweatpants he asked for. The other teen felt disappointed at the lack of reaction.

Kerry pulled out his phone as John finished eating. Henry had sent him some texts.

[heard what happened]

[sorry choom]

[didnt tell em anything]

[i swear :/ ]

He sighed and put it back in his pocket. He didn't want to think about that right now: his job, his future, or his life in general.

He turned back to John. Kerry realized he was smiling at the other teen. There weren't many boys his age who would've felt comfortable lying around him almost naked. And the few who did would've had already made the conversation awkward, either with a comment Kerry didn't want to hear, or with an offer he didn't feel quite ready to take yet. John didn't care, in nothing but borrowed hot pants that definitely fit Kerry better, and those dog tags he still couldn't believe were real. He watched them swing around his neck as John shifted on the couch, fully turning to Kerry. His gaze followed his, and Kerry blurred out the first words he could come with not to feel like a staring creep.

"What was it like?"

"Huh?"

"Down there," he clarified, pointing at his chest, "in Mexico."

"Why you wanna know?"

"Just making conversation."

"Don't," he said, holding the dog tags in his metal hand, trying to hide them from Kerry's inquiring eyes.

"Touchy subject," he puffed, hands up in defense, "Alright. I get it."

"It was hell," John snapped back, voice filled with sudden anger that made Kerry jump, "What else do you wanna know? Huh? The pain you feel when an ejected case hits your skin? The fear riddling your body when you're forced to run across an open plain?"

"Johnny-"

"Wanna know what it feels like? To kill some gonk calling for his momma? To hear the bang and know there's nothing left of your brother-in-arm? To turn around and-"

"Hey, hey," he called, hands on his shoulders to bring him back to Pacifica. Just like the ripper had shown him, "Alright. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

He paused, watching John's hazy stare slowly focus back on him. He understood this topic wasn't one John was ready to open up about just yet. At least, not with a kid like him.

"Let's change subjects, alright?"

"Sure," John agreed, though with a hint of venom still dripping in his voice, "So, tell me, Ker, where're your parents?"

"Where's yours, asshole?"

"Touchy subject, huh?" he mocked, looking around the room, on the tables and counters.

Kerry rolled his eyes. He hated that he knew what he was looking for. He pulled out the crooked pack of cigarettes he'd been sitting on, gave John one, and took another for himself.

"Thought you wouldn't hand me cigs anymore."

"Eh, I'll just add it to your tab," he shrugged, giving him his lighter after lighting his up, "And my parents aren't a touchy subject. There's just nothing to say. They're in RC, and I'm here."

"On your own?"

"Yep. Left about, huh, I don't know, six months ago, I think? They didn't appreciate me getting kicked out of school."

"Cause of what happened with Bill?" he asked, blowing out smoke better now that the ripper patched him up.

"Hey, Billy slipped, remember?" he grinned, flicking his cig at John accusatively, "Ain't nothing to do with me!"

"Yeah, right," he chuckled back.

"But no, wasn't the Billy stuff. Actually," he started, sitting feet on the ground to tell his story, "There was this new kid. Parents also came from Bicol, so we connected pretty quick. That new kid - kind of a bad boy. So fucking mean, but in a fun way, you know?"

"So, that's your type, huh?" John said, tilting his head to observe Kerry's reaction as he messed with him.

"I- I don't really have a type," he blurted out, a better excuse than telling him the truth, "So, anyways. We connected, like super quick. But he's the 'I'm just curious' kinda choom, so we gotta be discreet. We only meet in, like-"

"Empty parking lots, behind the school at night, in the bathrooms," John nodded, a knowing smile on his lips. Kerry was about to ask, suddenly wondering if that was the reason why John felt so comfortable around him. Still, he kept going without his remark, "Had my share of girls who didn't want daddy dearest knowing what was happening when they were with me."

"Any boy?" he muttered, making sure John wouldn't understand if he didn't want to.

"None."

No addition, no expression on his face betraying anything. A simple word that didn't really mean all that much, that didn't answer Kerry's actual question. They stared at each other, a silence tensing up in the room. Kerry preferred to go back to his story, before his cheeks would feel too hot.

"Bathroom was our main spot at first. Since he was a bad boy, we kinda skipped class sometimes. Then, almost all day. Teachers got worried, and found us in an empty classroom."

"A classroom, huh?" John mused, "Had to take care of your mess? Or did the janitor have a field day cleaning up your mess?"

"Hey, wasn't like that!" Kerry argued, "Just- just kissing stuff, alright? We didn't- I never-"

"Really?" John made a face telling Kerry he didn't believe him.

"Yeah," he replied, a little hurt no one ever did, "Kinda waiting for the right one, you know? B- But, that was already too much for a school like mine. Kicked me out before calling my parents."

"They didn't know?"

"My mom had guessed some time ago, but my dad? Oh boy. Wasn't even allowed a ride back home. I got mad, trashed the car. My parents called the cops, but dropped the charges if I promised never to show my face ever again."

"Just for a making-out session and a little temper tantrum?"

"Was kinda the last straw, to be honest," he laughed awkwardly. He had repeated himself that lie long enough to believe it. It had been easier to come up with that conclusion, than facing the truth that his parents' love had been conditional, "Got into my fair share of trouble before that. Getting into fights, stealing stuff from the neighbors, drinking with the older kids in the hood. Set the basement on fire… twice. Seriously, don't dare me to do anything cause I will do it."

"Someone likes chaos, huh?" John mused, a smile having grown wider the more he added to his record.

"Yeah, I'm pretty into chaos , alright," he puffed back, giving John a side-eye and a sly smile, earning a quiet chuckle.

"And, why Pacifica?" he asked.

"Only place fuck-ups like us feel welcome, I guess."

Chapter Text

Cold fingers brushing his cheek as he leans closer. Metal meeting with skin, setting his soul ablaze. Dark eyes locked into his, warmed up by the heat he's radiating. His own hands clutching his shoulders. He'll never let go. Never again. Their thread entangled with the other's. Linked for life, indivisible. Skin and metal melting into one. Never feeling more whole than the second their lips meet.

A loud crash jolted Kerry awake. His room was pitched black, except for the dim light coming from the outside, peeking through the blinds he had forgotten to close. He tended an ear. There was shuffling on the other side of the door, followed by a loud slam. The wave of anxiety quickly died down. He remembered John had agreed to stay for the night. He got out of bed, feeling around the room as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

It looked like a tornado had swooped through the main room. Chairs knocked over, papers scattered around. His axe had slid to the other side of the apartment. He rushed towards it, his most cherished belonging. Some scratches on the back, but still intact. He breathed out of relief.

His gaze turned back to the room. The fridge had been left open, bright light casting eerie shadows around him. Food and drinks had been thrown on the floor. His place was a mess, and there was no sign of the teen who caused it.

Kerry sighed, guessing that sound he heard was the front door he slammed shut. He kneeled near the fridge and started putting everything back in it. He held back a yawn as he closed the door. He didn't feel tired, irritated by John leaving like he did. His brain was running wild, questions, swears and insults jumping from one corner of his mind to the other, but he still headed back to bed.

Another thud echoed in the apartment when his hand reached for the doorknob. It was coming from the bathroom this time. So, he hadn't left, huh? Kerry wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing, if he felt relieved, or angrier, that he was still there.

"Fuck you doing now?" he asked John, pushing the door open as he leaned on it, arms crossed.

The other teen was clutching the sink, breathing heavily. Knuckles turned white by the way he was holding onto the porcelain. His forehead pressed against the mirror, sweating and fogging up the glass. He was stuck in his own world of monsters and shadows. Every single object in the room was now on the floor. The shower curtain had been ripped off the rod, lying in the tub. Kerry looked around in shock, waiting for an answer that never came. He hadn't even noticed him standing there, hadn't even heard his voice.

"Hey, Johnny!" he yelled, then stepped towards him as he was ignored again, "I'm talking to you, asshole. The fuck you're doing?"

He reached for his shoulder, fury guiding his actions. John turned around before he could touch him, swatting his hand away. He pushed him against the adjacent wall, his ganic forearm pressed against his throat before Kerry could react. His fingers dug into his skin, panic settling in, squirming around in vain. He had been lifted off the floor, feet tangling in the air. His heels were bashing against the wall as he tried escaping his hold. He couldn't breathe even though his mind was begging for more oxygen. His vision turned black, tears burning the corners of his eyes.

"Johnny, please," he called in a hoarse voice. 

His fingers, once digging into the other teen's arm, lost all strength. He let go, blood painting his nails. He was fighting to keep his eyes from closing. A terrifying void was taking over his body and mind.

"Johnny."

He finally let go, taking a step back as Kerry fell on his knees, coughing as he gasped for air. His throat and lungs felt like they were on fire. It hurt so bad he tried to hold his breath, but his racing heart forced him to exhale. He backed off against the wall, looking up at John pacing around. Dread was making his body shake, his chest heave.

Johnny stopped before him, an unreadable expression on his face. He extended his metal hand towards Kerry, who flinched at the gesture unconsciously. He didn't want to be afraid, but his body was listening to his head, not his heart, at that moment. A need for self-preservation, that earned him a pained look from the other teen. He eventually seemed to understand he was standing too close for comfort. He came sitting on the edge of the tub, foot stumping against the tiled floor.

"Pills? You got some?" he asked harshly.

"Whe- where's the stuff Milt gave you?" he muttered, voice too broken to speak too loud.

John nodded to the corner of the room. An orange bottle was lying on the ground, cap missing. Empty.

"Pills? You got some?" he repeated, louder, nails scratching the back of his neck until it turned red. As raw as his left shoulder and collarbone, where skin met metal.

"I don't, no."

"Whiskey? Tequila? Anything to knock me out cold."

Kerry shook his head, but John wasn't looking at him. Head in his hands, breath heavy and loud. Sniffing loudly, as if about to sob. His knuckles crashed against his temples. Repeatedly. Kerry swallowed hard, feeling like he was about to cry. Cry at the scene. Cry for John, who couldn't let the tears out. He moved closer, still on the ground, until his hand reached his knee. The teen looked at him. His eyes weren't cold anymore, just blurry and haunted.

"Johnny. Hey," he called tentatively, his throat feeling a little better, "What's happening?"

"You won't get it," he tried to shake his head, but only managed to spasm around.

His head fell back onto his hands. He tried hitting himself again, but Kerry wrapped his fist with his own, stopping him gently. Johnny looked at their hands, the way they were entangled. His gaze then fell on Kerry, who softly shook his head. No, he wouldn't let him hurt on his own. No, he wouldn't let him hurt himself. John relaxed his hand in his, breathing some of his trouble away.

"Then, talk to me," he requested, his thumb stroking his metal hand, "Help me understand."

Kerry tilted his head, gave him the warmest look he could muster. Johnny frowned at his kindness, getting out of his grip, swatting his hand away again. His breathing got uneven. Kerry noticed he wasn't looking at him anymore, not really. His eyes had drifted down. He wanted to ask, but Johnny's fingers grabbed his chin before he could say anything. He forced his head up, painfully so.

"I did that to you?" he asked, two fingers still holding his jaw while the others brushed against his neck and the bruises that had to have blossomed here.

"You see anyone else around?" he snapped back, through gritted teeth.

He clutched Johnny's wrist, eyes tearing up again. He didn't have the strength to get out of his grip. He swallowed hard, throat bobbing against his fingers. His heart was thumping in his temples. He hated how utterly helpless he felt even though he was held with a single hand.

"Look at you," Johnny laughed with a shaky voice, finally letting go, "You're so fucking scared right now."

"I am, yeah," he admitted, hand wrapped around his own sore throat, soothing the dull pain kicking back in, "I'm scared of you, right now."

He paused, looking at Johnny, who wouldn't hold his gaze anymore. He stared at his own wounds, the bloody markings Kerry's nails had left on him, and noticed other bruises (ones he didn't inflict) slowly turning his skin yellow. His hand fell back on his knee.

"But also scared for you. Please, talk to me."

"Stop that," he urged, jerking his leg away from him, "You're pissing me off."

"Nah, won't stop," he dared say, his whole arm resting across John's lap now, chin on his knee. Letting himself be an easy target for his anger, just to prove to him he was more afraid for him, than of him, "Not until you tell me what happened."

The other teen didn't move, letting him stay there, closer than ever before. He didn't say anything, and the tense silence started weighing too much on Kerry's shoulders.

"Seriously, look at the state of the place! What'd happen if I didn't wake up, huh? You would've started ripping off the doors? Breaking down the windows? Send me flying across the room, still in bed, screaming 'gimme drugs'?"

The last remark made the teen snort, half a grin creeping up his face. Kerry echoed his expression. Quite an absurd image to put in someone's mind, he gave him that.

"C'mon, Johnny. Talk to me."

"Johnny?" he pinpointed, and Kerry realized he had only used this name so far tonight.

"Suits you better, I think."

"Kinda like it, yeah."

"Huh-huh," he trailed off, tilting his head, "Still not getting out of this conversation, Johnny . What's happening here?"

"Fine," he gave in, rolling his eyes, "Managed to take enough pills to fall asleep. Nightmare woke me up."

Kerry waited for him to continue talking, but Johnny was done explaining himself.

"That's it?" he asked, looking around at the mess he made.

"Was a really bad one," he added, eyes getting hazy again, "I was- I was back there and- and Matt was there. And you were there. And- and then- then it hit us. And you-"

He looked away suddenly, shifting away again. Kerry let go and came to sit on the edge of the tub at his sides instead. Johnny wasn't willing to share anything anymore.

"Alright," he eventually said, leaning down, trying in vain to capture Johnny's fleeting gaze, "There's this shop open 24/7 not far from here. Not the best, not the cheapest, but they never look at you too closely. Gonna take a few bottles, come back here, and get fucking hammered. Wanna join in?"

Chapter Text

Kerry woke up lying on the couch, adjusting his sore back from sleeping all curled up. His lips still felt numb. He could tell how bad his breath smelt from the taste on his tongue. He opened his eyes and tried to stand, but the world swayed around him. He fell back down immediately with a groan and the worst headache he ever had.

"So, you're finally awake," he heard Johnny say, his voice both too far and too close, a mutter making his head ring.

"Five more minutes," he whined, burying his face in the fabric of the couch. The darkness aided with the spinning.

"You really can't handle tequila, huh?"

"Fuck you!"

He slowly turned around, his stomach fussing at his decision. Johnny was leaning on the windowsill, the smoke he blew out sucked outside by the gentle wind. He turned around to face Kerry, a hint of mockery in his dark eyes. Memories slowly came back to the other teen, looking around at the mess his apartment was in now. Johnny had dared him to drink as much as he could. He didn't expect the younger man to keep going as far as he did. Pieces of conversations resurfaced; between two moments his brain seemingly switched off.

He tried to prop himself up against the couch as he noticed how cold he felt. He finally realized he was completely naked. He jolted, hands reaching down to cover himself. His cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We got drunk," Johnny shrugged, crushing his cigarette before flicking it outside.

"No, I meant: why am I naked?"

"Complained you were feeling too hot. Told you to lose the clothes."

"And I just did?" he exclaimed, usually a bit pudic, especially around boys.

"Yeah, you just did," he confirmed, picking up Kerry's sweatpants now on the floor and throwing them back at him.

"Huh, Johnny?" he called, dressing back in a hurry.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing else happened, right?" he made sure. Anything past the first bottle they emptied together, a black void he couldn't have access to anymore.

"Just drank and talked. Mean, you talked. Bout being a rockerboy, mostly."

"And nothing else, right?" he repeated, in an alarmed tone, "Cause I- I seriously can't remember shit right now, and if we-"

"I didn't fuck you, Kerry," he answered bluntly.

" 'kay," he let out, "I believe you."

"Nova."

A pause settled in, relaxed and easy. Kerry sat on the couch, knees close to his chest. Looking at Johnny, he remembered last night. His throat didn't hurt anymore, at least. His eyes fell on the teen's right arm and the bruises marking it.

"How you feeling?" he asked.

Johnny shrugged at first, until Kerry's gaze on him felt too insistent.

"Been worse."

"You managed to sleep, after we drank?"

"A little, yeah. Took your bed," he added, in a tone mimicking an apology, "Didn't wanna try moving your ass."

"That's fine. Don't worry."

"Huh-huh," he nodded, before gazing back outside. People were yelling in the parking lot. That must've caught his attention.

"Kinda hungry right now," he eventually said, stepping away from the window, "What's the place to go for breakfast, huh?"

"There's a diner past-"

He stopped and watched Johnny take the vest Kerry had worn last night, when he went to the only shop around where kids like them could buy anything they wanted. He found his wallet and put it in the back pocket of his jeans, something he had borrowed from Kerry's closet.

"Where, you said?" Johnny pressed on, already walking to the door.

"That's mine," he said, a little confused.

"Still got no money," he explained, "Just add it to my tab, alright?"

Kerry opened his mouth to fuss, until Johnny turned around, head tilted and eyebrow crooked, and looked into his eyes. He wasn't trying to intimidate Kerry, for once. A silent demand to accept lending him a little more money, and trust.

"Alright?"

"Yeah, alright," he gave in, feeling his stomach protest at the mere thought of eating, "Go to the pier, past the hotel, then walk a little more. Bright pink building, can't miss it. And, Johnny?"

"Huh?" he stopped, one foot out the apartment already.

"Bring back a pack of cigs," he asked, the one Johnny had just finished in hand, "Alright?"

Kerry finally felt better during the late afternoon. His head wasn't spinning as much, although his body still felt numb. After a cold shower and some clean clothes, he felt ready to face what was left of the day. He considered putting some order in the apartment, but quickly gave up. It wasn't his mess to clean up, after all.

Johnny still hadn't come back from the dinner. Despite Kerry trying his damnedest not to be affected by it, his mind kept being preoccupied with his departure. He tried to persuade himself it was just about the wallet he had taken, not because home felt lonely without his presence. This was about Johnny possibly being in trouble or- or Johnny wilfully avoiding him because he knew Kerry would ask him to clean up his mess. Nothing to do with Johnny leaving him on his own. At all.

Kerry plugged the amp, then his axe, turning up the sound louder since it wasn't too early, nor too late. Not like the neighbors ever complained anyway, but Kerry liked to keep the illusion he had manners. He started with one of his favorite songs: Dreamers by Parasite Dolls. Not their most famous song, but God, did they overdo themselves on the solo! And sure, the lyrics were a little too dark: something about going to sleep forever just to keep on living your dream, but the song just hooked him the first time he heard it.

He played Dreamers as a warm-up before switching to his own compositions. To the first song he ever made up, still a child and already bleeding at the fingertips from playing too much, too long. Going back to this place his parents called home, a home they had left when he was only a few weeks old, only for some great-uncle he never met before to suggest the idea he was old enough to work. The first and last time he'd let anyone invite him on a 'cruise,' he had sworn.

To that song that still didn't feel right, that riff missing something he couldn't put his fingers on. He tried changing the tempo, adding a longer pause, or playing faster. No, something wasn't right here. He started to feel like he'd never find it. Maybe it was better to trash it, start from scratch all over again.

"So, that was you," Johnny's voice suddenly spoke above the song, almost into the shell of his left ear.

Kerry jumped on the couch, clutching his guitar not to let it fall. His fingers hit the strings the wrong way, letting an awful sound echo in the room, drowning his yell.

"Fuck, Johnny! You gotta stop doing that!"

"Called your name," he said, sitting on the arm of the couch, "Didn't answer."

"Yeah, I was really into the riff."

"Huh-huh, heard that. You've been playing those same notes for a while."

"How long you've been listening?" Kerry asked, fingers back on the strings to play something different, something calmer. Just background noise as they talked.

"Was next door. The walls are really thin in here."

"Wait, what?" Kerry stopped, his words finally registering, "Why were you next door?"

"Met the neighbor's daughter. We 'chatted' a little," he told him, a sly smile on his lips.

"Molly?" Kerry scoffed, "Ain't an achievement, choom. Think the whole building had their way with her."

"Even you?" Johnny asked, trying to act nonchalantly as he took a cigarette from the pack he had just bought. He eyed him with an intensity that made Kerry feel under a spotlight by how warm his face was getting.

"Nah," he said, taking a cigarette as well. He had used his money, after all, "Not my type."

"Not mean enough?" he pressed, grin growing wider, "Or do you like 'em harder to get?"

"So, you came here just cause you were done with her?" Kerry preferred to change subjects, not to say anything he'd regret. I felt his very soul laid bare before those dark eyes. He hadn't decided if he loathed and loved the feeling yet.

"Heard you struggling," he said, extending his metal hand to ask for the axe, "That was getting on my nerves."

"Wash your fucking hands first," Kerry ordered, right before Johnny pressed the palm of his ganic hand on his face, "Gah, get off me! That's fucking disgusting!"

He pushed off his hands with his, letting go of his guitar for Johnny to pick it right up. He wanted to fuss, but his fingers were already strumming against the strings. Too late now.

He watched him play in silence for a moment. He didn't recognize the song but knew it wasn't right. Some notes were off, making his skin crawl each time Johnny missed them.

"Said you were better than me," he pinpointed harshly.

"Haven't practiced in a while," he gave as an excuse.

It seemed his hands had found their groove back by the end of the song. Still, Kerry thought he played the instrument in a weird way. Definitely self-taught, for better and worse.

"Okay, so, your stuff goes like that, right?" he asked, replaying Kerry's composition perfectly. The other teen was impressed at his performance but tried to hide it.

"It's actually played higher."

"Yeah, that's why it sucks," he replied, keeping on strumming on the strings closest to his chest, "See? Already so much better now."

"That's not the problem, though," he corrected, trying to bar all thoughts telling him Johnny was right from his mind, "It sounds, I dunno, repetitive? Feels like I'm playing the same notes over and over again. But I don't know how to break the monotony, y'know? Nothing sounds right."

"Yeah, cause you keep adding more bullshit," he shrugged, replaying the riff but stopping right before the last notes this time. He left a blank there before playing the next verse, still lower than Kerry would, simpler as well.

"Huh," was all he muttered. The song actually sounded pleasing now.

He let him play his song a couple times. Eyes closed, savoring the melody. Far from perfect, but finally matching what he had in mind. He wouldn't have minded Johnny playing longer. He was good, really good.

"So, how's it called?" he eventually asked, creating his own background music as he fiddled with the strings.

"Not sure yet. Started playing thinking about RC. Thought of that army of little houses, how I got kicked from them. Lucifer felt like a little too much, so I had Archangel in mind."

"Archangel?" Johnny puffed, letting the strings vibrate against the softened pulp of his fingers, "Fuck me! Kitsch-iest title I ever heard."

"Fuck-"

Their conversation was interrupted by Kerry's ringtone. Putting a finger up to stop them both from talking, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. It was Nancy.

"Hey, Nance!" he greeted, looking into Johnny's eyes as they talked, "What's up?"

"Got some great news for ya," she mused.

"Huh-huh? I'm listening."

"Remember the Drunken Bears? Well, their guitarist's still missing. And-"

"Yeah, sure. I'll be there."

"Wasn't done," she tsked, "They were really impressed by your skills last time. Kinda want to hear more. Want you to go wild tonight, improvise, show em what you got. You'll lead - they'll follow. So, Kerry, still interested?"

He couldn't reply anything, heart racing so fast in his chest it almost hurt. The shock on his face slowly grew into a grin, then a genuine laugh. He tried to hold down the emotions swirling inside of him. That was it, his big shot. He was about to become a rockerboy.

Chapter Text

Nancy was still talking, but Kerry wasn't listening anymore, bouncing on the couch out of joy. His cheeks hurt from smiling too much. He felt all kinds of fuzzy emotions bubbling up his chest, spreading throughout his body. He bit his lips not to let anything out and kept nodding even though he couldn't hear anything. His heart was singing too loud for him to register any of Nancy's words. That was it! That was it! He quickly hung up before yelling out of excitement.

"What's happening here?" Johnny asked him, his hilarity so infectious he was chuckling as well.

"Bears want me as their guitarist, but they'll let me play however the fuck I want!" he told him, jumping to his feet as he took his guitar back, strap falling on his shoulder gracefully, "I'mma be a rockerboy, baby!"

"Right," he replied over the fast riff the other teen was making up, visibly doubting his words.

"Playing my own solos! Fuck yeah!" he yelled to himself, fingers strumming the strings to the rhythm of his words, "Gonna play whatever I want! Fuck the ballads, man! Get ready for real music! Fuck, Johnny! You gotta be there to see it!"

He looked at him; the sparkle in his eyes had made him blind to the fading smile on Johnny's face. He put a cigarette to his mouth as to not answer him right away.

"What?" he asked, "What's wrong?"

"You're way too excited. It's just a gig. Won't make you a star."

"You don't get it," he chuckled, though slowly feeling awkward, standing there, axe in hand, overjoyed, maybe over very little, "Always had to follow whatever the bands played before. Kept saying I'm too young for leading with anything."

His tone ended flat, taking the strap off and putting the guitar down against a chair. He came to sit back on the couch, one leg under him. He waited for Johnny to look at him, but the ceiling seemed more interesting than him at that moment.

"C'mon, Johnny," he asked, short of grabbing his thigh to get his attention. Instead, his hands landed on his own lap, "I really want you to be there."

"Depends. What time we're talking about?" he asked, blowing out smoke, head resting against the wall.

Kerry opened his mouth, but suddenly realized he hadn't asked Nancy. He took his phone back and texted her.

[Mind telling me the time again? :p]

The answer came almost immediately.

[Start at 10. Be there at 9.]

[And try listening next time.]

[Sorry ^.^']

"Gotta be there at 9," he told Johnny, "So, you're coming with?"

He pressed some more. He didn't really see himself play tomorrow without Johnny being there. He figured he just wanted him to see how good he could be. He had a great stage presence; everyone told him that.

"Why you want me to come that much, huh?" he grumbled, looking at anything but Kerry.

"You really helped me out, with Archangel and all, and," he paused, trying to find the right words, "Feel like you'll still help if I- if I freak out, or something."

"So, you want to drag me in some bar I can't drink in, just to watch you piss yourself on stage?"

"Also wanna show you I'm way better than you think I am," he chuckled, couldn't help but wink at him though he couldn't see it.

"Trying to prove yourself to me, huh?" he teased back, his tone giving Kerry mixed signals, "Put me as a maybe. Best I can do for ya."

"Whatever, sure," he spat, feeling his heart ache in a painful way suddenly but trying his best to hide it, "Miss on the fun, killjoy."

Kerry barely slept that night, watching the minutes tick away on the screen on his phone as he tossed and turned in bed. He kept imagining what would happen the next day: the spotlights burning his skin glistening with sweat as he lost himself to the music. People would cheer; there was no other way. He'd be in heaven, acclaimed by all. They'd finally realize how much potential he had. He'd be in heaven, except for one detail. Each time he looked at the crowd, he could notice that empty space where Johnny should've been. He didn't really know why it mattered to him that much, Johnny being there with a sly grin on his face as he realized how great Kerry was. Somehow, he felt it wouldn't be the same without him. It wouldn't feel like a perfect night if he wasn't around.

He woke up around noon, excitement kicking him out of bed. He didn't complain, his whole body already buzzing with adrenaline. His chance had finally come; he knew it! His joy died down a little as he went into the main room of his tiny apartment. He found it empty, lifeless, and eerily silent. Johnny had left shortly after Nancy's call, telling him not to wait for him. He had kept hoping until the early morning to hear the door open, and listen to his voice mock him for staying awake that late, just for him. Johnny didn't come home and, after checking the bathroom, Kerry realized he was still gone. He guessed he'd be back right after the concert, with some dumb excuse as to why he didn't bother showing up.

He played all morning, trying to force the building anxiety out of him by replaying his own compositions over and over again. He'd keep Archangel for last. It felt like it was his masterpiece. He realized mid-song he was playing it the way Johnny did, strumming the strings closest to his chest. A lower tune he somehow was growing attached to.

His fingers started feeling sore, and he persuaded himself he had rehearsed enough. He supposed it was better to rest. His apartment felt hollow without any melody filling the void. The walls were thin, but Kerry couldn't hear anything apart from distant voices coming from the outside. The sun was peeking through the windows, but a chill still ran down his spine from how cold he suddenly felt. He never spent much time inside, usually. He was either working or sleeping, usually. His head turned towards the door. The Pistis Sophia was right behind the building. He didn't miss the place but maybe did the routine.

[You're working rn??]

He sent Henry, who didn't let Kerry wait long before sending him a pic of the lobby, a blurry middle finger on the left of the screen. Typical dumb shit he'd pull. He quickly put his shoes on and went to him. Partly to tell his friend the good news and ask him to join him at the Red Dirt. Mostly because he didn't like how lonely he felt at that moment.

He didn't mention Johnny, though. He didn't want to hear his stupid comments at the moment. When Henry told him he hadn't seen the teen from Room 501 in a couple days, Kerry muttered some gibberish back, feigning innocence. He knew he wouldn't bother to ask him to repeat.

"You sure they don't need a bassist?" Henry asked him at some point.

"Choom, you? On stage? Can't even finish a song as is."

"Eh, I just get bored easily. Would kill it on stage, though."

"Fine," he chuckled, "I'll keep your name in mind when I become a star."

"Right, keep on dreaming."

They ate together after Henry's shift, at some pizza place Kerry didn't like that much. He didn't complain, Henry telling him he was paying for both, repaying Kerry from the last meal they shared together. Henry then agreed to stay at the apartment while Kerry got ready. The day went by too fast, the sun already setting down when Kerry was only getting dressed. He chose one of his favorite outfits, one made for the stage. That one distressed tank top that was a little too big for him, one strap slipping off his shoulder when he moved too much. His used leather jacket riddled with pins he had accumulated over the years, some of them he couldn't even remember the meaning of. Denim pants that fit him just right. Dark eyeliner and a little too much eyeshadow he clumsily applied on purpose, giving him that messy look that even made Henry stare at him approvingly. He really wished he could look like this on the regular, that good, that bad. Night City's get used to this look once he'd be on every screamsheet.

"You ready, Hank?" he asked, heart already racing in his chest as he picked up his guitar case.

They were about to leave the apartment, when Kerry's phone chimed in his pocket. The bright smile on his lips immediately faded away. His jaw clenched as the texts registered in his mind.

[Bears found their guitarist]

[Sorry Ker]

He stared at Nancy's messages for a moment. It felt as if she had just crushed his skull with an ice brick. He reread the words over and over again. He felt betrayed, bitter. He wanted to type something back, but he didn't know what to write. He tried calling her, but of course, she didn't answer.

"You fucking kidding me?" he yelled in the hallway, jerking Henry's hand away as he felt him grabbing his shoulder, "Nah, this ain't happening."

He never drove faster to Arroyo than he did on that night. Henry kept calling him throughout, ringtone echoing in the rusted car, only fueling his anger. This was supposed to be his big night, and now that shitty ballad band was taking it away from him? No. No way. He'd go there and play until getting kicked out. He'd punch that sad excuse of a guitarist off the stage if he needed to.

Raindrops slowly hit his windshield, falling faster the closer he got to the bar. That didn't make him slow down, almost losing control over his vehicle right before entering the parking lot. He stopped on the first spot he found, hitting the car next to his when he opened the door. Someone yelled at him, but he didn't care, shoving anyone who was getting in his way. He pushed the doors open, letting it smash against the wall.

Some people turned to him, puzzled, but most kept their eyes on the stage, on the group playing right now. Kerry looked around the bar until he found Nancy, pulling her by the arm. She lost balance, lost the tray she was carrying. The beer bottles on it fell on the ground. They were now covered in booze.

"Kerry?" Nancy called, somehow more surprised than angry, "But- I thought you were too sick to come."

"Who told you that shit?" he yelled back, letting her go. He turned away from her, looking at that guitarist that miraculously came back. That guitarist that took his place. That guitarist he hadn't ever seen before.

That guitarist he recognized immediately, his metal arm shining bright under the spotlights.

"Your friend. Johnny. Said you asked him to take your place."

Chapter Text

He wanted to jump on that stage and punch that guitarist off his spot, just like he had said he would. Anger turned to fury, blurry eyes staring a hole into Johnny. The other teen never noticed him, strumming away and singing into the mic lyrics he made up. He wasn't listening to the words, only to the cheers of the crowd. Those cheers meant for him. He wanted to jump on that stage, make a scene, but Nancy stopped him.

"You'll just get kicked out, Kerry. They'll think you're insane," she said, restraining him from leaving the counter.

Always the voice of reason, he listened to her. He sat on the nearby stool, eyes still locked on Johnny parading around. His friend, Nancy had said. His friend? Just another puppy he got attached to. Just another puppy he wanted to kick out of his life.

Nancy told him she never sent him anything, that Johnny arrived sometime before the concert, lying to her about Kerry's condition, promising he could replace him. She believed him. She had no reason not to. Everyone believed him, in fact. The group performing right before the Drunken Bears even lent him their guitar. He pretended it didn't feel right to borrow Kerry's. They all believed him. Somehow, he wasn't such a bad liar when he wanted to.

"Left my phone on the bar to take care of some annoying choom yelling to be served," she confessed, a look so apologetic on her face Kerry didn't feel angry at her anymore.

So, he waited, because Nancy told him to. Because he didn't want to seem like another diva making a fuss over nothing. Because he smelled so much of booze, he'd just be labeled as another drunk trying to get some attention to himself. He waited, feet stomping the floor, biting his nails until his fingers bled. But that fucking gig just never ended. The crowd asked for an encore, Johnny showing the brightest smile he ever saw on his face. That was too much for Kerry. He needed some fresh air before doing something stupid. Before hearing Nancy telling him she was disappointed in him.

He stepped outside and was hit by the sudden chill of the night. The rain was pouring now, sticking his hair to his face, melting the dark makeup away. He leaned against the wet brick wall, water seeping through the layers of clothes, freezing his heated skin. It didn't help with the anger, though, only added frustration to the maelstrom of emotions he was feeling at that moment. He put a cigarette to his lips and realized how much his hands were shaking. He lit it up and closed his eyes, seeing himself punching Johnny over and over again. It didn't know what helped him relax: the nicotine or the look on the teen's face bleeding from the mouth.

He waited, under the rain, anger slowly washing away. He tried to sink his teeth onto it, tried to keep that boiling feeling in his veins. He knew the rain was pouring into his very soul. If he let go of his rage, another feeling, cold and damp, would take over. A feeling that'd squeeze his heart in all the wrong ways. A feeling he sniffed back into his body as it threatened to drip out. Boys didn't cry in Santo Domingo.

"You're alright, Cielito ?" came a feminine voice, drunk and sweet.

A woman he had never met before, with eyes so kind he felt a lump swell up in his throat. He looked away, his own getting blurry again, and leaned lower on the wall. He nodded, but he knew she wouldn't believe him.

"Oh, I know that look," she kept going, "Heartaches, huh?"

"He's just a friend," he corrected. He didn't need those thoughts to bother him right now. Being backstabbed by Johnny the Friend was already painful enough, "He was just a friend."

"Sweet thing like you? He didn't deserve you," she smiled, and Kerry replied in kind.

"Maybe you're right. Still hurts, though."

"You know what helps the heartaches?" she asked, but added before he could take a guess, "Getting so wasted you forget all about it."

"Yeah, not sure the bartender'll be keen on giving me anything right now."

"Don't worry, sweet thing," she winked, "My treat."

The woman didn't stop at giving him a drink. She returned with a dozen shots, winking at Kerry again when he asked her what they had put in them. He still drank. The first shot burned its way down his throat and stomach. The second made him cough as he tried chugging it in one go. The third made his head spin, slumped on the wall not to move in some sluggish, stupid way. He took a fourth shot, only because the woman urged him to. He couldn't say no. He didn't want to be rude.

He could still hear Johnny playing. That gig that was supposed to be his just never ended. His anger quickly built back up as the woman left him to chat with other drunks staying outside the bar. Johnny's voice was all he could focus on now. He stopped himself from reaching for her, asking her for another shot. He needed to stay aware of what he was doing, to punch that sly grin off that asshole's face. Above all, he needed that anger boiling in his veins.

And then, he heard it. Clear as day, lighting up his brain fogged with the alcohol. That was his song that Johnny was playing. Lower tone, lyrics that had little to do with what Kerry had in mind. Johnny was playing Archangel. Johnny was stabbing him once more. The rain dripping down his face helped hide the tears of rage. Last riff, and the crowd went insane. Johnny's rough voice yelled something into the mic, gibberish muttered by sudden feedback. The music finally died down. The gig was over.

Kerry waited, eyeing the people leaving the place one by one. Johnny couldn't drink. Johnny'd get bored. He'd get his hands on him. Soon.

He finally spotted him, noticing the light reverberating off the bright polished metal first. He grabbed that arm, jerked him close. Johnny quickly turned over, anger turning into surprise. Caught in his own lies without anywhere to hide.

"The fuck you doing here?" he asked Kerry, with an accusing tone that made him see red.

He didn't hesitate, barely thought. He swung his fist at Johnny. Maybe he was too slow. Maybe that was too predictable. Johnny easily dodged the blow before pushing the other teen back against the wall. He kept his metal hand pressed on his chest, pinning him in place.

"Don't do something you'll regret, Kerry," he warned, Kerry trying to wiggle out his grip, growling in rage.

"Or what? Huh? What you gonna do, huh?" he mocked, trying to swing his fist again, just to be stopped by Johnny once more.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he cooed, voice hoarse from screaming into the mic so much. The mic Kerry was supposed to scream into.

"Way too late, you fucking dick."

He threw his head forwards, headbutting Johnny so hard the blow rang in his ears. The other teen stumbled back, hand pressed against his forehead. Kerry could feel blood dripping down his. He shook his head, trying to let the dizziness fade away.

"That's it, you fucking-"

Johnny never finished his sentence. Kerry tackled him, out of his mind with rage. They both fell on the wet ground, Johnny's back hitting the asphalt with a loud thud. Kerry straddled his lap, fists hitting his jaw a couple times before Johnny managed to stop him. He gripped his shoulders, forcing him down to repay his headbutt in kind. With the momentum, Kerry flinched backward, Johnny sliding under him before kicking his stomach with both feet. He quickly got back up as Kerry crumbled on the ground. He was lifted up by the hair, then by the throat, feet sliding across the floor as he was dragged back against the wall. He yelled, a mix of dirt and blood on his tongue.

"Should've stopped while you still could, Kerry," he tsked, tightening the hold of his left hand on his neck.

Kerry froze, feeling the metal dig into his skin. Unable to breathe, unable to move. He felt powerless in Johnny's grip. A feeble little kid that'd never get even with the big mean veteran. His rage had earned him nothing. Now both his heart and body hurt.

Boys didn't cry in Santo Domingo, but Kerry couldn't help himself. The rain couldn't hide his tears anymore. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate in Johnny's hands.

And maybe he looked just pathetic enough for pity. Johnny's hand slowly left his throat. His feet landed back on the ground. Kerry sniffed loudly, pressing himself against the wall. His hand brushed against his neck. The metal hadn't cut his skin, just bruised it so severely he had trouble catching his breath. He didn't want to look at Johnny right now but could feel his stare on him.

"Listen, I-"

"No," Kerry cut him off, throat hurting by the way he was yelling, "Shut up. I don't fucking care. Have fun fucking up your life on your own, Johnny."

He couldn't win. He knew that now. He couldn't win, so he just let go. He walked back to his car, defiantly bumping his shoulder with Johnny's. He only walked a few steps before being held back, Johnny's metal hand wrapped around his arm, tightly, painfully so.

"C'mon, Ker. Lemme-"

"No," Kerry repeated, jerking out his hold, "It's over, Johnny."

He kept walking, one hand holding his stomach, the other soothing his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he felt that hurt. Driving home wasn't a bright idea, but he couldn't stay here either. He'd manage if he went slowly. A spinning head wasn't about to stop him.

"Kerry!" he heard Johnny call again, but he didn't turn around.

Something hit his shoulder. He looked on the ground, where his wallet was lying.

"Won't need that anymore."

Kerry painfully bent down to grab it, feeling humiliated on top of all the other awful things overwhelming his mind at that moment.

Chapter Text

Kerry eventually made it home. His emotional and inebriated state made the trip back hazardous, almost crashing into another car near the Stadium, but he made it home. Drained of all energy, he just fell on the couch and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was daytime. His whole body ached, but his heart hurt even more. He just turned over, buried his face in the plastic of the couch, and let the darkness drag him back to unconsciousness. He couldn't hurt if he didn't feel.

His dreams were all a grim mess, awakened by Johnny's awful grin as he gripped his throat. Always waking up drenched in a new layer of sweat, gasping for air as the marks on his neck hitch his skin. He'd just bury his face back against the couch, uneven breathing as he held back tears. It always hurt when that puppy he cared for bit back and let him there to bleed. It was never quite the exact same feeling, so Kerry couldn't even get used to the pain and dull it a little. Just a little.

His phone rang and chimed, but he didn't bother to answer. He only checked after a day or so. His mind didn't want any sleep anymore, but he had to occupy his thoughts before Johnny's voice came creeping back into his mind.

Many messages and missed calls. From Nancy and Henry, mostly. He stopped checking when his landlord's name flashed on the screen. He didn't want to see Mr. Quintana today, let alone speak to him. He didn't reply to his friends either, not knowing how to answer their questions without making them worry.

He finally moved, finally peeled off his clothes, and took a shower. Sleeping in them had dented his skin, leaving more marks reminding him of that night. He wanted to forget. He wanted to let go. It seemed his body just wouldn't let him do that right now.

It had to be around noon, judging by how warm he felt in his own apartment. He put on some shorts and a tank top. It was bound to be a hot day. Turning back to the main room, he realized it was still a mess in there. Same papers scattered around the floors. Same chair still knocked over. Those hot pants he lent Johnny as a joke lying in a basket, patiently waiting to be washed. He shouldn't have let Johnny in. Now his own home was forcing memories he wanted to forget into his mind.

He didn't want to stay here, but he didn't have anywhere else to go. He exited his home, closing the blinds before leaving, hoping he'd be welcomed back into a cooler room. He walked through the hallway, then the parking lot. He wasn't thinking about the destination, his feet guiding him on the pier, the bright sun hitting his face and body. He stood there, realizing he couldn't remember the last time he just enjoyed the warm weather.

Many tourists had gathered on the beach, enjoying the summer holidays. Their kids screaming at each other and the waves knocking off their sandcastles. Kerry took off his shoes, enjoying the feeling of warm sand on his soles, and walked closer to the water. He sat down, isolated from the tourists who didn't dare settle down under the roller coaster they were constructing. He sat down on the sand, the ocean kissing his feet in a calming rhythm. Kerry lost himself in the beauty of the Pacific. He would've loved to get himself an acoustic guitar. That would've made the moment near perfect.

He didn't enjoy the serenity for long, his back pocket buzzing as he received new messages. It was still Henry.

[keeeeery]

[cmon!!!!!]

He sent him a picture of his apartment door. Stubborn bastard.

[open up!!!!!!!!]

Kerry sent him back a picture of the sea. He didn't know what he wanted to mean by that: if he just made sure Henry knew he was safe or if he silently asked for his company. Henry understood the latter, sitting down by his sides sometime later. He didn't look at him. Another person had joined them, sitting on his left. Nancy.

"Got worried and came to see you at work," she explained to his frowned face, "Didn't tell me you got fired."

"Eh, shit happens," he shrugged, looking back into the endless ocean.

"Didn't tell me you choomed up with 501," Henry added.

"The first of you telling me 'I told you so' - I drown them, you hear?" he warned them.

"I told you so," they echoed as one before laughing at their timing.

"You fucking-" he groaned, before chuckling as well, their laughter too infectious, "Oh fuck, I really didn't want you to be right, this time."

"He hurt you?" Nancy worried, head tilted, noticing the marks on his neck and maybe the bruise on his forehead.

"It's nothing," he shrugged, tucking his chin to hide from his friends' stare, "Grabbed him after the gig. We got into a fight. Didn't like me beating his ass or telling him this was over."

"Uh, enough assholes in this city for you to find the right one," Henry teased, an arm wrapping around his shoulders.

"Or, I don't know, go for someone that doesn't need fixing, for once," Nancy added, annoyingly ruffling his hair.

"Nah, too boring," Kerry admitted, "Rather just forget and redo the same mistakes over and over again. Nance, care to grab me a beer?"

"You're too young to drink," she teased, even though she had discreetly given him bottles off the bar more than once.

"Oh, c'mon! Henry? Please?"

"You heard her, kiddo," he mocked as well, as if they never shared a drink between shifts, ruffling his hair in the same irritating manner.

He always wanted his friends to meet. He almost regretted it now. Still, a smile had formed on his lips, and his thoughts were finally looking at the future, not stuck into the past.

They stayed on the beach for a couple hours. Chatting and teasing one another, keeping their minds off their own issues, and just enjoying the moment. They planned on the three of them meeting again soon. Kerry realized Nancy and Henry connected as easily as he did with either of them. It warmed his heart in an unexplainable way. Just chatting and teasing each other, just like siblings would. Kerry hadn't realized how much he missed that feeling.

They eventually parted ways, the two older teens having other matters to take care of.

"Just, call us if you're feeling down, yeah?" Nancy had said, waving at him.

"Or just come over to the hotel. Became mighty boring without you there," Henry added, walking back to the parking lot with Nancy. They talked on the way there, about things Kerry couldn't hear.

Kerry watched them go from afar, a soft smile on his lips that didn't want to fade away, even once his friends had gone. He stayed on the pier a minute longer before heading back home. He needed to clean up that mess. He needed to move on.

"Oh shit," he mumbled quietly to himself as he reached his apartment.

A middle-aged man was waiting at his door. One hand buried in the pocket of his deep magenta two-piece suit as he knocked on it. Kerry froze in the hallway, about to turn on his heel, but Mr. Quintana spotted him.

"Kerry, my boy," he called, a suave voice matching his handsome face, "Come here, we need to talk."

The teen complied with heavy feet. He knew where this conversation would lead. The landlord didn't seem to be angry, at least. Maybe he'd take pity, give him one more week. Maybe he could explain the situation, get reemployed.

"Hi, Mr. Quintana," he greeted, once at his level, without meeting him in the eyes.

"Hey, Kerry," he answered back, "Listen, I'll cut to the chase. This is an apartment I secure for my employees in need. You don't fit the criteria anymore."

"I know," he nodded, spotting one of his neighbors peeking her head through the door, listening in, "Yeah? Got something to say, Molly?"

"Kerry," Mr. Quintana chuckled as she stepped back inside. Kerry knew she still had her ear stuck to the door, "That's no way to talk to a lady. A sweet boy like you - rudeness doesn't suit you."

Something in his voice made Kerry finally look into his eyes. He met with warmth and kindness, as well as a spark in them he didn't like. Soft enough for him to try and talk his way out, but a voice in the back of his mind advised him otherwise.

"Guess you just don't know me that well, huh?" he said, moving around him so he could open his door, "I get it, Mr. Quintana. Just tell me when to leave, and I-"

"My, Kerry," he exclaimed, looking above his shoulder, "It's quite the mess in there."

"Had a-" he hesitated. He knew tenants weren't supposed to let people sleep in. Something about making hotels like the Pistis Sophia lose money, "A party, after me getting fired and all."

Fuck, he shouldn't have added that. It didn't make sense now.

"A party, huh?" his gaze fell back on the teen, looking deeply at him, "You know, I had heard rumors. A tenant making ends meet by organizing… parties with other people in the building."

"It's not-" he started, his eyes darting at the neighbor's door.

"I wouldn't have pinned that on you, but now," he tilted his head, his sweet tone making Kerry feel sick, "Now I can see it. You know, my boy, you may not work at the Pistis Sophia anymore, but I can find ways to put you back on the employee payroll. At a lesser salary, of course, for a lesser job that I'm sure you'll enjoy."

He tried to grab his shoulder, but Kerry stepped back into his apartment. Crossed-arm, swallowing hard the anger bubbling up inside. He wanted to bash his head against the wall. He'd promise to act on his pulsions the second he left this shitty apartment.

"Still hadn't told me when to leave," he repeated coldly.

"Think about my offer, Kerry," he advised him, with a wink that made his stomach churn.

"By next week?" Kerry asked, closing the door, "Fine, I'll be gone by then! Goodbye, Mr. Quintana."

He was afraid the man would try to stop him, but he let him close the door without a fuss. Maybe he had realized Molly was still listening in, and if her dad was a deadbeat cop, he still had the same values that made him join the force.

Kerry only realized how shaky his legs felt as he leaned against the door. He closed his eyes to get himself together. He was not the first creepy old fuck to act weirdly around him, but that didn't mean he'd ever feel safe or courageous interacting with them.

He walked to the couch, picking up the lighter he forgot to take to the beach. His shaky hands sought his pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He was about to light one before realizing how bright his room was. The blinds were drawn up. The lower part of the window was open, letting a cool breeze in.

"Weird," he frowned, "Could've sworn-"

Gripped by the shoulder, he was forced to turn around. A hand covered his mouth before any sound could get out. Pushed back against the window sill at an uncomfortable angle, he didn't focus on the intruder's face. Something else caught his eyes and made his blood run cold. Something shiny and sharp tangling threateningly over him. That knife slowly pressed against his bruised throat as the man leaned closer, voice going over his racing heart.

"Where's that input of yours, huh? Where's Silverhand?"

Chapter Text

"Where's that input of yours, huh? Where's Silverhand?" the intruder growled, uncovering his mouth as his blade pressed harder on his skin.

"Silver- what?" Kerry frowned. He wanted to yell, but didn't dare raise his voice, "I don't know who that is."

"Right," he chuckled darkly, slowly withdrawing his weapon, "Of course, you don't."

He jerked his knife close to Kerry's face, almost stabbing him in the eye. Kerry jumped, tensing his body at the last moment not to impale himself on the blade. He tried holding his breath, but the air still escaped him. His heart was racing in his chest, a freezing chill running down his spine. Careful not to move, not even to look up at the man holding him.

"Needa jog your memory, huh?" he asked, sliding his blade across his cheek.

His skin prickled and heated up. His whole body was shaking, feeling a low flow of blood dribbling down his face.

"Please, I don't know. Please," he begged, barely moving his lips. He couldn't look at him, nor at the knife slowly making its way back up, the tip still pressed on his skin.

"Wrong answer."

He raised his hand, clutching onto his blade. Time froze, a silent plea escaping Kerry's mouth. Shaky breath, unable to move. Unable to stop him. He never felt more helpless than now. About to be zeroed for no reason. He closed his eyes, afraid to meet the face of Death.

A bang echoed in the room. Broken glass fell on Kerry at the same time as the intruder. He slumped on his chest, his weight pushing the teen down. The blade fell on the ground with a muffled thud. Blood seeped through his clothes. It wasn't his. He didn't think so, at least. His heartbeats echoed in his mind, ticking away the seconds of a time still frozen. He stayed there, immobile, with the man who had just threatened his life slowly bleeding out on top of him.

He heard the door of his apartment slowly open up. The picture of his landlord, the last person to have been standing behind it, flashed in his mind. Instinct forced his hand to clutch the knife stained with his own blood. His fingers were twitching around the handle. He couldn't even lift it up. His body wasn't answering his mind anymore. He let the second intruder get in, walk closer, blurry gaze locked down on the carpet, on those shoes slowly getting closer.

The intruder kneeled next to him, telling him something he couldn't hear. Moving the body, so it didn't lay on Kerry anymore. There was static in his head, making it hard to even think. A hand slowly lifted his chin until he met with dark, worried eyes.

"Hey, Kerry. C'mon, look at me," a voice he recognized as Johnny called.

His hand left the knife to grip his forearm, clutching it tightly as a choked cry escaped his lips. Johnny's hand left his face to wrap behind him, pushing against his back, pushing him closer. Kerry's head obediently fell on his shoulder, sniffly loudly against his skin. Johnny pressed him tighter, muttering things Kerry couldn't hear against his temple. His ganic hand ran through his hair in soothing motions. Kerry broke down under his affection, clutching his shirt as he started to sob.

"It's okay," Johnny shushed him, "You're alive."

"Is he-"

His gaze flickered back on the man lying dead in his apartment. Their eyes met. Cold dead ones staring into his very soul. A hole in the center of his forehead, where blood poured out. The sight made his heart skip a beat. His stomach churned nauseously. He started breathing faster and faster. He couldn't look away from Death.

"Hey, hey! Look at me," Johnny asked, a hand pressing against the side of his face, careful to avoid the wound, hiding him from the dead man's gaze, "Look at me."

Kerry nodded, but his eyes still drifted to the right again. All he could see was a sea of red about to drown him. Tears escaped his eyes as air couldn't escape his lungs fast enough.

"No, no. Look at me," Johnny repeated, locking eyes with him, "Listen: you go to the next room, and I handle the rest, alright?"

Kerry gave a slight nod but didn't move. He didn't trust his legs to hold his weight at that moment. And maybe Johnny realized how weak he felt, helping him up his feet as Kerry grabbed his shoulders tight. His gaze threatened to drift again before being covered by Johnny's palm.

"Kerry," he called again, growing frustrated by trying his best to hide it, "C'mon."

Kerry finally moved on his own, finally made his way to the bedroom, still grabbing at Johnny. He didn't think he could let go. He didn't want to be alone. Cold metal fingers wrapped around his wrist, squeezing so gently. Kerry looked down to make sure this hand was truly Johnny's.

"C'mon, Ker. You gotta let go," he asked, a softness in his voice he didn't know Johnny could muster.

Kerry shook his head, clutching harder. He couldn't let go. He just couldn't. He'd be all alone with his thoughts. He'd be alone replaying the scene until the dead man stared into his soul again. He couldn't handle that, not by himself.

"It's alright, Ker," Johnny reassured, wiggling out of his grip, "You're gonna be fine. I'll be back soon, promise."

Kerry reluctantly let go. His heartbeats picked up the second he wasn't holding Johnny. The other teen closed the door behind him, leaving Kerry alone in his bedroom, where he didn't feel at home anymore. A place he'll forever associate with bad memories. The thought let a choked sob escape, followed by another. Tears started falling faster as he leaned against the wall, slowly crumbling down, trying to become small, almost invisible.

He tried hiding in his hands before realizing his palms were soaked red. Stained with blood that wasn't his. Or maybe it was. He wasn't sure anymore. Did he get injured? Memories were just a blurry mess of incoherent sensations. His eye twitched, a phantom feeling of a blade touching his eyelids echoing in his mind. He wrapped his arms around his legs, his head falling onto his knees instead. He felt sticky and gross, and his cheek hurt so bad.

He remained there, trying to hold it together. Focusing on his breathing, not his mind. Anything but his mind and those scenes replaying in it. The bang, the man slumping over him, a crimson red drowning him until he couldn't breathe, until he only focused on breathing once more, until the scene replayed again. He felt trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

He jolted as something met with his shoulder, so fast his back hit the wall in a loud bang. He winced at the pain, looking up at Johnny kneeling at his sides.

"Neighbors must've heard," he said, his calm voice, "We gotta move."

Kerry didn't fully register his words, fingers seeking his arm to grab again. The buoy that kept him afloat in the crimson sea. He was helped back to his feet once more, feeling heavier than last time. He fought to make any movement, his body numb and hollow. He followed Johnny into the hallway, unwilling to let go.

"Wait," he asked softly at the doorframe, "Lemme-"

He turned around and noticed the stains on the carpet, where the dead man was lying moments prior. The dark form caught his gaze, dragging him underwater. He couldn't breathe.

"Your axe? I'll get it," Johnny said, bringing him back to the shore by the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together, "Go to your car, alright? I'll be right behind you."

"I can't drive," Kerry muttered. His mind felt like mush at this point, his eyes feeling like they had swollen up from crying.

"I will. Won't wreck it. Promise."

Kerry waited in the car, head pressed against the coldness of the window. It calmed his racing mind. Staining his seat with blood that wasn't his. Staining the glass with blood that wouldn't dry despite the weather. He felt gross and numb, and barely reacted when Johnny opened the trunk, when he got in and started the car.

"Where we going?" he asked, so softly he didn't think Johnny caught it with the motor rumbling.

"Milt's. Where I've been staying since…" he stopped, unsure how to phrase it.

"Since I beat your ass and kicked you out?" he spat back.

"Beat my ass? Right. Could've broken your neck if I really wanted to. "

"Then why didn't you?"

Johnny abruptly stepped on the brakes at a red light, glaring at Kerry with eyes painted with worry. As if those words had hurt him. As if he thought those words more painful than all the shit Kerry went through lately. Johnny sighed and turned his eyes back on the road, not commenting on his words. That pissed Kerry off even more.

"So what? Huh? Figured killing some douche'd get me to forgive you? Well, it didn't. Still think you're a fucking dick," he said, letting the anger build up. Any feeling was better than the awful emptiness creeping in.

"I saved your fucking life. You realize that, right?" he yelled back, taking a sharp turn pressing Kerry against the door.

"He was looking for you, wasn't he?" he asked, but Johnny kept silent, "Silver-whatever? What kinda gonk name's that?"

"Silverhand," he corrected, "His pick, not mine."

"Cause of the arm?" he scoffed, finally getting why it looked too bright for chrome, too polished.

"That, and the whole veteran thing reminded him of Blackhand."

Morgan Blackhand. Anyone in Night City knew that name. Young army veteran turned solo after serving his time. A tall, dark man with a suave voice and natural charisma. Kerry remembered turning off the TV in a hurry once when those Militech ads starring Blackhand were playing. He definitely didn't want his parents to piece together why a blush had crept up his cheeks at the sight of him.

"Veteran thing? Jeez, Johnny. You lasted what? Five months?" he mocked harshly, "What a fucking achievement."

"Said the man who nearly pisses himself at the sight of blood."

Kerry clicked his tongue but didn't add anything. He turned his focus outside, watching the cars they passed by, watching the green scenery of Pacifica turn into the sad brown sights of Santo Domingo. He didn't want to go back there, but he didn't know what to do besides blindly following Johnny either.

"You'd be dead without me," Kerry eventually heard the other teen mutter as if waiting for a fucking apology.

"Nah, I'd have a job. I'd have a house. I've been playing that fucking gig you took from me!"

"Fuck! Kerry! You're ever gonna let that go?" he yelled, finally parking the car under Milt's clinic.

"Oh, believe me: I won't. Ever. You're only here to fuck up my life, Johnny! You're good for nothing else than be a fucking pain in the ass! I'll let Milt patch me up, and I'm gone. You hear me, gone! I don't wanna see that fucking face of yo-"

Johnny's metal hand suddenly cupped his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at him. His fingers were shaking against his skin. Kerry froze, painfully remembering how easily that hand could bruise him. There was anger in Johnny's gaze. Anger and something just as intense but much more profound. Something Johnny was trying to keep hidden but couldn't. Kerry could read it, that veiled expression making his eyebrows furrow. As if he feared Kerry was being honest. As if he feared Kerry would really leave him.

Johnny's eyes darted down to his hand. His breath hitched as he quickly let go. As if his skin had burnt his metal fingers. He looked back into Kerry's eyes, an expression akin to dread on his face. As if he was only now aware of how violently he had grabbed Kerry. His lips moved to say something, but Kerry slid out of the car before he could hear his words. He needed to be mad at Johnny right now, not take pity. No matter how much his shoulder felt like the best place to rest his heavy heart upon. The best place to lay his weary head. The best place to cry on until shedding the last tear and falling asleep from utter exhaustion. He couldn't let himself be hurt again.

Chapter Text

A wave of anxiety washed over Milt when the two teens entered the clinic. His questions stayed unanswered, neither of them willing to talk. Kerry didn't want to remember, and Johnny… Fuck if he knew what was happening in that weird mind of his. They still gave him the same muttered apology for giving him such a fright without looking him in the eyes. Milt quickly dropped the subject, aiding Kerry with his injured cheek, which turned out to be, though painful, simple cuts that'd heal fast.

Johnny stayed in the clinic while Milt cleaned up the wound, leaning on the wall, far from them but still too close for Kerry's liking. Smoking away as if he didn't realize how tense the atmosphere was.

"Yo, Johnny," he yelled at some point, the sting of the disinfectant fueling his anger, "Gonna keep idling there long? Don't have anything else to do with your fucking life?"

Milt chastised him with a tired tone in his voice. Johnny finally got out of his sight, slamming the door leading to the garage on his way out. His petty behavior made Kerry roll his eyes.

He tried to leave but quickly realized he had no other option than to stay. Nancy's parents never liked him much, and Henry told him he was in-between houses at the moment, whatever that meant. He almost thought about spending what little money he had left on a cheap motel for a few days, then let fate decide for him. Milt dissuaded him with that paternal voice he couldn't say no to.

"Friend's room is big enough for the two of you," he added.

"Thanks, I'll take the couch," he growled back.

The animosity didn't die down for the first couple of days. Kerry made sure Johnny knew how pissed he was. Snapping back at every single word coming out his mouth. Bumping into him, painfully so when skin met with metal. Trying to burn him with the restless fury running through his veins when their eyes met. He knew the only reason Johnny didn't retaliate was not to piss off Milt, by respect he seemed only to have for the ripperdock. Kerry knew he couldn't care less about him. Never did and never would.

"You even remember why you mad at me in the first place, huh?"  Johnny asked him at some point during dinner as Milt let out an uncomfortable groan and quickly ordered them to stop.

Kerry wasn't sure anymore, to be frank. He just couldn't stand Johnny at the moment. Living under the same roof was hell. He felt like he couldn't let his guard down anymore. Johnny always seemed around, glaring at him from the corner of his eyes. Trying to reach for his touch, only for Kerry to swat his hand away. He didn't want to be backstabbed again. He hadn't recovered yet from the last time, the wound poorly stitched up. Questions were still pouring out of it when he looked at Johnny. Why did he decide to hurt him like that?

Maybe his behavior was just due to a lack of sleep. Kerry didn't dare even close his eyes anymore. He tried to keep himself awake, all alone, surrounded by the eerie shadows creeping around the dark living room. Whenever he slept, he dreamt. Dreamt of being pulled under a crimson sea. Dreamt of dead eyes staring into his soul. Dreamt of the bullet hitting him instead. The nightmares only stopped when they wanted to, sometimes letting him stare at the scene for hours on end. He held his breath each time he awoke. Not to scream. Not to cry. He didn't know how long he could handle such nights, the exhaustion getting on his weakened nerves.

For the third time tonight, he woke up after drifting into an unwanted slumber, emitting a quiet yelp, quickly stiffened. He didn't want to wake anyone up, tears burning the back of his throat as he pressed his palm against his mouth. He sat back on the couch, focusing on his labored breathing and the nearby window projecting some light into the dark room.

"Trouble sleeping?" a voice suddenly echoed.

Johnny stepped into the room, his metal arm hitting the doorframe to reveal his position. Kerry turned his head towards him, fear and frustration mixing into a dangerous feeling.

"Been stalking me long?"

"Got thirsty," he shrugged, "Heard a noise. Got curious."

"I'm fine," he mumbled, turning away from him as he heard him step closer.

"You're just lying to me, or to yourself as well right now?" he asked, sitting on the coffee table opposite him.

"Just leave me alone!" he shouted.

"You really wanna wake Milt up?"

"Fuck off, Johnny!"

"Wanna fuck off with me outside? Could yell at me all you want out there." he eventually said after a pause, already standing up, "Unless you wanna stay here with your nightmares, that is."

"Dunno what you're talking about," he lied.

"I know that look, Kerry," he whispered, quietly opening the front door.

"I follow you, and I get to call you a dick as much as I want?" he said to change subjects, hearing dark waves crashing over his mind.

"That's the plan, yeah."

He followed Johnny outside, mainly so he wouldn't allow himself to go back to sleep. The chill wind of the night hit his face. He realized how tense he felt, slowly relaxing his shoulders as he breathed out. He took his time to join Johnny sitting on the stairs, taking in the calm and tranquility in those dark hours. For once, he felt more tired than angry, looking back at Johnny. Maybe he was just tired of being angry at him.

"Never thought that gig'd mean that much to you," he confessed, looking at the streetlight behind Kerry's shoulder. It almost sounded like an apology, "Really needed the eddies, Kerry."

"To drown on pills and booze?"

Johnny shook his head, visibly fighting to get the words out. Something Kerry could relate to. He let him sort his thoughts, shifting on the stairs as sleep crept too close. He was so tired.

"That douche, the one that-"

"Yeah, I know who you're talking about."

"He's the one that gave me the painkillers. The ones-"

"-you had in hand when I came back to your room that one night. Yeah," Kerry figured, earning a glare that made him understand he should shut up and be patient.

"He hired me for a few errands . Didn't want to have anything to do with him at first. When the bastard realized he couldn't threaten my life, he started looking around. That's when he… You know…"

"He?"

"Fuck, Ker. You really need me to spell it out for you?" he sighed, "Saw you getting out of my room the next day. Thought something had happened. Figured I didn't want to have your death on my conscience."

He paused there, giving Kerry a look he found difficult to read. He had the same deep melancholic air from the first time they met weeks ago in the lobby. He wanted to tell Johnny something, but the words got lost between his mind and mouth. He ended up giving him a sympathetic grin instead.

"Thanks for the protection, then," he ended up saying, a shiver of dread slowly creeping up his spine. He remembered now, bumping into that man going down from Johnny's room, looking at him smoking on the fifth floor, "Fuck, didn't even realize he was there. Didn't even realize you were… working for him."

"Not like I wanted you to know. Didn't want you to freak out. Tried to find excuses so you wouldn't ask."

"So," Kerry trailed off, shifting on the porch, trying to act casual. As if the question wasn't burning the tip of his tongue, "You weren't next door? With Molly?"

"No," Johnny couldn't help but chuckle, an expression on his face telling Kerry he knew why he was asking, "Saw her walking home. Really pretty girl. I knew you'd believe me."

"Ugh, she's like a five at best," Kerry couldn't help but add. Why were they even talking about her again? "Still don't see what any of this has to do with you backstabbing me like you did."

"Thought I could buy my way out by taking the gig," he admitted, his eyes fleeing Kerry's gaze again, "Didn't realize how little I'd get paid for being on stage. But you said you wanted me out of your life anyway. So, I didn't see why I should care about what could happen to you from that point on. I quit. Plain and simple."

"You fucking dick," Kerry let out, "You had my fucking life between your hands, and you almost… Fuck!"

"And I changed my mind! Left all the eddies for some cheap gun, just so I could save your fucking life!" he exclaimed, "That has to mean something to you."

"Got lucky you were right on time, huh?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "Think we both were…."

"You're so whacked," Kerry mumbled, still glad he had changed his mind. Still glad he meant something for Johnny.

"And? Not like you didn't know that already. Not like it ever put you off before," Johnny blurred out.

Okay, yeah. Alright. Maybe he was just as fucked-up. Especially now, grin glued to his face by how Johnny (a boy who definitely thought about leaving him to die at least once in his life) had his eyes on him. Grinning at the words unspoken, at the unsaid affection that boy had for him. He couldn't let him die in the end. And, for Kerry's exhausted mind, that almost meant Johnny couldn't picture his life without him.

"Why you saved me, then, really?" he tried, hopeful to hear Johnny speak the truth for once, "What made you change your mind?"

"Ker," Johnny called, shaking his head after getting lost onto his eyes, "Fuck, you're so fucking slow sometimes."

"Not this time, though," he said, shifting closer until their shoulders bumped into one another. They could speak more quietly now. A conversation only for their ears, "But maybe I wanna hear you say it."

A warm spark flared up within Kerry. Johnny cared, in his own messed-up kind of way. Johnny didn't want a life without him, and maybe Kerry couldn't see his without that weird teen either. Giving a puppy a second chance - he had done dumber shit in his life with half the will he had now.

"C'mon, please?" he wanted to hear it. He needed to hear it. Johnny telling him he mattered. Johnny telling him he couldn't let go of him anymore, just like he couldn't let go of Johnny, "Either that or tell me you're sorry."

"I'm sorry, Kerry," he opted, voice dripping with insincerity, contradicting the warm twinkle in his eyes.

That made Kerry chuckle and roll his eyes, a smile lingering on his lips. His heavy head lolled to rest on his own shoulder as he leaned closer. He wasn't sure what he wanted right now, the reassurance of Johnny's forehead pressed against his, or something more. He closed his eyes, mouth already parting ever so slightly. He quickly froze, his neck hitching again. Johnny's ganic thumb brushed against his throat, all healed-up thanks to Milt. Kerry jumped, taken aback by a sudden fear he tried his best to repress.

"Didn't want to hurt you," Johnny muttered, a sad expression painted on his face as he stared at his own hand nudged against the side of his neck, "I lost control. It's like my hand isn't mine sometimes."

A heavy pause settled between them. Kerry didn't want to think about it nor see his friend's gaze get hazy, his mind slowly going places it surely didn't want to wander into. He took Johnny's ganic hand into his, squeezing it in a gentle manner. Johnny squeezed back, looking away from Kerry not to betray the expression he wore at that instant. Kerry didn't want to be afraid. Kerry wanted to let Johnny back into his heart. And so did Johnny. They didn't need words to say so little. So little that meant so much for the both of them.

"You could've told me," Kerry sighed as he let go, "I really didn't care about the eddies. Just… I wanted my own stage, for once. Dunno when they'll give me another chance now."

"Then stop waiting for an opportunity. Take it already."

"Think I didn't try?" he started before quickly shutting up. He didn't want a fight with Johnny right now. He dismissed the thought, leaning back on the porch, resting on his elbows to look up at the clouded sky, "Got tired of being told no, I guess."

"Need a stubborn asshole to break down some doors for you?"

"What? Gonna threaten the owner until I can get on stage?"

"Got other ways to get what I want but violence, y'know?" he teased, "Left quite an impression at the Red Dirt. Owner told me he wouldn't mind getting me back on stage. All I need is to put together a band and then give him a call. You could be part of it. I mean, if you want to."

"Promise?" Kerry asked, stretching his pinky towards him.

"You're so fucking kitsch sometimes," he laughed, pushing his hand away as he rolled his eyes.

There was no venom in his voice, just a gentle tease making Kerry grin back. They remained quiet for a moment, listening to the wind blowing and the buzzing of the streetlights. Kerry's elbows were getting sore from holding his weight. He sat back up, feeling the exhaustion creeping in. He wanted to rest, but he didn't want to sleep.

"The nightmares - they ever go away?" he eventually asked.

"You'll sleep better soon," he promised, "In the meantime, you really don't have to sleep on the couch. Bedroom's big enough for the two of us."

"Miss me sleeping in your bed that bad, huh?" he couldn't help but tease.

"And here I thought you a fucking prude with your waiting for the one talk."

"Get your head outta the gutter, Silverhand ," he said, that name still feeling funny on his tongue, "I meant sleeping. Literally."

"Got two beds up there," he said, before adding with mischief in his eyes, "What? Disappointed?"

"Fuck you, Johnny," he chuckled, already standing up.

Maybe he could try resting for a few hours if Johnny was around. Maybe his presence could keep the crimson ocean at bay.

Chapter Text

Sleeping in the bedroom alongside Johnny didn't make the nightmares disappear. Kerry hoped Johnny's presence would keep them at bay and somehow protect him from the crimson sea his dreams were made of. At least he didn't have to wake up alone. Neither did Johnny. Waking the other in hushed voices and timid touches, just to make sure they were safe. Just to make sure they weren't alone. It made it easier to fall back asleep.

A few days passed, during which the boys took their time to heal and grow closer. Milt didn't press them into doing anything, gently knocking on their door before entering a room filled with laughter and guitar riffs. Harmless taunts and mumbled lyrics. A few days during which Kerry ignored everything he didn't want to think about, which mostly meant his former landlord's messages. He had found the blood staining the carpet but didn't find the boy living there. It made things easier, in a way. He could just pretend he had disappeared, pissed off the wrong people. He could pretend it was his body Johnny had picked off the floor to throw somewhere else. He had guessed down by the ocean. Swimming with the fishes, literally. Still, each time Mr. Quintana's name popped on the screen, a shiver ran down his spine.

"Ex input fucking with you?" Johnny guessed at one point.

He was lying on the bed, head dangling off the edge, looking upside down at Kerry's screen. He couldn't read the words but could tell something was off by his friend's behavior. Sitting down on the ground, the other kid couldn't remember the last time he minded Johnny breaching his bubble. Any other person would get punched for reading his texts. Any other person but Johnny.

"Nah. The landlord," he corrected, throwing his head back against the mattress, "Been wondering where I'm at."

"And? Just ignore that gonk! Won't find you here, trust me."

"Yeah," he trailed off, his voice growing quiet. He hesitated a moment, not knowing how to get words out that desperately clung to his throat, "That day, y'know when- when- when that man-"

"Huh-huh," Johnny nodded, so he didn't have to recall the event.

"You were already there? Right before that? When the landlord talked to me?"

"Nah, I wasn't," he said, turning over on the bed, looking at Kerry the right way up, "Why? What did he say?"

"Nothing, he just-" Kerry stopped, looking away, "It's stupid, really stupid. It's just- Had an offer for me. But the way he phrased it. I dunno, feel like I imagined it now, but- It really felt like he wanted to whore me out or some-"

His phone slipped from his hands. Johnny had taken it, drumming his fingers on the screen before Kerry could stop him. He was about to complain, but Johnny quickly threw the phone back at him.

"Here, all solved," he said, "Blocked the bastard."

"Dunno why I didn't do it sooner."

"Cause you're a fucking gonk," he mocked, earning a fussy chuckle and a punch on the shoulder.

"Thanks," Kerry eventually said, cranking his neck to look at Johnny from a better angle.

Johnny winked back, sending fuzzy feelings down Kerry's spine. He quickly looked at the window instead, feeling his cheeks heat up, his heart beating faster. He wasn't blind to his own feelings anymore but couldn't tell Johnny's. Too many mixed signals. If he wouldn't have minded being rejected by any other person, he was afraid things would get awkward with Johnny. He didn't want to lose him over some dumb feelings. He didn't want to leave him alone. It was better to pretend, for now at least. Johnny probably already knew, anyway. He wasn't the best at hiding his feelings. His friend didn't try to kiss him that night on the porch. Probably meant whatever dumb feelings he had started developing weren't reciprocated. He preferred to wait. That crush would fade away eventually.

His phone buzzed against his chest repeatedly. Kerry's face lit up, finally someone he didn't mind talking with.

[hey kerry]

[been a while]

[wanna hang out? :)]

"Hank?" Johnny read above his shoulder, "Who's that?"

Kerry was about to tell Johnny to mind his own business, but a detail caught his attention. He'd seen that expression before, from those few inputs who'd squeeze his wrist tight when he told them it was over. Narrowed eyes and clenched jaw, eyes glued on the screen as he probably tried to guess what kind of relationship he and Henry had by their previous exchanges. Maybe Kerry was just seeing things, but maybe…

"Hank? Oh, that's no one. A really good friend, that's all," he shrugged, careful emphasis on his words as he messaged him back.

[omg yeeees! let's meet ;)]

[just tell me when n where ;) ;) ;)]

He knew Henry, knew he wouldn't read any hidden meaning behind those emojis. Johnny, on the other hand, groaned as he suddenly jolted out of bed. He picked up the pack of cigarettes Milt had left for them (one thing at a time, he had said) and cracked open the window before lighting one up. Trying to remain casual, unbothered, as if his naked foot hadn't started drumming against the carpet suddenly. Maybe it wasn't just Kerry's imagination, after all.

[rn?]

[@ the beach? like last time?]

The memory of the time he had spent with his friends, staring at the ocean as their feet sank into the warm sand, came back to Kerry's mind. He had felt so peaceful, almost elated. He had felt happy that day, even if his life was far from perfect. He wanted to live this moment again.

[sure]

[want me to ask nance to come with?]

[already messaged her]

[shes super busy rn]

[shell come by later]

"So, where will you two meet this time, huh?" Johnny suddenly chipped in, taking a long drag before flicking cigarette ashes out the window, "Abandoned parking lot? Shady back alley?"

"We're going to the beach," Kerry said, standing back up and picking up the car keys he had left on the night table, "Wanna come with?"

"Want me third-wheeling that bad, huh?" he replied, finally staring back at him with a frown he couldn't hide.

"I just really want you to meet my friends, that's all."

"That's what he is: a friend?" Johnny pressed on. His tone took a sharper edge. Kerry wasn't sure he wanted to keep on teasing him anymore.

"Yeah, a friend. Nothing more," he said, completely serious and honest, "C'mon. Please?"

"Ugh, fine," he complied, rolling his eyes at Kerry's begging.

They walked down the flight of stairs and exited through the patio. Looking up at the neon cross turned off, they knew better than to bother Milt at the moment. He'd text Kerry if he grew worried, anyway. A nauseating feeling suddenly knotted Kerry's stomach as he crossed the street to get to his car. He remembered sitting on the passenger seat, letting blood seep into the cushion and paint the window red. He breathed out as he sat behind the wheel, ready for the sight he was about to witness. He turned his gaze to his right, but the crimson sea wasn't waiting for him. In fact, he didn't think that part of the vehicle ever looked so clean. The vague smell of detergent hit him.

"You cleaned it?" he asked Johnny as he came to sit by his side and closed the door.

"Figured you wouldn't do it without vomming," he shrugged.

"Thanks."

He nodded back. His metal hand shifted left, as Kerry rearranged the rearview mirror, almost as if reaching for him. Johnny’s hand slid up and nudged itself into his own front pocket instead. Kerry guessed he had misunderstood his intentions.

It felt odd, being back in Pacifica. He stopped in the parking lot overlooking his apartment building. His former apartment building, he had to remind himself. Same streets and same people he always saw, but they already felt foreign. It didn't feel like home anymore, and neither did Santo Domingo. A wave of aimlessness suddenly hit him at the realization. No job, no house. No home. Money trickling out his palm. Too slow to catch a single eddie before it could fall into the void. What was he doing with his life?

"You all right?" Johnny's voice brought him back to the present, wrapping his ganic arm around his shoulders.

"Hmm-hmm," he nodded.

His hand rested on Johnny’s arm as he stared at his former home a minute longer. He felt his skin heat up under his touch. He knew he couldn't just blame the scorching warmth of the sun. He tilted his head to rest it against him. Johnny didn't seem to mind. Any uneasiness he felt slowly faded away.

"Yeah, I'm alright."

He guided him towards the beach, walking down the pier among the tourists staring at them. They walked to that place under the unfinished roller coaster, where Kerry sat down and contemplated the ocean, his skin bruised and his heart broken. His neck ached at the memory. He looked behind his shoulder, looking at Johnny right behind him, sunlight turning his dark eyes into warm amber. Their gazes met, the same soft smile on their lips. The present erasing the hurtful past ever so slowly. Kerry turned back towards the beach, looking around for his friend. He slalomed between people and umbrellas a moment, Johnny at his heels. Henry wasn't here. Kerry tsked as he reached for his phone, looking for his contact to call him. He waited and waited, listening to the monotonous incessant beeping.

"Hey, Kerry!" Henry eventually answered.

"Hmm, Hank? Mind telling me where you are?"

"Home," he replied bluntly, "Why you- Oh. Oh! We planned on meeting, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we did," Kerry sighed. Someone was high out of his mind again, "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Sorry, choom."

"You still coming?"

"Meh. I'm all comfy on the couch," he confessed before leaving a pause, "Wait, wait! Just come over! I'll send you the address. Don't be late!"

Kerry had never been at Henry's. He'd always pictured him living in one of those shacks propped up on the beach. Or maybe renting someone's basement. He didn't expect to follow his directions towards the City Center and park near those endless slick buildings looming over the wealthiest part of Night City. Why would anyone living here drop school, then get some shitty job working at some shitty hotel for a shitty salary? Rich kids playing at being poor. He'd seen everything. All Kerry had in mind was stealing something from his place. Maybe a bottle of whiskey or a bottle of cologne. Not like he'd miss anything if he had that much money.

The guard standing at the doors stared at them as they entered. Kerry pretended not to notice how his fingers reached for his walkie-talkie, probably telling the person watching the cameras to keep an eye on the two teens that didn't belong. He never thought he'd ever set foot in those luxurious buildings of marble and gold, trailing the sand sticking to his boots on the velvet carpet.

"You sure we're at the right place?" Johnny asked, looking up at the tinted windows letting the sun in.

"Apparently so," he shrugged, nodding at the elevator, "C'mon, this way."

Kerry pushed the button to the 54th floor. The highest level of the building, apparently.

"Penthouse?" Johnny guessed, leaning against the wall, so close his shoulder bumped into Kerry's back, "Fuck me, Ker. You got many friends like these?"

"Didn't know I even had one to begin with."

The elevator opened into a narrow hallway leading to double cherry wood doors. Classical music was faintly playing from speakers somewhere above them. Kerry would definitely think about this place next time someone mentioned the Pearly Gates to Heaven. Walking closer to the penthouse, he heard another kind of music. Something more to his tastes, raw and loud. Henry had told him he was a fan of crust punk. The genre fitted him better than his home's aesthetic. Kerry knocked as hard as he could to be heard over the song, seemingly blasting through loudspeakers.

The music was quickly shut. He heard footsteps heading his way with the distinctive sound of heels. Henry wasn't the one opening the door to them, but a girl he had never seen before. A black girl with bleached short hair and eyebrows to match. All dressed in black with big golden hoop earrings that swung around with her every move. Kerry was about to apologize for clearly being at the wrong address, but the girl spoke first.

"Kerry, right?" she asked, a bright smile on her lips making him at ease immediately, "Oh, and you brought a friend?"

"Don't think Hank will mind," he shrugged.

"Name's Johnny. Nice to meet you, doll," he greeted her, a smug smile on his lips making Kerry roll his eyes. He was almost certain this was Henry's output he was so blatantly flirting with.

"Denny," she chuckled back, a glimmer in her eyes going right under Kerry's skin. They definitely wouldn’t get along if she kept acting like a tease, "Come on in! Henry told me you'd come."

Chapter Text

They entered the main room with a fully equipped kitchen on their left and an imposing dinner table before them. On their right was a large sofa facing the biggest TV screen Kerry had ever laid eyes on. Marble tiles on the floor, white paint on the walls, slick black countertops, and velvet couches. Kerry looked around in awe. I'd seen these homes in movies before, never actually thought he'd ever set foot in a place like this.

"Hey, Kerry… and friend?" Henry yelled at them, lying on the couch in jogging pants and a shirt so washed Kerry couldn't read the band's name on it, "Wait, I know you! You're that kid from 501."

He gave Kerry a look, somewhere between an unspoken question and belittling disappointment. He hadn't told Henry anything. Johnny was nothing more than that teen that got his friend fired for him. That teen that had marked his throat with his knuckles. A notion Kerry had momentarily forgotten, drowned in the depths of those amber eyes.

"Name's Johnny," he said, coldness in his voice he was trying to veil. He seemed to try playing nice with Kerry's friends. That made him grin, flicking his gaze behind his shoulder. Their eyes met for an instant. A silent thank in Kerry's.

"We made up," Kerry shrugged.

"Nance - she knows?" Henry pressed, putting his feet back on the ground, narrowed eyes glued on Johnny.

"Why?" Johnny answered for him, coming to sit on the couch way too close to Henry. A silent power play Kerry knew Henry would lose, "That's his output or something?"

"What? Nah, Kerry don't do outputs," he laughed, "He didn't tell you that?"

"Hank," Kerry called, inching closer to the living room, "Just shut up, alright?"

He wasn't sure where that sudden frustration towards his friend came from. Maybe the way he laughed, reminding him of those nights he tossed and turned in bed, wondering if that crush he had on that actress in 6th grade had been real. If the little flirts he had with girls really counted. Or maybe it was just the way he was staring at Johnny. Kerry got the feeling he wouldn't be the one to tell Nancy what had transpired with him. He feared Henry would add dumb bullshit to fuel some unnecessary drama.

"Oh, think I know who you're doing right now," Henry grinned back.

His eyes were still glued on the other boy as Kerry flushed. Johnny remained expressionless except for a crooked eyebrow. Not fazed by the insinuation in the slightest. Not correcting Henry in his misunderstanding of their relationship. And if Johnny didn't mind, Kerry had no reason to correct him either.

"Anyone up for a beer?" Denny asked from the kitchen. They had almost forgotten about her.

"Yeah, and bring us some food too," Henry yelled, hand on a remote to turn back on the music he had been listening to before their arrival, "Fucking starving over here."

"Wait," Kerry said, coming her way, "Lemme help."

They got the beers out of the fridge and put some on the glass table in the living room. From across the room, Kerry watched Johnny fight to uncap the bottle with his metal arm as Denny looked around for things to prepare. It was ridiculous, watching him stick the cap between his silver knuckles. Trying to angle the beer the right way to open it as he kept swearing he had managed to do it once. He eventually succeeded, a smug smile on his lips making Kerry chuckle from afar, and did the same with Henry's with much more ease. They exchanged words Kerry couldn't hear, laughing as if they didn't just meet five minutes prior. As if the tension between them never existed. Johnny really had one hell of a magnetic personality.

"Hope you don't mind frozen junk food," Denny eventually told Kerry, "Unless you wanna cook us something?"

"Fuck no," he laughed back, earning a soft chuckle that glued a smile on his face. 

Okay, maybe she wasn't that bad. She probably didn't mean to introduce herself to Johnny the way she did. He couldn't really blame her for looking for alternatives to Henry, anyway. He really didn't get what she saw in him. Then again, Henry didn't seem to see what he saw in Johnny… 's friendship. In his friendship with Johnny.

They settled for frozen pizza, turning the boxes around until finding the instructions.

"Still can't believe it," Kerry muttered after setting the timer of the oven on, "Hank living in a fucking penthouse. Who would've thought?"

"Oh, that ain't his house," Denny replied, leaning on the counter as she sipped her beer.

"That's yours?"

"What? Nah, I ain't made of that kind of money. My mom's new output's. Some virtuosa turned fixer that makes loads of eddies off people's misery," she said with a grimace.

"She's okay with us being here?" he checked. He'd rather have messed with Militech or the Blood Razors than be on a fixer's blacklist. They could make anyone disappear with a snap of their fingers. Terrifying people Kerry didn't want to cross.

"Doesn't even know we're here," she shrugged, "Got like a gazillion houses around the city. Henry needed a place to stay. My mom told me he couldn't live with us, and since Emma is currently busy on the other side of the country, we checked her name on random buildings, and Henry worked his magic."

That almost didn't surprise Kerry. Henry was a genius when it came to sensors, motors, and other techie stuff he didn't understand a single thing about. Always great to have around the Pistis Sophia when a door got stuck. Henry had never fixed the elevator, though, not without receiving the rise he had asked for.

"That's not gonna get you in trouble?"

She only shrugged, a look in her eyes Kerry knew all too well. She didn't care what'd happen to her if the fixer found out. She wanted to help the boy she loved, no matter the consequences. She wanted to keep him as safe as she could. Making the first dumb decision based on stupid impulses for some boy… Yeah, Kerry knew that look alright.

"I'll be fine long as she doesn't realize we're here," she eventually said, turning her attention back towards the living room, "Huh? Where they've gone to now?"

Kerry followed her gaze. Johnny and Henry had indeed left the living room. He didn't know how long they had gone for. He put his beer down.

"Probably smoking outside," he guessed before they heard a loud crash somewhere in the house. They shared a look.

"More like fighting inside, you mean? Fucking gonks. What they up to now?"

They followed the sound towards a narrow hallway leading to multiple similar closed doors. He let Denny open them to check for the two missing teens. That penthouse felt more like her home than his. He followed closely behind, a bad feeling he couldn't shake off running down his spine.

"Oh, there you are!" she eventually exclaimed, entering one of the rooms and disappearing behind the door. Kerry followed her, expecting to find a bedroom or maybe an office. His jaw dropped.

A music room filled with so many instruments he couldn't even name all of them. He stared at the guitars for a moment. Only top-notch brands, most of them he only saw in magazines before. Mesmerized, he inched closer and closer, hand reaching to touch the wood and strings he never could afford. It was breathtaking and too tempting not to take one off the wall, sit on the ottoman underneath and try it out.

"You oughta plug it," Denny said, nodding to the amp lying nearby, "Wanna hear what you got."

"Believe me, doll," Johnny exclaimed, axe strapped around his shoulders, "You won't be disappointed."

Kerry had already forgotten why they had entered the room in the first place. The other boys seemingly had the same reaction as Kerry's when they stepped into the room. He noticed Henry was still clutching the strings of a bass, a broken pot leaving mud on the carpet, and a sole plant at his feet. Someone had tried to show off the tricks they definitely didn't have. He'd seen Henry do that before, trying to slide the axe across his body, only for the handle to put a dent in a wall. That  trick  had broken a vase this time around. Something they'd have to fix eventually, or Denny'd get in trouble.

"Nope," Kerry said, already fiddling with the cord lying around, "Plugging it in first."

"Hehe," Henry grinned, looking at Johnny, "Something-something sloppy seconds."

Kerry groaned at his dumb remark as the others laughed.

He set the amp and tried the axe out. He didn't really play anything meaningful at first, just those little warm-ups he was used to strum whenever inspiration didn't come to him. The sound was pristine, letting a warm buzz of excitement fill his body. Fiddling with the pegs to accord it perfectly, hands shaking a little with the rush of adrenaline. He hesitated an instant, feeling his friends' gaze glued on him and his expert hands. Too self-conscious to play riffs he made up in front of the newer person in his life, he started playing Dreamers. He never had heard himself play this well before, notes so clear and loud.

"That Parasite Dolls?" Denny recognized immediately, "Oh, someone got taste."

That made a smile curl up his lips, gaze flicking up towards Johnny, who was too busy rolling his to look back at him. He liked her more and more. She walked into the room to come sit on the stool in front of a drum kit he knew was priceless. She quickly followed him on the song, seemingly knowing it as well as he did. She was talented. He could see that immediately. So talented his fingers left the axe a moment just to look at her play.

"You're so fucking good," Kerry let out as Denny suddenly stopped, aware she was the only one playing now.

"I know. I know," she giggled back with a wink.

"Ker," Johnny called, a spark in his eyes he understood immediately.

He remembered Johnny's words about that gig the owner of the Red Dirt promised him as long as he found a band. Their eyes met from across the room, and Kerry knew he had the same thought rushing through his mind. Fuck, was it really happening? Kerry opened his mouth to speak before loud knocking echoed throughout the house. His smile dropped immediately.

"Shit, shit, shit," Denny suddenly cursed, rushing to stand up from the stool and head back out, "Neighbors downstairs must've heard. Please, don't tell Emma. Please, don't tell Emma."

Henry followed her, his vain attempts at reassuring her falling on deaf ears. Kerry and Johnny exited the room as well, though remained in the dark hallway as she slowly but surely made her way towards the door.

"Who's Emma?" Johnny whispered against his ear, hand on his shoulder and warm breath tingling his skin.

"Her mom's output. A fixer, she said," he explained, before adding in a tight voice, "Doesn't know anyone is at her place right now."

Johnny's grip tightened at his words, taking a step forwards toward the main room. If anyone looked at the hallway from the living room, they'd see a metal arm reflecting the sun before the teen slumped against the wall whose heart was racing right now, both from the situation and from the ganic fingers secured on his shoulder.

Denny eventually opened the door, and Kerry held his breath. He heard an exchange of words, but the person behind the door was too quiet to be heard. Denny was too far to see her expression, and Kerry suddenly realized Henry was nowhere in sight. Probably hiding away somewhere, thinking about dashing out the penthouse if anyone walked in. Kerry looked behind his shoulder, deciding which door he would open to hide. He wasn't sure to opt for left or right, but one thing was clear in his mind, he'd take Johnny's hand every single time, asking him to follow.

"False alarm, everyone," another feminine voice he recognized immediately said, "It's just me, relax!"

"You could've told me you had more friends coming!" Denny yelled at Henry as she let her in.

"Though I did," Henry shrugged, popping from his hiding place behind the couch.

"Nance!" Kerry greeted, stepping out of the shadows. He felt like he hadn't seen her in ages.

"Hey, Kerry," she winked at him. Her warm smile faded away as she spotted the other teen, "Hi, Johnny."

"We-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know," she cut Kerry off, mean eyes still glued on the younger boy, "Henry texted me."

"Told you the good news too?" Johnny chipped in, "Call your boss. Finally got myself a band to play that gig I was promised."

"What's that now?" Denny teased, a smile betraying her.

"I mean, if the others are into the idea," Kerry timidly added, and Denny nodded at him. He was glad to know the connection he had felt with her had been reciprocated.

"Why the hell not?" Henry exclaimed, "You in too, Nance?"

Kerry was surprised Henry knew she could play the keyboard. She had gotten pretty good at it from the days in middle school she was smashing those keys out of tune. He briefly wondered how often they had seen each other without him. He couldn't help but feel left out, even if these past days composing with Johnny had been ones of the greatest he had ever spent with anyone before.

"We all know you'll need me to keep you in check anyway," she teased, yet they all knew she wasn't wrong, "So sure, whatever. One gig won't hurt!"

Chapter Text

Kerry anxiously watched Nancy walk around the terrace, phone in hand. Talking with her boss about the gig he had promised, his new chance at fame. The others were chatting in the room, but he wasn't listening to a word they were saying. Nothing mattered more than Nancy's call right now and what he was trying to read on her lips. She kept moving around, hand running through her hair and passing in front of her mouth, making it impossible to know what was saying.

"See?" Johnny told him, his arm landing on his shoulder, "I kept my promise, didn't I?"

"Wouldn't have put that band together without me, though," Kerry teased back, chuckling at the smug air painted on his friend's face.

"Fuck, look at you," he laughed after stealing a glance, "Not even on stage yet and already shaking."

Kerry looked down at his hands and the tremors running through them. His heart was racing, and it wasn't due to Johnny's proximity for once.

"I'm just- I'm so fucking excited, man," he laughed, mostly out of joy, a little at himself being overjoyed, "Fuck, it's finally happening!"

"We're gonna kill it out there," Johnny muttered, and Kerry couldn't guess if he meant the band or just the two of them.

Still, Kerry's joy spread to Johnny, who hummed a quiet chuckle. His hand moved to push the back of Kerry's neck so that their heads could gently butt into one another.

"Thanks," Kerry whispered to him.

He returned his affection with a quick peck on the cheek, mostly to tease his gesture. A little dumb, a little cheesy, but oh so fun. Especially as Johnny didn't comment on his action, looking startled. Lips parting for no word to come out. His face got a faint but distinctive shade darker. Kerry knew his friend could tell how warm his body had suddenly gotten at that look. He wondered about kissing Johnny again, just to make that little spark now nudged in his eyes shine brighter. Kissing him, again and again. Maybe always missing those inviting parted lips, just so Johnny would go for his out of frustration.

"Hey, you gonks!" Henry suddenly yelled at them, "Band name - Any idea?"

"Fuck, don't ask Ker," Johnny laughed, "Unless you wanna go for kitsch as all hell!"

Kerry didn't answer, flipping him off as he tried to pout. His excitement was too great to pull any other expression than joy on his face. That bright smile was also on Johnny's lips, who mockingly replied to his gesture in kind, adding a quick wink that made Kerry's brain tingle nicely.

"Alright, it's settled," Nancy said, walking back into the living room, "Got a gig for next week. Half an hour, maximum. And please, don't fuck it up this time."

"I won't, promise," Kerry chuckled. His smile faded when he met her dark expression.

"Wasn't talking to you," she said, inching closer to Johnny until they were at eye level, "I'm watching you this time, got it? Don't try anything stupid."

"Chill, Nance," Henry piped in before Kerry could, "Choom's alright. They made up, remember?"

"Maybe you got them all wrapped around your finger," she continued, ignoring the others, "But I'm not that gonk. Try bullshitting us again, and I'll make sure you're out of my friend's life for good this time."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. Why don't you try doing that?" he laughed meanly, arm pressing harder on Kerry's shoulder, "Now, if you're done - Feels like a celebration's in order!"

They gathered around the curved couch, expensive beers and slightly burnt pizza on the glass table. Henry lit up a joint and, in a good mood, agreed to pass it around. Even though Nancy remained quieter than usual, the atmosphere relaxed as the empty bottles piled up. Talking about nothing in particular, all buzzing with the same excitement at the pictures flashing in their mind. Kerry listened to Denny especially, who also dreamt of making it big. Spotlights on her and her band, her fans going crazy over her broken sticks, as if those little pieces of wood meant so much more just because her fingers had touched them.

The more he drank, the more Kerry was aware of Johnny's presence at his side. Sitting on one end of the couch, ganic hand resting on the backrest above Kerry's head. His fingers brushed against his skin whenever he was talking. That soft arm became a nice pillow to lay his dizzy head upon. Johnny let him, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he stared at him candidly. Kerry realized only later on, when the afternoon turned to evening, how Henry and Denny were in the same position, his arm on the couch above her head. It probably didn't mean much, but his heart was still racing all the same.

Head spinning and bladder full, Kerry eventually excused himself. Before leaving his friends, he looked behind his shoulder, noticing how his absence had created a void between Johnny and the others.

He washed his hands in the next room, a bathroom bathed in blue by the neon light hanging up the sink. It made the room devoid of windows feel unreal. His reflection caught his gaze in the big mirror. Still looking a little tired from restless nights, a twinkle in his eyes he thought had died some time ago. His gaze drifted down to his right cheek. The cut was gone by now, invisible on his skin. He still knew where it once had been, capable of retracing it with his eyes closed. He was glad the wound had healed. He didn't have to tell Nancy anything. She would've freaked. Big times. His fingers ran across his cheek, holding a shiver as the memory of the blade on his skin resurfaced.

Got lucky you were right on time, huh?

His own words echoed in his dizzy mind, followed by Johnny's chuckle. It drowned his reply. He pictured Johnny's cautious smile and warm eyes to push back the awful memories and sensations. He felt lucky that Johnny had been there. He felt lucky that Johnny was still here.

"Blue neon, eh? Fancy."

Kerry jolted around and met with Johnny leaning against the door. He immediately regretted moving this fast, head-spinning so much suddenly. He leaned on the wall, trying to act casual. The soft chuckle he earned from his friend across the room made his heart sing.

"Oh? Secret bathroom meeting?" he joked back, swallowing hard as soon as Johnny stepped closer to close the door behind him. He bit down words swaying in his head that definitely shouldn't get out. Like how being alone with a cute boy in the bathroom brought fuzzy memories. How he'd love to replace the random boy he was kissing in them with Johnny.

"Just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I am. Just a little tipsy, that's all," he shrugged, careful about the way he was breathing suddenly.

"Nah, I meant - with your friends. Feels like they don't like me much. Especially Nancy."

"Huh," he stepped closer to Johnny to speak in a lower voice. He didn't need anyone but him to hear his words, "She just sees me as a little kid that can't handle his own life. She doesn't get that we made up. She just sees you as another asshole about to make it hurt again."

"And, you're not afraid of that?" Johnny asked, stepping closer, "Me, hurting you again?"

He shrugged, looking back at the mirror not to see Johnny's reaction. He didn't want to have this conversation right now. Or ever, for that matter. His cheek caught his attention again.

"Feels like it's still here. Like it never healed, you know?"

"Let me see," Johnny asked, ganic hand cupping his jaw to look at the wound under the blue neon. He tilted his head and inched closer. His thumb brushed against his skin, suddenly so hot Kerry was sweating, "Don't think so, no. That pretty face of yours is good as new."

"Hehe, you think I'm pretty," Kerry blurted out before he could bite his tongue. He froze, not a single idea how to get out of this situation. He didn't mean to say it out loud.

"Well, yeah," Johnny trailed off, moving Kerry's head so their reddened eyes could meet. So they could drown in the other's warm gaze, "I ain't blind."

That made Kerry smile, fuzzy feelings bubbling up his chest, turning into a soft giggle. Okay, maybe he was a little bit more than just tipsy. His heartfelt so full, his soul so warm. He wanted to remain here, in the small bathroom bathed in neon lights, Johnny's thumb caressing his cheek. He didn't think he ever felt as safe. He didn't think he ever felt as happy.

"I'm so glad you're here," Kerry spoke softly, "I'm so glad I've got you with me."

"Even after all the bullshit I put you through?" Johnny replied just as quietly, his eyes slowly narrowing as his hand left Kerry's cheek, "Even after taking everything from you?"

"I'd do it all again," he nodded before adding with a chuckle, "Without hesitation."

Johnny grinned back, and Kerry's mind melted in an instant. Not seeing how veiled his eyes were, how bittersweet that smile truly was. He stepped closer, hand on Johnny's chest where skin met with metal. Warm and cold to the touch. He could feel Johnny's heartbeats under his palm, as fast as his were.

"And, I still got something left," he continued,  pressing him against the wall, "I still got you."

Johnny frowned and tried to say something. No word came out. Kerry's mouth was on his too fast, muting any remark that wanted to get out. A spark short-circuited his brain at the same instant. No lips had ever tasted as good as Johnny's did. He pressed harder against him, hands clutching at Johnny's shirt. Mouth moving against Johnny's, whose hand slowly slid between them, resting flat against Kerry's chest. He pushed him away, gently but resolutely. Kerry understood the message, leaving his lips. He couldn't help a disappointed look from forming on his face. Johnny couldn't even look him in the eyes.

"I can't, Ker. I just- I can't," he uttered as an apology, though his hand gripped his shoulder to keep him close.

"Ugh, fucking drama queen!" Kerry scoffed meanly as he wiped his mouth, "You're straight. Alright! I get it! No need to make a big deal out of it!"

There was a meaning behind Johnny's words he didn't want to hear. There was a dejected expression on Johnny's face he didn't want to read. It didn't like them - complicated situations. There had to be another reason. Another reason than the one making Johnny gaze down at his neck. A simpler one. One neither of them could blame themselves for.

"Eh, yeah. Your dick - exactly what the problem is," he grinned back. Kerry could've called his tone insincere, but he didn't want to pay attention to that.

Johnny couldn't love him back because Johnny didn't like boys. End of the story.

"Things are gonna be awkward between us now?" Kerry asked, stepping away.

"Doesn't have to be," Johnny shrugged as he walked outside the bathroom. Kerry could still feel his hand on his shoulder, putting his above the sensation just to keep it in a moment longer.

Kerry eventually came back into the living room, where the teens were still chatting. New empty beers were lying on the table and couch. The smell of booze and weed hung heavy in the air. Denny's shirt was damp. He could notice it was Henry's fault, who kept swinging his bottle around as he talked to Nancy, back turned from his output. Johnny had joined in on the conversation. He spotted Kerry from the corner of his eyes and invited him back on the couch. He sat back at his previous spot, Johnny's arm still resting on the backrest above him. He kept his back straight at first but quickly noticed Nancy's inquisitive eyes on him. He didn't want her to know. He didn't want to hear her telling him how naive he could be. He relaxed on the sofa, the back of his head resting against Johnny's arm. He tried to remain casual but felt too aware of his own presence in the room. Drinking helped a little. Emptying his beer did the trick better.

They kept chatting even after Nancy told them she had to leave. Saying something about an important matter to take care of in the early morning. When Henry suggested the rest of the band stay the night, the two teens agreed. In a more sober state, Kerry would've asked Denny (who had been really quiet since she wanted to tell Johnny something only for her input to ask her to keep quiet) if it was alright with her. His dizzy mind had been too occupied to do so.

If Kerry's body relaxed, his mind didn't. He realized too late how much more aware he was of Johnny's presence at his sides, of that arm propped up against his head that brushed his neck ever so slightly when he talked. Too relaxed to control his body anymore, he tried to stand up and go for a smoke outside, only to stumble and almost put his hand on Johnny's thigh for balance.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. I didn't- Fuck, I'm sorry," words kept falling off his lips without any way to stop them. It didn't have to be awkward, but it sure was.

Kerry heard the two other teens mumble behind him. Could they feel the tension between them? Did they know what had transpired in the bathroom? Did they hear Johnny telling him he couldn't because… because…

Because he had to fall in love with some straight boy that was a little too affectionate, Kerry reminded himself. The only reason the taste of his lips felt bitter now. The only reason so that neither had to blame themselves.

"Let's find you a quiet room to rest a bit, yeah?" Johnny muttered, clasping his shoulder as he stood up.

Soft words and warm eyes. Soft smile and warm hand. Fuck, Kerry almost had preferred him being mean than nice right now. It would've helped with his racing heart and sweaty palms.

He was guided into one of the guestrooms. He heard Denny tease them about it. She had the wrong idea. Because Johnny liked girls and girls only. Johnny only helped him out of his shoes and pants because he was struggling. Johnny only sat on the edge of the bed because he asked him to stay a minute longer. Johnny only brushed his arm before leaving because Kerry feigned to be asleep already, making sure he could leave now. There was no other reason. Just friends being friends, nothing more.

Chapter Text

Walking an endless hallway bathed in an electric blue hue. There's a light at the end he simply has to meet. Warming his fingers as he reaches for the exit, yet getting further and further from him. A whisper in his ears turns into a scream. Telling him how much it can't, it can't, it can't. His shoulder burns the more he advances. His lips hurt the more the scream yells. It can't. It can't. It can't. And Kerry can't breathe anymore, tears falling in reverse, trying to land on a formless ceiling trapping him in.

"I can't with you," says the scream against the dark bruises adorning his neck.

He turns around at its words, only to witness the cold void behind him inching ever so close. Soon pushing him forwards, letting his feet drag on the wet floor dripping with crimson waters emanating salt and dread. The light is getting closer and closer, or maybe he is to it. Bright empty space that feels so warm and frightful. Kerry hesitates to jump down at the edge, but the cold void pushes him out of the darkness. His whole body burns as he falls. Deeper and deeper and deeper. He's alone with that screaming voice turned back into a soft, inviting whisper. It sounds so cold, so dejected.

"I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't with you, Kerry. Kerry. Kerry."

"Kerry!"

Kerry was shaken awake by a strong arm gripping his shoulder. He slowly blinked his eyes open,  trying to decipher the form facing him in the darkness. Morpheus was still wrapped tight around him, trying desperately to drag him back to sleep.

"C'mon, wake up!" Johnny's voice resonated in his foggy mind, shaking him harder.

"Wha-"

His eyes focused on the shimmering lights outside reverberating on metal. He jolted away immediately. If he was still dreaming, that image meant nothing good. His racing heart finally woke him up long enough to realize he wasn't in their room. He wanted to look around in hopes he'd remember how he got here in the first place, but Johnny was adamant in quickly getting him out of bed, pulling at his arm.

"C'mon! We gotta go! They won't wait all night!"

"They?" he mumbled, eyes still feeling so heavy, "Who's they?"

"For fuck's sake, Ker!" Johnny finally snapped.

Johnny stood up, the lights outside briefly flashing in his eyes. Kerry noticed how cold they had gotten. His fingers were twitching, wrapped around his skin.

"Johnny?" he cautiously asked, a shiver running down his spine as he shoved the sheets off his body.

"C'mon!" he urged in a commanding tone.

Kerry complied, something in Johnny's agitated voice making him give in without further questions. He got dressed in a hurry, feeling a tension between them he couldn't quite understand. He stirred his fizzy memories in hopes of finding what he was missing. He remembered chatting with the others on that curved couch, the smell of weed and booze making him dizzy just by standing there. He remembered Johnny's arm resting against his neck, first comforting, then heavy. Something about a bathroom. Something about neon lights lighting up warm eyes that felt so, so close. Something-

"C'mon, Ker!" Johnny pressed again.

He dragged him by the arm outside the penthouse and only let him go to press the button to the ground floor. Kerry stood on the opposite side of the elevator, the tension so thick he couldn't get through it and meet John on the other side. The room they were stuck in felt so small. It was like the atmosphere itself couldn't breathe. Stuck in their throats, it wouldn't let any word out. He saw Johnny rhythmically bang the back of his head against the metallic wall.

Kerry watched him as memories slowly resurfaced from his foggy mind. Johnny pressed against the tiled wall of a bathroom, the same way he had pressed other boys before. Being called cute, the same way he had been told before. Lips on his that didn't feel that good, or maybe they had felt good before losing their taste. Johnny telling him he can't, heavy hand on his shoulder as he hid heavier words in the back of his throat.

Johnny felt Kerry's stare on him, flicking his gaze back at the boy. He evaded his eyes. The tension had grown by two sizes now that it had a face, pressing both boys against opposite walls, so far from each other, they couldn't connect anymore. Johnny's mind was too busy at the moment to remember the situation didn't have to be awkward, and Kerry didn't remember agreeing to those terms anyway.

The situation was uneasy, tensed. Awful. Kerry felt guilt creep up his spine. He should've known and stopped himself before going too far. He didn't blame Johnny, though, because he liked girls and girls only. That, they had agreed on.

"So," Kerry eventually said after coughing, "Gonna tell me what's happening anytime soon?"

His inquiring tone turned aggressive after crossing the tension between them to fall into Johnny's ears. The other boy ticked immediately, dark eyes staring into his very soul. His agitation turned to anger, bubbling up his throat before Kerry could say anything else.

"Can't you just trust me for once?"

Kerry bit his tongue, though he kept his dark glare on him. He trusted him, over and over again, he did. Too much already, some would say. Following him blindly down the elevator. Kerry shushed the voice asking himself if anything would ever be enough for Johnny, how much farther he would have to go for him. He'd rather not have an answer for his own sake. He'd take this as a challenge, just another dare he can't say no to.

The elevator finally beeped as they reached the ground floor. Johnny sprung back on his feet and headed out without giving Kerry a single glance. He followed, head down, ignoring the red alarm blaring in his head telling him to go back and walk away. He didn't have to prove his trust to Johnny anymore. But what if Johnny just headed out and never came back again? His pace quickened at the thought, catching up to him.

His own car was waiting for them outside, parked on the sidewalk. Headlights turned on, and motor rumbling. He stopped and stared for an instant as Johnny opened the back door and jumped into the vehicle without a second thought.

"You're waiting for an invitation or something?" Denny drunkenly yelled from the passenger seat as she pulled the window down, "C'mon, Kerry! You're in, or you're out?"

Kerry hesitantly climbed in. He had already guessed who was driving but didn't expect Henry's eyes to be that red as he stared at him from the rearview mirror. One foot still on the sidewalk, a shiver ran down his spine. That little voice was back, telling him to walk away. Whatever was happening, it wouldn't lead to anything good. He could just leave now. He wanted to. Johnny's silver hand wrapped around the collar of his shirt to pull him fully inside. Kerry quickly closed the door as Henry pressed on the gas pedal so as not to smash it against the nearby streetlight.

"Can I know what's happening now?" Kerry yelled, yanking Johnny's hand off his shirt as he pulled himself up between the front seats.

"Johnny hasn't told you?" Denny asked, voice so slurred it was hard deciphering her words, "Jeez, way to go!"

"We're gonna fuck shit up!" Henry said, going faster and faster. Kerry regretted that the car had no seatbelt, "That's what's happening!"

He was pulled by the collar back on his seat. Johnny's ganic hand wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him put. Looking back at him, Kerry noticed a smug smile on his lips, a casual expression on his face. A mask, nothing more, to wear just for Denny's eyes turned to them. Anger slipped through the cracks the second she looked away.

"I'm gonna fix this shit," he whispered just for his ear, fingers clutching at his skin, "Give you what you wanted. Keep my promise."

"Seriously!" Kerry yelled, jerking from Johnny's hold and springing back between the front seats, "What. The fuck. Is happening?"

"Gig's canceled," Denny let out.

"Whatcha mean - gig's canceled?"

"Nance just texted," Henry added, slipping a hand into his jogging pants, "Denny, read it for me, will ya?"

Focused on finding his phone, Henry let the car dangerously shift lane. He quickly jerked the wheel to get back onto the right track. Kerry lost his balance. His face almost smashed against the back of Denny's seat before getting his hair tugged back and being forced to sit down.

"Stay put," Johnny commanded between gritted teeth, "Before you get hurt."

"Wouldn't be an issue if some dick didn't give Hank the keys," he snapped back.

"Hey, Kerry! Kerry!" Denny called, face brightened up by the phone screen she was holding, "Shut up and listen!"

"You shut up!" he yelled right back, frustration itching the back of his throat.

"Sorry, Denny!" Johnny chuckled, that goddamn smug mask back on his face as his arm wrapped back on his shoulder, "Kerry's always a little grumpy when he just woke up!"

"Told you to leave him there!" Henry said.

"Told you we aren't doing it without him!"

"Wanted me so much in, you still haven't told me anything. What's that it we're doing, for fuck's sake?"

"I'd tell you if you let me read!"

"All because of that fucking asshole!" Henry cut her off as she was about to read Nancy's message, "You believe that? Gonk nephew goes: Can I go on stage, uncle? And gonk uncle goes: Of course, nephew. Lemme fuck over everyone else while we're at it!"

"Why do I even bother?" Denny gave up, throwing the phone onto Kerry's lap, aiming for the backseat, "Said it all. Owner let him take our gig."

"Don't trust them to show up on time if they can't even come up with a name, he said."

"Gonna teach him no one screws us over," Johnny whispered.

This was too quiet to incorporate Henry and Denny in his words. Us. A little bit Kerry, but mostly him. And if Kerry was just as pissed that the Red Dirt owner had let them down, the building apprehension spreading throughout was stronger than anger. He looked at the three of them as they all paused.

"And, how?" he hesitantly asked, "How are we gonna screw him right back?"

"Nephew's band," Denny started, "Gonk enough to share pics showing their gear all stocked in a garage somewhere in Santo Domingo. They even put the band logo on top of it and everything. You believe that?"

"They're asking for it," Johnny nodded.

"We go there and fuck up their stuff," Henry continued, "If they can't play no more, Nance's boss will have to put us back on the list!"

"What about just waiting for another week?" Kerry asked, confused, "Play somewhere else?"

"Told you he'd chicken out."

"And told you we aren't doing it without him," Johnny repeated, sweaty palm sticking to Kerry's skin. He turned towards him to muttered, "Quit being a fucking pussy, Ker. Asked me to break down doors for you, didn't you? Don't tell me you pretended to care that much about that gig just so I'd take pity on you."

The accusation went right under Kerry's skin, but not as much as the grin sneaking back on his lips as Denny glanced at them again. How did Johnny dare insinuate he was pretending when he was the one wearing some gonk mask, though still gripping his shoulder painfully? A masquerade not to show his true side, his true face. Had those past days just been that, a masquerade? Was Johnny just done taking pity on him now? No, screw that.

"We're not doing that!" he yelled, jerking out of Johnny's hold and pressing himself against the door so as not to be grabbed again.

"Who's in, again?" Johnny coldly asked.

They all raised their hands but Kerry. Nancy's words echoed back in his mind. Wrapped around his finger with a silver thread he knew was nearly impossible to break free of once it had dug into your skin.

"Seems the band's in favor, Ker."

"Then, I'm out of the band. I quit!" he declared, opening the door. He thought of jumping out before Johnny grabbed the collar of his shirt again, keeping him in, "Stop the car and let me out!"

"Too late, choom," Henry declared, finally decelerating, "We're here."

Chapter Text

"Too late, choom. We're here."

Henry parked on the sidewalk in front of a row of garages. Kerry knew that place opposite the high school he once attended. They weren't that far from Milt's place, a few blocks behind the Ferris wheel. He could walk away and go back home. Not his home, but a safe place that felt like it. Maybe Johnny had guessed his idea. His hand clutched his shirt tighter.

"I go first," Henry said, throwing the keys at Kerry after turning off the car, "Gotta check for the alarm."

He got out, followed by Denny. Kerry swallowed hard as he watched them walk away. He didn't want to be alone with Johnny. Alone with that awkward tension. Alone with that unveiling anger. Johnny pulled him closer by the helm of his shirt, and the fabric cracked around his fist.

"You're really letting me down right now, know that?" Johnny spat, dark eyes seeking Kerry's fleeting gaze, "Thought you had balls, Ker."

"And you - half a brain," he snapped back, jerking his hand off him, breaking the collar of his shirt, "Your plan fucking sucks! No wonder Hank went for it!"

"Hank went for it cause he's not a fucking pussy! Now, you're gonna help us fix this shit, or you're just gonna keep bitching?"

"Wouldn't have anything to fix if you didn't steal that gig from me!"

"Fuck, Ker!" Johnny yelled, silver fist hitting the front seat, "Never gonna let that go, huh? Saved your life. Gave you a band. It's never enough for you, is it?"

"You're fucking kidding me right now," Kerry let out, his heart racing with fury and fright. He kept his head held high as his vision was getting blurry, "You're in no place to tell me that shit. I've never asked anything from you. Ever."

"Right," Johnny ticked, a mean smile on his lips, "Don't want anything from me."

His ganic hand gripped his jaw before he could move. Pulling their faces closer until he could feel his breath on his lips. Kerry wanted to punch that grin off his mouth. He clenched his fist and got ready to hit him but stopped as Johnny narrowed his eyes. They both knew the outcome already. The little kid couldn't win over the mean veteran. Kerry dropped his arm and Johnny, his jaw. They kept silent, evading each other's gaze.

"Start the car and wait for us," Johnny ordered, opening the door, "That easy enough for you?"

He didn't wait for an answer to step out of the car and join the others outside, disappearing behind the fog staining the windows. Kerry watched him go, fighting against the urge to get out as well to punch him. He knew that sudden bravery he felt was only caused by the other’s departure. He'd back down the second he met with those cold dark eyes. It was useless.

His thin frame allowed him to get to the wheel without leaving the car, wiggling between the front seats with his keys clutched in his fist. The dents dug into his skin, distracting him from the anger he felt in order to follow Johnny's command. Letting him down would mean letting down the others, and Kerry didn't want them to think he was the bad guy in this story. He turned the car back on, headlights illuminating the street where the flickering street lights didn't reach. Hands on the steering wheel, Kerry still hesitated. It'd be easy to walk away now, leave them and their dumb plan he never agreed to. Their dumb plan he had been dragged into as they had remained deaf to his reluctance. Maybe it didn't matter - who was the bad guy here. At least, they'd know now not to force him into doing anything ever again. It'd be so easy - putting an end to all this.

A flash of lightning caught his eye, followed by a loud detonation. Kerry looked around in panic, pulling the window down to see through the fog. It was coming from the garage. Smoke was blowing up into the night sky as an alarm went off.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" he growled, fist hitting the wheel in anger.

The teens were already dashing back to the car. Denny was holding Henry’s side. Johnny was running behind them. The couple slouched in the back, out of breath. The last teen slid across the hood to get to the passenger seat.

"Great job, guys!" Kerry yelled once they were all inside, "Couldn't have-"

"Shut up, Kerry!" Denny yelled, her tone making him jump.

He turned around, about to snap right back at her, before noticing she was cradling Henry in her arms. He had been struck. Bright red burns covered his body. He couldn’t move his hands, stuck in a curled-up position.

"Fuck, Hank! You alright?" he asked, a shiver of dread running down his spine.

"What's it look like?" he winced through gritted teeth.

"The fuck you're waiting for?" Johnny yelled, forcing his face forwards so hard he almost got whiplash, "Get us outta here al-"

They stopped and kept quiet as a faint siren seemed to echo closer and closer. Of course, the cops were coming to check the electrical explosion that had just happened.

"Kerry!" Denny called, "Drive! Now!"

Pedal to the metal, he pressed forwards and turned left. His heart was racing out of his chest, sweaty hands clutching at the wheel. He realized the siren was approaching. They were going the wrong way. He suddenly hit the brakes, feeling Denny hit her head on the back of his seat.

"Kerry!" he heard Henry's voice call, angry, almost resentful, as if he had attended to hurt her, "Fuck you doing now?"

"Can't see I'm trying to save your asses?" he spat right back, shifting the car the other way around to get away from the siren.

It wasn't his fault their plan backfired. It wasn't his fault he was hurt. Why were they all yelling at him now? How could they paint him as the bad guy in this story?

He didn't know where he was going anymore, barely looking at the road. Taking turns left and right. Disoriented, he could hear the siren growing louder.

"Faster, Kerry! Faster!" he heard a voice, but didn't even bother to register whose.

"That wouldn't have happened if all of you had listened to me. But no, Kerry's always fucking wrong, huh? You-" he paused, almost hitting a traffic light and quickly forgetting what he wanted to say, "Fuck!"

"Highway! This way!" Johnny ordered, metal hand on Kerry's to make him take the right turn.

"Do not fucking touch me!" he spat back, jerking his hand away.

"C’mon, Kerry!" Denny yelled, "Got no time for your lovers' quarrel here!"

Lovers' quarrel? What the fuck was she talking about? Johnny couldn't with him, he had said. And Kerry couldn't with Johnny either right now. One dumb plan after the other, letting Kerry take the fall over and over again. His idea, yet it was Kerry they were all yelling at right now.

"Shut the fuck up, Denny!" he yelled, enraged, turning his gaze off the road to stare at her, "Or I swear I'm gonna-"

"Watch out," Johnny yelled, extending his metal hand to press Kerry against his seat.

The car had left the road, speeding into the canal. Kerry vainly tried to press the brakes. His hand unconsciously gripped Johnny's arm, fingers digging into the mimicked muscles and veins. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

The car left the ground before crashing down below, barrelling down the canal. Kerry hit his temple against the door several times. His head spun painfully as he heard the windows break. His stomach churned. He heard a yell that he didn't even recognize as his. He kept shifting off his seat, only held back by Johnny's arm so as not to go through the windshield. They kept spinning out of control until the car stopped on its side, gravity pressing Kerry against the broken glass and the asphalt. He hissed at the sudden pain riddling his arm and shoulder, which he forgot about the second he felt something drip down his face. His hand reached for his forehead, meeting with a sticky liquid warm against his fingertips. He was hurt. Cut open. Bleeding. He couldn't breathe, dragged back underwater into a crimson sea. His arm was hurting just as much. There were pieces of glasses that had torn his shirt now nudged into his skin.

"-ry! Kerry!" Johnny's voice finally reached him.

He gripped his uninjured arm and pulled him out of the car by the passenger seat door that had ripped open. Kerry let himself be dragged outside, feeling so numb and heavy he knew he couldn't have gotten out on his own. His hand clutched Johnny's ganic arm as he tried to let go. He didn't trust his legs to hold his own weight, especially with the way the world was swinging around him. He didn't dare look into Johnny's eyes, afraid to meet with anger. Incapable of going with the easiest tasks of his plan. He probably was an inch away from punching him.

They heard sirens getting closer, probably looking for them. Them - Kerry and Johnny. He realized the others had left already, probably looking for some shady ripperdoc to fix Henry without being asked too many questions. They could've waited a minute longer, but no. They had to ditch Kerry again and let him face Johnny's anger alone. He was surprised not to meet with Johnny's fist, but with his ganic hand gripping back at him.

"C'mon!" he urged, walking backward and trying to drag Kerry with him.

Glancing back at the car, the situation finally hit Kerry's mind. His car was a wreck, and his friends were hurt. He had lost too much again, to Johnny, for Johnny. He had fallen victim to his dumb schemes again. He wiped his eyes that had gotten blurry from the blood dripping down his face, he convinced himself.

Kerry didn't move, his arm hurting more and more the further Johnny was trying to drag him. He stayed in place, shaking his head. His job, his home. And now his car. Taking and taking and taking from him, and only giving him pain and grief in exchange. No, he wouldn't accept this treatment anymore. No, he wouldn't follow Johnny anymore. No, he was done.

"No."

"What did you say?" Johnny asked, tugging at his arm as his ganic hand clutched his wrist. Kerry was forced to move. He only took one step.

"No," he repeated, still unable to face the anger in his eyes he heard in his voice, "I'm not going with you. I'm done, Johnny. For real, this time."

"Now's really not the time for your fucking drama," Johnny yelled back, tugging harder at his arm and pulling Kerry so close their chests bumped, "Let's go!"

"No!" Kerry snapped, trying to wriggle off his hold only to burn his wrist with the friction, "You're gonna listen to me and listen good for once. I'm done with you."

He kept tugging the other way, seeking freedom more than safety. His very bones started to hurt under the pressure of Johnny's hand, under his own erratic movements. He wanted out. No, he wanted Johnny out, out of his life. Johnny and the problems he kept piling on his shoulders, only to fix after Kerry got hurt. Johnny, who'd never trust him. Johnny, who couldn't with him just as he couldn't with Johnny.

He was done, but Johnny was deaf to his words. If his hold on his wrist felt less painful, he didn't let go of Kerry. He raised both their arms before his other hand wrapped behind Kerry's knees. A swift and sudden movement, he didn't have time to react to before being lifted off the ground and put on Johnny's shoulder. The only telltale he wasn't some weightless doll for Johnny to carry around was the groan he let out through gritted teeth.

"No, fuck off!" Kerry yelled immediately, kneeing his silver arm, feeling his own skin bruise by the repeated impacts, "Let me go!"

Johnny swayed around with Kerry wriggling on his shoulder, trying his damndest to break free. He wanted out, and for once, he'd make Johnny listen. One way or the other. He couldn't move his right arm much, still held by Johnny and pressed against his chest. He could feel him shake under him, probably having difficulty carrying both the weights of the other teen and his own anger at the moment. Kerry was past the point of caring, elbowing his face as he growled into his ear.

They didn't make it far, only the distance separating the wrecked car from an overpass. Johnny let go, out of breath and holding his left shoulder. Kerry tried to dash for it, running away from Johnny just like he said he would. He needed to prove how serious he was this time before getting hurt again. He barely made one step before being pushed against one of the pillars holding the bridge above them, so hard his head hit the concrete after his back did. He tried to bounce back on his feet and keep walking, just like he said he would, but Johnny had his ganic hand pressed against his chest.

"Stop pissing me off, Ker!" Johnny ordered, in a tone almost desperate.

But Kerry wasn't listening, trying to wiggle out of his grip. He said he was done, and he meant it. No matter what Johnny did tonight, he would walk away. He wouldn't forgive him. Him, and his dumb plans only meant to hurt him a little more, strand him a little further. He tried to get out of his hold, only for Johnny to grip his jaw instead. He pushed his head against the pillar, closing the distance and towering over Kerry with anger and frustration. His hand pressed against his mouth not to hear Kerry's words anymore.

He called his name as a warning. A last warning before Johnny would lose his last sliver of patience. Kerry didn't hear the threatened tone in his voice. Kerry only felt his palm press onto his teeth. He opened his mouth just wide enough to bite that hand trying to silence him. Biting down so hard, he tasted copper on his tongue. Biting down until Johnny's silver hand wrapped into a fist. He let go, but too late. That fist was already swinging his way. He closed his eyes, and held his breath. He prayed he'd still remain conscious after it hit, frozen in fear.

He heard a loud crash but didn't feel pain above the one currently riddling his body. He slowly opened his eyes and felt concrete pieces fall on his hair and shoulders. Johnny's fist had thrust into the pillar instead of him. He realized that blow wouldn't have knocked him unconscious if it had hit, but knocked him dead. His frightened eyes sought Johnny's veiled ones, slowly snapping out of his blinding anger to realize what had almost happened. Kerry finally saw the bruises peppering his skin. His lip cut open. His broken nose. A wreck, just as he was. A wreck with the same dread that was on Kerry's face at the moment.

"Fuck, Ker," he muttered, jerking his fist off the pillar, "I almost-"

His twitchy ganic hand reached for his cheek, cradling it in his palm as his thumb brushed his skin, making sure Kerry truly was there. That hand slid to the back of his neck to pull him close and press him against his shoulder.

"It's okay," he mumbled to himself against his temple as Kerry went limp in his arm, "You're okay. You’re okay."

Kerry didn't fight him, exhaustion taking over him, making his body too heavy to move. Johnny was heaving into his ear, seemingly even more afraid than Kerry was at that instant. All thought about walking away had vanished from his mind. He couldn't leave Johnny alone, not like this, sniffing as he kept reminding himself he hadn’t hit Kerry. He hugged him with one hand wrapped around his back, temple pressed against him. Maybe if he hadn't freaked out the way he did, it wouldn't have happened, Kerry thought. Pressed against his shoulder, he realized how wet his shirt was. He took a step back to look at him more closely. Johnny was severely injured, blood pouring from under his shirt and staining the fabric more and more.

"You're hurt," Kerry let out, fingers wrapping around the helm of his shirt to pull at.

He only noticed that the skin and metal weren't fully connected anymore around his collarbone before Johnny covered his eyes. The brief sight he got was enough to make his stomach churn. The image burned into his eyes. Guilt crept down his spine as he remembered that Johnny's arm had kept him from passing through the windshield. Johnny had needed too much strength to keep them both off harm's way.

"I'm alright," Johnny assured, palm still pressed against his eyes, "Let's go home, please."

They walked back home in a heavy silence only betrayed by labored breathing and quiet groans. The adrenaline slowly dying down, Kerry's body hurt more and more. And so did Johnny's. Clutching his left shoulder,  he halted sometimes, catching his breath as he bit his lips and swallowed back the noises of pain almost escaping him. Kerry hesitated at first, right arm hanging at his side, careful not to brush Johnny's in fear he'd feel more pain. He caught a glimpse into his veiled eyes. Fighting to stay right here, with him, and not be dragged back there, in his own crimson sea drowning him. Ganic fingers sought a shaky metal hand. Johnny stopped, timidly accepting the affection, as if afraid intertwining their fingers would break Kerry's.

"I fucked up," Johnny admitted, broken gaze locked into Kerry's.

He took it as a confession. He took it as an apology. He took it as a declaration of a thousand untold things and feelings that made Kerry's heart ache and sing at the same time. He squeezed his hand harder.

"I know."

Milt wasn't happy to see them, in the least. His tone kept switching from worry to anger. He grabbed at the boys to make himself clear about how upset he was before giving them the sweetest and most reassuring smile Kerry had ever seen on anyone's face. He told them it was going to be alright, and Kerry believed him in the same instant.

After a quick examination, he was told he could handle his own wounds. Johnny's state was more worrying at the moment. Kerry nodded, despite his lingering want to be held and cared for. Disinfectant and a towel for the blood, a pair of pliers for the glass still nudged in his flesh. He took care of himself like the big boy he was, as the ripper asked him to.

Kerry sat in the corner of the room, trying to keep out of the ripper's way as he fixed Johnny's arm. He suddenly realized how easily he could leave. The door leading to the garage had been left opened in the hurry. Leaving was an option, a way to put an end to the failed schemes and their painful consequences. His eyes returned to Johnny lying on the chair, and their gazes met. He could tell the other kid knew exactly what he was thinking about. Johnny shook his head, parting his mouth to talk before jerking and cursing between Milt's hands. He almost elbowed the ripper, who quickly pressed him back on the chair, face pushed towards Kerry. There was dread in his blurry eyes. Dread to see Kerry go without being able to do anything about it. He thrashed his legs, his ganic hand trying to push Milt off him. Agitated and out of breath, deaf to the ripper's threat of stopping treating him if he didn't calm down.

"Don't," Johnny mouthed, trying to keep his gaze on Kerry through the pain.

He looked so terrified of being left alone. Kerry knew he wouldn't go anywhere, not when Johnny needed him by his sides. He nodded back, lips crooking upward into a quick smile he wanted reassuring but knew wasn't. It still soothed Johnny enough for Milt to lift his hold on him. Kerry stood up to close that door and inch closer, offering his hand for Johnny to grab onto when the pain was making his body jerk. He forgot all thoughts about walking away as he read a silent thank you on Johnny's lips. He needed him right now. Nothing else mattered.

Chapter Text

"That's always how it's gonna be, huh? Fighting, making-up. Fighting, making-up."

Kerry had come to sit on the porch as Milt took care of Johnny's lesser injuries. Arm and head bandaged up, his body felt mellow now that the painkillers he was given had kicked in. He needed to take a breath of fresh morning air, as pure as the district allowed. His head was hurting from too many thoughts scrambled inside. He didn't want to think right now. He just wanted those thoughts to go away.

Johnny eventually came to sit at his sides, hand reaching into his pocket to swallow pills they both knew had been stolen from under the counter. Kerry didn't comment on it. He'd rather have his friend high than agitated by the pain. The tension grew too thick between them, and Kerry blurted out the first thought coming to mind.

"Best I can offer, Ker," he admitted, one leg propped higher than the other to rest his dented metal arm.

"Told you already - Don't need anything from you."

"Good. Not like I have much to give anyway."

His sarcastic tone dropped flat, self-consciousness peeking through. He was right, but for Kerry, it never mattered. Having Johnny at his side was enough. He didn't have anything to give him either anymore, anyway. They only had each other now, for better or worse.

Their gazes met in their shared silence. Visible remorse in Johnny's, rubbing his silver bruised knuckles to occupy his hand. That look, that hand, left Kerry feeling guilty. It didn't mean for Johnny to get hurt. He'd never want Johnny getting hurt. Too angry to control his actions. He wondered if he had cared too much about his own pain, ignoring Johnny's.

"I'm sorry," he eventually admitted, to Johnny's confusion, "If I hadn't freaked out, I- You- Y'know?"

He vaguely gestured at their bandaged bodies.

"You're sorry?" Johnny scoffed, stunned by his words.

"Should've looked where I was going," Kerry cut him off, "Shouldn't have been busy bitching about stuff that didn't matter. It was dumb - looking to fight you."

Johnny parted his lips but kept quiet. His eyes flickered from Kerry's right to his left. He didn't look like he believed Kerry's words, but Kerry had no reason to lie. Guilt grew larger and larger in his chest the more Johnny was worrying his bruised knuckles.

"You're fucking whacked," his friend let out, finally accepting his words as genuine.

"Probably why we fit together, huh? A couple of nutjobs whacked in the head."

"A couple?" Johnny teased, trying to divert the conversation into known territories.

"Eh, chooms. Bandmates. Whatever floats your boat, I guess."

"Thought you quit the band."

"Care to let me back in?" 

Johnny only hummed in response, ganic hand digging into the back pocket of his pants for a pack of cigarettes. Kerry wasn't sure how it ended up there. He lit one up and swallowed the smoke and the words still dancing at the tip of his lips. Feeling the need for nicotine, Kerry was about to ask for a cigarette. Johnny tended his before he could speak. Kerry took a drag, lips pressed against Johnny's fingers. He was all too aware of his friend's gaze on him, of his ganic thumb touching his cheek. He quickly blew out the smoke and turned his head the other way before getting stupid thoughts stuck in his head. Before he could remember the taste of his lips.

Johnny's stare was still on him. He could feel it burn his nape. He didn't dare face it, afraid of what the other would read in his eyes. That burning desire he knew he had to put out. That aching feeling that wouldn't go away, no matter how much he tried to remind himself he was seeking something he couldn't get. Whatever the reason was, really.

"Really wanted to get you that gig, you know?" Johnny eventually said, trying to convince himself his impulsive actions had some logic to them, "Really wanted to keep you happy."

"You really nailed that, huh? Never felt any better."

"I-"

Johnny was visibly hurt by his words. Kerry didn't want to fight him, but he couldn't let go of the anger either. His body still hurt, and if he felt guilty for what had happened, he'd still gladly shift the blame on anyone else right now, given the right opportunity.

"I know," Johnny admitted in a broken tone, eyeing his hands.

"Does it hurt?" Kerry asked, fingers tentatively reaching for his silver knuckles.

"Nah. I feel… something, but not pain. No. I can tell it's damaged, but I don't feel like it's damaged."

"Huh, weird."

He took his hand, and Johnny let him. Let him run his thumb across the dents. Let the warmth of his skin heat up his metal palm. They looked up at the same instant, eyes drowning in the other's. There was a dark spark in Johnny's, hidden behind a veil of remorse. Kerry knew he had the same gaze. They still felt angry at each other and at themselves. Endearment being stronger than resentment until their wounds healed, at least a little. They both knew they'd be back fighting before long.

"Kerry," Johnny called, squeezing his hand, "Listen, I-"

"There you are!"

Nancy was heading their way, arms already crossed. A tone in her voice Kerry didn't like. Johnny immediately let go of his hand and shifted further. They hadn't realized how much distance they had closed as they talked.

"Knew you were gonk, but this…" she let her anger out to mask the worry in her eyes as she took a long look at Kerry, "This is insanity."

"How's Hank?" Kerry asked.

She knew what had happened. She had to have seen them first. Of course, she had seen them first. Probably was all nice and caring as well. The scolding, that was only for the two of them to face.

"Eh, he'll make it alright. Gonna keep some nasty scars, though," she said, leaning against the guardrail of the porch. She still hadn't even looked at Johnny, ignoring him like he wasn't even there, "It's Denny you should be worried about."

"She got hurt?"

He didn't remember, didn't think she had. Then again, his memories were fuzzy, too angry, and afraid to recall the scene in all its details.

"Nah. Someone left the doors wide open when exiting the penthouse. Security caught that on the feed - knew that something wasn't right. Fixer came back home. Put two and two together. Easily found her too. Denny went home, since her mom's a nurse or something. Didn't ask the details. They had a little talk there."

"She's alright?" he asked after a heavy pause.

"Mom's got a debt with the fixer now. Broke up too, apparently," she said in a calm manner, "Grounded for months, which she told me means she'll keep her head low for a few weeks till her mom calms down and just lets it go."

"So?" Johnny spoke, eyes dark and narrowed, "Why should we care then?"

"Said she'd kill you if she sees your face right now," she replied, stepping closer to him, towering over him.

"Fine, fine. We'll let her be till she stops being a bitch about it."

"I'm sorry?"

"She's a big girl. Took those decisions all on her own. Not our fault she's paying the price. But sure, take her side. Girl power and all that shit."

The guilt Kerry felt at the news faded away. Johnny wasn't wrong. She was old enough to have known better. They wouldn't have forgotten to close the door if they hadn't been let in in the first place. Henry wouldn't have gotten hurt if he hadn't gone with Johnny's plan. He wouldn't be hurting if he had driven better. As soon as it went, the guilt was back in. An image of flesh and metal flashed back in his mind.

"Fuck, you're such an asshole," she let out. Kerry wondered if she just insulted him to cover her lack of arguments, "Don't get what some people see in you."

Her eyes drifted towards Kerry, who, despite his racing heart and blushing face, held her gaze. Really? Right now? Discussing his frequentation at a time like this?

"Gonna actually check on us? Or you just came here to bust our balls?" Johnny asked, thick venom dripping from his lips, feeling insulted just like Kerry was.

"How are you?" She falsely asked.

"How's it look like?" he replied, ganic hand rubbing his knuckles.

Kerry could hear his tone grow angrier. He wasn't soothing some unfelt pain but remembering how swinging that fist felt. Pissed off and getting madder. A shiver ran down his spine as he shifted closer, bumping their shoulders. Johnny moved away, digging his teeth into his own anger. Nancy had to have caught on to the mood shift. She swallowed hard as her gaze fell back on her friend.

"C'mon, Kerry. Let's go."

"What?" they both asked at the same time.

"Told my parents what happened. They're alright with keeping you in for a few weeks. You'll be better there than… here."

She vaguely gestured to Milt's house, hand oriented towards Johnny. Telling him things without voicing them. Things he really didn't like.

"Fuck you told them?" he asked, agitation making his hands shake.

"Told them you really needed a place to live. Somewhere I'm sure you'll be alright."

"That really what's going on here?" Johnny chipped in, standing up to look down at her, fists clenched, "Sure some control freak bitch ain't just mad Ker isn't listening to her? That he isn't the good pup you want him to be?"

"I'm not talking to you," she said, trying to take a step and stand between the two boys.

"Well, I am," he kept going, ganic hand seizing her arm, "Kerry ain't going nowhere. Especially not with a bitch like you."

"Kerry?" she called.

He knew what was seeking his eyes, but his gaze was only focusing on Johnny right now. His gritted teeth and heavy breathing. The way he clutched at her arm, the madness lingering in his dark eyes. They were fine a few minutes ago. Casual chatter as they shared nicotine and affection, both things they knew the other needed. They were fine until Nancy stepped in.

"Thanks for the offer, Nance, but I'm good here," he said, taking control over his voice not to let it shake.

Johnny let go of her immediately, a smug grin on his lips. A look that suited him better than anger. A look that was hard looking away from as Nancy was still talking.

"You really think that's a good idea?"

"He's right, you know," he told her, "You can be a real control freak sometimes."

Johnny chuckled at his words. He looked so proud of Kerry that he felt his cheeks heat up. So did Nancy, a sudden fit of anger almost making her take a step towards him. She dismissed the idea as quickly before Johnny would grip her again. She scoffed, looking at Kerry as if she was staring at a stranger, not a friend of over a decade. 

Kerry didn't quite feel like himself either. He felt so tall, so powerful. Looking into her eyes without faltering, waiting on her to turn away. She did, and Kerry never felt more alive. He could get used to this. He had to thank Johnny for this.

"Whatever," she let out, walking off the porch onto the grass, "Have fun, you two."

"We will," Johnny mused, sitting back down, "Trust me."

"Call me when you come back to your senses," she told Kerry before walking away, not without looking behind her shoulder, making sure he wasn't changing his mind and following her.

"Bitch," Johnny let out once she was out of sight, his arm wrapping around Kerry's shoulders.

It felt a little too heavy. It was a little uncomfortable. Johnny's wrist pressed against a deep cut hidden under the bandages. Kerry didn't care. A weird euphoria bubbled up his throat. He started laughing. Dumb laughter that spread to Johnny like wildfire. Two mad boys chuckling away, sobering from the power trip they just had. Kerry felt invincible with Johnny around. He came to realize the music didn't really matter. The pain didn't really matter. Whatever feelings they had for each other didn't matter.

Johnny was grinning. Grinning at him with a bright sparkle in his amber eyes. It made him smile back. It was enough for him: seeing that look on his friend's face. Kerry felt all-mighty. Willing to mend a broken soul, even if that meant chipping away at his in the process. It'd be worth it. He knew it would.

Chapter Text

They killed it tonight, just like the night before and the night before that. Kerry felt on top of the world. His fingers burnt, his stomach was aching with too much booze and not enough food, but he didn't care. He was on cloud nine, and not only from the pills Henry had found somewhere, somehow. They tasted good, and made his body feel even better. It didn't care about the rest.

He passed Denny as he went backstage, flipping each other off. Their typical greeting. Her big punishment had only lasted two weeks, and Henry told them they were fine. She didn't argue. They were fine, more than fine. After signing her first autograph, she admitted coming back had been the right decision. Johnny didn't need much more to make her apologize, admit she had been a bitch. Kerry only felt bad for a moment as she grew embarrassed, her input egging her on. He only felt bad until he remembered Johnny was right. No way she should've been welcomed without a little payback. Just a little one.

However, they didn't make Nancy pay even if Johnny mused the idea. She would've actually walked away. She said she came back to keep an eye on her friends, avoiding Johnny's gaze. Always pretending like he wasn't there until she was too drunk to care and actually laughed at his jokes. She was trying so hard to hate him. Kerry kept wondering if she was jealous, pretending she cared about his well-being to hide the truth. They needed her, and not only for her music. She was the only one to keep check of the gigs, the gear, the eddies.

She was a wreck at the bar tonight, thanks to the false IDs a friend of a friend of Henry had gotten them. Another debt to add to their tab. They'd pay it back once they reached fame. Any day now, Denny kept saying. Samurai's name was spreading like wildfire, making Nancy grin wilder and wilder. She had come with the name and wouldn't ever let them forget that. She had told them what it meant, why it fitted them. Frankly, they were too high to listen to her. 

Thanks to his pretty face, Kerry was becoming a master at getting them anything for free, be it drinks or drugs. Using honeyed words in a soft tone until getting what he wanted before running back to his friends. They had started calling him names, but it didn't really matter. Anything to keep his thoughts all nice and mellow. Anything to keep hearing Johnny jokingly call him a pretty boy. The people he robbed sometimes sought vengeance. Angry words and meaner gestures. Nothing more would be exchanged if they hadn't put their hand on him. Johnny couldn't win every fight Kerry sent his way but always made sure he was the one to take the most hits instead of his friend.

They didn't have Milt to patch them up anymore, but that didn't matter either. He had made them choose: his home or their newfound lifestyle. What was a rockerboy without drugs, booze, and danger? Johnny walked out the door, and Kerry followed. They had each other. They didn't need much more.

Kerry went backstage to look for Johnny. He found him outside, silver arm and forehead pressed against the wall next to the emergency doors Kerry just went through. He was heaving loudly, having taken one too many drinks, one too many pills. Body covered in sweat, he was trying not to throw up.

"Johnny?" Kerry called softly, careful to keep his distance, just in case.

He looked up at him immediately. He was there, present. He took a deep breath before grinning at Kerry, pretending he was alright, too out of his mind to remember last night. To remember Kerry soothing him after coming down from his high with muttered gibberish and quiet sobs.

"Hey, Ker," he said, voice hoarse from screaming into the mic.

He took a step his way, a drowsy smile dancing on his lips. Lidded eyes locked into Kerry's. Stumbling on nothing but air, his friend was quick to grab his arm and help him keep his balance.

"Careful there," he laughed, their foreheads almost butting into each other's.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, sweaty hand gripping his naked elbow.

Kerry chuckled at that, but they both knew it was true. The chemical euphoria spreading throughout their bodies made them forget everything. The bruises riddling their bodies. The growing hunger hurting their stomachs. Their lack of a place to sleep after the gig tonight. Too giddy to remember those things. All that mattered was that they weren't fighting, clutching at each other, giggling at nothing but the moment they were sharing.

"Hey, Johnny," Kerry called, a mischievous grin on his lips, "Happy birthday, man!"

He had told me a hundred times today but would tell him a hundred more. Too proud to have found out his birthdate on Milt's computer. Too proud the crowd actually started singing along at the end of their gig. Johnny had sat on the edge of the stage and let it happen. Pretending he was much older than his actual age, asking for drinks instead of a growing headache.

"Shut up already," he said, a dumb smile on his lips as his gaze was still drowning in Kerry's.

He pulled him by the back of his neck to press their foreheads together. Kerry had come to learn to cherish these quiet moments between two fights, be it between them or among the band.

"Johnny," he called again, voice soft and quiet just for the ears to hear.

"Woohoo, Johnny," a shrieking voice coming from the parking lot yelled their way.

Too much makeup that didn't hide the fact that she was just as old as them. Meaning too young to be here in the first place. Kerry knew in a single glance what she wanted from his friend, who had quickly let go, leaning on the wall instead. All cool and smug, as if he wasn’t nauseous and dizzy.

"You coming or what?" she asked, widely gesturing at a car seemingly waiting on him.

"Where you going?" Kerry asked, too dazed to even try to hide the tone of his voice.

"There's a party. Few blocks from here. Gonna treat myself with a nice birthday present by getting absolutely shit-faced."

"Cause you're not already?" he teased.

Johnny only chuckled back, winking at him before heading towards the car. Kerry didn't want to go back to the others. Not right now, when the both of them were nice to each other. He grabbed Johnny's wrist.

"Wait. Lemme go with."

"You sure, Ker?" he said, waving at the strangers to wait a minute longer, "Gonna be wild. Real wild."

"C'mon! Wanna spend time with the birthday boy tonight!" he joked.

He was fully aware of what Johnny meant. The kind of parties you woke up from with little to no memory, a stranger you didn't even know the name of in a bed that wasn’t yours. Johnny told him all about them. Those events he was never invited to. Those events Johnny kept saying weren't for him. Tonight was different, though. He wanted to stay with Johnny more than anything, no matter what the other said.

"You sure?" Johnny asked again, "No backing down once we're there. Planned on getting my hands full tonight. Won't have any room to hold yours."

"Think I'll be fine without you babysitting me, Johnny," he said, passing him as he walked toward the car, "I'm a big boy, you know?"

"We'll see about that."

That night, Kerry found himself dragged to a quieter place by a boy he didn't remember the name of. Some boy, probably around his age, who he knew wanted more than just a kiss. He had made sure Johnny was still looking at him as he left. And if he convinced himself it was just to make sure he'd be safe in case that stranger meant to hurt him, he knew he wouldn't have used those honeyed words and that soft voice on him if Johnny hadn't flirted with those girls first. Eyes locked into the other's as they feigned to listen to the murmurs and whispers meant for their ears only.

Kerry remembered how he wanted, forever ago it seemed, to wait for the one. It turned out such a person never existed. And if they did, they had preferred to pretend they didn’t instead of stopping Kerry that night.