Page 54 of Natural-Born Cullers

“Just how long do you think you can keep this up?”

Light stilled as he gripped the sink.

In the mirror, head down, Brin stood resting against the bath, not looking his way, all greens lost to subtle greys. “You’re just avoiding.”

Light briefly closed his eyes, then as steam filled the bathroom, misting the mirror, he mumbled as he rested a hand on the glass and drew a distracted path in it that dampened his fingertips and smudged out the life behind him.

“Sorry,” he said softly, “so fucking sorry.”

“Well….” A smile played in Brin’s voice. “Sorry’s a damn good start, our kid. I’ll have you saying my name out loud soon too. You wait and see.”

Light washed up, and the light from the kitchen registered properly for the first time as he rubbed at his head and headed through into the dining room. A light left on usually meant someone was still up working, and as the kitchen clock counted down to three in the morning, it gave a good guide as to who invaded the night with him.

Simon sat working at the dining table, his back to Light as he read something on his laptop. Light lingered there in the doorway, resting against it as a full mug of coffee played close to Simon’s mouse. No steam rose from it, and it looked as cold and lifeless as the summerhouse in the dead hours of the morning. But Simon gave the kitchen life and colour with how half-assed and hand-swept his hair looked. His blue jacket found a home over the back of his chair, his tie keeping it company, and his shirt collar was loose, suggesting buttons were undone. Seemed his body tried to escape into the bedroom without his head, only something kept Simon there, fighting it. He’d been up until these early hours since Tuesday, the day after Gray had gone to dinner with….

“Cal,” said Brin, behind him. “Go on, try and say his name too.”

Light briefly closed his eyes, ignoring Brin, not wanting to know his grandfather’s name, how the bastard could have stopped every ounce of all of this before it had started.

“You could have stopped it too, Light.” Brin rested back by the bedroom, a full kaleidoscope of colours in the shared chaos. “You didn’t have to pour acid down Zak’s throat. Or tape a bomb between Cath’s legs. And Lee…. You remember Lee, right? You remember how he died in that explosion in the manor? Just after you knocked him out with a mix of chloroform in the pool changing rooms? Or are you putting that one on Gray’s shoulders? When he hit you and triggered the homemade device? Because out of all of them, you really didn’t want to take Lee down.” A tut. “I’m sure his mum and dad will understand. You spoken to them yet? Oh right… no. You haven’t, have you?”

Light shivered, more shook Brin off. Lee wasn’t Gray’s fault. Lee was the only one he wished he could rewind the time for. Light had just needed to walk that day, nothing more. Lee got caught in the backlash, but it was a backlash that Light had created.

“Still murder, bro. You know that.”

Yeah, he knew that.

Light focused back on Simon. Damn his soul, he needed to.

Simon looked so tired, yet it came with this stubborn energy that was as stable and calm as the low light in the kitchen, never sharp on intent to blind, just offering a constant burn that invited him to dare step closer, no matter the time and loneliness playing around Simon. Christ knows what he worked on, but it had kept him quiet and focused over the past four days, and as he tapped a light touch on the keyboard, Light hid a soft smile and looked away from the familiar beat, how the taps created a light pattern of reds, blues, and blacks all of their own that escaped into the kitchen.

Brin, Cath… Lee…. They’d all lived a lifetime through computers and their YouTube channel, all laughs lost to the tap of laptop. That was Brin’s world right along with Simon, and sometimes Simon spoke with the same beat, the same… colours.

“Hey.” It came so quietly. An arm on the back of his chair, Simon looked his way. “You up late or early?”

Again Light didn’t reply, and Simon pushed back on his chair and padded over, his breath stirring Light’s fringe as he came in close. “Let me ask that again.” He reached a touch to Light’s cheek, his frown deepening. “Are you okay?”

“No, you’re not,” whispered Brin over his shoulder. “Go on. Say it, bro. Fuckingsayit.”

Light screwed his eyes shut, then tensing his jaw, he went in and rested his head against Simon’s.

Simon jolted slightly, and Light shifted his stance, the touch back to life making everything hurt a little more, but made it worth it in the next breath. He fought his grief, the need to find a way into it fully, maybe to let his body feel alive first, to really know if Brin would be okay with… this, then chase the rest in the aftermath of touch, where the music brought everything to life again if only he could find the goddamn USB/Mp3 play button and see colour that didn’t only belong to Brin.

“Hey,” Simon said gently, a touch brushing Light’s neck. “You—”

Light shook his head, so quickly, and he turned into him to brush a touch of lip against lip. The return play came just as gentle, as cautious, and Light ran with it, eyes closed and content to let this be enough.

“Bloody run with it more, bro. Go on. That’s not enough, not for you.”

Damn his body, it wasn’t. Brin had always known that. Light was the one who’d been content to let life pass him by. The only history his body knew and came alive to was with Simon, their way to control life and hurt, to feel away from the void he found himself in without any music to draw a love of life from him. He forced Simon back a few paces, then a few more as he undid the buttons on his shirt.

As Simon hit the table, Light pushed him down onto it, going down and clashing in a kiss that wanted to learn how to bruise. A groan, Simon lifted his body up to meet Light’s as a grip found the back of his neck, tugging him into his rougher kiss as his other hand crushed between Light’s thighs, then slipped down, beneath the rim of pyjamas in the next breath to fully get a hold on his cock. It still knocked him sideways, how direct Simon’s touch was. All the boldness in his interplay. It still scared him too. To lose that control again?

Light groaned, but shoved the touch off, and a moment later, he roughed Simon’s cock through his suit trousers.

“C’mon,” breathed Simon. “Fucking c’mon, Light.”

Light tugged at Simon’s belt, and coffee started to spill. He grabbed at it, somewhere conscious of how close it was to the laptop and how Simon’s life was lived through it, so he broke from the kiss for a brief moment to find a safer place for it at the back of the laptop.

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