Beyond Evolution

King wasn't sure what woke him up. He was exhausted from the long day of school, the commute, the energetically enjoyable time he spent with his boyfriend before heading down to the art room to develop a roll of film. He had almost dozed off earlier while he ran the film cannister under water to clean off the developer, his chin resting in his palm, but the sound of heels clacking on the wooden floor had roused him again with a yawn. It had just been Betsy Braddock, her cool stare brushing across his face and sending a cold tremor of nervousness through him, but she had passed by the door without comment and he'd let her go without anything more than a cordial nod. Whenever he saw that girl, he couldn't focus on her beauty or her grace; as hard as he tried to pay attention to the kind of details that should have captured a teenage boy's imagination, all he could see was the shaved head and cocky smile of her brother. The one that he'd killed. It was hard to stay calm sometimes, to project that overall relaxed, unconcerned attitude that he could manage around anyone else, and every time they so much as brushed shoulders in the hallway, King felt like he was dodging bullets. He didn't want to think about how much she deserved to know what had been done to her, and he didn't want to think about what would happen when she found out. However it happened, it wasn't going to be from him. Certain secrets needed to be kept.

Despite the chilling brief encounter with Betsy, King hadn't been any more awake than he had been when he started developing his film, so he'd shook off whatever dark thoughts still lingered and finished up in the studio, hanging his wet negatives up to dry on the line before stumbling blindly back to his room. No, check that -- Prince's room, where he often ended up crashing regardless of the fact that he had the privilege of his own single now that he'd graduated. As a child, he probably would've killed for the privacy, and it certainly came in handy when he wanted to spend a night with Nico, but he was so used to the sound of another person breathing when he went to sleep that it was hard to relax without someone else nearby. Besides, it was Prince; no matter what some people said or what psychologists might surmise, it was perfectly acceptable for him to shove his twin brother over in the bed and fall asleep with his head on the same pillow. He was stressed by his new schedule and the pressures that he knew would pile on soon enough, so a little comfort from Prince was needed these days. They talked for a while before they curled up, sharing a set of headphones to listen to a couple of their favorite rallying battle marches, and King was unconscious by the time the third track queued up.

( But something had woken him up. )

[ NARRATIVE ]