Release the Dragon! (Polo and Inkerz ((Dragon Booster RP))

It had been a rough couple of weeks, and that in itself was the greatest understatement Trent could possibly have thought of. The truth was, he didn't like to think of exactly how rough things had been. He didn't want to think about the sympathetic frowns, or the pats on the back from strangers who didn't even know his name. He hated all the attention, and he hated the attention they gave to Luke, too. How was a corridor full of chocolates and roses going to help him now that he was dead? What did they expect, that he'd just walk in one day with that cocky swagger and his bright smile full on his face, and start gathering up the wilting roses and filthy stuffed animals? The chocolates had started to attract rats already. To Trent, they were just an ever-present reminder that Luke would not come walking through that door. That he never would again. The truth was, he missed his friend. He missed him as if he were missing the very biggest part of himself, and 'grief' didn't even begin to cover the feeling. The shock was still too great, too suppressing for him to have shed a single tear... And so he did all that he could, and threw himself into his work, struggling to catch up with maths and science; English and history.

It was maths homework that had him baffled on the day Kyte returned. He'd been working on the same problem for ten minutes, always coming out with the same incorrect answer, and he was so deeply involved with it that he didn't even notice the door open and close. He was seething with fury and ready to rip up his book by the time a shadow fell over the desk, and an innocent voice piped up behind him, “You've turned your 5 into a 2... Just over here” A dainty hand reached over his shoulder, and circled the error in pencil, “There we go, It should work out now.”
Trent stared at it disbelievingly for a long moment, then uttered a long growl of frustration and collapsed his head into his folded arms. He groaned again at the infuriating simpleness of it all, then lifted his head and clawed wearily at his face with inky fingers. "F***ck." He growled, scribbling out the two, then trying to draw in the five in its place. The space was too small, and the sum too messy. He tsked his tongue, tried once more, and then the ink smudged. "F*ck, f*ck, F*CK!" He roared, stabbing the pen into the book and scribbling over the whole thing until it ripped into the next three pages. At last, with a roar of frustration, he picked up the book and flung it across the room, where it hit the wall with a loud slapping sound, and fell to the ground over crumpled open pages.

Trent found himself on his feet, panting heavily as he scowled after it, and looking seriously ready to kill something. "Fuck." He repeated, absently snapping the pen between his fingers. He threw that across the room for good measure, too. Only then did he seem to truly notice Kyte, and his angry expression grew somewhat sheepish. He managed a tense smile, scratching at the back of his dirty red hair (personal hygiene had started feeling more and more like a chore lately), and muttered a halfhearted apology. "Maths." He shrugged, "It pisses me off, sorry."
He rubbed his hands once over his eyes, smoothing the tired wrinkles from his brow. "I'm glad to see you're okay." He grunted dully, shouldering past Kyte to pick up his bag for him, and tossing it onto his bed. "I was starting to think they'd never let you back. I've made copies of my notes for you. Not that they make any goddamn f*cking sense." He kicked pissily at the foot of the bed, then cursed again when he stubbed his toe, and had to take a moment to breathe. He had been going through these phases lately. He didn't understand why he was so angry, but it felt damn good when he let it out. There was a time and a place though, and here in front of Kyte - who was just coming back from a mental breakdown - was neither. A memory of his friend's hysterical screams fluttered through his mind, and he drew in a firm, calming breath. He had to look after Kyte now, and he would not fail. He was going to protect his friend with all that he was.
"Sorry." He repeated again, breathing a long sigh, and raking a hand back through his hair. "I don't know what's with me today."
The lie reverberated quietly in the silence that followed, until Trent finally found the courage to give voice to what he was trying so hard to deny.
"Listen, it's Luke's funeral today." He said brusquely, "I wasn't sure if you'd be back, but I looked out a nice suit for you. I was surprised to find any black in your closet, truth be told. Anyway, it's over there." He pointed to a suit and pants draped over a hanger on the handle of the wardrobe, "So put it on now if you're ready. We could stop for a bite to eat or something on the way - you must be hungry. I'll drive." For a moment a heavy silence pressed down on the atmosphere, then Trent shrugged, as though this were something he did everyday, and shuffled stiffly across the room to collect his ruined maths book. "How are you feeling now, anyway?" He asked robotically, making conversation for the sake of it. It was easier to keep talking, to stay out of his head. It had become utter mayhem in there. How he was now, well... That was the least of it.

(Okay on to Luke’s funeral!!)

“Sorry...I don’t know what’s up me today”
Seeing the stress and tension scrunched up in those handsome features, Kyte frowned. A lump of anxiety had formed uncomfortably at the base of his throat. Trent was in pretty bad shape, Kyte had sensed a change in his friend the moment he had stepped through the door.
With a forced little laugh, Kyte smiled and casually tried to ease away the harsh atmosphere.“Pfft, No worries... Maths Kinda has a way of getting under a person’s skin like that. Can’t say it really helps with raising dragons or racing them, Right?”
Out of the corner of his eye Kyte could still see the ruined textbook, its pages hung pitifully from its dented spine. He shuddered, straightening up his shoulders as he tried not think about it.
Much to his relief, Trent didn't seem to be all that attentive to the conversation; His mind was else where, clouded by both the realities and disillusions of trauma. There was an awkward pause, followed soon after by a statement, cold and seemly unreal.
”Listen, it’s Luke’s funeral today”, Trent murmured.
Those words hit Kyte like a blade to the belly, and blinking through widened eyes, he cleared his throat and stammered a reply, “I-It Is?” Clearly no one had informed him.
"I wasn't sure if you'd be back, but I looked out a nice suit for you. I was surprised to find any black in your closet, truth be told. Anyway, it's over there." A single amber eye followed Trent’s pointed finger towards the black suit draped neatly over a hanger. He recognized the old item with slight displeasure. It had always been an old enemy of his, always tucked away deep inside his wardrobe never to be seen. He could remember being chased down by his mother and the maids whenever a family function or party cropped up. The suit was always his penalty, if they manage to catch him of course.

Padding over to where it hung, Kyte brushed his fingers inspectivelly over the perfectly ironed fabric. Why do I always end of wearing this thing to something awful or boring... Makes me feel kinda sorry for it. Must be infused with cursed thread or something.
Trent’s familiar voice seemed to catch his attention, reeling him back from his thoughts like a fish on a hook.
"So put it on now if you're ready. We could stop for a bite to eat or something on the way - you must be hungry. I'll drive."
A tiny grumble from Kyte’s stomach echoed his blatant hunger, he hadn’t had much an appetite lately; The mere sight of meat left him gagging. O.O
Scratching the back of his head, The boy traced a finger thoughtfully over his lip,“We can always eat later...” he suggested, “but It’ll be nice to get out into the city again...y’know before the funeral, that is” A glimmer of excitement briefly numbed him to the memory of the funeral, he had been cooped up way for too long. The fresh air would be an utter relief, he knew that he needed it.
Trent seemed to hesitate a moment, then made a move towards his textbook. His fingers cradling the crumple pages as he began to pick them up one by one. Instinctively Kyte felt himself drawn into the task too, and dropping his knees he passed a few pages towards his friend.
"How are you feeling now, anyway?"
The question aroused a subtle flinch in Kyte’s fingertips, and gazing up curiously into those concerned eyes, he smiled to himself and chuckled, “No need to worry, according to the ‘Doc’ I’m not completely bonkers. So... I’m fine. I feel pretty okay, Kinda anyways.”
Kyte’s hand went for the last paper, and as it did, so did Trent’s. Their fingers brushed against each other accidentally.
“What about you? Are you okay?... I’ve been worried about you.”
Releasing the page from his own hold, Kyte stared momentarily into those brilliant blue eyes. They were different somehow, hollowed out, deprived of life. A shiver prickled over his skin, it was like staring into an empty shell.
Turning away, Kyted gazed absently towards the clock hung up on the wall. It’s almost 3 pm, I wonder what time the funeral will be?
Getting to his feet, he brushed the dust from his knees and made his way back towards the wardrobe. Obediently he began to scoop up his belongings, socks, suit, shoes, underwear...the lot.
With a brief nod towards Trent, he caught his friend’s eye and murmured quietly, “I guess I’ll go get ready then. See you in a bit”Pulling the door closed behind him, Kyte quickly left the room and made his way down towards the locker rooms instead.

About fifteen minutes later, he returned; Showered and formally dressed in black. His usually mop of spiked hair had been tamed back with a comb and styling gel. Kyte didn't look like himself, if anything he looked like the tiny CEO of a Company.
Catching a quick glance of his appearance in the reflection of a window, he pulled a face and stuck out his tongue mockingly. The attire was too expensive, too snobbish to ever suit his taste.

Once he had reached the door of their room, he was surprised to find it open. Making his way inside, Kyte’s eyes searched the room for Trent. He barely recognized the figure sitting over on the bed.
With a slightly shy wave, he greeted Trent, “Dude..Wow, you look awesome in that.”
Plopping himself neatly beside his friend, Kyte felt a pang of anxiety eat away at his gut. He had received a phone call from his Mom earlier on.
“Um Trent, I have to drive with my Mom to the funeral... She wants you to join us for the drive too.”With a tiny flicker of reassurance, Kyte added smiled, “Don’t worry, The limo should pick us up in a few minutes. We definably won’t be late or anything”

Kyte had asked after his well being, but that was not a topic that Trent was willing to discuss. He had dodged the question, changed the subject, and now he stood staring at his own pale face in the bathroom mirror while Kyte changed in the locker rooms downstairs. "Are you okay?" He asked the corpse-like face in front of him, repeating Kyte's question. To hear it out loud brought a scoff to his lips, and he splashed water over his face to keep himself from laughing. Was he supposed to be okay? How could he ever be okay, living in a world without Luke in it? He looked to the man in the mirror, a man that he had known to be confident and strong, but the weak jaw that quivered back at him told him no different. He was not okay. He was distraught, destroyed, a complete and total wreck. The fraying threads that held him together were straining at the seams, and he could see them splitting apart as he watched, like a tiny dress stuffed onto one of those huge girls he saw in the gym. Any minute now they would rip, and roll upon roll of revolting grief would come spilling out.

Tsking his tongue in disgust, he pushed back his spiked hair - not bothering to comb it - and pulled on the only half-decent suit he owned. His uncle had bought it for him as a gift on his eighteenth birthday. It was supposed to be an interview suit, but somehow it seemed fitting - if tragically so - that he should be wearing it to a funeral first. He felt as though his future was over before it had ever started.

It might have been five minutes or five hours before Kyte returned, but when he did, Trent was sitting on the bed in a trance-like state, staring at a trail of ants marching along the windowsill to gorge themselves on the packet of half-eaten Skittles at his desk. “Dude?" His friend's sweet, shy voice greeted him, "Wow, you look awesome in that.”
The bed dipped in beside him, and Trent looked up at Kyte, smiling almost pityingly at him. Bless him for trying; poor, naive fool. "Thanks." He answered robotically. The most important person in my life is about to become worm food, so naturally my appearance means the world to me right now.
Squashing his sarcastic thoughts, he looked down at the bike keys in his hand, and tried to muster the strength of will to say 'let's go'. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Kyte soon saved him the trouble.
“Um Trent, I have to drive with my Mom to the funeral..." He looked up sharply, eyes narrowing, "She wants you to join us for the drive too. Don’t worry, The limo should pick us up in a few minutes. We definitely won’t be late or anything.”
"That's not what I'm concerned about!" Trent snapped, but before he could say any more, there came the sound of a hooter from outside. With a frustrated growl, he pushed himself up from the bed and prowled to the window, glaring down at the limo outside. He sighed heavily. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with Kyte's family. Luke was his friend, his! This was his darkest moment, and he didn't want to f*cking share it! But... Kyte was his friend, too. And he had to be there for him.

With a deep breath, Trent calmed himself, and turned back to Kyte, masking his grief with false pleasantries. "They're here." He said, "Let's get going then." He dusted a speck of lint from Kyte's neatly gelled hair, and gave him a gentle push between the shoulders to urge him out the door. Trent locked up behind them, then stuffed his hands into his pockets and trudged after Kyte, shoulders hunched, as they made their way out to the limo. It was gleaming on the outside, and even more so on the inside. There was plenty of space, a sunroof, and maybe some other fancy gadgets, but Trent wasn't paying enough attention to take notice. He climbed into the seat and shuffled to a corner where he sat quietly, staring out of the window, and trying to keep himself from thinking too hard.

(Okay getting back into the game again^^...Cue funeral Scene, ACTION!)

“BEEP! BEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP!”
The blare of the car hooter began to strain with impatience as time ticked by quickly on hands of Mr. Crawford’s golden wristwatch.
“Damn Kids...Don’t they know its rude to keep us waiting.”
With a snooty little click of his tongue, the chaffer rolled down his window and craned his head through the glass slit. He blinked his beady little eyes once, then twice, searching the streets all the while for his missing passengers; Kyte and Trent.
A snake-like hiss in the background seemed to alert him to the Dean and her daughter's presence. They were growing more and more fed up with the aspect of waiting.

Meanwhile back inside the dormitory....

"That's not what I'm concerned about!”
Flinching sharply at the dagger-edged tone he had been dealt with, Kyte felt his brow crease with subtle anxiously. He hadn't mean’t to upset Trent, but he could already see the frustration in the man starting to fester. The result was a rather acidic mood, enough to frighten away any words Kyte had left to offer.

Slipping wisely into a state of polite silence, The boy tried to distract himself. He fiddled with his fingers a moment, then tugged self consciously at his shirt.
When at last he seemed to settle, he turned his spiked head down towards the floor, his only eye running lazily over the black leather of his shoes.
Now to most his behaviour was pretty normal for a person suffering from A.D.D, however, inside that oddly operated brain, clicked the cogs of an entirely different thought process. He had played the fool once more, and has shamelessly lied to Trent again. (Apparently he’s Lied to him before? O.o)
Sorry about this Trent...I know you want to drive on your own...But I just don’t think that it would be safe...I’d never leave you in a time like this. Please just bear with me a little longer.

"They're here...Let's get going then."
”Hmm?”
Trent’s voice came so softly and suddenly that Kyte nearly didn't register it. Sucking in a breath of courage, Kyte dared himself at last to meet those ice-blue eyes. They were still as cold as ever, perhaps even colder. He shivered
Grief demands Pain...Pain demands to be felt

Hopping neatly to his feet, Kyte shoved his thoughts aside and plodded obediently after Trent like a puppy on a leash. With quick shuffle and a click, they had made their way out into the hall. The walk through the dormitory building seemed to trail on longer than necessary, neither of the two boys did much to aid this factor. If anything they purposelessly dragged their feet to prolong the inevitable event that lay waiting.

Outside, the weather seemed to contradict the despairing atmosphere. The warm light of the sun shone with angelic brilliance, reflecting sharply off the black gloss of the purring limo.
A brief hoot from Crawford acknowledged their arrival.
Kyte; now under the sharp observation of his mother, straightened up his posture and politely opened the door for Trent. Once his friend had taken a seat, he did the same, settling in anxiously beside him. The door slid closed with a click.
With everybody inside, Crawford turned the key to the ignition. Their journey had begun.

The limo was spacious enough inside, the two long seats had been arranged in such a way that it allowed its passengers to sit facing each other. On one side sat Kyte and Trent, on the other side sat Dean Cyril and her daughter.
Family outings usually roused some sense of excitement in Kyte, since they were oh so rare and infrequent. However today was different, Kyte felt nothing more than dull nausea. He couldn't smile, and struggled to hold back the tears now reddening the rim of his eye.
I don’t want to go...I’m afraid
He trembled inwardly. Desperate to distract himself, he lifted his gaze towards the surly-faced Dean.
“Sorry for making you wait Mother”
For a fraction of a second the wrinkles around Dean Cyril’s sharp nose tensed. Was she disgusted? Revolted?
“Yes...Well I do hope that your punctuality improves. I’m not one to wait about.” Her voice held a cruelness to it, subtly layered beneath the perfect formation of her words. Each syllable cut as clearly and sharply as glass.
Kyte seemed numb to it, and blinking curious towards his sister, he greeted her too. “Logan! I’ve missed you!...um hows things going out on the track?”
An irritable sigh, followed by a cold shouldered response seemed to be just about all the answer Kyte was going to get.
“Thats enough idle chat for now. How impolite of you not to introduce us to your friend, Kyte. I’ve taught you better than this.”
Blushing with some embarrassment, Kyte scratched his head awkwardly and turned towards Trent. “Right, my bad...Errr I mean sorry, Trent”
Clearing his throat, Kyte gestured introductivelly towards Trent, “Mother. Logan. This is my friend, Trent Mason. He was a close friend of Luke’s...His best friend actually.”
Dean Cyril ran her gaze inspectivelly over Trent, her piercing eyes were nearly as blue as his, only lighter by a shade or two. “I see, so thats your connection to the boy then...my condolences to you on such a deep loss.”
Flicking a speck of dust carelessly from the knee of her skirts, she sighed and glanced irritably towards her only son.“I am under the impression that my son had alot to do with what happened that night. Perhaps you should find yourself a less cowardly friend, Mr. Mason...or at least one that doesn't require weeks of therapy in a madhouse every so often.”
Kyte had gone pale now, and inside his stomach he could feel his gut knotting with panic. He hadn't wanted anyone to know that he had was still being treated at an asylum. He had mumbled the word ‘hospital’ briefly to Trent, but not madhouse, never asylum.
Blushing shamefully, Kyte felt a trickle of cold relief finally run along his spine. The car pulled to a halt. They had arrived at their destination.
Nodding hastily towards his mother and sister, Kyte tried to make a break for the door.
However...
“SIT DOWN! I want to speak with you alone”, She growled dangerously. She spoke only to her son, leaving Logan to lead Trent outside into the cemetery.

The service began a short while later, with a priest perched grandly before a podium. Droning on and on, he spun stories of consolation, his words threading a silky view over the afterlife Luke would face. One in which flights of angels, castles of cloud and heaven's mighty golden gates existed.
By the time Kyte had returned, most of the priest’s words had already been spent on the sobbing masses of School children. There wasn't much left for him to hear.
Filing in silently beside Trent; Kyte mimicked his friend, and gazed wordlessly out over the flower encrusted coffin.
The thing simply stood their like a cruel reminder. A shudder came over Kyte as the image of Luke's mutilated corpse hung before his eyes. Heartbroken and guilty, Of everyone who sobbed there that day, neither Trent nor Kyte dared to shed a tear.  They simply didn't have it in them. Such was their grief.

Any other time, that drive would have called forth all sorts of demons inside Trent. That 'Logan's cold superiority; the Dean's frosty attitude toward her own son? It was despicable to Trent, or at least, it was the opposite of what he believed a family should be. From the moment he'd sat down in the limo, listening idly to his kindhearted young friend trying desperate to connect with his relatives, Trent had felt the cool, razor sharp edge that lay between them and Kyte. Usually he might have stood up for his friend, usually he would have told Dean Cyril - when she mocked Kyte's cowardice - that this boy was the bravest person he knew, and maybe if she stopped being so obsessed with the creaselessness of her clothes and the smudgelessness of her lipstick, and actually looked the boy in the eyes - well, eye - or took the time to speak with him, or at least to listen, she would see that. Trent hated her politeness, and her false sympathy. Trent hated the structure and the routine; the crispness with which mother and daughter seemed even to breathe. It contrasted so terribly with his own wild, raging state of raw emotion that he felt like a different species entirely. Ordinarily he would have stood up and defended Kyte. Now, he just couldn't find the energy. Now, he just didn't see the point.

He climbed in and out of the car without ever saying a word. The speech directed at him contained nothing but valueless pleasantries in any case, and he didn't feel as though he should dignify that with a response. He had become comfortable in his grief; intentionally isolated, no matter how many people were around, and wrapped safely in the silence, where he could be at peace with his pain, and let it slowly pick him apart like an unraveling tapestry. What would his life look like, he wondered, when the pattern came undone? At the end of a single crumpled thread, would he find a grave beside Luke's? It felt nearer than it should, as he listened to the wordless drone of the pastor in the background. He had stopped taking in the words a while back, but he began listening again now, as Kyte sat down beside him. It gave him an excuse not to speak.

"Young Luke was a model citizen," The pastor droned boredly, "Who lived by the Lord's work and did His will as it should be done..." Trent's fists began to tight, "Luke was loved by all who knew him, leaving behind a rich collection of friends and family who won't grieve his death, but celebrate the life of a young man who was such an inspiration to us all."
"He wasn't a f*cking inspiration!" Trent burst out suddenly, finding himself on his feet with no memory of standing. His chair clattered to the ground behind him, shattering a stunned silence which now dissolved into a hum of shocked whispers. The Pastor's saggy eyes opened wide behind his glasses, and his wrinkley old jowls quivered as he blinked at Trent. He looked so shocked by the outburst, Trent would not have been surprised if his heart gave out there and then.
"Luke was not an inspiration." Trent repeated coolly, crisply, "He wasn't a model citizen, and he wasn't a Saint. He's no f*cking angel! That man-" Trent's finger jabbed sharply toward the coffin, his voice starting to shake, "That man was my friend, and he was human, just like you or me or the rest of these goddamn fake, shallow bastards," His arm roved over the sobbing, offended crowd, "Who barely know the difference between losing Luke, and watching f*cking Titanic! He was a person, goddammit, a real live person with thoughts and with feelings, and a life, and- and memories! And he had friends," Trent slapped his own chest, "And family," He pointed to Luke's mother, who was staring at him through stunned, tear-filled eyes, "And he had faults! He lied, and he drank, and he made dirty jokes and he slept around, and those things made him himself. And we loved him for that! I refuse to stand here and be told lies about the legacy that a great man - a great man, and not a perfect one - left behind. I'm done, I'm through." He shook his head, dusting his hands, and turned his back on the funeral. "F*ck you all."

Without another word, Trent shoved his hands into his pockets, and strode out down the long, wooden aisle, his footsteps echoing right until the huge oak door had fallen shut behind him.

(Well...It’s kinda shorter at least.)

Trent’s passionate outburst had left a haze of frozen silence over the church and its occupants. No one had expected him to react the way he had, not even Kyte.
Clearly bent on chasing after his friend, Kyte stood up and felt the muscles in his legs tense with anticipation. He probably would have darted out the door after Trent, had Logan not spitefully locked her hand around his wrist like some-kind of shackle.
“Sit down”, she ordered irritably.
When Kyte didn't budge, Logan felt her temper glowered like hot coals. Her nails dug hungrily into her brother’s arm like a serpent’s teeth. The gesture was a clear threat, one tinted with tiny flecks of blood.

For the remainder of the day, Kyte fell obediently into sinc with the rest of the crowd, ever aware of Logan’s frightful gaze upon him. The funeral service proceeded at a slug-like pace, and every five-minutes or so Kyte broke from his fidgeting to peer over his shoulder towards the great oak door. He half-hoped that Trent would return, he also knew that that would never happen.

When the day finally came to its end, Kyte returned to the Academy dorms alone. His usual stock of sugar frenzied energy had left him, and he felt the sly curse of fatigue creep right into the bone of his knee caps.
He had searched the entire cemetery looking for Trent, but found nothing, not even a red hair.

Dragging his unwilling form up the stairs, the boy eventually made it back to his room. He unlocked the door with hopes of finding Trent there. His hopes however, were instantly dashed at the sight of the empty space.
“He’ll come back won’t he?...Yeah I’m sure he will”
Closing the door quietly behind himself, Kyte felt his bottom lip begin to quiver. He had never been this worried about somebody before, He actually felt physically sick.
Where are you Trent?...Where did you go?..
Padding over to where his own bed stood, Kyte stared at it thoughtfully before flopping down heavily onto the mattress.
With his face buried in his pillow and the duvet over his head, Kyte began his ritual. He whispered words of comfort to himself, till finally sleep overpowered him.
“He’ll be okay...He’s coming back...He’s fine...”

He'd come here in the limo. This realisation only struck Trent when he stood in the parking area, arms folded across his chest, wishing his bike was there. He wanted to go home, but since he couldn't drive himself and he'd be damned if he spent the next half hour in a stranger's company, he supposed 'home' would have to wait until he'd calmed down a little. So he unfolded his arms, and kept on walking.

When he finally did stagger through the door some eight hours later, there was enough alcohol on his breath to saturate the air in the room. It was a wonder that he could keep his feet underneath him, but he managed it somehow, wheezing and coughing like an old man. He dragged himself to his bed - the edge of it, anyway - and fell onto the corner. He didn't sit. It couldn't be called sitting, because that entailed some intention, some bending of the legs and lowering of the body. Trent, on the other hand, let his legs buckle like Luke's old toy giraffe - the one the collapsed when you pressed the button underneath - and without any obvious decision on his part, he would himself perched on the corner of the bed. Every bone in his body that had once stood stiff and straight with pride now folded like worn tissue paper, and as his neck curled to deposit his heavy head in open palms, Trent felt just as delicate.

The room was too quiet. The clock ticked, and Kyte's breathing was a little less regular that it usually was when he slept. Trent pressed his head deeper into his palms, until it slipped free and fell into his lap, leaving his hands to fold around the back of his neck instead. He couldn't have looked any more undignified, and he didn't give a flying f*ck. Somewhere, less than a hundred kilometers away, what remained of Luke's cold body lay in a wooden box, buried under the ground. Less than a hundred kilometers away, lay the only person he had ever bothered to live for; the object of his hopes and his dreams, the one and only true purpose of the useless failure that he called himself. Luke was gone. Luke was dead. He didn't give a f*ck about anything any more. He was even too goddamn despondent to want to die, never mind live. He just wanted to sit. Sit, and wait until the world moved on and left him behind, rotting in its wake.

The cricket-chirp of Kyte’s alarm-clock was the first thing to rouse the boy from his sleep. The second was the sickening stench of alcohol and booze wafting hazily overhead. Stifling a slight gag and drying his watering eye, Kyte sat up and searched the room for the origin of the foul scent. He found it soon enough.

A flimsy heap of human shell seemed to be all that remained of Trent, as he sat at the end of his bed, hands cradling his head. The sight of this thread-bare figure worried Kyte instantly, and blinking his reality into focus, he tossed aside his duvet and got to his feet.
“Trent?...Hey are you okay? ....um You stink...like really bad”
When his friend refused to answer him, Kyte felt his arms prickled with goosebumps. He had been ignored. He rubbed them away subconsciously and took a slightly bolder step forward. “It’s not that bad I guess... Were you out drinking?”
Something's wrong...very wrong
Creeping as quietly as a mouse would, Kyte cautiously approached the man. He dared himself to touch the Trent’s arm, and did so with expectation. He was hoping for some-kind of reaction, but when it didn't come, he frowned. This is scary...I don’t like this, not at all
He poked Trent a little a harder this time, Some kind of response would do, anything would do.
“Hey...Hey What happened to you? You disappeared yesterday.”, he piped desperately. Panic course through his veins like adrenalin as he briefly mulled over Luke's burial. He didn't want to loose another friend. Raising his voice, Kyte felt the words slip hastily from his lips, quicker that he could catch them,“I was really worried y’know! You just stormed out into the street. Anything cauld’ve happened to you Trent! What were you thinking?!”

Trent heard the footsteps coming towards him from a million worlds away. He did not look up when his friend spoke. The words went over his head, drifting past him along with the endless trickle of minutes that had chilled and stiffened his muscles. Kyte spoke again. Trent didn't budge. The other man might as well have been a ghost. From his island, Trent could barely feel him anyway. He couldn't feel anything over the overwhelming, benumbing loss that had taken over the entirety of his being. Kyte had started questioning him now. There was a pause, and then Trent's lips parted. He coughed, a deep, gravelly cough that seemed to come from somewhere way down his throat. He didn't even cover his mouth. His eyes hadn't moved from a single tiny stain on the carpet, between his friends. It looked like blood. It was probably ketchup, but it looked like blood. He didn't bother wondering where it had come from.
“I was really worried y’know!" Kyte's voice rose a little. Did he sound panicked? "You just stormed out into the street. Anything cauld’ve happened to you Trent! What were you thinking?!”
The care was too much. Trent's temper flared in a flash, and his fingers tightened around the back of his head as he barked, without looking up, "You don't know how it feels to lose the only person in your world worth a damn! You don't know what I'm going through." His temper ebbed as fast as it had flown, and he finished in a despondent mumble, "Just leave me the fuck alone, Kyte. I just want to be alone." His jaw set in a hard line. He still hadn't moved. The alcohol in his veins was all he had left to put words in his mouth, and twist his tongue around them. Without it, he knew, he could not have found reason even for that. What reason was there for anything - for seeing, for breathing - without Luke? He had been the reason. And now he was gone. Gone. ...Gone.

(It's so short, I feel bad XD)

Trent’s temper flared at Kyte with fangs bared, and in it’s wake the boy felt his friend’s words sink in through his skin like deadly venom. He winced as though physically struck. A part of him knew that Trent didn't mean it, but it still hurt all the same.
Sticks and Stones can break my bones,but words will never harm me... Why does that feel like a lie?

Determined not to give up now that he gotten a reaction, Kyte narrowed his amber eye and pressed sternly, “No, you’re the one who doesn't know what it feels like.” Clenching his hands tightly into two fists at his sides, he shook his head and held his ground mulishly, “A-And Because you don’t know, I won’t leave you alone!...We’re friends Dammit!!”

"If you were my friend, you'd respect my wishes!" Trent barked savagely in response, standing up so suddenly that he knocked the bed back an inch, its feet screeching on the floor. "You don't understand what I'm going through, Kyte! And you're way more selfish than I ever thought if you actually think it's okay to sit there and tell me that I don't know what loss feels like! I've lost everything, do you understand that?" His voice rose higher, and suddenly, he was shouting. "Luke was EVERYTHING to me, Kyte! I was happy being by his side, being his friend, and I would have been happy to die for him, a thousand times over! Now it's too late. I couldn't save him."[/i] His voice quietened, lip trembling as his eyes dropped to the ground. He was silent a long moment. Then, softly, with blood-chilling hatred, "I couldn't save him, because  you couldn't keep your nose out of my goddamn business. You just had to follow me, didn't you? Had to try to fix me. Well I wasn't f*cking broken before the start of this, was I, Kyte? WAS I? So let me ask you, hasn't this 'friendship' of yours done enough? Haven't you meddled enough? I'll say it one more time, and for the love of God, I hope this once that you'll hear me. Leave me alone, Kyte! There's nothing you can do, nothing, so leave me alone to suffer, and to grieve, and just to deal with the fact that my whole life is falling apart." His face contorted, looking ready to explode into spasms of fitful crying, but Trent just shook his head and spun around, grabbing the doorhandle and pulling it open. He couldn't keep his voice from shaking. "Whatever, I'm out of here. I don't have to stand here and let you patronise me like some f*cking therapist when you don't even have a clue." He slammed the door, then started to run. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew that it didn't matter, as long as it was away. Somewhere, anywhere, that he didn't have to think about the huge, gaping hole at the centre of his life, rapidly eroding away his very soul.

Trent’s furious voice vibrated thunderously off the walls as he finally spewed out some of the grief and turmoil had been building up inside of him. He held nothing back as he once had before, and aimed a sharpened blade of blame directly towards Kyte. The Words hit their mark as instantaneously as an arrow would its target. And for moment Kyte trembled like leaf in the wind.
He tried hard to hold his ground against the raw emotions inside Trent, but felt sick to the core of his stomach for what had said. He didn't dare say another word from there on out, deciding it best to leave the shouting up to his friend.
As for Trent, the grieving man’s temper continued to bubbled over and eat away at everything like acid. It ate and ate and ate, till finally the anger had given way to something Kyte had long hoped to see...Tears.
Those tears had been absent on the night of Luke’s death. They had never even shown face at the funeral...but today at least, they were in his eyes, glittering at the comers and creases in-between.
You’ll hate me for it, but It’s okay Trent...You need the release. Feel the hatred, the anger, the hurt and the memories...no more silence, no more denial, feel the emotions and fight.
The tears in Trent’s eyes were Kyte’s final bitter victory, but they came at a costly price. Their friendship had fallen to tatters as a result,and even Kyte knew that there was a chance that Trent would never want to speak to him again.

When the shattering slam of the door came, it signified the end of their fight. Kyte felt the last his courage slip from his lungs. He gave way to the weakness in his knees, and crumbled helplessly to the floor. In a space of barely five seconds Trent stormed off and taken to the sanctuary of the city streets. Kyte was left alone now, Alone to the mercy his own demons, those of guilt, fear and loss.

......
A few days later
......

Reckless, thrilling and quick, Kyte flung himself across the dance floor through a series of intricately woven ballet steps. He barely even registered sound of the music any more, he just felt it, like blood coursing through his veins.

The studio had become his sanctuary for the time being, his own personal hide out. He hadn't dared to set foot inside the dormitories again, well not since his fallout with Trent on any-case. His friend had made it dead clear that he had wanted to alone, and despite Kyte uncontrollable desire to see Trent, he chose instead to obey the man’s wishes. He didn't want to upset him again.

The song reached its climax, and draping his arms firmly around the waist of his partner, Sophie, Kyte lifted her off her feet and gave her wings.
A pretty smile from her lips told him when the dance was over, and carefully on command he brought her back down to earth.
“Reckless, but not bad”, she added with a cheeky wink.
“Thanks, It’s just that last step I can’t seem to get right”, Kyte added with a half-hearted grin. Scratching his head awkwardly, he frowned for a moment and stared at his seemingly clumsy feet.

“You’re still thinking about him, aren't you?”, Sophie pointed observantly, her hands already poised over her hips as though she were armed and ready to lecture him with a speech.
Furrowing his eyebrows guiltily, Kyte chuckled, “Ah is it that obvious?...I’m such a dummy with stuff like this”
“You are”, She agreed teasingly, before shaking her head and adding a little more seriously, “So...Have you though about my advice yet?”
Twitching anxiously at the mere memory of their little ‘talk’a few days back, Kyte swallowed nervously, “Err I have, but...I don’t know if that’ll work, Soph...I mean, I don’t even know what to do”
Rolling her eyes with slight disbelieve, she nudged Kyte hard in the side, “Really Now, What kind of guy doesn't know how to F*ck?...It’ll be fine. Seriously you both need the release, you said it yourself didn't you? That you owe him after all the things you said”
“I guess”
“See? Nothing to it.”
Taking Kyte by the shoulders, Sophie Spun him round with a musical little whistle and shoved him roughly towards the door.
“Now Go make things right with you friend already! I can’t have you dancing around here with a brain full of regret. It’s not like you, ya Dork! ”
Sticking her tongue out playfully, Sophie closed the door behind Kyte.

Trent hadn't seen Kyte since their fight. He assumed the other boy was staying with a friend, or something of that nature. To be honest, it hadn't bothered him much. To be more honest, it had, but he just didn't have the mental capacity left to worry. His every waking moment was consumed by grief, and fruitless efforts to forget it. Tonight was especially bad. He had thought there was only one bottle in his hand, but now he saw three - all empty. He squinted and blinked, and tried to bring it up to his lips again. No good. There wasn't even a drop left. Groaning, Trent dropped his head between his knees - he hadn't moved from the edge of his bed in days, except to piss - and let the bottle fall from his fingers. It clinked against a large, filthy collection of the same lying at his feet. He had drunk the world into a nasty, nauseating, swirling mess, and yet still Luke's disembowled body was flung back and forth across his mind like a limp ragdoll. He gagged, then dropped to his knees on the ground, and began scratching frantically through the bottles. He had to drink more. Had to forget, quickly!

But the first bottle was empty, and so was the next. Of course, they all were. He soon gave up searching, breathing heavily, his eyes wide and laced with red veins. The room was spinning, and he felt sick fit to burst, but the images of Luke still rose up and overflowed, and he was panicking. He dashed to his bedside table, ripping out the drawer, and scratched through layer upon layer of junk. Maybe some pills, any pills. What did he had, Aspirin? There was one tub - he couldn't read the label. Maybe Aspirin. It didn't matter anyway, as long as he took something. With clumsy fingers, Trent tore open the lid, and shook the pills out with such haste that they scattered all over the bed. He started gathering them, wheezing past the heavy weight in his chest, until his hands were full, and his body went still. Despair pressed down harder, but as he looked down at the innocent white pills in his hands, he felt a thrilling little flash of fear shoot through him. That was a good feeling. Anything was better than the raw grief!

Trent stared at the pills. He wondered, if he choked them all down at once with a stomach full of tequila, what would become of him? He imagined he'd get very sick. Maybe it would take his mind off Luke, until he had all but forgotten? Then again, maybe he would die. Trent stared at the pills a little longer, then started, and threw them across the room, leaping to his feet and starting to pace back and forth on wobbly legs. For a moment there, the idea had appealed to him. For a moment he had wanted to die! Never before had he hit a low like this.
"I need help." Trent stopped, then collapsed quickly back onto the edge of the bed, grabbing the mattress to keep his balance. "Need help..." He swallowed, and scratched through his things until he found his cellphone. His clumsy fingers could barely find the buttons, but through his drunken stupour he composed a text - an intelligible one, but a text nevertheless - to Kyte. He couldn't trust himself alone any more. Not like this. He couldn't risk meeting Luke in the afterlife after meeting his demise at such a despicable low.

(Have a post my darling husband!!!)

Despite Sophie’s utter insistence on mending things with Trent, Kyte found the idea a little intimidating. Straight after the night of their ‘Grand’ fallout, Kyte had loitered around his mother’s office, hoping to some extraterrestrial being that she’d be their to comfort him.
Needless to say by the time he got inside, the office seemed just about as vacant as Paris Hilton’s head.
As a result Kyte had been left to the hands of his own boredom,Never a good idea, especially with a Kid who’s ADD levels sky-rocketed through the roof
Curiosity soon had him picking through copies the other student’s files, Reading them with vague interest, he snickered at a few old photos before shoving them back inside the steel draws.
One file in particular soon fell into his hands, a part of him now wished he had never opened it.

Trent’s name had been on the top in tiny little capital letters. And flicking through its haunting contents, Kyte felt his expression melt like plastic left too long in the oven. He soon learnt an ugly nauseating truth, one that had him bubbling over with guilt and tears.
He had accused Trent of not knowing real pain, when in reality Trent had already endured more than his fair share. The man had been left an orphan after the death of both his parents. He had already lost so many people he loved. Now Luke as well...

***************

“I’m a f*king idiot!!! A huge rainbow dollop of horse Sh*t”, Kyte moaned heavily, his hands clasped tightly over his pounding head. He tired to conjure up the courage to head back to the dorms tonight, but clearly the local park had been more inviting.
With his skateboard in hand, he mulled briefly over the idea of taking it for a ride down a rather dangerous looking flight of steps. Thankfully just had he was about to do exactly that, His cellphone buzzed alight with a message.
Cocking an eyebrow thoughtfully, he flicked open the tiny virtual envelope on Screen. It was from Trent, and there was only one word...Help

Kyte was pretty sure that he had never travelled so quickly via skateboard in his whole entire life. He had whisked hastily through the buzzing city streets, skipping stop streets and pursuing illegal short cuts here and there. By the time he had reached the dormitories, he was panting heavily. It took a surprising amount of stamina to push open the bedroom door. The rest was left to instinct and the nurturing affections of their friendship.

Trent was a petrified shell of something that had once been human. The rank stench of alcohol, sweat and decay radiated from his grizzly form in thick sour waves. Mortified at the sight, Kyte keep his words wisely inside his mouth. His first action was to close the door behind him, the next was to approach Trent slowly, as one would an injure tiger or starving wolf.
“Trent? It’s me, Kyte. I’m here...I’m here to help you.”, he murmured softly. A tenderness stirred within the boy as he came closer. He cauld fell his feet bumping over dozens of bottles sprawled about all over the floor. Had Trent been drinking out his pain?
The thought alone made Kyte wince, and wrapping a tiny hand around Trent’s, he forced a weak smile, “I’m sorry...For messing everything up.”There was a slight tremble in his bottom lip, and before he knew what he was doing, he had Trent’s cold form clutched tightly in his arms.

Trent didn't look up when the door opened. He had his hands clasped behind his head, rocking back and forth, his lips moving slightly as he muttered silent whispers to himself. 'Keep it together, Trent. Don't fall apart, Trent. Don't let it destroy you, Trent...'
Kyte's quiet voice didn't manage to reach through his thoughts. But when the bed dipped in beside him and a small palm covered his shaking hand, the touch did. Trent tensed for an instant, then his muscles slumped again. Slowly, he raised his head, tired lids heavy over bloodshot eyes. His dilated pupils darted over Kyte's face, up and down, back and forth, and his chin began to tremble. Help. He needed help. He needed comfort. He needed solace.

As though reading his mind, Kyte wrapped a pair of slender arms around him, and pulled him close. Trent's dizzy head lolled sideways, falling against Kyte's chest, but he did nothing to stop it. He just closed his eyes, listened to the sound of his friend's beating heart, and released a slow, quiet breath. “I’m sorry... For messing everything up.” Kyte whispered. Trent didn't trust himself to speak. Several silent moments passed, then his body swelled with the deep breath he drew in, and through a sigh, he confessed, "You didn't mess anything up, Kyte." His lips barely moved. "I was just taking it out on you. I'm sorry."
He reached up to where Kyte's hands were clapsed around his neck, and touched the other boy's arm lightly, running his thumb absently over his skin so the soft hairs prickled his palm. He swallowed. "Kyte, I..." He lowered his hand, taking Kyte's arm with him, and laced their fingers together, still running his thumb rhythmically over his friend's skin while his watery eyes followed the motion. "I don't know what to do. For the first time in my life, honestly, I feel like I just..." His eyes squeezed shut. "Can't."
His throat trembled, and he swallowed quickly, mentally sticking his pieces back together before they could fall apart. "I don't think I can get through this." He admitted in a hoarse whisper. "How am I - how's anyone - supposed to deal with this? Supposed to get through? How am I-" He swallowed again, "I can't help but think - I mean, I just can't help myself... Why do I-" He squeezed his eyes shut, and tightened his grasp on Kyte's hand, "-even wake up, every morning? Without him, what's... What's the point of it all?"

Kyte listened silently to the rhythmic tune of Trent’s deep voice. The sound alone painted a portrait of the man’s macabre feelings.
The Boy gulped. He could see it looking back at him like some creature in the dark, hidden behind the ridges of those delicate features; The black of horror, The Red of Pain and the blues of despair. He shivered, it reminded him too much of Edward Munch’s Scream.
Tensing a moment, Kyte breathed in deeply. How did things get this bad? Where have I been? I should’ve been here for you...Trent, please let me fix this.
Kyte’s tanned skin turned to goose-flesh beneath Trent’s pale touch. He could feel the blood pulsating through his fingertips as they held hands, fingers knotting comfortingly between the dim light and warmth.

"How am I - how's anyone supposed to deal with this? Supposed to get through? How am I?...I can't help but think - I mean, I just can't help myself... Why do I even wake up, every morning? Without him, what's... What's the point of it all?"
Kyte could only stare into the lonely abyss of Trent’s gaze. His friend had become lost without Luke, like a rat in a looped labyrinth. He couldn't watch him go on like this...it was too painful.

Tenderly, Kyte traced the contours of Trent’s jawline, and chin. “You wake up every morning...because you’re still alive, Trent.”
Using his forefinger and thumb, he gently raised the man’s chin, level to his own.“Have you thought about how Luke would feel- If he saw you like this?”Narrowing his only eye, kyte felt tears slip down past his cheeks. He forced a faint smile in an attempt to keep it together, “Y’know how he is. He’d get that scolding look he always got- the one saved especially for you whenever you got into a fight or something.”Shaking his head, Kyte wiped absently at his damp eye, “He would be upset to see you like this...He’d be sick with worry, just like I am”

Kyte touched his chin, running a finger along his jaw, and for the first time in a long time, Trent felt a flicker of... Something. His eyes met Kyte's, searching his face, and he began running his thumb absently over the back of his friend's hand. His skin felt good. Warm, clean, soft...
“You wake up every morning...because you’re still alive, Trent.” Kyte reminded him quietly, lifting his chin, and forcing him to raise his eyes a second time, “Have you thought about how Luke would feel- If he saw you like this?” Trent's throat constricted, “Y’know how he is. He’d get that scolding look he always got- the one saved especially for you whenever you got into a fight or something.” His lip started to tremble, “He would be upset to see you like this... He’d be sick with worry, just like I am.”
Trent looked at Kyte, searching his face again, and emotion began to well up in him as Luke's absence suddenly hit all over again. A lump rose in his throat, suffocating him, and when the feelings were about to become too much to bear, he did the only thing he could think of. He leaned in, and kissed Kyte - roughly, clumsily - on the lips. It only lasted a moment, then he scrambled back with a start, shaking his head and covering his lips. "I'm sorry." He mumbled hoarsely, "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. I just..." [i]Just needed to feel something, anything, that isn't this numbing pain. "I don't know." He whispered, "God, I'm such a mess, Kyte. You should go." His voice quivered, "I barely know myself right now. I don't want to hurt you again."

((He doesn't mean that. Obviously. XD ))

The first kiss they had ever shared had caught Kyte entirely by surprise. He remembered feeling shy and embarrassed, perhaps even a little confused at the time. The Same, however could not be said for the second Kiss. The feelings had changed this time round, warped in to something new and differant..

The moment Trent’s lips pulled away , Kyte felt the remnants of their warmth still lingering vaguely upon his mouth. He stared after his shocked and guilty friend with a look of curious thought. Trent looked absolutely horrified by what he had just done. In that single moment, he had lost control of his actions almost entirely.
"Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking.”, He blurted hoarsely.
When Kyte failed to respond beyond a rather dumbfounded stare, Trent trembled - and pressed in panic, ”I'm such a mess, Kyte. You should go...I barely know myself right now. I don't want to hurt you again."
At those word Kyte’s lips twitched.They moulded into the subtle crescent of a cheeky smile.
He spoke quietly,”You’re right. You ARE a mess...Which is exactly why I should stay here...You’d never hurt me.”
With an innocent kind of charm, Kyte winked and ran his tongue across the base of own lip. Trent’s saliva had left them wet with moisture. The taste of his friend, tingled inside his mouth additively  - It was delicious.
Without warning, Kyte pouted and crept a little closer. I feel strange...I need to be near him.
His actions were slightly slow due to simple uncertainty, but soon- all too soon he had his arms cradled around Trent once more, this time from behind.
“I’m the one who hurt you last time,I’m the one who shouldn't be trusted...”
He stroked Trent with care, starting from the base of his neck and working his way down to the edge of his coccyx. Easing away the stress and pain with every touch, that is what Kyte wanted. He wanted Trent to relax again, to smile again.With that thought in mind, an action most unnatural came into play. Kyte pressed his lips against the skin of Trent’s neck. He smelled the scent of sweat lingering over him, and gently caressed the flesh for a minute or two- he finished off his deed with a tiny kitten-like lick.
A surprised blush flooded onto his cheeks the moment he had realized what he done.
He swallowed his breath and stared shyly at his toes, “Sorry, I guess I got kinda carried away...”
Biting his lip, Kyte winced through an oddly pained expression. Gazing hard into Trent’s eyes, he gave into the restraint he had been holding back. He fessed up like a criminal, and admitted the thought that had been plaguing him since the day they had first kissed.
“I can’t control it anymore! You taste like, like sugar to me...and I-”
“-I love it”

Smiling. Kyte was smiling at him. Trent's brow furrowed into a frown, and he shifted anxiously, but still Kyte just smiled at him, and said calmly, ”You’re right. You ARE a mess...Which is exactly why I should stay here...You’d never hurt me.”
"But don't you mind-" He choked, strangled the the lump in his throat. His eyes flickered downwards when Kyte poked out his tongue, and he watched the other boy lick his lower lip slowly. For a long moment afterwards, he couldn't tear his gaze away. He swallowed.
When he looked up again, Kyte was creeping closer, and Trent flinched when two narrow arms folded lightly around his neck, cradling him from behind. "Kyte..." He murmured hoarsely, flexing his fingers as a strange, fuzzy warmth began spreading through his body, deafening him to the distant murmur of Kyte's voice. It had been a long time since anybody had, well... Touched him. He felt like scum for thinking the things he was in the midst of his grief, but he couldn't help himself. This feeling; this horrible, undeserved desire was the first thing other than numbing misery that he'd felt since Luke's death. It was an escape and a distraction, and he wanted it. No, he needed it, but did Kyte even know where his thoughts were heading?
As if in response, a soft hand began tracing down his back. Trent shivered at the touch, and his breath stuck in his throat as he sucked it in. His spine arched when Kyte's fingers reached its base, and then he felt a touch of lips on the side of his neck. He moaned, letting his head loll automatically sideways to expose more of his neck. God, that felt good! He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, and dug his fingernails into his thighs. Goddammit... He was losing control of himself.
Another little grunt slipped unbidden from his throat when he felt the wet touch of Kyte's tongue, and it sent shivers all the way through him. He feared he was about to spin around and launch himself at Kyte like some kind of animal, but luckily, the contact broke there. Kyte pulled back, and mumbled, “Sorry, I guess I got kinda carried away...”
Trent had no answer.

Their eyes met, and while Trent sat there panting and willing himself desperately to suppress his raging hormones, something in Kyte seemed to snap. “I can’t control it anymore!" He blurted, "You taste like, like sugar to me..."
"Huh?" Trent pulled away, taken aback by the sudden confession, "What d'you--"
"And I- -I love it.”
Trent blinked, swallowing so forcefully that his adam's apple seemed to bob right down his throat for a moment. He just sat there, staring at Kyte, eyes searching his innocent, shapely features. Then, without warning, he grabbed Kyte by the collar and pushed him back onto the bed, dipping down to kiss him furiously on those tempting lips. He grunted, reaching his tongue into Kyte's mouth like there was some cure there he was desperate to get out. He was blinded by passion, to the point that he didn't even see reason any more. And he didn't want to. Reality was nothing but a distant nightmare, and all that existed in that moment was the sweet taste of Kyte's lips, the warmth of his slender body under Trent's hands, and the sound of his short, gasping breaths. This time, he didn't plan to break that kiss halfway.

When Trent’s hand suddenly seized around the collar of his shirt, Kyte felt his pulse quicken - he stared directly into those ice-blue eyes and panicked.
For a moment he thought that he had done something wrong, that Trent would punish him for that stolen kiss. A tiny yelp struggled to escaped his lips - it’s life span short-lived through the silencing pressure of Trent’s own hungry kiss.

Bliss and confusion followed...
Flushes of ecstasy and anaesthetic left Kyte limp in Trent’s hold. Like a rag doll he flopped over heavily onto the mattress - Trent’s muscular form straddling him from above and pinning him in place as his victim to desire.
The kiss hadn't yet broken yet, and in a rush of desperate pants and gasps, Kyte tasted Trent as he never had before. He could feel his friend’s tongue moving deep inside of his mouth, and despite the strangeness in this new level of kissing, Kyte moaned softly and curled his finger’s around the back of Trent’s head.
Was this what Sophie had been talking about? An Escape?...My mind feels all fuzzy. I want to melt...Trent. Oh God! I don't understand this- but it feels so good. This is what you needed, isn't it Trent?...Well maybe I need it to.

When the air had all but left his lungs, the younger boy reeled back from Trent’s lips, panting and sweating. He stared up innocently into that gorgeous face he had often envied. The Grief was still there, but temporarily set aside and out of mind.
Curiously he lifted a hand and gently touched Trent’s jaw. It felt warm, and grizzly with stubble. A teasingly smile of fascination warped his lips, and running his thin fingertips over the sandpaper-like surface, he joked, “Haven’t shaved for a while have you, Big guy?... If I don’t have any skin left after this, you’ll have to bear walking around with me while I wear a paper bag over my head”
Tugging at Trent’s shirt, Kyte playfully propped himself up an inch and sniffed it thoughtfully.
He narrowed his eyes scoldingly and winced - a flush of stink akin to musk and vomit struck his nose.
Eww...
“Well... that’s coming off...and You need a wash Mr.”, he added factually as he tried to remove the shirt.

((He is so naive XD You don’t remove people’s shirt’s while they are on top of you!!))

Trent was in a state of utter bliss by the time Kyte broke the kiss. He was left panting, barely managing to hold himself up on his weak, trembling elbows. He didn't dare open his eyes. This spell was beautiful, and he'd do anything to go on without ever having it broken. Another slow breath escape his lips, then he cracked his eyes open when he felt the tough of dainty fingers on his jaw.
“Haven’t shaved for a while have you, Big guy? If I don’t have any skin left after this, you’ll have to bear walking around with me while I wear a paper bag over my head.”
"Oh..." He touched the side of his chin, holding himself up on one arm, and let his fingertips rasp over his thick ginger stubble. He frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess I need a shave... Wait, what are you doing?"
He raised an eyebrow at Kyte, pulling back uncertainly when the other boy took a whiff of his filthy shirt. "You really don't want to--"
“Well... that’s coming off. And you need a wash, Mr.”
Kyte grabbed his shirt, and Trent grunted in surprise when he felt it pulled over his head, leaving him hovering over Kyte, bare-chested and started. "Ugh..." He scratched the side of his head, and wrinkled his nose uncomfortably, "Yeah, you're right..." He shuffled back, "I really need a shower. Um..." He scratched his cheek again, retreating to the edge of the bed, and getting to his feet. He really did need to wash himself, but... God, he wanted more! He paused in the bathroom doorway, eyes darting back to Kyte, and hungrily searching his face. The taste of the kiss still lingered on his tongue, and his skin still sizzled hotly with arousal. He didn't want to lose this opportunity. He wanted this. Hell, he needed this! And Kyte... Kyte was actually game for it. This was it; the escape he'd been waiting for. The way to forget about... Things.
"Hey, Kyte..." He hesitated, raising an eyebrow uncertainly, "Do you want to... You know... Join me, maybe?"

Trent’s proposal seemed to go a little over Kyte’s head, and for a moment or two the boy had to actually pause and think about all he was agreeing to. The cogs inside his brain seemed to understand that there was deeper meaning behind all of this, but Kyte himself shoved them aside beneath the figurative carpet of denial. He reminded himself that Trent needed him, and that what ever he could do to make his friend feel better, he would.
With an innocent little smirk, Kyte gave his armpit a sniff and piped,“I think I might just do that...I’m all sweaty from dance Class. I stink...”

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, He followed Trent inside the bathroom.
He wasn't all that sure about how to go about this, and out of sheer nervousness he blushed , and began to examine the details of the tiles beneath his feet.
He was aware of the fact that Trent had started undressing, and stealing an obvious glance upwards, Kyte smiled shyly to himself and quickly proceeded to look as fascinated as possible with the floor. His occupation of course was short-lived, and ended the moment a pair of frumpled jeans, boxers and a T-shirt obscured his view, and feet for that matter.
And I was so enjoying that...
Talking a tiny unnoticeable gulp, Kyte braved the unknown and lifted his gaze at last. Trent stood before him now; Bare-skin, beautifully muscled and glistening with sweat.
Awe and intimidation seethed from Kyte’s dumbfounded expression. The feeling of tiny jittering butterflies seemed to tickled against inside his chest. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing inside his throat, he stammered softly, “...you are just-” He took a small step closer, Gently tracing a finger over the ridges of Trent’s muscular abs,“-You’re beautiful”

Trent watched anxiously as Kyte pondered his suggestion, terrified that somehow he'd got the wrong end of the stick. He hadn't. At last, with an innocent smile, Kyte mumbled something about dance class, and nodded his agreement. Trent held the bathroom door for him, and pulled it shut behind them both. Then, while Kyte blushed at the floor, he started peeling off his dirty clothes, casting them aside on the floor. They clung horribly to his sweaty skin, and by the time he'd bared all his skin to the open air, he was beginning to feel truly filthy. He needed a shower!

Kicking off his boxers, Trent leaned into the shower to turn on the hot water, then paused to glance back at Kyte. The other boy looked up at him at last, and Trent shifted self-consciously under his scrutiny, automatically tensing his chiseled abdominal muscles. Kyte, curious as ever, crept a step closer. “...you are just-” He mumbled, reaching out a finger. Trent shivered as it tickled lightly over the ridge between his abs, and he felt his spine arch in response, shoulders rolling forwards. “-You’re beautiful.”
"I'm disgusting..." He muttered, chuckling sheepishly, and rubbing a hand over the back of his greasy head. "But if you keep doing that," He grabbed Kyte's hand, shooting a sheepish smile in his direction now, "I'll be a lot less beautiful in a minute."
His lips twitched nervously, then he turned away and adjusted the heat on the shower. Once the water was at a comfortable temperature, he stepped inside. The warm liquid felt delicious pelting over his shoulders, washing away the stale sweat and sour stench of alcohol. He groaned with ecstasy as he stepped under the jet, scrubbing his fingers through his long red hair.
"Come on." He called to Kyte, more confident now with the water beating down on him. "The floor's gonna get all wet if you don't come inside. I won't bite." He grabbed a bottle of shampoo, squeezed some into his palm, and started massaging it casually into his hair, as though this were the most normal thing in the world. He gave no indication of the way his heart was pounding, thundering between his ribs. He didn't want Kyte to know that he was anxious; insecure in his nakedness - well, as much as the next guy, anyway - and desperate to see Kyte strip down and display himself in his full glory. What kind of body did he have? He was slender and frail. Trent liked that. But he looked pretty athletic, too. God, he wanted to know! He wanted to see, to touch, feel, taste. He just wanted Kyte, in any way, shape, or form. He wanted him, and that was all he wanted to think about. If he let himself waver from that desire for even a second... No. He didn't want to consider where his mind might stray to.

"Come on. The floor's gonna get all wet if you don't come inside. I won't bite."
With electric nerves sizzling through his veins, Kyte rubbed the back of his head uncertainly. There wasn't any turning back from this now - hell Did he even want to turn back? What was he so afraid of anyway?...What could possibly happen?
Chuckling lightly at his own foolishness, he joked,”Better hurry then, I think I’m already standing in a puddle.”Peeling off his now damp socks, The boy soon squirmed out of his remaining clothes- tossing them carelessly into the wash-basket behind the door.

The warm moisture of the steamy air gradually began to settled over his skin, it was the first acknowledgement he had of being completely naked. An instinctive blush broke out along his features, and sticking out his tongue defensively, he teased, “I know, I know...I’m weirdly muscled, but hey that happens when you do dance” Staring down shyly at his oddly formed body, Kyte poked inspectivelly at his slender abs. He shrugged.
A moment later, he plucked up the courage to join Trent inside the shower. The space was a bit of a tight squeeze, but with the warmth of the water gushing over his back, Kyte managed to relax a little. He wasn't all that sure about how to behave in a situation like this, but oblivious to his hormonal desires, he was soon asking all the right questions.
“Um...Would it be totally weird If I washed your back? - Cause I really to, and you might struggle and slip if you tried with me in the way and all. That could be dangerous”

Trent couldn't help himself. He watched, hungrily, as Kyte peeled off his clothes. And once the other boy stood naked before him, Trent felt something stir in him that he hadn't for quite some time. Some deep, primal urge that made him want to grab hold of that narrow waist, and pull Kyte close to him. God, he was magnificent! Such a slim thing, but so fit, with those crisply outlined muscles, and firm, slender limbs. Oh, how he wanted to feel those arms wrapped around him... Kyte was a beautiful creature. And Trent wanted him. Now.
“I know, I know... I’m weirdly muscled," Kyte piped up shyly, obviously misinterpreting Trent's hungry stare, "but hey that happens when you do dance.”
"Weird?" Trent repeated disbelievingly, watching Kyte poke at his own chest. "God, you don't have a clue, do you?" His eyes searched Kyte a moment longer, and he shook his head slowly. This boy had no idea just how stunningly handsome he was. And whoever had robbed him of that knowledge had committed an unholy crime. "Kyte, you're..." He trailed off when the other boy moved toward him, losing his ability to speak. A moment later, Kyte had slipped into the small shower cubicle beside him. Trent pulled the shower door closed, and at once, they were trapped in a world all their own. Just two bare bodies, and the sound of the rushing water beating over them.

“Um..." Kyte's voice echoed dimly off the tiles, "Would it be totally weird If I washed your back? - Cause I really want to, and you might struggle and slip if you tried with me in the way and all. That could be dangerous.”
Trent stared dumbly at Kyte for a long moment, then his lips pulled into a smile, and he had to turn his head and cover his mouth to hide his chuckle. "Sorry." He muttered, still smiling into his hand, even after he'd tried to stop. "You're so damn cute..." He touched Kyte's cheek, but after searching his eyes for a moment, Trent started and pulled back again, tensing slightly. What was he doing...? Luke was dead. How could he be feeling anything but crippling misery? He swallowed guiltily, taking a step back to free up some space. His back bumped the tiles, and that reminded him that he actually hadn't answered Kyte's question at all. Would he let his friend wash his back? Well... "Yeah, I don't see why you can't." He mumbled, just a little anxious, "I mean, I'd like that..." He glanced up, and raised an eyebrow, "If I can do yours, too."