Through the Shadow of the Evening Sun

For a brief, dizzying moment, Caleb is caught in those clouded and confused blue eyes, eyes he’d seen countless times since practically birth but had never really looked into. He’d never had to, one look at the younger boy’s face had always been enough to show whether he’d been lying or not.

Not that Tyler ever tried lying to him but it was also a pretty good indicator of when Reid was, too.

And why else would he stare into a face that was as familiar to him as his own?

But now, now he can’t seem to look away from the other boy’s eyes, caught up in the clear, soft blue, the thoughts and emotions he can almost sense there but not quite grasp. Sees them widen under his scrutiny, pale skin flushing at having his attention, the tip of Tyler’s tongue sliding nervously along his parted lips.

And that’s enough.

Enough to break the hold over him, Caleb’s eyes dropping back down to his open but mostly blank notebook, something in his lower belly twisting and fluttering. Consciously fighting back his own body’s urge to do the same, keeping his tongue from following the path Tyler’s had taken as, for a brief moment of insanity, he wonders if the younger boy is tasting him there on his lips.

The thought should sicken him and there is a pang of it, but not nearly enough to satisfy him.

Not after what he’d done, to Tyler, to their youngest, the one they were supposed to protect and look after. They’d had it drilled into their heads from childhood ever since they’d almost lost him playing in the woods because he couldn’t keep up and it was hard to separate that now, hard to see the other boy as an equal.

Even if it had been anyone else, though, he would still be sick over that night. He doesn’t remember much of it, just the dark and the cold, the pouring rain of his nightmare, watching Chase disappear into the fire over and over, and then the soft, soothing touch and he hadn’t been able to keep from reaching out. Wanting to crawl inside that warmth, that light, and never come out.

Nothing of what he had been doing had sank in past the whirring and buzzing of his mind, the frantic need to do whatever he’d had to do to keep that safe feeling, warm feeling, until he’d heard that soft whimper.

Caleb shakes his head, eyes focusing again on the nearly empty page as he tries to stop the memories, the horror he’d felt when he’d realized he was pinning Tyler, Tyler down onto his bed, practically assaulting him. He closes his eyes and swallows down the bile in his throat.

No practically to it, his hands had been gripping the younger boy’s wrists, holding him down while he’d attacked his mouth, leaving it swollen and red from his teeth, the hard pressure of his mouth. He’d seen the dark ring of bruises around the fragile bones later, though Tyler had tried to hide them in the layers he always wore and had skipped swim practice until they were gone.

Not admitting even to himself that the shame he’d felt at seeing them had been laced with something more primitive and base. Possessive.

Clenches his fingers around the pen in his hand, drawing in a slow breath. He can’t understand how he’s come to this. He’s always been the responsible one, the ‘golden boy’.

He killed a boy. A boy he knew, had liked, even admired, felt a kinship to. Yeah, Chase’d been threatening his life, his brothers’ lives, Sarah’s, but the guy was fucked up in the head, had problems that could have easily been theirs if it hadn’t been for pure luck of the draw.

And not even two nights later, he’d been pinning Tyler down, kissing him brutally, taking from him what he had no right to take, using him. When he knew how weak and powerless that made you feel, going way further than Chase had when he’d held him down on the bathroom floor. And unlike Chase, he had no excuse.

Knows that the guilt inside him should also extend towards Sarah but it doesn’t and he isn’t sure why that is, either. Only that it hadn’t been about sex, desire, it had been about comfort and taking it even when it had been offered anyway.

They need to talk about it, he knows that, and yet they avoid any mention of that night, avoid being alone, avoid each other except when they have no choice. Not that he can blame Tyler but the younger boy never seems pissed off at him or any more scared of him than he’d ever been.

He wants, needs to explain, if not apologize again, but then again.. he doesn’t.

Doesn’t understand fully what happened, himself, doesn’t know how he could explain it to Tyler. Has no excuse for what had happened.

More than anything, he wishes he could forget, like the other boy had suggested, selfishly wishes Tyler could forget it, too, but he knows he hasn’t.

He feels those eyes on him, a silent questioning there that he doesn’t quite understand.

So many questions, so many thoughts. They speak still, of course, but not about that, not about what they can’t stop thinking about. Not about what’s important.

That is shrouded in glances, in the avoidance of those glances. In silence.

But the silence won’t cover it forever.