A Thousand Words

a/n: Wow, yeah, it's been a while. But this isn't exactly a continuous story so I hope that you enjoy these nonetheless.

This one's a bit angsty too. Oh, and it's self-beta'ed so expect some mistakes. I tried.

Special love to Kuromei (*gasp* I didn't even know someone was reading Mimickers. Wow. Thanks!) and DarkSacrifice who took the time to tell me how much they enjoyed the previous pieces. Without you, I wouldn't have the courage to post the next bits. Thank you~

Title: Not Meant to Be
Pairings: TrentxKale
Description: Kale wants things he shouldn't. And every time he gives in, he falls deeper towards inevitability.
Inspired by the song by Theory of a Dead Man by the same name.

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Kale knows that he shouldn't.

Every time he lies here, staring off into the inky blackness of night with nothing but a thin blanket separating them – if that – he knows that he shouldn't. He's not supposed to. There are morals lying there.

Trent isn't single. He has a girlfriend, a woman he supposedly loves. Admittedly, distance separates them at the moment, but all the same, they are together. And as soon as she graduates, they'll be within the same state, hell within the same house once more. Trent will be happier, and smiling. Trent won't need him.

He really knows that he shouldn't.

There's a reminder that he shouldn't in the silence. It is enclosing. Intoxicating. It tells him that even if he does, he would have to be quiet. There are other ears in the house, possibly listening. Possibly asleep. It's an even greater proof that he shouldn't.

But, oh, how Kale wants to.

He lies there and he listens to Trent's soft breathing, the warmth of his skin scant inches away. He can't sleep, despite the fatigue pulling at his body. He knows he has to be up early tomorrow, for the long drive back to Blacksburg. He doesn't sleep because there are other things he'd rather be doing, even if he knows he isn't supposed to.

Kale turns on his side, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dark of the room now that he has closed the lid of his laptop. Thin streams of street lamp light peek in through the gaps in the thick plastic and cloth that cover the window. They cast lingering shadows on everything, making the small room seem even tinier. In a nearby room, there is an arbitrary thump, followed by a muffled curse. Someone else is still awake, though he doubts she can hear much of anything through her headphones.

His back is to Trent, but that doesn't mean Kale can't see him anymore. He closes his eyes and sees the other man's silhouette, a slimmer, thinner shape, but familiar all the same. Pale hair lying messily over his head, rarely brushed because that would be too much effort, and one arm tossed casually above him, fingers reaching into the air. A scent hovers in the air, a mix of AXE body wash and that cheap air freshener that somehow smells better than the expensive stuff.

The night suddenly seems stifling. And Kale's still wide awake.

He huffs quietly and throws off the thin cover, barely missing snapping it against Trent's sleeping body. Kale sits up, scrubs a hand down his face, and rises to his feet with a rustle of cloth and blankets. He hitches up his pants, doesn't bother with a shirt, and snatches his cigarettes and lighter from the cluttered desk. There's a thin stream of light coming from the parted door and it's enough to guide him around the scattered objects on the floor. Still, he nearly trips over the damn cat that's never learned enough to get out of the way.

It skitters away from him, likely seeking solace with Trent, and Kale curses under his breath. He scratches fingers over his scalp as he gingerly pulls open the door, wincing when it squeaks, and slips into the bright hallway. Someone left the light on again, not that he really cares. He's not paying the bills.

He taps out a cigarette as he ambles through the hallway, the living room, the kitchen, and then to the front door that empties into the car port. This time of night, the squeak as it opens seems even louder. It's just a bit chilly as he steps outside, barefoot onto cold concrete, but he hardly notices, already placing cigarette to lips. He leans against the hood of the car and lights it up, the first whiff of nicotine flooding his system.

After watching the smoke rise towards the roof of the carport, Kale crosses one arm over the other and balances his elbow against his wrist. He closes his eyes and smokes in silence, broken only by the dog barking in the backyard and passing cars, the thump-thump of their music an annoying pulse in the back of his mind. He realizes that he shouldn't stay this time, at least, not as long as he usually does. The temptation is too great. He'll end up doing something he regrets again.

He finishes one cigarette, and not wishing to return to the room, he lights another. Sleep is the last thing on his mind. There's a feeling of exhaustion on the edge of his senses, but only on the edge. He both does and does not want to return to that room with its enticing resident.

Kale could just leave tonight. It wouldn't be the first time he's had to skip out earlier than usual.

“Couldn't sleep?”

The voice, out of nowhere, startles Kale and he nearly drops his cigarette. His eyes pop open, having never even heard the door squeak, and he's treated to the sight of a very awake Trent, lighting up his own cigarette. His hair is a messy billow around his face, and there's the imprint of a pillow on one of his cheeks.

Kale really, really wants to fuck him right now.

He abruptly turns away from Trent in order to hide his reaction, calmly taking another drag of his cigarette. “Thinkin' I'll go and head back now.”

“So soon?” Trent asks around a mouthful of Marlboro, the cigarette bouncing on a pair of full, pink lips.

Kale can easily remember them being reddened from a harsh kiss, the taste of two different nicotines blending together on his tongue. His mouth waters at the recollection, and Kale swallows thickly, wishing he wore something a bit more concealing then his loose sweatpants. His cock throbs beneath the cotton.

He really ought to leave tonight.

Kale nods, grinding his half-finished cigarette against the brick wall of the house, letting loose a final stream of smoke from his mouth. “Ma'll be worried about me. She gets lonely.”

Snorting, Trent rolls his eyes. “Mama's boy,” he taunts, like always, taking a lazy swat at him.

Kale avoids it with practiced ease, brushing hair out of his face. He really ought to get it cut. He's just been too lazy to do so. And no, it has nothing to do with the fact that Trent has complimented it before – even if offhand. Nothing to do with that at all.

“Whatever man.” He waves Trent off and pads back towards the house, the chill in the air making his nipples stiffen. It's getting closer and closer to winter. Kale doesn't mind so much. He happens to like winter.

Snow and grey skies. Breath puffing out in pale billows in the morning. Christmas dinner and presents. Decorations and holidays. Snowball fights and snowmen, hot chocolate and cider. Pumpkin pie and turkey and the advent calendar hanging over the mantle.

There is a lot to like about winter.

Kale creeps back through the silence, hearing dull noises that refer to the other residents of the household. His eyes flicker to the clock. It is late – or early, depending on how one wants to look at it. Perhaps too early for him to leave. He feels incredibly tired, even if his heart and mind are keyed to energy. He could crash.

But he thinks that he can't stay here either. The temptation is too great.

Stepping into the room he shares with Trent whenever he visits, Kale flips on the overhead light, bathing the organized chaos in illumination. He doesn't know how Trent lives like this; Kale can never find anything. Trent claims he knows where everything is, and truthfully if you ask, he can find it. But Kale himself is always lost.

He digs around in the mess and produces a shirt. Maybe it's his. Maybe it's actually Trent's. He supposes it doesn't really matter since they are about the same size and well, Kale will be back at some point. He can't stay away for long. It's like a sickness he can't seem to abandon. He's tried taking the medication, but it's just not strong enough. And he never finishes the proper doses. He'd rather be sick.

What do doctors know anyways?

Behind him, the door shuts and closes with a defining thud. He hears a snick as the lock clicks into place. Kale doesn't need to turn and look to know who it is. He pushes his arms into the sleeves of the shirt and turns, tugging it down as he looks at Trent.

“Hardly enough time to finish a cigarette,” Kale comments, but even he can see the look in Trent's grey eyes. Stormy with want, dark with desire.

Trent frowns, stalking forwards, bare feet easily side-stepping the organized piles of clutter. “Why are you leaving?” he demands, and if it sounds a bit whining, Kale doesn't comment aloud.

“Don't pretend like you don't know.” Kale shifts, moving to avoid but suddenly, Trent is there, crowding him.

Kale retreats, only to have his lower back collide with the wooden frame of the computer desk. The contents rattle as Trent corners him, trapping Kale between his arms. Trent's hands flatten on the desktop, his eyes boring into Kale's own.

Trent's lips part as if he plans to speak, but he doesn't. Instead, he slants his mouth over Kale's and kisses him.

Kale thinks only briefly to resist but his wants are stronger than his morals. His hands settle on Trent's hips, squeezing as he deepens the kiss. Trent is very warm, his body always like a furnace. And as Kale presses down, he knows that Trent's skin is marked by red.

A leg works between Kale's, the upper thigh nudging at Kale's groin. It presses over the hard weight of Kale's arousal, rubbing circles over his cock.

Trent chuckles against his lips, the sound vibrating through Kale's mouth. “How long ya been holdin' on to that?”

“Shut up,” Kale mutters, rocking his hips against Trent's, seeking more than the teasing touches Trent is offering him. “It's your fault.”

“I'll take the blame if you let me fuck you,” Trent returns, one hand sliding across Kale's chest and pushing his shirt back up, revealing the flat planes of his chest.

Kale's breath stutters, even though he knows he shouldn't do this. There's another girl. A bitch of a girl who isn't worth jack shit, but that's not the point. There's someone else that Trent is supposed to love. And yet he keeps doing this!

Kale really is weak to temptation. Especially when it's named Trent.

A tongue touches the sensitive skin of his throat, making heat pool in his belly. Kale swallows thickly, knowing he should protest. And he does, though it's a weak one.

“And Ashleigh?” he manages, thinking that reminding Trent of his girlfriend should be enough to stop this.

Even though there's a part of him that desperately, desperately hopes it doesn't.

Trent stills, his teeth sinking into Kale's bare throat before he pulls back, expression stormy. “Dammit, Kale,” he mutters, putting a distance between them that Kale feels expressly, the room suddenly cold. “You hate it that much?”

“You're the one that's still with her.”

Scowling, Trent drags fingers through his hair, making it spike up obnoxiously. “I didn't know you wanted promises of roses and fidelity,” he retorts, sneering as though to show what he thought of things like that.

“Well, that would be too much to expect from you.” Kale rolls his eyes, pushing himself off the desk and making it thump against the wall. “Besides, I didn't say that.”

Trent watches him, those grey eyes calculating, even as he licks his lips, tongue dragging across pink flesh. “Ashleigh's not even here.”

“Then you should just end it.”

“It's not that simple.”

Kale squares his jaw, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You're the one making it complicated,” he argues, wondering why they're even bothering to discuss this. He wishes he could understand just what he wants to do, trapped between the desires of his body and the moral compass of his heart.

“And you're the one that never says no.” Trent tips his head to the side, spots of color dancing in his cheeks.

Indignation wells, along with a hefty dose of shame and guilt. Kale feels something inside of him snap at Trent's words. They hurt, but only because they are the truth. Why is he protesting now when he's always gladly given in before?

“That's right!” Kale hisses sharply, something pulsing inside his chest that has no right to make its presence known. “I don't. So I don't know why I'm bothering to have this conversation--”

“Argument.”

“Whatever,” Kale dismisses him with a flick of his wrist. He turns away, tugs his shirt down and snatches his keys from the desk. “I'm going home. This is stupid. You're stupid.”

His flips the lock with an angry jerk and curls fingers around the handle, only to feel Trent grip his arm, yanking him back. Kale stumbles and reacts as anyone else would when threatened. He snarls, feeling it rattle in his throat, and whirls, lashing out at Trent.

The other man twists to avoid the blow, jerking Kale towards him, catching the assaulting arm in his other hand. Kale feels a emotions attack him: anger and lust and fear, all swirling inside like a hurricane. He tries to jerk his arm free, but he's off balance, and Kale stumbles against Trent. Their mouths bump together without any grace and Trent seals his lips over Kale's, invoking a kiss that's more a mashing of lips and tongue without any seduction whatsoever.

Kale growls, fingers clenching as his keys drop to the ground with a noticeable clatter. He smells Trent's Marlboro's, and tastes them when Trent pushes his tongue into Kale's mouth. He could bite the intruder, but Trent's relentless kiss encourages participation and Kale's tongue slides against Trent's. He groans, their bodies colliding, feeling Trent's cock rubbing against his hip. They are nearly the same height, and it shows.

“This is your chance to say no,” Trent mutters, releasing his hold on Kale's arms only to attack Kale's shirt, pushing it up again. “Since you're the better man here.”

Kale's eyes flash. “Don't blame me because you're an asshole,” he hisses, his legs locked in place.

If he were a better person, he would turn and walk away now. But Kale isn't a good man. So far from it that he can't remember what it means to be decent. He wants things that he shouldn't. He wants Trent.

A smirk pulls at Trent's lips, and then he yanks Kale's shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him. Hands drag through the length of Kale's hair, holding his head in place before Trent's lips slant over his. Hot and wet, tongue pressing insistently inside, more of a battle than a kiss. Their teeth clacking together.

Kale breathes hotly, heat building in his body, surging through his veins, pooling in his groin. His cock, which had never softened, throbs impatiently within the confines of his pants. And Trent pulls them together, grinding against him, applying a much needed pressure.

He wants this. Much, much more than he wants to hold onto his integrity. His thoughts of Ashleigh are brief and flitting. He tells himself she is a bitch – which she is – and Trent deserves better, deserves Kale. Though that doesn't absolve him at all. Kale is sinking deeper into hell and funny how he doesn't seem to mind the fast track downwards.

Words become unnecessary. Or if they are said, they are murmured and incoherent, not that Kale listens to them. His ears drink in the sounds of heavy breathing and the outright silence of the house, the thrum of the fan turning lazily above them. The noise their bodies make when they hit the thick mattress, Trent covering him like a human blanket, his hands endlessly touching, pulling away clothes and tossing them aside.

Kale gasps as lips enclosed around his nipple, teeth tugging harshly and blending the pain with the pleasure. His hands grasp Trent's shoulders, fingers digging in as he bucks up against the body above his. His legs part, Trent crawling between them, knee nudging Kale's blood-red cock. He is so hard it hurts, precome leaking in steady streams from the bulbous head.

Urgency wars with a desire to linger and Kale can't decide if he wants to be touched, or if he just wants to feel Trent moving inside of him. It's too much. It's not enough. Teeth nip at his bare chest, and Kale's hands skate down Trent's back, encouraging and pulling. Nearer, closer, harder, faster, he doesn't know what he wants but more, more, more.

Lips travel down his abdomen until warm air ghosts over his cock. Kale hopes desperately, hips straining upwards, breath catching in his throat. He wonders if Trent will finally – finally – take that last plunge and put his mouth on Kale.

His hope vanishes when lips fall against the safe zone of his bare hip. Instead, fingers curl around Kale's cock, a thumb swiping through the seeping fluid and smearing it over his rigid flesh. Kale gasped, his hips surging into the touch, hearing Trent's low chuckle slide through the room.

“Geez, Kale. Do you ever get laid in Blacksburg?”

Refusing to blush, Kale directs a glare at his best friend. “All the time,” he lies through gritted teeth. “So do something or I'm going to sock you.”

Smirking, Trent smacks his hand lightly against the outside of Kale's thigh before pulling back, and taking his fingers with them. “If you insist. Turn over.”

Kale groans. “You always want it this way.”

“Because you look best on your knees,” Trent leers, already turning to rifle through another large pile of junk for the necessary supplies.

The words make something inside of Kale leap as his foolish mind tries to make something more of them. It's less a compliment than it is a statement of perversion, but Kale locks it away inside himself anyway. His pulse is a sharp, throbbing presence within him, his body keyed to arousal. Kale turns over, planting his knees and palms against the mattress, feeling both vulnerable and exposed. He suspects that's part of the reason Trent likes this position.

A warm palm rubs along his bare back as cool fingers tickle against his entrance. Kale forces himself to release a slow breath, to relax. Otherwise it will hurt far, far more than it ought to.

“You've learned to relax,” Trent comments needlessly, his finger sinking into Kale's body with relative ease. Kale clenches around him, before forcing himself to loosen.

Kale twists his jaw. “And you still haven't learned when to keep your mouth shut,” he hisses, embarrassed by the position and Trent's obvious teasing.

His best friend chuckles again before smearing whatever lube he's grabbed this time – cocoa butter by the smell of it – over the puckered ring. There is a rustle of plastic – a condom – and then the mattress creaks as Trent rises to his knees. Kale sucks in a breath as a warm palm lands on his hip, pulling him back towards Trent. He feels the oiled head of Trent's cock press against his ass, and something inside Kale twitches restlessly. He shouldn't want this, but his body remembers the feel of Trent moving within him, as well as the incredible pleasure that inevitably follows. He wants to feel it again.

“You want it?” Trent teases.

“I will fuckin' kick you if you start with that shit,” Kale snaps, arching his back and pressing his body back towards Trent.

Fingers squeeze his hip. “If you insist.”

Trent pushes forwards and Kale winces as the blunt head of Trent's cock slips through the tight ring. It hurts, as it always does at first, the thick girth of Trent's shaft stretching where fingers can't quite reach. But Kale merely grits his teeth and breathes, knowing that the initial burn will ease if he gives it a minute.

Behind him, Trent pants as he slides inside and Kale can feel him throbbing, Trent's palm smoothing over the line of Kale's spine. Trent leans over him, the wet, warmth of his lips pressed against Kale's shoulder. Teeth nibble over a few stray freckles.

Shivers spreading up his spine, Kale feels the heat pooling his belly, gathering in his groin. He unconsciously clenches around Trent, and rocks his hips backwards.

“Move, dammit,” he urges, sweat gathering on his brow. Kale's so hard that he hurts and the sound of Trent's excited breathing behind him only stirs Kale's lust.

One arm curls around Kale's chest, Trent pressing their bodies together as he pulls out, only to thrust back in slowly, forcing a groan from Kale's lips. He pants, head dipping as his knees dig into the mattress, pushing him back towards Trent's cock. Kale can feel the pressure building inside himself – too early, but it's been slowly sizzling all night, boiling beneath the surface.

Kale drags his tongue over his lips, pulling one into his mouth to clench between his teeth. He feels the moans rattling in his chest, and doesn't want them to spill into the room. He doesn't want the others to hear, the squeaking of the mattress tell-tale enough.

Trent murmurs something that he doesn't interpret before his weight bears down on Kale and his free hand curls around Kale's hip, fingers encircling Kale's cock. Kale's hips jerk raggedly into the circle of his fingers, slick from the lotion. Trent mouths at the back of Kale's shoulders, warm breath puffing against his skin in sharp pants. His teeth graze over the back of Kale's neck.

Shuddering, they fall into an easy rhythm, Trent rocking in and out of him with an obscene slide of flesh against the latex of the condom. His best friend is panting, small noises squeezing from his throat. And each sound makes something inside Kale tighten as he closes his eyes, pretending that it means something more than just another quick fuck.

He can't remember how they fell into this, or when it started to be more than just a way to ease tension. When he started thinking that Trent meant more to him than just a best friend. And a part of Kale wishes he could rip that moment out of his life and destroy it, because it's done nothing but bring him misery.

Trent, for his part, has never noticed the change in Kale, and for that, Kale is grateful. He can't have Trent seeing the truth. So he keeps it to himself. But he's starting to think it's too painful. He wants to cherish their friendship; he can't abandon it just yet. But maybe... maybe it's already been ruined. Maybe they've gone too far to turn back.

Maybe it's just not meant to be.

Fingers slide over his cock, dragging him back to the present. And Kale arches his back, feeling Trent's cock push over something inside of him that makes his entire body sizzle. A weak moan falls from his mouth as he clenches onto the mattress like a lifeline, Trent's mouth hot against his skin. Lips smearing spit across Kale's back and leaving trails of fire in their wake.

It begins in Kale's belly, coiling like a spring waiting to be unleashed. From there, the blaze burns to his groin, dampening Trent's fingers around his shaft. His hips take up a rhythm of their own, breath pushing out of his body as he feels his release building. Kale thinks only briefly of clinging to control, but what is the point? This isn't about emotion.

“You holding it in?” Trent purrs into his ear, curling his tongue around the shell. “Or you gonna let go?”

A part of Kale thinks that Trent gets off on that sort of thing, pretending to hold some sort of control over Kale. Either way, his body responds to Trent's voice, a lusty shudder passing through him.

With a startled groan, Kale spills himself into Trent's fingers, his muscles clenching around Trent's cock. Behind him, Trent moans at the added stimulation, the sound rattling through Kale's ears. Pleasure races through him, trying to burn away the scattered emotions that make their home within Kale's chest.

“Shit!” Trent gasps, rising on his knees and grasping Kale's hips tightly as he pistons forward, driving himself deep into Kale's body. “I'm--” His words cut off on the end of a groan as a few thrusts later he stills, spilling into the confines of the condom. His fingers clench, leaving impressions in Kale's skin.

Arms weakening, Kale listens to his heart thud loudly in his chest, his own fingers flexing against the covers. Trent thrusts weakly into him, wringing out the last of his release.

Panting, Trent pulls out with a lewd noise, falling back on his heels. Kale doesn't so much as turn over as he just collapses to the side, sweat painting his body in thick streams. He draws in several heavy breaths, half-watching as Trent peels off the condom and tosses it into the wastebasket. A box of tissue comes sailing Kale's direction a few seconds later, and he catches it, wiping himself clean.

Body thrumming, Kale contemplates the effort it will require to roll over, throw on pants, and head outside for a cigarette. It's times like these that he finds the rule to smoke outside to be quite bothersome, though any other moment he would understand. It's not his house after all. His fingers twitch and he turns his head, watching as Trent languidly stretches, his skin still flushed from arousal. And Kale's cock twitches with want.

Trent notices his look and smirks, reaching down to cup his own stirring flesh. “Can't get enough of me, huh?”

“Shut up.”

With a laugh, Trent leans over, one hand reaching. Until a sound pierces the quiet and the thick, musky smell of sex. Someone's cell phone is ringing, and Kale knows it isn't his. Judging by the expression on Trent's face, he recognizes the noise.

With a theatrical groan, Trent digs through a pile of assorted junk and produces his cell from the bottom of the stack. His eyes flicker over the caller ID.

“Ashleigh,” Trent reveals with an exaggerated groan, rolling over and throwing his arm over his forehead, still holding the cell. He cuts his eyes at Kale. “Should I answer it?”

Everything inside of Kale stiffens, and not in the good way.

“She's your girlfriend,” Kale mutters by way of answer, shifting away from his best friend. Hearing Ashleigh's name is like a dousing in very cold water. He can feel it trickling over his head and ears, bathing his shoulders and upper body in a deluge of icy river water.

Something like guilt clenches Kale's belly and he grimaces, bitterness dancing on his tongue. He feels like a whore – oh, excuse him. Whores get paid for it and he doesn't remember exchanging twenties. A slut then.

On the other side of him, Trent shrugs and answers the cell, which is already well into its fifth ring if his phone actually had a tone rather than playing that irritating pop jingle. Kale can't recognize the song but then again, he doesn't really want to.

“Yeah?”

“What took you so long?” Ashleigh demands impatiently, her voice pouring out of the cell despite the fact it's on a low volume.

Kale winces, that sick feeling in his belly only growing stronger. He rolls into a sitting position, shoulders squaring.

“Couldn't find the phone,” Trent lies, so easily that it almost sounds like truth. And Kale doesn't dare look at him.

Ashleigh's scoff could have been heard on the other side of Texas. “You knew I was calling,” she retorts. “You should have been ready to answer it.”

Jerking to his feet, Kale feels eyes on his bare body, and suddenly, he wants a shower. Hot and steaming, burning away at his skin. He finds himself glad that Trent had enough sense to use a condom, because he'd feel even worse if semen had been drying on the inside of his thighs. He hunts around for his pants, pulling them on, concealing a wince as the motion tugs at something throbbing in his lower back.

Trent says something to Ashleigh, continuing their conversation, but Kale blocks out the sound of their voices. He knows he shouldn't, knew he shouldn't have. But he did it anyway and why is he so upset about it? Kale had his choice and he made it and he should suffer the consequences. He feels as if Ashleigh can see him through the phone, her bright blue eyes a laser accusation.

He grabs a shirt, stuffing his arms through it. Something's building inside of him. Words are dancing through his mind. Kale thinks he is coming to some sort of conclusion. That an answer that has been eluding him, has finally clicked into place. There's a world out there that he is seeing for the first time, and a future, where he's been here, wallowing in the past. Clinging to something impossible because he doesn't know how to search for anything else.

Trent is a lot like that, holding to Ashleigh because they've known each other forever and neither of them realize that there might actually be something more out there.

It's wrong, even if a part of wants to argue that it could be right. And he's the bad guy here, just as much as he's the victim. Kale doesn't want it to hurt, but what else can he call this pain welling up inside of him? He feels cheap and dirty, and he thinks that he should go wash his mouth out with soap. But most of all, he feels that he needs to leave. Now and quickly.

“Kale?”

He doesn't look at Trent. Because if he does, he'll want to turn around and lower himself back down to the bed. He'll want to tackle Trent to the soft mattress, maybe be the one to take the lead this time around. Kale will want to lose himself in pleasure and try to forget how very wrong his desires are.

Kale shakes his head. “I have to go,” he says, grabbing his shoes and stuffing his feet into them. He hunts around for his keys, unable to remember where he dropped them.

A note of suspicion enters Trent's voice. “What are you talking about?” he demands and then suddenly shifts. “No, I'm not talking to you, Ashleigh. Look, I'll call you back.” There's a beep as he hangs up, with or without her consent.

Kale imagines that she is not going to like that too much. And once she gets over the indignation, no doubt Trent's cell will be ringing again.

“It's over,” Kale explains, finally spying the crumpled pile of metal and keychains near the chair of the desk. “I'm ending this.” He snags them, pulling the keys into his clutches with a jarring jangle of metal on metal.

Trent scrambles to his feet, digging for pants, his nudity all too obvious. “What?”

“Not that there was ever a start,” Kale adds, more to himself than to Trent. He tries to block out the sound of Trent's voice, already moving towards the door. He nearly trips on a pile of old comic books. “I'm not coming back either. I can't... I'm just not.”

Kale's in the hallway before he is entirely sure he opened the door. There's an urgency in his pacing, that if he doesn't leave fast enough he'll change his mind.

The door hits the wall with an echoing bang behind him. “Kale!” Trent near-shouts, tripping as his feet tangle in his half-zipped pants.

“Lower your voice; people are sleeping,” Kale hisses, moving quickly through the house. Indeed, the other rooms are silent like tombs, and he doesn't want to wake the other residents. He doesn't want to explain what he's sure they already suspected anyway.

A hand locks around Kale's arm, but unlike last time, Kale doesn't give Trent the chance to stop him. He shakes out of Trent's grip, knowing he could have done so earlier, if he had just tried. But he hadn't wanted to then. He had wanted Trent to try and convince him out of some half-assed attempt at absolving some of his guilt.

“What the hell do you want from me?” Trent demands, voice lower but still urgent as they wade through the hallway and the kitchen, heading for the car port. “This was supposed to be for fun! Why are you turning it serious?”

It's always been serious to Kale, but he's not going to say that aloud. “Maybe I'm tired of games,” he says. “And if you're going to treat Ashleigh like that, you should just end it.”

Trent snorts. “Like you're so righteous. I don't remember you saying to stop.”

“No. I didn't,” Kale says quietly, and yanks open the door to his truck, climbing inside. He jams the key into the ignition with more force than is necessary.

Trent's fingers grab the door, preventing him from shutting it. Unless, of course, Kale wants to hurt him. “So that's it?” he demands, nostrils flaring. “You're just going to throw our friendship away?”

This is why they say to never sleep with friends.

Kale's eyes harden, ignoring the pain that's ripping through him. He curls his fingers around the handle, and twists the key in the ignition. Around him, the jeep rumbles to life, filling the silence of the night. He can still hear harsh breathing and he realizes belatedly that it's his own. It certainly matches the feeling of his heart hammering within his chest.

“I'm only throwing away what was trash to begin with,” he says and jerks on the handle, forcing Trent to let go.

Of course, Kale doesn't really believe that. He cherishes their friendship. Hell, they practically grew up as brothers.

But he needs Trent to stop looking at him like that. Eyes downcast and darkened, as though he's the one that's had his heart stomped on and not the other way around. As though he's the one who's being stuck the odd one out, and who is abandoned in the wake of a single phone call.

Which happens to be ringing in his hand again. Kale can hear it, even over the rumble of the truck. He flips on the radio, makes it loud and booming, and throws the truck into reverse.

Backing out of the driveway, Kale refuses to even look at Trent left standing on the porch. He doesn't want to see whatever emotion might be behind those grey eyes. He doesn't want to know if Trent is watching him leave. His cell phone rings – always left in the car to prevent distraction. Kale ignores it, too. He recognizes that ring tone.

There's a feeling like something squeezing inside his chest, putting pressure on his lungs. He sucks in a few breaths, feels like a man gulping for air after surfacing from near-drowning. His hands grip the steering wheel with disturbing tenacity. White-knuckled and bloodless. The familiar road passes in a blur that doesn't require his strict attention as he turns the jeep towards home.

Above him, the sky rumbles ominously, and seconds later, fat raindrops fall onto his windshield. Kale flicks on the wipers, certain that the recent storm must be the reason his eyes are blurry. He drives slowly, carefully, afraid that his vision might run him off the road. Kale swallows over a rising lump in his throat.

Not once does he look back. He tells himself that he doesn't want to. And Kale hopes that if he repeats the words over and over enough, he might actually believe them.

* * * * *

a/n: I'm currently tossing around ideas for a sequel to this piece, as well as a third. I don't know how quickly they will come out, but I've got the plot sitting here, waiting to be written.

I hope you enjoyed!