Velvet Rope

A/N: Well that only took several hours to outline, draft, edit, and redo. This is attempt number 5 of this chapter and I'm feeling pretty good about it. Read and review, please. It makes my inner muse sing.

Cheers, and enoy.

Velvet Rope

By: Terrany

Chapter 6

If Everyone Cared

Five years ago

He kept his head down as he wandered the halls of his school. Kids were assholes. He knew the school by the tiles, he worried sometimes because some of the scuff marks and stains that never seemed to go away. He recognized coffee stains from where a scuffle had caused someone to spill their coffee which cleaned up hastily though the muddy water had created lazy pattern and directly in the middle was the dark spot where the coffee itself was merely spread and barely lifted. He knew next to the science hall there was three green gum wads stuck to the floor which signaled he was near the bathrooms And he knew to take a left as the tiles changed from white to the fake brick flooring the school had at the entrance. As he walked out he made a fast turn to his motorized bicycle and crashed straight into an upperclassman, falling to his ass on the dirt and muttering a fast and humble apology. For a second the "It's alright," worked its way from the other boy's lips but he stopped himself watching the brunette slowly get to his feet, his eyes down cast.

"Hey look, it's the school's very own faggot," The boy scoffed and laughed and his eyes flicked up for a second recognizing the voice, Lucas the High School's back up quarter back and fully trained asshole, it seemed, "Trying to make a move on me, Nancy?"

Luke shoved his shoulder and he took a step back to absorb the blow trying not to fall back to the ground. Someone stood behind him and shoved him forward into a third who shoved him into the first. This game continued for a moment and he struggled to find his feet as crowds gathered and people laughed and jeered. The sound of his struggles and his sneakers dragging across the grass as gravity took over was all there was as his heart beat raced in his ears. He couldn't hear their taunts and the laughing; they were a background to his own inner struggles. He struggled to not fall, their hands caught him when he almost did and literally tossed him to someone else and he tried to turn or writhe into a righted position unable to find which way was up after the seventh shove.

He heard a distant, "Hey, assholes!" and heard a thud as something hard hit one of the boys in the shoulder and when he shoved towards him he fell forward landing harshly on his knees, the boy whose turn it was now looking over at the small voice. The victim of he bullying hated that voice instantly, for every inch of gratitude he felt there was a stabbing realization someone had just saved him and that was more humiliating than just letting the jocks have their fun.

"Who the fuck are you?" The four boys now had their attention on this new kid and he laughed in response. He simply grimaced at the dirt embarrassed and ashamed watching as a flash of white flew past him. He realized he was alone, and the crowd dissipated no longer interested in the gay kid on his hands and knees in the school's yard.

Present

"Why do you struggle, pretty one?" A distant voice asked.

"I want to go home!" His voice strained and the laughing persisted, mocking him, though the flash in the eyes was one of annoyance and frustration. It made him nervous and his heart was suddenly in his throat and constricted his breathing.

"He trains so well," Another voice added, "A shame, a shame."

"I'm waiting," He gritted out, annoyed. He wondered why he spoke, he screamed to quiet himself, stick to the plan, don't speak to them! Panic played on every nerve, but how do you make yourself listen? His tongue disobeyed him and he continued to speak, venomous words slipping between his lips, "I'll get you comfortable. I'll make you love me. I'll say the words you want and do the things you ask but when you think you have me as your happy quiet pet I'll kill you all and leave."

"I'll never trust you now, Aiden." A third voice spoke and his eyes flickered to the side at the shadowed figure standing defeated in the corner. Slowly it occurred to him that he knelt, his arms kept up at an uncomfortable angle and he couldn't get his ankles together, so instead he placed his knees closely together in modesty.

"It's too late!" The second squeaked, "You're dead." It laughed at him which seemed to echo on forever. There was a ringing sound in his ears and he tried to cover them but his arms were still chained.

He stared down at a casket and touched soft, pale cheeks. It was odd how the dead looked, no blood flowing, not a muscle twitched. He didn't realize that the living constantly moved, there was always the lifting of the chest, the way eyes moved beneath the eyelids and gentle stirrings of he body as it adjusted in sleep. His own form was so still it was terrifying.

Fingers laced through red hair and Aiden contemplated if he'd go to hell for all the bad things he'd done. In a moment he fell to his knees and truly begged forgiveness, mostly for the heartache he'd caused so many. He didn't want God to hate him, wasn't he supposed to love all of his children? Aiden felt so entirely without love, there was no mercy for him.

The skin on his back ripped open and he screamed at the hot flow of blood over his skin and in desperation clawed at the mahogany casket his body laid in. Blood pooled around him, so much blood. He didn't think a human body could contain this much blood. Everything was wrong. He needed to be buried in oak. He wanted oak, not mahogany. He wanted his scars to go away, to be destroyed in a fire or devoured by the creatures that lived in the ground, mahogany would take so long to break down, what happened to the oak? And still his skin split and bled and nothing he did would stop the pain. For a moment there would be a dull ache and the world in front of him danced in tints of red and faded in and out, but he'd be jolted back awake and keenly aware of the new scars forming, the new heat and pain collecting in the tissues of his back.

"JPB. You think you're cute don't you?" Someone spoke and he stayed completely still only minimally aware that he had no choice. He couldn't move.

"I don't know what you mean." He smelled heat. Heat had a smell, as did cold. He didn't realize it until that very moment, but it was nearby and it made him whine, any struggle or force he placed on his limbs created no movement whatsoever. He wanted to get away from that smell, he didn't trust it, "Don't you dare." The voice defended him.

"You forget your place," It demanded and he heard a pained scream and then the heat was so close his heart was in his throat again and he couldn't scream through it. Was he really in hell? What had he done that had been so terrible? He couldn't loop through this forever; he was at a breaking point.

His eyes snapped open and he drew his comforter closer before hissing and jumping at the contact. He couldn't stay here, he was shaking violently and so he stood on wobbling legs before padding across the hall to his dad's room. The bed was made, where was he? He hugged himself and stood in the door way, his back aching and he felt the hot streams of blood though he knew better to think he was actually bleeding. Chris was gone, his dad was missing which probably meant he was off to get Desiree.

He sat on the couch and dialed Jude, only halfway aware of what he was doing.

"What's wrong, Aiden?" He heard the yawn and the familiar shuffle of Jude's movements. Aiden stayed silent and just listened and after a moment Jude clicked his tongue and yawned again, "Nightmares?"

"Yeah," He hugged his stomach and waited again.

"Its 4:30 there," There was more silence to follow and Jude sighed heavily, waking up, "You want to talk or just want to hear me?"

"I'm listening," His voice was just above a whisper and Jude was speaking soothingly in response.

He could hear him shuffling to stand up so Aiden leaned back on the couch trying to relax, "Alright then, I think I left off with Parker."

"Me, too, he was in the lab."

"Right, right. I'm brewing coffee, by the way.

"Parker was an exceptional beast of a scientist; his obsession with fixing his mistakes he made in the past consumed him. He saw time as a solid object something he could grasp and touch, but it was ghostly, slipping through his fingers at the last moment. His theories were shot down again and again and he was asked to prove his theory that we were actually moving through time in a physical way, not time being an abstract function of the world that merely was. It made perfect sense to him. How was it that we could have clocks and timing devices and how would gravity function without time being as physical as his hand? They all called him crazy, but he had money and so he immersed himself. He wanted to go back, to fix the wrongs he'd done. He didn't need a machine, he theorized, he needed a gadget, something that would grasp ahold of time and literally move it backwards. It would need to be large to grab time and to push it with such force or else it would shatter and life would just end, but this was a risk he was willing to take. For the betterment of humanity, you see?

"He needed to undo the death of his unborn child, and the bad way he reacted which caused his lovely wife to leave him for that Lord. He needed to hug his father on the day he died, and not walk away, so certain he would still be there when he returned. He didn't want to lend that money, he wanted to get his ring back from the first girl he loved, he needed to find out how to be more friendly so that he had people to surround him when times got hard. All of these issues consumed him with ways to make it better, ways to make his life less lonely and prove that he wasn't crazy.

"He locked himself in his lab for days, drinking tap water and eating the dried foods he'd saved for when the world ended. He decided that this was it, he was going to make this gadget and if he did he didn't need to worry about the world ending anymore, he'd save it. Hold on, Red," Jude paused and he heard someone speaking in the background and the mouth piece was covered.

After a moment Aiden was uncomfortable with the silence and with the way he was ignored, "Is someone there?" He asked, strings of jealousy tugging at him.

"Yeah," Jude sounded confused, "Andy is. He was down in the shop." Aiden heard the sound of a tattoo needle and more voices, "He's drunk, too."

"That's a healthy time to start tattooing." He commented.

"Well he just almost got tazed, so he's lucky I'm more cautious than I am paranoid." There was the sound of a door opening, "I'm back in the apartment. Can I save the ending of the story for another time? I want you to tell me about your stalker, since I’m up." Aiden could just hear the smirk playing on his lips with that last sentence, the way his tone changed from conversational to lustful.

"Jude," He whined pathetically, "I really..."

He was cut off, "Hey it's just past midnight here, you owe me something and I can't exactly touch you," Aiden sighed and slumped down. Jude recognized the sigh as defeat and his victory was apparent in his next inquiry, "Is he cute?"

"He's not my type. But yes," Jude just waited on the other end so Aiden figured he wanted to know what that meant, "Taller than me, obviously, athletic, blond, brown eyes, sort of broad but he's got small feet which bothers me."

"And where it counts?"

"He's thick, not too long but he can hit where it maters so I won't call him small," Aiden looked down at his fingernails, "Not like you." He added.

"You don't need to tell me about me, baby. How far will he go, you know, to get what he wants?"

Aiden took a deep breath, he didn't want to do this but he just woke up Jude at 1:30 to have him tell him a bed time story, he may as well return the favor, "He'll do almost anything, Jude. The first time we did anything he forced me to suck him off. He was just short of abducting me, but I think if I ran he could have followed. He likes to grab me by my hair to force me to follow him, he might have done that and not even care what the neighbors thought. I walked away but he forced me down by my hair and shoved himself in my mouth and just fucked me. He didn't give a shit about me. If I was anyone else I probably would have bitten down out of reflex... but... well," Jude groaned and Aiden winced, he didn't like this. It made him uncomfortable.

"Does he hit you?"

"Yes. He beats me, actually. He'll pull my hair and shove me down, kick me, use his fists and make me beg him to fuck me just so he'll stop." There was a whine on the other side, he wondered how close he was to being finished, Aiden was completely disgusted he wanted to throw up, not hash out his abuse so that someone else could fantasize about it, he took a deep breath, "He puts his hands on the bruises while he's inside me, he says he thinks I'm tighter when I'm in pain."

"You are," he breathed heavily, "Don't tell me you don't like it, you masochistic slut."

Aiden looked down at his lap, "I do like it. I just don't like him. He's nothing I want in a partner."

"If that was me?" Jude was close, "If I was fucking you and digging my fingers into the places where I've marked you and injured you?"

"You know the answer," He answered timidly.

"Say it," He gritted out.

"I want it to be you, Jude. I'd want more, I'd beg for it."

There was heavy breathing on the other side to mark Jude had finished. Aiden shifted uncomfortably, "You still can't touch yourself?"

"No," He shook his head, "It still scares me."

"They were stupid to do that. You'd be beautiful."

"You're a pervert," It came out as harshly as he meant it to, but Jude only laughed.

"Of course I am. And you are still the only one for me."

--

Aiden was at the counter with a cup of coffee when his dad walked out. A cigarette dangled unlit from his lips and he stared into space. He didn't know when he fell asleep on the couch, only that he'd woken up with a blanket tossed over him. He got up and started coffee and his dad was out of his room shortly after that to start the turkey. He walked by and stole the cigarette from his lips smoothly as he moved to the fridge.

"I thought you quit," He commented, and Aiden moved over to the coffee maker to prepare coffee for his father.

"Technically no, they just make me sick so I'd rather not," The gentle tinkling of the spoon against the ceramic was the only sound for a moment and he watched he dark color lighten in swirls with interest, "Where were you last night?" Aiden sounded like a scolding parent, truth was he felt ashamed and less of a person for talking to Jude about something he hated doing merely to give him masturbation material. He wished his dad had been home, if he was he could have just laid with him and gone back to sleep.

"I went to get Des. Her flight came in at 5 am, so I just worked late and went directly from there."

Aide tipped his head, now concerned, "Have you slept at all?"

"Nope," He smiled, "But it's worth it to see her, I'll be fine probably nap after we eat." He ruffled Aiden's hair and moved through the kitchen and Aiden watched as he prepared the food. He wanted to offer to help but there was a haze grabbing him and pulling him down so he just stared trying to move past this feeling like his body and mind were detached. He could feel the world move under his feet and he felt like his body was pitched forward and then rocked back, but he knew he only sat at the counter with a disinterested look on his face, "Did you sleep?" Zeek asked.

"Nightmares," He responded quietly and the older man studied him, his eyes reflected the concern he felt and for a moment the air was heavy with worry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He noticed his dad had gotten the giblets out and was had placed them in a sauce pan and he wondered how long he'd been zoning.

"Not really."

Zeek nodded and continued is preparations in silence as Aiden watched with interest, "This feels strange," He commented and Zeek laughed.

"It's taking everything in me to not break down and cry, kid," He smiled and Aiden glanced down at his hand, "Do you still like my mom's white chocolate cheesecake?"

"Uh. Yeah." Aiden laughed at how obvious that was, "If you don't make that I might just cry."

His last Thanksgiving like this was 3 years ago. Awkwardness had settled some time before that and Aiden had barely enjoyed the time with his family. This year he was determined to enjoy the food, the time with his siblings and the time off of school. In fact, he was excited for Thanksgiving, for all of his social anxiety, image issues, and eating problems he was legitimately excited the holiday celebrating food, social activity, and showing off personal accomplishments. The irony didn't escape him, but he didn't really mind it. Nothing ever made sense when it came to him. He was a Goth gay kid who could combat any jock in a sports trivia match and give him a run for his money. When it came to Aiden he didn't bother much with stereotypes and molds. He liked what he liked and he saw no need to justify it.

Sometime after that he'd moved to his sister's room and she stood behind him, carefully braiding his hair back in corn rows as he hummed along with her Miley Cyrus CD and watched in her vanity mirror as she moved with practiced ease as he carefully dabbed his eyes with the baby wipes to remove the eyeliner without moving his head too much.

"So then Shawn, do you remember Shawn? He was sort of chubby when you were in middle school..."

"... Baptist Shawn?" Aiden asked, interrupting the lyrics he sang along with only momentarily before he fell back in time with the poppy beat.

"Yes, him!" Desiree nodded stopping her story to add a rubber band and move to the next, "So Shawn says he's bicurious and it doesn't mean anything, anyways. I don't even know why he was justifying it, Amelia was pissed and so he's not really a welcome sight there."

"Some Baptist. He used to hand out those pamphlets and yell shit about homosexuality being a violation to God."

"Guess it doesn't count if you're only in it for the jollies." She giggled and he cringed.

"Ew, Des. He’s gross. Is he still fat?"

"No, he showed up last year looking all lean and yummy and apparently into guys.” Aiden leaned forward to grab his lighter, careful not to move too much and flicked the flint lighting the tip of his incense, "How can you stand this place? Everyone here stares and what's with all the gray?"

"Hey, don't hate on the depressed dreary look," He teased and she tugged at his hair.

"Seriously. The girls here don't wear make-up, there's no style, and I saw some bitch actually go into the store in her pajamas! Gross. Is there even any good parties here?"

Aiden shrugged, "You've only been here five hours, Des."

"I went with dad to pick up some last minute shit. We weren't the only ones there," She huffed, "You should have done Thanksgiving back home, we could hit the beach and go down to one of Sawyer's famous holiday parties."

"You're braiding crooked, quit drooling," She looked down at her own work a moment before undoing the braid and restarting, "I like the quiet and I like being away from there." He explained quietly, examining his finger nails as the new song started.

She nodded and rolled her eyes, "I get it. Do you hang out with anyone here, though?"

"Just Jake. He'll be by later."

He reached up to hand her his pipe and she nodded taking a hit and wincing, "And the weed here sucks."

"Tell me about it."

He liked the braids and the way they hung down his back. Des had done a decent job and he carefully tugged the fishnets and band shirt over his head, tucking his thumb into the slot to keep the sleeves from riding up. He held up his arms, as he always did, and examined the way the black pattern broke up the flow of his skin and made it so that the scarring was almost camouflaged. He stood there a moment, like a faithful servant praying to a wrathful God, his eyes carefully examining the effect before deciding it was acceptable, though barely. He reminded himself to get fishnets with a tighter knitting next shopping trip and donned his leather cuffs over the fishnets examining his neck carefully for any marks or bruising. If he stared for a long time he could see the outline of a scar but it wasn't something he worried about people noticing given how faint it was. He elected to leave the chocker off using a silver chain, instead. He figured he had the braided hair, may as well do the Goth Hip Hop look and stepped back to see the whole picture.

His dark ripped up jeans covered the mandatory military boots and he spun to see how they fit his backside, satisfied that they actually hugged him where it counted instead of hanging awkwardly the way some kids wore skinny jeans that sort of sagged. He never understood why you'd sag skinny jeans, but the freshly shat my pants look was one he was trying to avoid. The fishnets hung below the shirt but he liked the effect. His favorite band shirt was on, his Iron Maiden, or Zack's anyways, which he was never ever returning. He'd carefully outlined his eyes with too much eyeliner which smudged in all the right places giving him a haunted sort of look. The braids Des had just finished actually hung almost to his belt in the longest of places and upon noting that remembered he badly needed a haircut. He liked the way the hair wasn't neatly tucked into the braids and almost looked like he was attempting a dreads look without committing. Really it just was that his hair needed said trim badly and Desiree had grown impatient when she hit the twentieth braid, but he didn't mind it at all.

He stepped out of his room and casually shoved his hands in his pockets and his dad looked over at him. "It's a holiday party, not a meeting of the undead," Aiden raised an eyebrow at him, "You take longer than my daughters to get ready, really."

"Anything else?" Aiden quipped and Zeek shrugged.

"Your mother is a hamster." He tossed back a third comment to his son who merely smirked.

Aaron couldn’t stop himself though falling for the trap, "And your father smells of elderberries!" He shouted with a bad accent, fist to the air at the injustice of it all.

Aiden laughed and Zeek snapped back a "Hey."

The atmosphere was light and the group headed out shortly after noon. His father had arranged a small holiday party for his company, nothing fancy or formal but people did show up on their days off because there was rumor there was some sort of bonus to be handed out that day. They were glad for the time away. There was a strange recognition that had settled some time ago that this was what remained of their family. Their perfect nuclear family of two boys and two girls was only them now and Aiden considered himself somewhere between based on appearance and sexual preference. The warped acceptance of Aiden barely considering he a "son" wasn't lost on him, but as there wasn't a separate term for what Aiden considered himself to his father he allowed himself to be a son, though the definition hung loosely around the word for him.

Aiden had never been to this office before and wandered through quietly, allowing people to stare at him as he strolled through to find the drinks and smoke area, his hands carefully touching every day office items such as pen holders, staplers, and keyboards. His eyes took in every part of it which was a habit he couldn’t break. He had always created several escape plans when in new areas, his mind quick to note doors and windows and where people stood. At the bar there was a bartender, so he accepted that if he was getting a drink it was a coke and rum and Aaron would have to do it.

Aaron had on his dress blues and Desiree had elected a brown dress that was cute and shapely. His sister was beautiful, he realized suddenly, watching her with her champagne glass of water speaking politely to his dad's employees sons and flashing them her most charming smile. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he looked like her but he wondered if he had the same appeal as she did. He knew outwardly his black outfit and make up was anything but welcoming but it wasn’t supposed to be. Aiden got away with it merely because his dad did own this company. No one would speak too badly of it while at the party for fear of upsetting the boss. His outfit, however, spoke nothing to who Aiden was. His awkward way of stumbling through new situations was clunky at best and he doubted that on the inside he was as welcoming as his sister who had a way of making you feel like she liked you, she could completely mask dislike and never just accepted rumored reputations. She would make her own judgments and a lot like Aiden she didn’t really worry about what that made people think about her. She said she refused to be miserable to make others happy and he found that commendable.

He caught eye of an older man and smiled widely, walking over to shake his hand and the man embraced him warmly shocking the few people he spoke with. "Let me introduce my God son, Aiden," He grinned at the group who managed their polite smiles, “What’s with the braids?" He teased, gently pulling the hair up and allowing it to slip through his fingers.

"I like them," He answered simply, "What's brought you here? How was the flight?"

"I wanted to see how your father did with the loaned money," Aiden blinked up at him, "Oh I own him, you know that." He joked and squeezed his shoulders and Aiden shrugged, "The flight sucked. It’s just not what it used to be,“ He sighed in obvious remorse, “How's school?"

"Still a 4.0," He looked over at the group who listened in curiously, he recognized the office woman from when she stopped him and his father during a shopping trip and he assumed the man next to her was her husband, "You still paying for Harvard, Mark?"

The man laughed addressing the group, "I told this brat when he was 4 if he maintained straight A's all through school I'd pay for his Harvard education. Seems the jokes on me because he's never so much as missed a day of school."

"You plan on getting into law?" The Office lady asked with interest and Aiden looked her over a moment before deciding how to answer, she seemed shocked that he did well in school and he wondered why. He let an uncomfortable moment of silence pass as he assessed her, a habit just as embedded into his mind as looking for the exits in a new environment, he searched for a threat,  "Paralegal, ma'am. I'm more interested in researching the case than anything else."

"Do you have any idea what your focus would be?" She asked and he shuffled uncomfortably, hating how typical he was.

"Victims of violent crimes and sexual abuse," He looked to the ground a moment and Mark rubbed his back in a comforting manner, "I want to help kids."

"That's a very noble cause. I couldn't imagine..." She commented and he nodded. Mark leaned over to whisper in his ear and Aiden grinned in return, nodding a good bye as the two dismissed themselves from the group. "Gin and tonic?" Mark asked.

Aiden shook his head "Screwdriver, please."

"You get more and more like your dad, Aiden," Aiden laughed but followed him happy to be getting something for his nerves that weren’t that stupid pill that almost made him catatonic, "Don't lean on it like he did, though, Aiden. It wasn't healthy for him then and it isn't healthy for you now."

Mark owned the company his father had branched off of. He had a full head of grey hair, side swept at that very moment. He was only five eight but he was intimidating based solely on his confidence. He spoke as if he owned you; in fact he acted as though he owned you. Most days it seemed to Aiden that he could tell his workers they were no longer getting paid and they’d like it and they’d somberly accept it. He didn’t affect Aiden the same way, but that was because Aiden and Desiree had the man wrapped around their little fingers and they both knew it. His grey eyes were always making judgments and he was the type of person who made you feel like he knew your sins upon shaking hands. He was tactical, quiet, and polite which was more unnerving than comfortable.

As far as Aiden knew his dad had always worked for Mark and he'd even been with him in the marines when his father served. He knew about everything, far more than Aiden ever would. Aiden spotted pictures of Mark in his father's wedding, at births, birthday parties, family barbeques, he even showed up for his grandfather's retirement party. Aiden had known he'd leant his father the money to get the company started, by passing the bank entirely and he suspected that Mark actually owned the house they lived in, though he had no way to confirm that as his father did insist that was all done on his own.

They left an hour later after Zeek had thanked everyone for coming and handed out the checks, locking the office behind his kids. Mark was coming with them to see the house and Aiden was excited to spend time with the man. He could easily pass the time with him smiling and laughing at memories and reminding Aiden what a pain in the ass he'd been as a child. "You grew up too fast," Mark commented about him and Aiden wasn't one to disagree. He'd started stealing his father's cigarettes when he was ten, prompting Zeek to quit which made smoking difficult back then. Aiden didn't smoke cigarettes, anymore. He liked them and the addiction and craving stuck with him but he'd smoked three packs in one day once, just recently, and just the sight of a cigarette after that got him nauseous. Aiden actually had a record in juvenile court which was something he only found amusing. He had a bad habit of stealing when he was younger, along with an assortment of other petty crimes such as breaking and entering, possession with intent to sell, vandalizing public property, under aged drinking and public intoxication. It was a personality that was bold and brave; he was once unstoppable and invincible. Now it was different, Aiden grew tired of the cops, questions, pitying looks and quiet judgments. He was withdrawn and antisocial and his inner child injured and hiding from unknown monsters now too afraid to snap back his sarcastic comments or put his neck on the line. The small amount that remained was merely a fraction to the child he used to be.

Family was always a welcome place. The advantage of smoking weed was that Aiden wanted food when the turkey hit the table. He wasn't an oddity pushing his food around the plate; instead he loaded up on everything on sight and dug in like a man at war.

That was part of the plan, really; it was why Zeek never complained about weed. Honestly, he thought it was better for his son to smoke than the pills prescribed to him. It lessened his anxiety without making him drowsy and it made him eat without hours of coaxing. He wasn't hungry by a long shot but he wanted food, so he sat down and over stuffed himself, his sister laughing at his third helping and Aiden shrugged. Some part of him screamed that he was fat, ugly and disgusting, but he couldn't ignore this terrible desire for food so he pushed back the thought and mingled, almost appearing normal. They turned on the football game as part of the tradition and his dad tossed him a beer so he could kick back in front of the big screen and scream at the players on the screen, yawning occasionally.

It was so normal it was unsettling. Under most situations Aiden would be a nervous wreck by now, panic stricken and unreasonable, but the weed and alcohol did their jobs dulling his defenses and he just accepted it, too high to really argue with reality and fiction. His demons seemed to settle in comfortably with him and he thought he’d offer them a light rather than hide from them. He was asleep before the game ended, also a long forgotten family tradition. Aiden always curled up on the couch and ended up sleeping through the second half. All through his childhood he was a good sleeper, and now in his teenage years he found it an easy escape and comfortable place under the right circumstances.

"Oh don't tell my dad, don't tell my dad," Mark laughed, mocking Aiden's pleas from when he was a child.

"He still doesn't know I broke that stupid thing," Aiden laughed, stretched out and passing the peace pipe back to his God father, "Though I feel bad about it now."

Mark shrugged and pointed up at the sky, "Nothing is forever, Aiden," He pointed up at the sky and leaned back on his other hand, "Not even the stars. That one’s red, it might be dead by now."

"Time is relative," Aiden smiled, "A billion light years away it might be long gone but here and now it shines for us, still alive. Though I'm pretty sure that's Mars."

"You think?" He laughed, "Might be a satellite, too. I should know. Really, I should all those years in wilderness survival training. But I don't."

Aiden shrugged, "I never took astronomy in Cali, and here it isn't offered. So your guess is as good as mine."

"Besides that, time is absolute." Mark argued suddenly.

Aiden shook his head, "I disagree. It's relative. That's why it's called light-years."

Mark tipped his head to the side, "We'll have to agree to disagree then. Jessica's doing well." He spoke suddenly and Aiden turned to look at him removing his regard from the sky, "She asks about you."

"I know you're trying to be nice, Mark, but if she does ask it's because she wants part of the settlement, which I refuse to accept. California did nothing to me and taking that money is wrong."

"Your moral fibers are too well shaped, child. Take it."

"We have money,” The insult of the settlement settled in his voice noticeably, “I don't want their apologies. I want them to take that and put it into helping others, rather than slobbering all over me in hopes I'll turn into a media sensation."

"It's your check to return, I suppose."

The night was quiet as the two laid out in the yard. Most of the group cleaned up, but Aiden was treated like a prince and spoiled so he listened to the light breeze and the crickets chirping with his God Father and contemplated the meaning of consistency. If this was normal he didn't see how it could ever be dull. Dull was the constant rush of adrenaline, the terror of never knowing what came next. That was dull and dreary. Having family, people to talk to, people who cared and listened was a constant adventure.

Mark's fingers brushed over his forehead and Aiden smiled up at the sky. The complete empty feeling he had in his dream, feeling absent of love, and the terror of not knowing was completely replaced in that moment. He felt loved, wanted and safe.

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