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More than 3 years had passed since Rava asked him for a divorce and Kendall still hadn’t even found himself thinking about a serious relationship. Of course, he had sex. Of course, he met people. Of course ,he still found himself drunk out of his mind, standing on Stewy’s doorstep without the knowledge of how he even got there to begin with. To him, none of those things would ever be serious, so they weren’t.
Mostly, this was on account of the fact that he refused to believe it was actually over between him and Rava. The mother of his children and the only supportive family member he ever had; losing her was a difficult thing to process. It’s not like she hadn't kicked him out of the house before, just to take him back after a few days and some apologetic words that carried no real weight behind them. It wasn’t until months passed when he fully realized he finally had fucked it up enough and it was over.
The rest was intrinsic to his nature, it ran in his blood and poisoned every part of him. How could he love anyone when everything he touched seemed to evaporate at the touch of his fingers? When, to him, it felt like the more he cared for someone, the more harm he was deemed to cause them? Something had silently grown and expanded under his skin over the years like an infection. It creeped up on him and now he couldn't help but hurt everyone who dared embrace him.
He decided to carry this burden with him everywhere, silently bearing it on his back like a penitent. He already bore too much guilt to even think about harming someone else. The list was already too long for his comfort. He had done drugs around his children, cheated on his wife, betrayed his dad, turned his back on the person closest to him, killed a fucking kid.
At some point after the incident he came to terms with the idea of isolation. He grew accustomed to maintaining a safe distance from everyone who cared about him, merely a shadow that followed his father. For a while he thought he could live like that, a remnant of the man he used to be.
That was until he met Naomi. Sitting at that dinner table he felt the burning of her eyes fixated on him, he could feel her analyzing his every move, he could almost see her thoughts as she realized just how similar they were. Their talk was effortless, Naomi acted like she already knew everything there was to know about Ken. Looking at each other felt like looking into a mirror.
When he looked in that mirror, Kendall saw a better version of himself, a version that deserved the help he always refused.
Naomi made things easy, Ken had grown tired of pretending to be someone he wasn’t, so lately he simply hadn’t been anything. As the night grew darker and their conversation deeper, he found no need to pretend. For the first time in a long time he didn’t want to appear cooler or more competent, for a few hours he just existed.
When Naomi leaned into him and whispered the words “ You’re such a little nothing, are you? ” a foreign warmth flooded his body. Maybe that’s what he was. Maybe that was okay.
-
Kendall was everything but naive, he was well aware of how his relationship with Naomi looked like from the outside. If he tried hard enough, he could see them through his family’s eyes. Two addicts who found each other, a perfect excuse to never change, the eternal enabling, a race between two fuses to see which one would burn out first.
Even Kendall fell victim to the premise at first, thinking a drug fueled infatuation was all there was between them. It didn’t take long for him to realize how wrong he was, to discover the funny effect Naomi managed to cause on him.
Yes, what they had was fun – it was parties, drugs, alcohol, sex, skinny dipping, shouting at the top of their lungs, running barefoot and dancing until their legs gave out. It was also Kendall realizing how seeing himself in Naomi made him want to be better for the first time in many years. The want to take care of her came naturally to Kendall, he saw Naomi as a less corrosive version of himself, still uncorrupted. She made Kendall want to help her, and slowly, like he truly was just a reflection in a mirror, he let himself be helped.
-
The cold Scottish air frosted his room’s windows and his head was going a hundred miles per hour. He couldn’t stop thinking about that picture frame, full of pictures of the boy smiling. He had friends and family, he had a future, he had a whole life until Kendall took it from him. He would’ve never imagined he’d walk the hall where the boy probably took his first steps, that he’d accept water from his uncle, that he’d leave money in their mailbox in an untasteful attempt to ease the guilt.
The negative thoughts kept getting louder as he laid in bed, overpowering anything that had previously occupied his mind. He was being reminded of why he carried this darkness with him, but most importantly he was being reminded of why he deserved it.
To his shock, a pair of hands managed to interrupt the spiraling in his head. He felt cold fingers caress his hair and long nails scratch his scalp, he opened his eyes. Being taken care of like this had always felt like a sin, a diversion from the martyrdom he had to endure if he ever wanted to be forgiven. As he looked at Naomi the little strength that was left in his body to push everyone aside, and keep enduring melted away.
“ Will you sing to me?”
Once Naomi started singing, Kendall quickly closed his eyes again. He was ready to indulge in some comfort but looking at her while she softly sang felt excessively joyous. He didn’t want to push his luck.
After that night, things started to move faster, fast enough to make him dizzy. Fast enough that when he realized he was taking care of himself he wasn’t able to pinpoint the moment he started doing so.
It started with small things, things no one but them would ever notice. They went out less, did less drugs and exercised together. Kendall smiled when Naomi brought home self-help books and left them next to the juicer for him to see. They made it their routine to read a chapter to each other before sleep.
Kendall was painfully aware of how stupid he would’ve felt doing these rituals with anyone else. He thought about his father’s words on his 80 th birthday, how the word “madhouse” had burnt and stung. He dismissed it.
If someone would’ve told him how much easier shaking thoughts away would become with time, maybe he would’ve done less drugs to tune them out.
-
Over the months following his press conference Naomi basically moved into his penthouse. She didn’t need to be told she was needed. Months passed and Kendall couldn’t get accustomed to the sight of all the things she casually left behind. Her books were in his bookcase, her jewelry on his nightstand, her body against his every morning when he woke up. It was terrifying.
Kendall never expected things to last, since he was a child, things were taken away just as fast as they had gotten there; no warnings granted. He could only hope and pray this time things would be different. He prayed he hadn’t overplayed his hand with destiny. He simply didn’t know how much more he was willing to lose before completely giving up.
Being completely cut off from his family and every other person close to him had left him more dependent on his relationship with Naomi than he cared to admit. He came to this realization one morning when he started really feeling her absence, even though she was just in a different room.
Later that same morning, when Naomi came out of the shower, she found Kendall holding an empty cup of coffee. He was lost in thought and his eyes were fixated on a random spot. The reflection seemed warped when she tried to look in their mirror, a dark aura engulfed Kendall’s whole body, he looked poisonous. She approached tentatively.
No amount of carefulness was enough once Kendall started talking. The words just kept slipping out of his mouth without his consent. His hands were shaking as he held onto the cold cup of coffee for support. Naomi was unpredictable, blunt, and emotionally constipated. Kendall had chosen her over his penitence, he had risked his redemption for just a bit of the warmth she provided. He didn’t have anyone else. He couldn’t let it be a mistake.
-
If someone were to ask Kendall what went wrong, he’d say he didn’t know. When Kendall laid in bed asking himself what happened, the answer always was that his own panic betrayed him.
It seemed like the more Ken desperately asked for more, the less she was willing to give. Affection scared her and Kendall couldn't stop suffocating her with it. Naomi had to learn the hard way that he never stopped being and addict.
What hurt Kendall the most is that he knew he was pushing her away. He understood that the sudden importance he had placed on their relationship was neither healthy nor sustainable. He knew he was sabotaging the one good thing he had left. This knowledge wasn’t enough to stop him. No matter how much he tried to be better or how many books he read, he would always be a Roy, wouldn’t he? He was always carefully taught from a young age to take everything that was handed to him, but no one ever bothered to teach him how to stop. Moderation had never been a part of his life.
Then came his birthday, the beginning of the end. Stress had been accumulating on his muscles and not even the familiar beats of his rap playlist seemed to sooth him. He had realized there were too many people there the moment he entered the door. It took him only a few minutes more to notice none of them were the ones he wanted to see.
He was drowning in a sea of gifts that didn't belong to his children when Naomi offered to give him her own birthday gift. It seemed impossible, but this managed to make him feel lighter. For just a second he was able to block out the noise and forget about the people whose absence clung to him like wet clothes. He didn’t want to think about the last time he felt damp fabric stick to his skin.
He had been begging Naomi for something at this point. The situation with his family and the distance she had put between them had left him grasping at straws. He was obsessively trying to grab onto anything that was actually there. Nothing felt real and it was appalling to him how desperately he needed something that was. He held the black velvet box in his hands with surprising gentleness. He feared it would disappear if he held on too tight.
Kendall opened that box and inspected the watch, searching for something he already knew wasn't there. The feeling growing rapidly in his chest brought him back to that ruinous night at his sister's wedding. Back then he’d known as soon as his body hit the water that exact moment would be the trigger of something bigger and nothing would ever be the same. He could not shake the feeling that this moment meant the same.
He started shaking and stumbling over his words while he fumbled with the watch looking for an inscription. He found he didn’t have the strength to look at Naomi’s face, the thought of what he’d find terrified him.
For once in his life, he decided to accept the truth. This time he couldn’t keep his eyes closed and let Naomi’s singing voice guide him to sleep. He looked up. He forced himself to look in Naomi’s apologetic eyes and knew it was over, it probably had been for some time.
He felt her arms around him when she hugged him on the floor, hardly present. He even managed to feel the same insignificant, minute warmth and comfort the water from his hotel room’s bathtub had brought him that night.
He watched like a spectator from outside his body as he was dragged out of the party. He was barely conscious; he was barely awake. The mocking from his siblings felt like background noise and the cold floor hitting his face when Roman pushed him felt like divine punishment.
At home, he only let his eyelids close once his throbbing head found it’s way to Naomi's lap. His body was exhausted, and it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. He did so just like he had that night, with the knowledge that nothing would be the same the next day.
-
When Naomi came out of the Pierce home, wearing a brand-new haircut that agonizingly reminded him of how he didn’t know what was happening in her life anymore, Kendall’s chest tightened.
Looking at her felt like being a moth looking at the light. She was the ultimate temptation, the subject of every “what if” that flooded his mind when he tried to sleep, a reminder that life on earth could be good.
For a second his knees grew weak, but Kendall had learnt his lesson long ago. He didn’t get to have goodness in this life. He did his best to keep the threat of being happy away and quietly bear his punishment. He only hoped that it would be enough to make whatever was left of his soul be forgiven.