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When Kai died, it wasn’t pleasant.
On the surface, that sounded obvious—death wasn’t well-known for being pleasant, after all. But Kai had always imagined that it would be a quick affair, like snuffing out a candle. Or if it had to be drawn out, then it would be like a tragic scene from a movie, with the dying character moaning about their regrets.
Not… not an all-consuming panic of pain, confusion, what happened it hurts my head hurts please help hurts hurts I’m scared where is everyone where is Damon I’m scared I’m scared i’m scared
Even thinking about it now, in his comfy spot on the couch, Kai shuddered. He didn’t want to think about it because once he got started, he couldn’t stop. He had to pace through their little kitchen, running through the memory with a level of detail bordering on obsession.
The wood of the theatre floor creaks as he steps across the stage. Steps that were firm and confident, because who would think that the flooring could give out any second? Idiot. Should have been more cautious.
The quiet stillness shrouds the area, as if the whole world were taking a breath. The empty seats hold an audience of none, all waiting for the demise of one.
Then—time cut outs. He is not Kai Monteago, the Ultimate Influencer. He doesn’t even have an identity, really. He’s just a scared kid who bleeds and hurts and wants comfort. He doesn’t want to be here.
He wants company. He wants his fans, who never hesitate to validate him; his close friend, the first person to ever give him a chance; and… his unexpected roommate, that flawed but kind boy who stayed with him and listened when no one else even bothered.
“Kai.”
He remembers the helpless whines and unanswered calls for help, the chill of realizing that no one is coming for him, the tears that mix with the endless stream of blood. He remembers thinking that no one would find his body, hidden as it was under the stage. He would stay here long after passing—a forgotten, rotting body.
Alone, even in death.
“Kai!”
A sharp sting emitted from his cheeks.
Kai blinked back into existence, sluggishly pulling himself from the remnants of terror. Half of him was still trapped under that broken floor, unable to leave.
But—there Damon was. His boyfriend’s determined face surfaced in front of him. Not for the first time, Kai was mesmerized by how beautiful he was. The warm buzz of butterflies dancing in his chest was a common thing whenever he talked to Damon.
“You’re in our house,” Damon said, all matter-of-fact. God, the debater could tell him anything and Kai would believe it. “I’m with you right now, and you’re safe. I’m here, Kai.”
Kai’s breaths were slow as he fought to keep his eyes on Damon. The wood of the theatre floor. The quiet stillness. Damon’s green eyes were a pretty emerald shade. Kai wanted to trace the round edges of his face and press down on the dimple that appeared when he smiled.
Slowly, he made his way back into the present. He was standing in the kitchen in shorts and a T-shirt while Damon was kneeling fully dressed in front of him, holding his hand gently.
Oh… right. Damon left… to get groceries. I wanted to go with him but couldn’t even make it two steps out the door. So I stayed on the couch, waiting.
The panic spiral at how useless he felt was probably what sent him headfirst into a flashback.
Shit. Kai was so damn dysfunctional. His face scrunched up, frustrated tears springing through as he dug his nails into his palms.
The next moment, warmth settled like a weighted blanket across his shoulders. Through his blurry gaze, Kai could see Damon awkwardly wrapping his arms around him. Kai had often teased him for being so unused to touch—a quick and easy recipe for making him turn red.
So, so endearing.
Kai threw himself into the hug, startling Damon into yelping. The other steadied him as they unceremoniously sank down to the floor. His legs were cold where they touched the tiles, but it was offset by the comfort of close contact.
Close contact with Damon, the love of his life.
How did I ever live without this?
Cuddling with Damon was downright addicting. It was the only way that either of them could sleep nowadays. Shoving his face against Damon’s cheek, Kai sighed in relief before dropping his head on the other’s shoulder.
“S’rry,” he mumbled against the fabric of Damon’s blazer. His gross tears and snot were definitely ruining Damon’s nice clothes. “Didn’t mean to… freak out.”
His boyfriend scoffed. “I’ve seen worse,” Damon muttered, adjusting their positions so that Kai was more comfortable. “You should’ve witnessed how Wolfgang practically shut down once he realized everyone knew about his ‘talent.’”
Kai huffed out a watery laugh. He had only heard about that piece of gossip second-hand from Damon, and he was still in shock about it. Wolfgang seemed so… put together? Mature? It was the exact kind of personality one would expect from a professional lawyer, even though Damon was the one carrying their class trials. Kai should have guessed it, though. He knew full well how one’s "personality" could be influenced by their talent, real or fake.
A hand gently wiped at the corner of Kai’s eye. Damon’s expression was subtle, but Kai could tell the worry in his face through the slight furrow of his eyebrows, the downturn of his mouth. Haltingly, Damon asked, “Do you—want to talk about it?”
He wanted to. God, Kai wanted to. He knew he could trust in Damon’s logical words, and the stilted but painfully earnest way he comforted others. It would help to talk about it. Process the trauma, face your fears, and move on with your life—wasn’t that how people recovered?
But. Dread and anxiety and fear danced across Kai’s skin, choking his words down. What he needed was a distraction. Something to focus on that made him happy to be alive in the moment.
So Kai shook his head. Shakily, he admitted, “I don’t want to think, Damon.” Thinking too much was what caused him to spiral. “B-But how do I get out of my own head?”
Damon didn’t say anything for a moment. As he thought in silence, he stroked Kai’s back lightly. Kai shivered, feeling himself melt at the soft touch. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay here forever. Was this how cats felt?
Would Damon love me if I were a cat?
Then, Damon spoke. “Do you read, Kai?”
“Wh—Huh?”
Damon ignored him. “Do you read,” he repeated.
What a weird question. Tapping a finger against his chin, Kai used all of his brain cells to really think about his response. “Uhhh. Not reallyyy… I mean, it was hard for me to concentrate. I think my brain is like, rotted from social media.”
Damon didn’t even bother replying; he didn’t need to because Kai could see the withering judgement in his expression. A second later, Damon stood and pulled Kai up with him before he practically marched them over to the couch.
“Dude, what are you—”
Kai was unceremoniously pushed down by the shoulders so that he was sitting. When he blinked, a fuzzy green throw blanket was soon settled securely around him. Footsteps plodded away, paused, then came back.
A book plopped on Kai’s lap. The cover made it look like a cheesy romance book that Kai wouldn’t be caught dead around. Kai stared at it. And then he stared back at his lover.
“Er, Damon? Reading is your thing. Also, I didn’t know you were into this kind of stuff…”
Bossily, Damon squeezed his way into Kai’s side, practically sitting on his lap. To prevent him from falling over, Kai automatically held him by the waist (he was thinner than Kai remembered—was he eating enough?)
Damon then tugged on the blanket so that it covered both of them. All nice and snug, like two peas in a pod.
“Diana gave me that book,” Damon explained quickly after settling in, “since it’s one of her favorites and she wants to hear our thoughts on it.”
Oh no.
Internally, Kai already knew he lost the battle. But still, he tried to get out of it.
“Why don’t we just look up a summary? We don’t have to read something neither of us like, y’know? Diana would understand!”
She would, but not before making them feel bad.
Damon steamrolled right over him. “Reading helps with focus, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts. I used to do that with my debate prep. I doubt you’re interested in the books that I read, so this is the best option. And besides…”
Damon's next words were fragile as he closed his eyes and leaned into Kai’s chest.
“I want to hear your voice as you read. It… reminds me. That you’re still—here.”
…Fuckkkk.
Kai deflated. That was it. The final nail in the coffin. The debater was never as unaffected as he tried to be. If Kai had stayed as long in the killing game as Damon had—would he even be the same person?
It was easy to forget that he wasn’t the only one with trauma. None of his classmates were okay. Damon hid it better, could put on a mask and pretend to be a functioning human being, but it wasn’t sustainable. These moments of vulnerability—the frequent nightmares, the insomnia, the difficulty in returning to practicing his talent—proved that. Hell, even a few days ago, Damon had gone all glassy-eyed and numb on Kai for no apparent reason, scaring him to death.
Shit. Look at them. Damon and Kai, two mentally unstable messes whose jagged edges fit together perfectly.
“Fine. Sheesh, you always know how to hit someone where it hurts,” Kai grumbled, except secretly, he was sort of pleased. Just the thought of spending time with Damon made his chest warm. Already, a pleasant heat was spreading from where their bodies touched, the pressure enough to keep Kai grounded.
“That’s how you win debates,” Damon said, pleased. His boyfriend was a menace; Kai could feel him smirking against his shirt, even without seeing it. “Now read.”
Asshole, Kai thought fondly. Then he picked up the book, held Damon closer, and started reading.
Damon was right, because of course he was.
They spent that afternoon reading on the couch, making fun of the tropey characters and contrived misunderstandings. Damon unleashed a scathing rant against the main character, which Kai tried his best not to giggle at (and failed spectacularly). It was funny to see him so worked up over a book clearly meant for teenagers.
Admittedly, Kai was also annoyed at the main character. Why the hell was she so stubbornly against admitting her feelings? It reminded him a little of the Damon from before, actually—though Kai would never tell him that.
Anyway, the book, as stupid as it was, succeeded in distracting Kai. The fear still lingered at the edges of his awareness, but it was blunted by the feeling of being safe, home, comforted. It helped that Damon’s face looked so intent while Kai read out loud, green eyes focused on every word shaped by Kai’s lips. Fear was hard to hold on to when he was too busy thinking about kissing his unbelievably hot boyfriend.
Kai wasn’t ashamed to say that their reading time eventually turned into a make-out session. How could a simple guy like Kai resist? Damon was all his.
That night, while Damon was sleeping in his arms, Kai thought about himself. About how much the killing game had affected his psyche, making him feel unsafe even in his own mind. Basic functional activities, like walking outside, suddenly required mountains of effort. Talking to his fans? Interacting with anyone, especially his classmates, without Damon? Impossible.
Anything, anyone, could kill him.
He could be seconds away from the ground collapsing and his head caving in. Or electrocuted, burnt, poisoned, drowned, stabbed—the list went on and on. A conga line of death, death, death. It felt like the fear would never end. Even when he had someone by his side, reminding him to live in the present, he couldn’t just stop thinking about it. It was a part of him—a scar that had bludgeoned his soul.
Kai didn’t know if he would ever get better. Honestly, it felt like the “Kai” he was before the game had died. Was he ever this serious and introspective before? Why couldn’t he think about simple, silly thoughts like how excited he was for breakfast? Now he was this ugly, broken shell. Way too depressed for his own good.
… And still, Damon loved him.
Who could have thought that this unfriendly, arrogant Ultimate would become the one person he couldn’t bear to live without? Even when Kai was a useless coward, Damon was there to help him.
Choking back the tears—at least one thing about him stayed the same—Kai nuzzled his nose into Damon’s hair. He sniffled as he pressed a kiss to the fluffy, darkening roots.
Damon grumbled sleepily in protest, but didn’t push away. Instead, the other man tightened his grip around Kai’s waist, snuggling deeper into his arms before he snoozed away.
I love him.
The thought came abruptly. It was something Kai had always known, but not as surely as he did at that moment.
I want to wake up and see how sleepy he still is. I want to hear him bitch about incompetent people. I want to dance with him in the kitchen while we listen to the playlist I made for him. I want to gossip about our classmates as he laughs at my jokes. I want to try and cook a meal with him, even if it sucks. I want to hear his muffled noises as we kiss on the couch. I want to hold him in my arms and comfort him when he cries.
Despite his attempts to hold back, tears slowly made their way down his cheeks. Not bad tears, really… just a release of so many emotions that had been building up ever since he woke up from the nightmare that was the killing game.
And in its place, the smallest bud of hope began to bloom.
I’m here, and I’m okay. Damon will be right beside me.
Sleep came easily that night.