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Fire and the Flood

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There’s some boys that just catch your eye. The ones with that certain smile, the one with the side-eye and the crooked corners. The ones with the bitten-down lips and darting eyes, the ones who blush such a pretty color. The ones who keep their head bowed, walking fast, but you notice them anyway.

The boy staring up at Ty with a defiant expression was like that.

Golden curls, icy eyes. Actually, their colour was more of a warm sky, the kind you’d see on a picture-perfect picnic with some blank-faced soulmate you’d never meet, but hear about all the time in stories.

Ty thought he’d never seen anything so intriguing.

The boy’s eyes flashed with some emotion Ty didn’t know how to read. He was breathing hard, chest heaving, wild eyes darting in several directions at once.

Ty had snuck into Rook’s house to help Julian and Emma. He knew they were more than capable of getting the job done, but he had known there  was a piece missing in their investigation. He knew Rook had to be hiding something. He just hadn’t accounted on that something being a person.

A person whose hazy first reaction had passed, and who was currently looking at Ty with anger painted all over his face. Ty didn’t understand everything, but he understood that the clenching of his jaw and the fire in his gaze indicated a deep rage. Ty tried his best not to shiver, turning his face away from the boy, this mundane boy who was somehow fierce even under the threat of a trained Nephilim.

Something about him was unsettling. Ty couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about his eyes...

Ordinarily blue, but strange in a way Ty knew he wanted to explore. They planted some kind of feeling within his insides, a tiny seed of an unfamiliar something that he promptly buried away, tucked under warm soil and patted down, miles deep, for good measure.

They were a mystery, and he fully intended to solve it. Maybe not now, but someday. Someday , he would discover the boy’s secret, figure out what made him so compelling.

Ty was definitely curious, but he didn’t want anyone to know it. Especially not the boy himself.

Ty strode out of Rook’s basement without a second glance back.


Later, when Kit had left for good and Ty had some time alone with his thoughts one late night at the Scholomance, Ty thought about that seed that he had allowed himself to plant barely a couple of months ago.

At that moment, Ty decided he didn’t want to water it anymore; tried to stifle it in the dark and away from sunlight, and it seemed to be working. Every day, he woke up thinking less and less about Kit.

Slowly, Ty moved on.


At least, he thought he had. He had moved on for exactly three years and four months, three years and six months after Kit had left.

There had been two months in that time period of pining and confusion. About a week and a half of that was when Ty was fifteen and half-in-love and had no idea what his feelings were, and crushed them down and shoved them into a dark corner that he hoped to never revisit.

And the remainder of that, the part that was heavier in pining than confusion, was when Ty had to meet Kit again, this changed version of him. Still beautiful, becoming more so every day.

Ty ended up revisiting that corner, then. He tried to make sense of what he felt. With the combined help of Dru, Julian, Livvy, and the internet, Ty slowly came to the realization that he was falling in love.

Falling hard and fast was not his intention. He wanted to get in and get out, but the mission they’d all been assigned was more intricate than that. Love was not his plan but it seemed to be his fate to fall for Kit.

Through the storm, he’d been slowly getting to know him again.

Small things. He played acoustic guitar, kept his hair longer than it should be, not because he liked it but because his sister loved to practice braiding on it. He had to wear glasses sometimes when he badly needed rest, and his lazy eye would act up and make it harder to focus on small text. He could seduce anyone, he was constantly the talk of the town everywhere he went but he was humble. He had huge self-doubt, worked harder than anyone Ty knew, and was incredibly kind.

Ty hated that he found out most of these things indirectly or by accident. He wanted to know Kit, really know him. He just hadn’t accounted to be standing out in pouring rain, kissing him like his life depended on it.

As he pressed closer and closer to Kit, trying to fight and protect him all at once, Ty’s mind and body and soul lit up as he tried to piece together this new mystery of what this boy meant to him.

He had tried stringing together variables, trying to force them to add up to something Ty wanted, but he knew deep down that he couldn’t make his unresolved feelings turn into reciprocated love on Kit’s part.

So when he’d been especially riled up and especially exhausted of being careful around Kit, Ty had finally snapped. He had pushed Kit up against a crumbling brick wall, unsure whether to punch or kiss him.

He impulsively leaned down, down, down; closer, closer, closer, and focused all his energy into a singular pinnacle of want , crushing their bodies, their lips, their chests together.

And Kit had responded . He drove Ty crazy, with the way his body moved and the look in his eyes.

Those eyes had started everything.

When Ty was fifteen, he never in a million years would have expected Kit to walk in with his sunshine smirk and genuine smile and leave his bright (albeit snarky) mark on Ty’s soul. But he did anyway, waltzed in with a challenging tilt to his head,  hands deep in his pockets and questioned  everything that Ty knew.  So when Kit had responded while the rain poured all around them, had given Ty a shred of hope, he almost cried with joy and euphoria. He didn’t know how Kit felt, but he was ready to hang on to this little scrap of maybe and hinge all his dreams on it.

Ty dreamed that he could transform Kit’s life the same beautiful way he had done for Ty. Maybe he could make his own handprint on Kit’s soul, a part of him Kit would treasure forever.

But for now... Ty pulled Kit impossibly nearer to his own body, and held him like tightening his hold with every passing second was the only way to keep from drowning in the mess they had made.