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Ezreal was glitching lately.
It was so simple, yet so grave: he couldn’t sleep, afraid that a moment of vulnerability might lead to a glitch, possibly dumping him into the void outside their fifth-floor apartment.
He stared at the wall. It hadn’t been painted in years, and he was too lazy to even begin, so he had hidden the scratches and holes behind photos of his friends. He scanned them hazily, recalling the moments etched there. Like that time they painted Sett’s face while he was sleeping, or when K’Sante beat them all in a burger-eating contest, Kayn sitting on the hood of their van, playing his guitar.
His eyes stung from sleepless nights; his body felt so heavy his bones were complaining right where he was sinking in his old bunk bed. The top mattress still had the same bedding from the last time Aphelios had slept there. He gazed at the names scratched on the metal frame, at all the messages they had written there, and felt his vision blur.
It had started out of nowhere, around the time they finished recording for the release of their song. He hadn’t been alone then, but Aphelios only hit him with a cushion when Ezreal teleported so high he banged his head on the ceiling, landing right on the couch and almost crushing his best friend beneath. He had laughed it off then, paralyzed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, heart bursting with the asphyxiating grip of fear, mind racing to come up with an explanation of what had happened.
The second time, he was falling asleep in his room. And the third time. By the fourth time, he wasn’t sleeping. Over the last two weeks, he had increasingly isolated himself, terrified of the moment his attention would slip and his ability would spiral out of his control. It wasn’t only about teleporting himself by mistake into the void, it was the dread of the consequences, if they found out the truth.
He was so tired.
Ezreal sighed heavily, and his eyes started to close. It happened in a split second: he felt the electricity cracking along his skin, and shot a hand out to grab onto something, anything. He couldn’t reach the bedpost in time before the vertigo turned his stomach upside down and the world disappeared under his body. Desperately, he willed himself to remain in his bedroom. He appeared in a bedroom, only not his.
Ezreal landed on his knees harshly and stayed there for a long minute, heart pumping blood furiously what if he glitched out of the building
He was slow and exhausted when he raised his head, where was he? He prayed not the neighbors, please, but he knew the red sneakers under the bed by heart. His gaze latched on the sense of familiarity in other items: the black bag carelessly thrown on the floor, the tees scattered around.
Kayn, and felt the relief shake the rest of the vibrations out of his body. He crumbled there, on the floor, holding back a terrified sob. He was alright. It was just Kayn, Kayn was his friend. Ezreal breathed in, shakily, and got up. He hurried to get out before he could be found but swayed out of exhaustion — of fear.
He was so drained, if only he could — Ezreal dragged himself to Kayn’s bed and promised it would only be a moment. It smelled like him, he noted absentmindedly while burrowing his face on the pillow. He blinked slowly, very slowly, and the next thing he knew the sun was rising, and he hadn’t killed himself accidentally in his sleep. How long has it been? An hour or two, he thought foggily, tiptoeing out of Kayn’s room as quietly as possible. Was it early enough to start the day? He scrolled on his phone, not really reading anything on the screen.
He went about his day in the same dizzy state he had woken up in, the lights were too bright, his friends too loud. He remembered saying something along the lines of I just couldn’t sleep at Aphelios’ inquisitive stare. He ignored the again? that followed with an apologetic smile, and focused on his third coffee of the day.
It wasn’t that he didn’t need help, it was that he had made them all believe he was always okay, and now it was too late to undo the lie. He had nothing for them but his narcissism: he was a fallen star, the product of chance; his song hadn’t been that good, he wasn’t a talented writer. It didn’t bother him, really, because his followers didn’t stay with him for a catchy song, they stayed because Ezreal knew how to charm with a smile. He collected the photos and plushies to remind himself of the only thing he had to contribute with. He could never slip and let them know. He was selfish, he wanted to stay.
He liked his family.
The second time he glitched straight into Kayn’s room he didn’t have time to brace himself before hitting the desk and falling on the wooden floor, scratching his elbow. He waited, immobile, but neither Aphelios nor Sett came to check on the bang. There was a sharp pang on his left side, and he allowed himself only a moment of self-pity before picking up the things he had scattered around.
Ezreal was getting up to leave when his eyes darted towards Kayn’s empty bed, and he knew, he knew he was too tired and too weak not to give in. He wouldn’t be able to sleep more than two hours, anyway, and Kayn only came back in the morning, when he had ruined the city enough that he wouldn’t wreck their lives.
He nosed the pillow softly, breathing in, his whole body a stone sinking in the mattress. It made him feel a bit less lonely.
Sleep blessed him with exactly two hours and twenty three minutes. The worst part of the nightmare wasn’t staying awake, it was the violence of waking up: it squeezed his whole being, and he gasped back into consciousness, mind racing, heart suicidal. He rubbed his mistreated chest with a grimace and checked the brightness outside through the window. The sky was still dark, but the moon had already disappeared.
He almost ran into Sett as soon as he started opening the door. Ezreal barely had enough time to force himself to disappear and reappear outside of his own room, in the corridor. Not what he intended. Sett yelped.
“Shit, Ez. I almost threw up my stomach.”
“Sorry, I was just trying to go to the bathroom without waking anyone.”
That was the wrong thing to say, he bit his tongue too late. He shouldn’t have tried, he should have made it to the bathroom. Sett didn’t seem to realize.
“Well, now that you’re awake, do you want to hit the gym?”
“Sure”, that had been as much sleep as he would get. Maybe, maybe if he exerted himself, that night would be different.
It wasn’t. He lay in his bed, unfocused, the noise of his fragmented mind almost a soft murmur in the dark. He tried not to, but he was resigned to his fate: when the world vanished under his body he only had a split second to picture Kayn’s bed before landing in his room, head hitting the headboard. He curled with a hiss, both hands pressing his skull until the pain subsided, and he sighed out the defeat and the acceptance. At least this time, he had landed on the bed. He unfolded gradually, his eyes straying on familiar shapes in the dark out of habit. The chair buried under clothes, the open wardrobe, the red Vans upside down, the guitar on wall, and right next to the bed, some posters. Also on the bed: Kayn.
His brain needed a moment to process the information, he sat up so fast the world tilted again. His mouth fumbled with words, his throat swallowed an apology. The dread took such a hold on him he couldn’t breathe.
Kayn seemed unimpressed, he hadn’t moved from his corner, the screen of his phone still glowing in his hand.
he knows he knows he knows
When Ezreal didn’t manage to get a single word out, he raised an eyebrow.
“The fact that I’m not here when you wake up doesn’t mean I didn’t come back at some point during the night. And even if I didn’t come back, the pillow still smells like you in the morning.”
Ezreal felt sick. He had not a single believable excuse. So, maybe because he didn’t have one, maybe because he was already there, maybe because Kayn knew , he made himself smaller in the space he was occupying and, slowly, started lowering himself on the bed again. When Kayn made no attempt to kick him out, he rested his head on the sheets, lids impossibly heavy. If it had been other circumstances, if he wasn’t as unguarded, but he needed a refuge, any, even if it was in the lair of a wolf, and pleaded, voice small and thin:
“Don’t let me blink out of the building please.”
He knew he shouldn’t be there, he knew Kayn liked to keep his life separated and private, he was sorry, but please
please just this once
Kayn stared one moment longer. There was something in his eyes Ezreal couldn’t decipher. When he reached out to hook a finger under the hem of Ezreal’s sleeve, he felt a delicate warmth start a small flame in his chest, softening the dull ache of the nightmares. Kayn always kept his word.
Kayn always kept his word.
He awoke to the pressure of fingers around his wrist. It jolted him aware, he was sweating, he was dreaming about falling. He needed a couple of seconds to understand where he was and what was happening, and then hurried to check on Kayn. Kayn was still there, still next to him, still holding onto him. Then, Ezreal breathed. Outside, the day was dawning and, as if echoing his alarm, Kayn’s raspy voice comforted him with a figured you didn’t want anybody finding you here so you better leave now.
Before he could thank him, there was a loud bang outside the door and Ezreal teleported immediately and unwillingly, out of fear.
“Kayn you better return the deadlifts you took yesterday!”
“Don’t be so fucking loud”, Kayn snarled from the inside, yanking his door open. He didn’t even look at Ezreal, sitting on the floor of his own bedroom. Sett didn’t seem to notice him either.
“Poor you, did I wake you up? If only you weren’t stealing other people’s things.”
“I didn’t steal shit, I was trying out the routine you talked about. Just forgot to fucking shove them back up your ass in return.”
“Oh”, Sett said, dumbfoundedly. “Do you want to come with me today?”
“No”. Kayn slammed the door on his face.
“Well then! Try asking next time! Oh, hey Ez.”
“Hey”, he replied automatically.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for my phone.”
“Right... It’s on your desk.”
“Ah”, he got up with difficulty, his mind jammed with so many thoughts he couldn’t follow a single one of them. “Can I go with you?”
Sett’s face brightened immediately. If he noticed something off in his behavior he didn’t comment on it, rather filled the hours with cheerful talk, to which Ezreal only had to hum, smile and nod. Grateful, he allowed himself a few minutes longer under the shower, trying to drown out the noise until he could focus.
Kayn.
Kayn let him stay. Kayn didn’t ask questions.
Kayn didn’t ask anything that night either, when Ezreal’s body collapsed in on itself and he gasped back into existence in a room that wasn’t his.
His head was spinning with the effort of staying awake. He had prayed to glitch himself anywhere else.
A long moment of silence dragged between them. Kayn’s stare was so intense Ezreal could feel it wearing away his defenses little by little, until his shoulders dropped in defeat.
please let him stay
He didn’t know why he was appearing there, only that he could sleep safely, and he needed, desperately, any sleep. He had been trying not to look in the mirror but he knew, anyway: his eyes were bloodshot and of a sickening shade, his face hollow, his skin had a yellow tint. He looked unhealthy and on the verge of collapse, and Kayn could be cruel, but he wasn’t heartless. Maybe that was why he was resting on only half the bed.
Ezreal could hear his own heartbeat. His hands were shaking when he got closer and coiled carefully there, in the space left by Kayn. He bent his knees in an uncomfortable angle so he wouldn’t take up more than necessary, but Kayn grabbed his ankle unceremoniously and yanked his legs up on top of his. He didn’t let go.
Ezreal swallowed the need to cry. There had been no rejection, no mockery, no question. Only acceptance.
Kayn’s fingers were warm on his ankle, and, after a while, his thumb started drawing invisible figures on his bare skin. It liquified all of his resistances, if he had any left. He hummed a fragile, grateful sound, eyes half closed, still lingering on Kayn.
Kayn was handsome in a fierce, dangerous way. His features were slim, his nose remained surprisingly straight despite the fights he got himself into, his hair looked like it had done weeks ago. Ezreal could still feel the ghost of its texture, he had been the one to style it.
He was glad. Out of all of them, Kayn would understand the ugliness in him. The safety was about that maybe: Kayn would let him stay, even if there was a wounding edge to his kindness, as he had sacrificed his privacy in favor of Ezreal. Every consoling stroke of his thumb added to that truth until Ezreal could barely breathe under the weight of it all.
He didn’t blink any more that night, but fear gripped him awake not long after, his mind an opaque buzz dazzling his awareness. It was increasingly difficult to come out of the stupor every time, reason why it took him a long minute to make sense of the lump next to him.
He shut the laptop quietly and placed it on the floor. Kayn looked vulnerable when he slept, and Ezreal wondered if that was the reason why his door was always closed. Then, realized he was the only one with that knowledge.
His breathing hitched involuntarily.
He had to leave. But Kayn’s fingers were still anchoring his ankle, and Ezreal lay down again. He accommodated, very carefully, and placed Kayn’s head in a more comfortable position. His heart thumped once, harshly.
His hands were already there, he could, just this once, maybe, only
He indulged, letting his fingers gently slide into Kayn’s hair. It was rough from the dyeing and smelled like smoke, it was so like him. Kayn hummed deep in his throat and angled his head, granting him access to the back of his neck. Ezreal forced himself to breathe, slid his fingers deeper, and scraped his nape softly.
He loved the texture of it. With a need of its own, one of his hands seeked bare skin and he feathered the pads of his fingers on his neck, feeling his pulse, witnessing a goosebump slowly crawl along Kayn’s bare arm. He fought the impulse to scoot closer, seep into the warmth of his body, nuzzle the exposed spot behind his ear. He swallowed with difficulty the racket of his heart. It wasn’t loud out of anxiety, it was something entirely different. Something that warmed the tip of his fingers.
Ezreal gently tucked the rest of his pink hair out of his face, committing to memory how open he looked, how trusting. There was no teeth about him. He wouldn’t have ever known.
On Sundays, Sett went to the gym later in the morning, but he teleported himself at sunrise just in case. His room was freezing. Ezreal pursed his lips, unwilling to lament the loss of another body next to him, but mourning anyway.
It was his turn to clean up the kitchen, and, at that time in the afternoon, even after the third coffee, his attention was already slipping. He had been careful to avoid his friends, mustering just enough energy to get through the day. As he returned from taking out the trash, he noticed Kayn’s door was open.
It was simply that: it was open.
He stood there, listening. The TV was loud in the living room, and, amid the voices, he caught faint snoring. Aphelios had likely given up trying to coax Sett into their room, meaning they would probably crash on the couch. No one would look for him, then.
For the first time, he walked by himself into Kayn’s room.
He was so grateful he wouldn’t have to glitch himself on anything he dropped on the bed, burying his face on the pillow. He had closed the door, because he was selfish, and wanted this secret for himself only.
His eyes were still half open when Kayn phased through the wall. He felt the relief extend from his chest all the way to his fingers, and vaguely thought he was expanding with it, taking up too much space. He pressed himself against the wall and looked up in a silent petition.
It wasn’t only that he felt safer with Kayn next to him, it was that it made sense in a way he couldn’t put into words. He longed for the warmth of Kayn’s body and the lull of his heart, in contrast with the cold of the night and the noise of his thoughts. He was so comfortingly heavy and unquestioning. Kayn accommodated next to him on his stomach, arms bent under the pillow. He hooked up one of his legs with Ezreal’s casually, as if his way of promising he would be safe as long as they were together didn’t come at his own expense.
Ezreal felt his eyes sting, so he scrunched up his nose. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to cry.
His vision blurred, but not enough that he couldn’t see Kayn’s green eye narrow, following a hidden smirk. It had a gentle intensity to it, and his heart skipped a beat rather painfully. He muttered you’re such an ugly crier, do your fans know?
Ezreal raised both eyebrows and his eyes darted towards one specific poster, as if saying you do. He grimaced, and Ezreal let out a silent laugh, followed by a stream of tears down his cheeks. He mouthed sorry and rubbed them away. It was the first time he had ever allowed anybody to actually see beyond his smile, and, ironically, it was also the first time Kayn came back to somebody. He had been expecting Ezreal, he had left the door open.
He had left the door open, in the same way he had let him stay there, sleep there. How their legs were entwined. How his smirk was gentle. How he was both kind and destructive. His concessions had awoken a calling deep down in his stomach Ezreal did not have a name for. It just grieved Kayn and longed for him, overpowering.
Starving for his touch, for the promise it came with, Ezreal wandered a finger along the tips of Kayn’s vertebras. He counted seven down to his shoulders and Kayn stirred under his touch, pulling up his tee to expose his back.
Ezreal inched closer to rest his cheek on his shoulder. He traced rivers along his spine, feeling the muscles under his fingers, the crevices of his bones, counting the moles on his skin. His eyes were itching painfully from the lack of sleep, but Ezreal didn’t want the sunrise stealing this sight from him: Kayn looking candid and open.
He was alright with his choice. He got to see the first lights of the day painting reflections on Kayn’s hair, touch his bare skin, and embrace him. There was strength in his vulnerability, as if the exposition it came with served as ammunition for his smile. Kayn bared himself with violence: his lack of self-preservation made his loyalty a bond beyond belonging, it said we both alive or we both dead, and Ezreal felt for him, how his destruction came in the shape of love.
He was letting him take as much as he needed to feel safe, after all. His bedroom, his privacy, his warmth, his nights. He ghosted a kiss on his shoulder, only a press of lips, trying to offer back what little he had left.
Days started to blend into one another. He would pretend he was okay, chug down four coffees, be sloppy about his work, and desperately wish for the night to arrive.
He had started undressing. There was nothing sexual about it: he was seeking the contact of skin, the embrace. The refuge. On the third day, Kayn was the one unbuttoning his shirt, touching his neck, leaving a kiss on his collarbone. His knees could barely hold him then, while Kayn’s hands worked their way down his back, to hold onto his waist. Ezreal was both silent and loud, his breathing ragged, his heart thrumming.
There was so much emotion vibrating under his skin he could feel it clawing desperately to get out, and he couldn’t allow it, Ezreal could only gasp and worry if Kayn had seen it peeking through his teeth, how raving it all was.
Kayn, and on the fourth day it became a prayer. He blinked in the living room, then in the kitchen; Sett asked about the ruckus, Ezreal wanted to throw up his heart, and then Kayn yanked him into his bedroom.
Kayn, Kayn, Kayn, and it made sense to need him like that, in faith and in devotion. Ezreal clutched his face painfully, and sobbed his name straight into his mouth. Kayn kissed him one, two, three, four, five times, until Ezreal was humming instead of crying, chin tilted upwards to fit their lips together.
His mouth had a quality of forgiveness, as if Ezreal were allowed to make mistakes. The reassurance was everything he needed to brave the trauma of being a stranger in his own body and he sunk in the refuge of his kisses. Kayn’s lips were chapped and soft, like the curves behind all his cutting edges. Ezreal still prayed his name in a quiet mumble and Kayn answered by absolving his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, his forehead.
“Come with me.”
Ezreal did. The idea of asking where didn’t even flicker in his mind; he simply settled behind Kayn on the motorbike, and rested his cheek on his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of the leather, closing his eyes to the wind. He didn’t care where, just as he didn’t care he wasn’t wearing a helmet. Kayn was there. It was enough.
They rode to the outskirts of the city, reaching an old, abandoned power plant. Despite the security fence, graffiti adorned the walls of the building and there was trash scattered around, giving the place a gritty atmosphere. Kayn headed straight for the fence, effortlessly hopping over it. Ezreal followed suit, only a moment behind.
Beyond the main building, a massive, inactive antenna stood as a victim of neglect. Corroded by rust, nature had claimed the giant structure, tangling vines up its legs and dusting all of its surfaces. It was the remnant of human wrongdoing and he wondered as he started climbing behind Kayn if that was why he was drawn to this place.
It was cold atop the antenna, but the city stretched out below them, lights flickering in the distance, the rumor of cars still audible despite the wind. Kayn had hooked an arm around one of the bars, half of his body suspended in the air. There was a feral spark in his gaze, he looked dangerously beautiful like that, both reckless and free.
A gust of wind ruffled his hair slightly when he looked up at him to smile only with one side of his mouth, and Ezreal wondered if he knew, if he knew he would follow him anywhere. He bent down to kiss that corner, to imprint the truth on his mouth for Kayn to use it in all of his smiles, so Ezreal would be reminded of how fearless he was because of him: Kayn was his safety, and his rebellion.
He knew then why they were there. He returned the smile, slow, and truthful, because Kayn understood even what he wasn’t saying, and shifted forward to yell into the night. Kayn howled immediately next to him, it felt good. It felt freeing. He had spent the last two weeks terrified, exhausted, and even if he was still exhausted he was no longer terrified. It was quite simple: Kayn wouldn’t let him glitch.
It became his religion.
On the sixth day, Ezreal was on his knees.
He had wrapped his arms around Kayn’s waist, tracing circles on the skin beneath the fabric. If he could stay like this forever, and hugged him a little tighter, while Kayn brushed his hair away and massaged his neck, unknotting the spots of tension where his nightmares were taking root. Ezreal had walked into the bedroom, closed the door, and melted into a Kayn who was already waiting for him. Ezreal stretched his shoulders to relax, sighing as Kayn’s hand descended down his spine, warming his skin.
“Don’t nuzzle me like that.”
It had been more of a plea than an order, it made Ezreal look up, confused. His mismatched eyes were intense in the half-light with heated gravity. He was about to say sorry when Kayn squeezed his cheeks, stifling the apology, and dragged him to his mouth, to where Ezreal felt the press of teeth. “I’m not made of fucking stone, Ez.”
oh his brain fumbled with coherence for an embarrassing long moment, he hadn’t even considered Kayn would be physically attracted to him and his face must have given it away, because Kayn huffed and rolled his eyes. Ezreal climbed on the bed to curl next to him and nuzzle his collarbone instead. It was quite evident now how hard Kayn was, and Ezreal felt both sheepish and guilty. He tucked his shoulders up only for Kayn to squeeze his cheeks again harshly and kiss the thoughts off his forehead.
“I’m good with what I have.” And it also punched the oxygen out of him. Kayn’s body was tightly knotted with Ezreal’s, his way of saying how much he loved him, and Ezreal swallowed his heart back to its place before entwining their fingers together. He didn’t know what he did to deserve Kayn’s loyalty, but he was selfish, and raw, and vulnerable, and loving. He kissed his fingers one by one, then the palm of his hand, then his wrist, because these hands were both his anchor and his salvation, and then kissed it all on his mouth: how desperately he needed him, how deeply he wanted him. How much he loved him.
“I don’t know why this is happening to me,” he started, voice thin and barely a whisper, “but there’s a part of me glad it did.”
Kayn’s eyes were beautiful, and the reason why he couldn’t lie. His red eye was always truthful: it showcased the ugliness in him. Ezreal liked it the most, and kissed him there, because he admired his honesty. He wasn’t brave enough to be sincere, his whole life was based on the idea of perfection. He dressed up how his fans wanted him to, he acted how they wanted to, did the things they wanted him to. He hadn’t even told Aphelios, and it was becoming increasingly hard to pretend he wasn’t feeling the remorse gnawing at his sanity. But Kayn held him closer, and Ezreal felt the guilt dissolve away.
“When I’m stressed I can’t phase through the walls, you’ve seen it already.” Ezreal felt Kayn shrug, and, tentatively, smiled in answer.
“But can you stress at all?”
“Funny, can you relax at all, loser?”
“I do, when I’m with you.”
“Can you relax on your own? You’re always scheduling new content, always streaming, always catering your life to a never-satisfied public, working relentlessly to get this band any recognition, to write songs again, to get us gigs, to get us promos. I’m surprised you didn’t break earlier.”
He huffed his indignation, because it wasn’t like that except it totally was, and he had no words and no energy to defend himself. Kayn squeezed his torso in that way that sort of crushed him but the weight was so relaxing he could feel the spike of anxiety squirming away as quickly as it had appeared. He wanted to give in and finally sleep, but he still mumbled a protest.
“I haven’t streamed in about two weeks…”
“Because you have eyes to look at yourself in the mirror.”
Fair enough, but his mouth twisted anyway.
“Your whole life is about work too, but you’re not getting stuck in walls all of the time.”
“I also don’t give a fuck about what others think of me”. Kayn stroked his furrowed brow with a single finger, to soften the wrinkles there in a silent petition. Ezreal didn’t want to fight, but he wasn’t letting go either. It just seemed a very obvious accusation, but he wasn’t stressed. This was what he had been doing the past two years, he was used to it. Kayn arched a single eyebrow, seeing straight through his bullshit. Ezreal pulled his mouth in a thin line. “You don’t have to be perfect”. But he had to, for them. His vision blurred quickly and his whole face scrunched with the effort of holding back the tears. Kayn laughed soundlessly, and Ezreal made sure to jab him in the ribs so he would stop mocking. “I fucking love your courage.”
And this one time he really wanted to argue, that was his line, that was what he loved about Kayn but Kayn kissed him deeply and absolutely and it all died in his throat.
He couldn’t ignore Aphelios seventh message. It said are we ok? and it broke his heart. Ezreal sobbed in the bathroom, grateful to be alone in the flat, and then typed, sniffing and miserable: we’re always okay phel. we’re family.
come out the bathroom when youre done crying then
That was unfair, he laughed and rubbed his eyes vehemently. When he came out, heart in his throat, Aphelios was standing at the door, expression carefully guarded. Aphelios was always guarded but his stare was soft, this time Ezreal couldn’t see past the wall. His hands were sweating, he felt dizzy.
He started signaling i’m sorry but Aphelios’ mouth curved in the wrong way and Ezreal gave his attempt up entirely. Can you please tell me what’s going on? If you don’t, I will ask Kayn directly. He felt even guiltier, made himself smaller, stared at the floor.
“I just— I started— but only— I’m sorry, I’m sorry Aphelios. I trust you, I love you. I just didn’t want you to worry. Kayn— Kayn never worries about anything so I—”
Like fuck he doesn’t, Aphelios interrupted him, don’t you see how he looks at you? Ezreal swallowed thickly. All of us have been worrying sick for three weeks but we were leaving you space to deal with whatever this is. I’m tired of waiting.
“But I look better lately”, he tried objecting, and to some extent it was true, he was having close to four hours of sleep every day. He still looked like a different person regardless. He stared at his feet some more before gathering any courage he had left. His heart was beating painfully. There was no going back from this, but he didn’t want them to worry. “It’s just that I’m blinking involuntarily. I’ve been really scared of glitching out of my room, you know, into the street outside. That’s why I haven’t been sleeping.”
Aphelios stared for a very long moment. Ezreal felt sicker each passing second.
Kayn’s been helping then?
That wasn’t what he expected. He had expected him to say he had to take some time off, maybe stop being part of Heartsteel altogether for the time being. Kayn would scoff and call him stupid and maybe, probably, he was, but his anxiety was more convincing. It wasn’t that he thought Aphelios didn’t love him, it was that he had nothing for them but his smile, his ability, and his followers. He had smiled less and less in the last weeks. He couldn’t rely on his ability anymore. He wasn’t looking after his followers.
“Yeah”, he uttered in the most fragile voice. “He’s been helping a lot. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner I truly didn’t want you to worry. I’m okay now, it’s mostly under control.”
If it’s not will you tell me?
No. Please.
“Yeah. I never intended to make you feel bad.”
You didn’t, I was just worried. I want you to know we’re here to support you.
But he was okay, Ezreal forced a reassuring smile as answer. There was nothing to worry about. He had Kayn, and he trusted Kayn above trusting himself.
He banged his head softly on the bedpost. He didn’t know what was next. He thought about running away, about maybe hiding forever in his room. Maybe stealing the van. Oh, Kayn would love that, and he smothered his face on the pillow, trying to quiet the thought of kayn kayn kayn Kayn phased through the door nonchalantly, his sharp gaze trailing off on the spot Ezreal was trying to hide in.
“Thought so.”
“Why are you guys talking, like, at all. When have you talked about anything with anybody?” He hissed, with less spite than the words he chose. Kayn walked up, uncaring, and shoved him aside to lie down in the space left. Ezreal rolled pitifully, arms crossed on his chest.
“You think I want to talk to Aphelios? No, but he’s fucking relentless. If it’s not him it’s Yone, if it’s not Yone it’s KS, even Sett nagged me about you. Maybe you could consider saying something along the lines of hey, I will stop pretending I’m perfect.”
“Kayn.” It was a plea. He didn’t have energy left to defend himself, even less from him, and Kayn analyzed his face for long seconds. Ezreal was trying to make himself small enough that he could disappear, and, with him, all his responsibilities. The only thing he wanted was to stay there, next to Kayn.
“Alright”, he agreed, softer even if his voice was as cutting as ever. “Out with the secret then.”
Kayn turned toward him and lifted his chin with a finger, coaxing him to stop hiding. Ezreal breathed shakily as his anxiety continued to spread from his chest, devouring him whole from within. Pressured by the need to seek refuge he reached out for Kayn’s hand.
“If I can’t control this, and I can’t sleep, and I just. I can’t be who I was, what use am I to any of you?”
Even if Ezreal braced himself for any kind of rejection, there was no judgment in Kayn’s expression. It was such a vivid contrast with Aphelios’ moralism it made Ezreal recoil further. His anxiety had poisoned his mind to the extent of believing Kayn could ever fault him, which was a worse insult than anything he could come up with. He mouthed I’m sorry and averted his eyes.
Kayn still didn’t answer. He raised a hand to shy a green lock behind his ear, so Ezreal couldn’t keep running away from him.
“Have you considered if you weren’t putting so much pressure on yourself you would actually get back to enjoy blinking around annoyingly?” He wasn’t being hard on himself though? And Kayn poked his forehead before the thought could come out of his mouth. Stop it, he furrowed his brow again and swatted at his fingers. Kayn pinched the pout in his mouth instead, taking away all the power Ezreal had to put up a fight. He was stubborn though.
“I’m not. I’m just telling you the truth.”
“Your mouth is a whole load of bullshit but your body is truthful, it’s saying it needs a break from your brain. You’re holding yourself to impossible standards, no one can keep that rhythm, not even you”. He could. “No you can’t”. But he could, and Kayn scowled. “You can’t, Ezreal. You’ve been isolating, hiding, you’re still on the verge of collapse, an actual pitiful sight. Even though you know, you’re still not listening, you’re already making that face.”
“What face?”
“The I’m going to sink with this ship face.”
“I do not.”
“Yes you do, quite often actually. But I love your idealism, it’s entertaining.”
He couldn’t retort anything to that, which made him angrier. Kayn flipped them both so he could lay on Ezreal, his weight crushing in a delicious way, just how he needed exactly. He sighed, content, while Kayn framed his head with both arms and bit the anger away from his cheeks.
“You didn’t win this banter.”
Kayn hummed a smile and Ezreal growled in response, biting him instead.
“Don’t be a sore loser. That includes taking better care of yourself. Unless you want Aphelios to come chase you, he’s not going to be as kind.”
“You’re never kind”. But he was, all of the time. Only it came with blood. Ezreal wanted it like that, he only understood love if it entailed sacrifice. Kayn agreed with him by leaving a mark on his neck.
The next bite was softer, it started to expose the vulnerability in Kayn in that way that bared Ezreal and he welcomed the undressing, the trust, the devotion, and slept through nine hours for the first time in a month.
So his glitching didn’t have anything to do with his own bedroom, but the cure for it had everything to do with Kayn. Kayn was still passed out, tangled with him, and it made Ezreal smile sincerely and small, because maybe he was the solution to his insomnia.
He realized too late he always had his door open, because Sett made the most incredulous face Ezreal had ever seen. But he was feeling cozy, and warm, and safe, so he only signaled if you take a photo I will kill you. Sett snapped a photo anyway.
You know how rare it is to see Kayn sleep? This is the perfect blackmail, and Ezreal felt his face redden. Sett had ignored entirely that they were sleeping together on Ezreal’s bed. When his phone lit up with a notification five minutes after, he saved the photo immediately. He was keeping away from his phone, but he still owed his family everything he had, and upon opening the notifications his anxiety surged to squeeze him. There was a whole thread disclosing his disappearance, and the next thing he knew he was on the floor, the impact knocking the air out of him. Kayn jolted awake and reached down immediately, helping Ezreal up from the floor and pulling him close, roughly. Ezreal gaped, still trying to get oxygen circulating through his system.
“I won’t fall asleep next time.”
Oh, how he made his heart burn. He shook his head and wrapped his arms around Kayn’s neck, his hands already finding their way into his pink hair. He focused on untangling the strands, forcing the panic to leave through the tips of his fingers. Eventually, his breathing eased off.
“This time I triggered it. I was looking at my social media.”
Kayn didn’t pressure him, only rubbed shooting circles on the back of his thighs, and soon Ezreal was sitting on his lap, tightening both his arms and legs around him, small, and breakable. Kayn offered all of his body: his skin, his bones.
Ezreal loved him. It made sense beyond his comprehension; they were a collision together, an honest wreckage, an endless misconduct. So he whispered it in his ear and Kayn trembled in his embrace, only once, enough for Ezreal to feel the howling of his heart. It had been wailing along his all those sleepless nights. The insomnia had awoken good dreams, after all, and Kayn kissed him violently once, twice, thrice, with the maw of a wolf for Ezreal to claw at his skin, shiver with desire, blaze Kayn with the once flame in his chest now an eruption, an explosion, a nova.
The i love you followed him through the day, sticking to his skin, prickling on the back of his neck. He didn’t give a name to a sentiment, he put words to a truth, and the difference was irreversible. That evening, he started unbuttoning Kayn’s shirt first.
He committed to memory all the planes of his abdomen, his ribs, his chest, his collarbones up to his face, to where his stare was overwhelming in the penumbra, liquid, burning. It robbed him of air.
Kayn was never silent except when they were together in the secrecy of his room, but even then, his truth was as loud as Ezreal’s had been: he would love him, even if Ezreal was broken. The immensity of it filled his whole being, undoing the abuse of the past weeks. It warmed the tips of his ears and the tip of his fingers, and he refused to cry, but the tears came anyway.
“You’re unfair.” He said, and laughed.
“I am the one who’s unfair? You could do anything you wanted to me and I would still come back begging.”
His heart stopped. That was exactly why he was unfair, and Kayn bit him softly to argue. Ezreal slid his hands inside the half-buttoned shirt, longing for the texture of skin under his fingers. Kayn smelled comforting, familiar, good.
He was more than unfair, he was everything: his fierceness, his refuge, his home. His end of the world.
Kayn and Kayn kissed him until all of Ezreal’s body was soft from the warmth and the attention, his mouth full and red and his heart expanding and expanding, trying to get out of his own ribcage and melt into Kayn. If only he could too, and Ezreal sighed into the embrace, leaving soft presses of lips along Kayn’s collarbone, up the column of his neck, following the line of his jaw.
“Ezreal”, he mumbled with that hoarse voice of his, thick with need, and it almost made Ezreal go insane. Humming a question, he dragged his shirt off, nuzzling the exposed skin of his shoulder. Kayn didn’t add anything; it was just that, just rolling his tongue around a word he made his. He said it with power, with intention, with belonging. Ezreal could feel it sticking in the same way his i love you was still there, like an irrevocable certainty— like everything about Kayn. It made him smile, tender and sincere, and Kayn drew the curve of his mouth, eyes soft with emotion.
Being with him was natural, instinctive. Kayn had accepted him, welcomed his monsters. Tragic, how much they both loved living with demons, and Kayn smiled, all teeth and promises.
“I love that not everything about you is pretty”, before Ezreal could kiss those words back into his mouth, Kayn tapped on his phone, and the small speaker right next to his bed came to life. He arched his eyebrows. “When was the last time you had fun?”
Ezreal smiled cheekily and raised up to the challenge, abandoning himself to the beat. He sang the lyrics between teeth until he was screaming them instead, and even then, the music was louder. Moving to the rhythm song after song, frantically, in the same way Kayn danced—always an euphoric explosion of energy— soon both of them were jumping on the bed, on the desk, on the chair.
He was determined to win this one, though, and started to blink willingly, mischievously, to pinch, tickle, and annoy Kayn before he could reach him, until Kayn predicted his next jump and snatched his ankle, stopping him mid-blink a meter and half above the bed. Ezreal dropped full weight on him, knocking the air out of them both in a tangle of limbs and sharp corners but he was laughing, loud, freeing. He loved that about him too: Kayn made everything easy.
Even better still, he could also hear Kayn’s faint laugh before it shaped into a grin. He looked youthful and naive when his smile wasn’t bladed; Ezreal felt his heart falter, and he stared, long and smitten. Kayn looked so beautiful like that he couldn’t keep it in his mouth any longer and blurted it out, catching the surprise sweeping in his expression for a brief moment, which only made him look younger, softer.
That secret was his, too. He was the one that made the smile happen. Ezreal pressed his lips there, kissing his teeth, which made Kayn smile even wider for a brief second, as if his heart couldn’t contain all the emotion and it was peeking through the corners of his mouth, before he was kissing him back, tangling a hand into his hair, pulling him even closer.
He kissed him good, deep, breathless, until Ezreal’s body was cracking with energy, it crawled under his skin, squeezed his throat, clenched his gut. He gasped when Kayn bit his neck but no, this wasn’t about him, and he wriggled out of his reach to start leaving a trail of kisses down the hard planes of his chest, towards his abdomen, his belly button, stopping at the hem of his black jeans. He looked up to make sure. Kayn was out of breath, his face was flushed, his eyes liquid with hunger. It overwhelmed Ezreal, how he had such power over someone. He breathed out shakily, and fiddled with the zipper. Kayn misinterpreted his hesitation.
“You don’t have to.”
It wasn’t that he was uncertain. It wasn’t about sex either. Ezreal wanted to seal them one, he wanted it desperately. He wanted to have the rest of Kayn, not only his skin and bones: he wanted his soul, even if it was already shared. He almost laughed. He was such a selfish creature.
“I’m crazy for you”, he uttered, and bit the inside of Kayn’s thigh through the jeans, blaming him. They stared at one another for a long second before Kayn clutched his cheeks forcefully, dragging him up to his face. Ezreal loved that. Loved the defiance in his eyes every time he showed his teeth.
“You’re going to suck me good. I’ve been dreaming about fucking your pretty mouth for way too long.”
He had to physically refrain himself from moaning. His whole body trembled with the effort, his lips parted regardless. Kayn’s demand and confession intoxicated him, so he sunk his teeth on his hand in retaliation, and yanked down his black jeans.
He kneeled down, head hanging low, neck exposed, before an altar. Between Kayn’s legs. He wanted to please, to give, to mark Kayn in ways that couldn’t be undone. He wanted him gone, begging for more, his voice a prayer alongside Ezreal’s.
Kayn trailed his nails on his scalp, squirmed underneath him, hissed, panted. He worked his tongue around him, starving for the sounds coming out of his mouth, for the way his body was tensing, for their banter over control. When Kayn started setting up the pace, sliding in and out of his mouth, Ezreal growled and pinned him down, bobbing his head faster. He was his to take. It was a matter of instinct, of chemistry, of survival. Kayn belonged to him, belonged with him, and Kayn came into his mouth like that, wild and tamed.
The feeling of dominance was a poisoning delirium, it made Ezreal crawl in bed with impatience, demanding Kayn’s touch. His rough palm made him shiver violently, deliciously.
“How do you want it, pet?” He wanted the compliments, the deep kisses, his appreciation, his care. Wanted him, wanted everything. He challenged Kayn to it, raising his chin, and Kayn smirked, combative; he always came down fighting.
“Not only this”, he didn’t back down from a fight either. But there was intimacy to the violence too, their bodies collided in a perfect shape, the silence around them had a sacred weight to it, Ezreal’s gasps an opaque echo in the room as Kayn worked him open, biting his chest, his neck, his shoulders, his arms. Ezreal kissed back every single one of the marks, mumbled in his ear how beautiful he looked, how handsome he was, and felt Kayn arousing at the adulation, groaning, exposed and vulnerable, for Ezreal to take it all.
When Kayn thrusted into him, it was barely slow, only an edge before desperation. It felt full, thick, molten. Ezreal moaned silently and threw his head back, accommodating the width and the foreign feeling, before hastily rocking his hips, demanding more more more more it was never enough of Kayn, he wanted the oxygen to taste like him. He smelled the smoke, felt the roughness of his hair, the smoothness of his skin, scratched his flesh and seized his neck, tight enough that Kayn opened his mouth around a curse that also took the air he had left in his lungs. He looked gorgeous when he was subdued and deprived. It turned Ezreal on beyond reasoning, he was the only one who knew how he looked when he was dominated. Kayn locked eyes with him while Ezreal squeezed his throat and the devotion in his stare pushed him over the edge. Ezreal shivered and came at that, shamefully untouched. Kayn followed suit with a deep, guttural sound Ezreal could feel vibrating under his fingers as it came out of his throat. He drank it from his mouth, dark and possessive, physically sated but still famished, riding out their orgasms.
Kayn rested his forehead on his shoulder, heaving hard, holding him close. He had a bruising grip on Ezreal’s slim waist, and Ezreal petted his hair, looked up at the ceiling, wondered if he would ever have enough. His knees were aching from the uncomfortable position, his lower back felt sore, his flesh sensitive from the bites. Yet, he was thinking about Kayn inside him. He wanted more and had to swallow thickly when he felt Kayn stroke his length, knowing .
“I want to hear it.”
“What do you want me to say?” Ezreal licked his lips. Kayn always barked even if he obeyed and his resistance tasted exhilarating.
“I want to hear you say you’re mine.”
Kayn looked straight into his eyes.
“I am. I am yours. All of me will always be next to you.”
Even if he was ugly, if he was broken, if he was a liar, if he was a disappointment. He would always find Kayn next to him.
It was such an almighty thing, to be loved like that. To be loved raw, vulnerable, ugly. Sacrificing, honest, giving. Kayn made him belong in this life. Kayn made him his choice. Kayn made him fearless.
There was nothing he couldn’t do with that power. It got to his head through their second orgasm, and their third, when he was the one fucking into Kayn, insane for the sounds he was making, burning them all in his brain. It followed him beyond the shower, the two coffees, the morning duties. It compelled him to make pancakes and leave them on Aphelios’ desk as a quiet, sincere apology. He had the strength in him to do better, to brave the anxiety, to come online. He didn’t glitch through the stream even if his hands were shaking. He said he was okay, and it wasn’t a lie.
Kayn had loved him okay.
Kayn had loved him through the glitching, the insomnia, the fear, the nightmares, the demons of his anxiety. Loved him when he was exhausted, when he was barely surviving. It grew opaque in his chest, expanding, asphyxiating.
When Kayn awoke, he was already there, kneeled down next to his bed, arms crossed to support his head, the gold in his eyes jeweled like a crown and a grail. It was late in the afternoon, the orange sunlight bathed them both in fiery glints of orange. Kayn was still naked and abused, smelling like sweat and sin, but his gaze was sharp and awake, his kind eye, his destructive eye, both of them an honesty comforting Ezreal.
He didn’t say anything but welcomed him all the same. Ezreal pressed his lips and his gratitude on both his eyes. He was offering him a pact, and Kayn’s smile widened, always knowing, and directed Ezreal to seal it with a kiss. It said next to me, and it consolidated all their awakenings in the same bed, all their rides in the same bike, in the same car. Shared insomnia, shared monsters, shared dreams. It said togetherness made sense if it was the both of them, and Ezreal loved that too, how Kayn made them a language.