Against the Dying of the Light

Choking back bile, Dane went into his call log and deleted the outgoing number, then went back into the contact. He held his finger over the 'delete' option. He had to do it. It was the only way he could be certain he wouldn't just stand there listening to the message over and over again until the sun came up, or he got arrested for loitering.

He pressed the button.

_________________________

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This contact will also be deleted

from the account it's saved in.

Cancel | Delete

_________________________

"You can do this," he whispered to himself. "It's what he wanted."

Swallowing hard, he pressed 'Delete'. There was a flash, and the contact disappeared as if it'd never been there. Unrecoverable. No undo. Dane couldn't have remembered the number if he'd tried.

He slumped against the wall, feeling hollow. There was only one other recent contact in his phone. Should he...?

"Fuck it."

He called the number.

"Hey—is that you, Dane? What's up?" Ken sounded as if he was eating.

"What are you doing?" Dane words were slurred.

"Playing Fortnite and eating Doritos," said Ken, crunching into what Dane assumed was a Dorito.

"Can we hook up now please?" Dane asked.

"What?" The chewing in Dane's ear paused.

"Ah, can we hook up?" said Dane. "Please? I'm drunk."

"And...?"

"And I really need to fuck you."

Ken laughed. "You really need to fuck me? Well, how can I deny you, then?" He crunched another chip. "Where are you?"

Dane looked around. He looked up at the name of the club. "Outside Brevity."

"Jesus, slumming it, aren't we?" asked Ken. He sounded amused. "Can you get an Uber if I give you my address?"

"Sure," mumbled Dane. "Text it to me."

"Fucking drunky," said Ken. "I'm about fifteen out of the city. See you soon."

He hung up and a moment later, Dane's phone vibrated. It took him three attempts to copy the address and paste it into Uber, but within minutes, he was in the back of a cab, wondering what the fuck he was doing.

❧ ❧ ❧

Ken's flat was like nothing Dane had ever seen before. The whole place was decked out with darkness and LED lighting. It was like the interior of a gaming café. Blue lighting strips either side of the hall guided them down to the lounge, where the place was set up with a massive high-resolution screen in the centre that had to be seventy inches across at least, flanked by a couple of only slightly smaller screens.

Dane fell onto Ken's couch with a creak of leather and stared around.

"You want a beer?" the other boy asked.

"Yeah," said Dane. "Yeah."

Ken paused. "Actually, you know what? No more beer for you, Drunky McDrunk. How about we get some coffee into you?"

"Beer!" said Dane.

"Christ, you're a fucking caveman when you're drunk," said Ken. "And you're getting coffee; unless you think you can stand long enough to fetch yourself a beer?"

Dane struggled to get to his feet and gave up. He leaned back into the couch.

"Coffee it is, then," said Ken cheerfully. He whistled to himself as he disappeared into the kitchen to put the kettle on, then broke into a rendition of 'Feel So Close' by Calvin Harris.

Dane blinked as he looked around the LED-lit lounge. In addition to the massive screens that dominated the main wall, a couple of gaming rigs whirred away, their shiny component-filled interiors lit up like Christmas trees, while keyboards and a couple of mice slowly changed colour.

There was a stack of servers in a cabinet, which Dane suspected were busy mining crypto-currency, in what looked like a good ten to fifteen K's worth of tech.

Everything in the room, it seemed, was designed to change colour.

Ken came back a short time later with a hot mug of coffee for Dane. As the other boy handed it to him, Dane pointed at the beer in his free hand.

"Yeah, nooo," said Ken, "I've got some catching up to do. You sober up some, and I'll work on getting off my tits, and we'll meet in the middle."

Reluctantly, Dane took a sip of his coffee, and made an appreciate face. It wasn't half bad for instant.

"It's one of those sachet lattes," Ken said, noting his surprise. "You look like a sachet latte kind of guy."

He dropped down next to Dane and rested one foot against his knee. "So. What existential crisis brings you to my door? Oh, and I have to say, the other day was a one-off. I don't take risks like that. Usually."

Dane frowned, wondering what he meant.

"Bareback. I don't do it," said Ken.

Oh Christ. Dane hadn't even considered the risk he was taking, fucking Ken like that. Both he and Kian had been virgins when they'd met and wearing protection had never occurred to them. "I wasn't prepared," he mumbled.

No, he hadn't been prepared at all. It'd not occurred to him for a second that he might shag Kian's clone in the toilets out the back of a noisy pub on the day of his lover's funeral.

"I mean, I get it," Ken went on. "I look like him. You miss him. But I hope you're not always that rough. I like a little care and concern, know what I mean?"

Dane did. He shook his head, growing ever more deeply ashamed by the minute. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

Ken laughed. It was a light laugh, the laugh of someone who enjoyed life, and wasn't bothered by much.

"Once in a while is fine, but if it's going to be a regular thing; maybe a little lube wouldn't go astray." He patted Dane's leg. "So. Do you still want to play 'hide the sausage', or do you want to talk?"

Dane was a mess of confusion. Half of him wanted to rage-fuck Ken again, to feel that release, to feel a hot body under him, to feel connected, somehow, to Kian again. The loss of his soulmate was a gaping wound inside him that ached, ached, fucking ached every second of every day. The pain would never stop, he was sure of it. It would grow inside him, a knot of twisted rage that would slowly eat at his insides until it crippled him.

But the other half of him just wanted to listen to Ken speak. Although his cadence and his words weren't Kian's, there was enough in his voice that Dane could close his eyes and pretend. Could press his denial against that gaping wound and hold back some of the pain, even for a short while.

Ken leaned across Dane to reach the remote control for the media player, and Dane caught the scent of his hair.

Holding his coffee still against the arm of the couch, Dane drew in a deep breath... and it was there. Kian's scent. Not the engine-oil generator scent he'd worn when Dane had first met him, but his natural scent.

Ken placed a hand against Dane's chest as he sipped his beer, and Dane put his arm around the him.

"Tell me about him," said Ken. "Start at the beginning. Tell me who he was. Tell me why you loved him."

❧ ❧ ❧

Dane wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep. He didn't remember moving the coffee cup to the coffee table; maybe Ken had done it for him. But when he woke alone on the couch, he felt as if he'd run an emotional marathon.

His mind and his heart ached, and the cold living room and the silence of the lounge was the loneliest thing he'd ever felt. He threw an arm across his face as hot tears spilled down his cheeks, wracked with violent sobs that, supressed, thumped at the inside of his chest like a fist.

"Dane?" Ken stood in the doorway to the bedroom. He was wearing a t-shirt and briefs, his long hair spilling down his back. "Are you okay?"

Dane sat up. "Sorry, mate, didn't mean to wake you. I should shoot off—"

Ken came to stand in front of him. "Don't go. I hate seeing you in pain. Seeing anyone in pain, really, but you seem like such a nice guy. I've got heat if you want it."

How did he know? Dane wondered. How did he understand so precisely what Dane needed at that moment?

Without another word Dane got to his feet, and let the other boy lead him into his bedroom.

Under the covers, Ken pressed himself back against Dane, and the feel of his body started Dane's tears again. Ken said nothing, just let Dane cry against his back, and soon the dark-haired boy's breathing deepened as he fell asleep in Dane's arms.

Dane cried until exhaustion wore him out, and finally found sleep with his nose buried in Ken's hair, willing himself to dream that Kian was back in his arms.

❧ ❧ ❧

Morning brought Dane a massive headache, and an equally massive dose of self-recrimination. His daily waking kick of grief was followed by a stab of guilt.

Christ, he'd come to this guy's house, had poured out his soul, had slept in his bed and made him his confidant, all while mourning his dead brother.

And they'd fucked.

Dane didn't want to remember that part. Taking Ken from behind, not as rough as the last time, and this time using precaution and kindness, but still, he hadn't been fucking Ken, and the other boy had to know that.

Did he mind? It was hard to say. He hadn't argued, and he'd seemed to enjoy himself, but neither of them had spoken a word during or after, just fallen back into the deep and dreamless sleep as soon as they were done.

Dane got dressed and went out to the kitchen to find Ken making bacon and eggs.

"You hungry?" Ken asked him.

Dane's stomach answered for him. "Yeah."

"Good. Because you've got the look of someone who's not eaten much of late, and I don't want you leaving here until I know you've eaten."

Oddly enough, fucking the other boy seemed to be the only thing that gave Dane an appetite. It wasn't the exercise, either. The sex was primal and perfunctory, the hurt animal in Dane reaching for anything that would offer it comfort. No. It was something else.

Dane sat down at the table, and Ken brought over a mug of coffee, before heading back to watch the bacon. As he cooked, he sang, and Dane found he liked it. It was cheerful. Ken was... happy.

As he mused on what it was about fucking the long-haired youth that gave him back his appetite, the other boy dropped a plate of food in front of him.

"Eat up, big boy."

Dane chuckled as Ken grinned down at him. "Big boy," he muttered as he stabbed at his food with his fork, shaking his head. "Mmhmm."

"Yeah, and I'm not referring to you being a good head taller than me, either," said Ken. He snagged a strip of bacon off Dane's plate, and then went back to serve himself.

Well. Dane guessed that was always nice to hear, especially from someone far more sexually experienced that he was. Then again... Kian had been the kinky sort, and had wanted to try everything under the sun, so Dane had tried a lot of different things, at least. Even though he'd only fucked the one guy... well, two now—or did it still only count as one, if you fucked the same model?

❧ ❧ ❧

Dane called into work and told them he needed a mental-health day and chose to watch Ken work. The other boy worked from home, and while his mind was clearly on his job, he didn't seem to mind Dane playing on his phone on the couch, and Dane was happy to fetch him drinks, and simply be in his presence.

Ken finally finished up in the evening and shut his laptop with a snap. He swivelled around in his chair.

"So. I notice you're still here."

Dane sat up guiltily. "Yeah. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely," said Ken. "But now I need dinner, and I'm out of food. Want to head out to eat?"

Dane shrugged. "Sure."

Ken ran his gaze over the other boy. "I know you're in mourning, but do you think maybe a shower and a change of clothes might be in order?"

"What, do I smell?"

Ken's expression indicated that he might. "Let's swing past your place first," he suggested.

"My parents... I live with my parents," said Dane... but he wasn't sure why that mattered—what the next sentence was that he hadn't quite formed in his head. Was he concerned they'd see him with Ken and think he was trying to fill the void? Well, obviously. But they knew Kian was a clone, and they knew Kenneth existed. There was no reason not to introduce the other boy to them.

"Yeah. Let's do that."

"Great. I'll drive."

Even in the car, Ken sang with the radio. He had a good voice, Dane realised. Not the usual 'singing around the house' voice most people had. He sang in tune, and more than that, he didn't sound that different from someone you'd hear on the radio.

"You have a great voice," Dane told him. "Wish I could sing like that. I bet you kill at karaoke. How'd you get that good?"

Ken laughed. "School choirs growing up. Nothing as fancy as 'Glee', but I could always hold a tune."

"Modest too," Dane teased him.

"Oh fuck no!" said Ken. "Just easing you into the narcissism."

Dane laughed. So, Kenneth wasn't Kian. But he was fun. Easy-going. Nice to look at. Definitely nice to fuck.

"What are you thinking? Ken asked, as they pulled up outside Dane's parents' house.

"That we should fuck facing each other next time," said Dane.

Ken grinned. "I'd like that."

They both laughed as they got out of the car.

❧ ❧ ❧

At eleven, Ken checked his phone. "Hey, hate to be a downer, but I really need to get some sleep. I have an early start tomorrow."

Dane looked up at him drunkenly. "Come ooooon, one more!"

Ken shook his head. "You've had enough, big boy. How about we get you home, eh?"

Dane shook his head. "Don't want to."

"Doesn't have to be your home," said Ken. "But I need to be asleep in the next hour."

"I can come back to yours?" asked Dane. He knew he sounded needy, but fuck it. He did need something, and Ken could provide it. And the desperate animal in Dane that needed comfort overrode any shame he might have about asking for what he needed.

"Yeah, you can come back to mine. You're low maintenance. But you get some clothes first, yeah? And a toothbrush."

"K." Dane gave him a childish grin.

"Fuck. Don't give me that look. I'm not always going to be this accommodating," said Ken. "But like I said, I don't like seeing anyone in pain. So, yeah, if you need to pretend the world doesn't exist for a few days, we can do that."

Tears stung Dane's eyes again. How did this guy know what he needed? How did he know? Was Dane really that transparent? He didn't think he was, but then, maybe this wasn't about him. Maybe Ken just had a knack for knowing what the people around him needed.

"Thanks," he said, choking on the word.

"Don't worry about it," said Ken. "Besides, you're a good lay."

And just like that, Dane's guilt evaporated. Ken could even do that. Make Dane feel he was giving something back, while he was doing all the taking.

❧ ❧ ❧

"I'm not sure I like this."

Dane was sitting on the side of the bed, Ken posing in front of him with one hand on his hip in a typical 'Kian' pose. The object of his scrutiny was Dane's sleeping attire.

Ken waved a hand at the offending clothing. "Is all this necessary?"

Dane looked down at his pyjamas. "You want me to take them off?" he asked.

The other boy nodded. "Very, very, much."

Dane stripped, and Ken stepped between his legs, and in response, Dane put his hands on the other boy's waist. Ken was wearing briefs and a band t-shirt, which seemed to be his 'around the house'-wear, and Dane could clearly see the other boy's growing appreciation for Dane's nakedness in his tightly stretched briefs.

"You still on for face-to-face?" Ken asked.

Honestly, Dane wasn't sure he was. He shivered, even as he slid his hands under the other boy's shirt to caress his bare skin.

"Are you?" he asked.

Ken cocked his head. "I think we both know what I want is irrelevant."

"What do you mean?" asked Dane. "Course what you want matters."

"Dane... how can I put this?" He paused. "You know what, never mind. I'll show you."

He stepped in closer and straddled Dane's thighs, effectively sitting in his lap, and Dane put his arms around him and closed his eyes.

He was Kian. He wasn't Kian. He smelt like Kian. He felt like Kian. He made Dane's blood run hot and the hair raise on his arms every time a jolt in his gut reminded him Kian was dead. He wanted him, loved him, hated him, needed him.

Dane's arms tightened around the other boy, then moved to grip his arse. He got to his feet and threw Ken on the bed, covering the other boy's body with his own.

Their lips met, Dane grinding against Ken, hungry, naked, horny, angry.

Ken kissed him back, meeting Dane's ferocity with a calmness of his own, absorbing Dane's carnal rage, as Dane fought back the urge to fuck his way inside the other boy, to tear him apart.

Somehow, and maybe it was lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of love, Dane realized he'd started to think of Ken as Kian's prison. If he could open him up, peel him away, Kian would be inside, beautiful and full of love, and...

Dane burst into tears.

He rolled off the other boy onto his back and threw an arm across his face, his sobs shaking the bed.

Ken moulded himself against Dane's side. "And that, my friend, is why what I want doesn't matter. You've got demons, Dane, demons you need to get out of you any way you can. I can take it. I'm a man." There was a grin in his voice, and it softened Dane's grief and made him look up.

"Do what you want," Ken said. "If I want you to stop, I'll say 'stop', and you'll stop."

Dane wasn't so sure he would, but the dark-haired boy sounded very confident.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light. He died, and it wasn't fair, and it's okay to hate the world for that. For a while, at least."

Dane turned his face away, tears falling down his face to soak the bed, an unquenchable tide of misery.

When the tears finally dried, like a tap shut off, or a well run dry, Dane pressed Ken against the bed and fucked him hard, the boy's soft moans making him hungry and horny and bitter until the golden moment of release when Dane collapsed, emptied, a cold desert inside him.

❧ ❧ ❧

It was two days before he got out of bed.

As evening fell, Ken came into the bedroom. "Right, it's time. Get up, shower, put on some clothes. We're going out."

Dane blinked at him groggily and rolled away from the light. "Go away."

Ken got onto the bed and sniffed at him. "Ah, no. No, it's time. You reek, and this is my bed."

With an irritated sigh, Dane threw off the covers and got out of bed. He felt a full body weariness that made his legs shaky, his body heavy.

"I feel like crap," he muttered, running a hand through his greasy hair.

"Yeah, you smell like crap, too," said Ken, "And we're going to fix it," he said cheerfully. "Bathroom. Now."

Dane made his way into the bathroom, avoiding his own reflection as he ran the tap and rinsed his mouth out with water.

Behind him, Ken rolled his eyes. "First up, brush your teeth. Then we shower. Then you shave. Then we find you a pair of underwear that doesn't have two days' worth of skid marks in it."

Dane grunted, but he did as Ken said, brushing his teeth, and shaving his four-day growth back to smooth. Kian had always liked him to be smooth. It was habit now.

Ken handed him some shaving balm, and Dane spread it across his face. Once he was done, the dark-haired boy turned Dane's head towards him and gave him a quick kiss.

"Yusss. Much better. Right, strip, and shower."

Ken started to take his own clothes off, and Dane did the same. It appeared Ken really did intend for them to shower together, as he pushed Dane towards the shower cubicle, fetched some body wash, and then crammed himself in after the other boy.

Dane threw his head back, letting water run through his hair. The shower was washing off the shaving balm, but he didn't care. The hot water was soothing. He opened one eye as he heard a bottle open and watched Ken squirt shampoo into his hand.