Sweet Ice & Soybean

(ty for reading, ur much appreciated, the star bows its head and says hello :D thank you for 600 reads, by the way, that is quite a lot of eyes on this clumsy story, so you have all my gratitude!)

C14H18N2O5

Aspartame.

Artificial, non-saccharide sweetener 200 times sweeter than sugar. Fine white power. Carcinogen.

_____________________

My brother killed my mom before she ever truly died. It was the same way he killed me before I'd ever even lived.

Modern self-defense classes for the young will often tell you that your chance of survival should and can never depend on muscle, because muscle always wins. Rather, your chances lie not in force, but in location. A strike is only as good as the place it lands.

For a kid that talks about his mother so much, I'll be frank with you, I didn't know her very well. My mother and father had done something a bit audacious for the Yun family, as in their long lineage, they'd never had the issue of twins. Much less an Alpha and an Omega. The smart thing would've been to split us and send us off to mentors across the country from each other as to avoid conflict. But my mother had been a ghost child herself—a reason why my father's parents had been so against their marriage—and likely knew from the get-go that I had a very slim chance of making the cut. So, she advocated for her to take me, and for my father to take my brother, just until we were old enough to be evaluated.

My mother never talked about her life before my me and my brother. I'd tried plenty to ask, but she'd always smile and shake her head, changing the subject to something safer. I'd tried to ask why she married my father. She only told me, "I've been many people, Echo. I try to be wiser than the last girl."

When my brother and I were old enough to begin testing, my mother knew I was out of time. I think she'd made the biggest mistake a Drachmann parent could make, and she knew it; every parent knew better than to have hope before the second birth.

That being said, biology had always been against me, and always would be. But my mother was nothing if not a fool for hope. And I was nothing if not a fool for trust.

My mother placed a bandage over my cheek, her thumb brushing over the scratches on my chin. She wiped a tear from my eye. "Elias is stronger than you, Echo," she said. "Elias will always be stronger than you. So stop looking for how to push him over. Start looking for how to make him trip."

My father raised a brow when I scrambled out from underneath my brother, knife in my hand, Elias hissing and wailing at the wound in his arm. My father said, "Good."

I'd breathed a sigh of relief, collapsing on the hardwood, Seoul a lurking, black beast in the windows.

My mother had grinned down at me, a bright thing that closed her eyes, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "See, Echo?" she said. "See?"

Elias sat in the corner with a reddened bandage he fastened himself, and watched.

When my mother died, and my father shipped me off to America, Elias found me hours before, a cold grin on his face.

"Weak finds weak," he told me. "Umma and you aren't so different."

"Neither are you and Appa," I'd spat. "Cruel finds cruel. You're nothing but his pawn. At least Umma loved me."

"Umma just wanted you to redeem her," he snarled. "Umma didn't love either of us."

"What did you say to him?" I hissed. "What did you say to Appa?"

Elias turned his back on me. "She should've chosen me," he whispered. "She shouldn't have bet on the wrong wolf."

But she hadn't.

I'd make fucking sure of it.

_____________________

May brought final exams, Californian summer, and fate.

I figured I'd heard enough complaints from Corvus—Kane—about my kitchen counter perch and therefore was forced to retreat to the bathroom counter one morning to finish reviewing for the upcoming week of finals where professors drank collegian tears for breakfast and slashed your self-esteem with red pen for a late lunch. Every student in Avaldi was on high stress and higher caffeine, with hand cramps galore and such an abundance of overpriced textbooks that each year's class could likely build a makeshift wall to bash our heads in on. But I digress.

"What is a six?" I muttered as I erased the answer for the third time. Five AM held my head aloft in the clouds, the stark golden light of the bathroom turning my vision hazy at its edges. "What's wrong with five? Give me a five and I'll go to church, just this once." I got another six. I leaned my head back. "Touché."

"What are you doing?"

I shot up. Kane stood in his doorway, clad in a blanket of a shirt and plaid boxer shorts, black hair so entertained from sleep that it covered almost all of his eyes as they squinted at me under the glare of fluorescent light.

I hesitated. The hour and its tasks could only be eased so much by the sight of him. I sighed, slumping against the mirror. "What are you doing?" I said.

Kane pushed his hair back. "It's five in the morning. You're debating the reality of numbers with the universe," he grumbled. "Back to my original question."

"You take my final for me then," I muttered. I pushed the papers away, towards the still-untouched cologne in the center of the countertop. "You're a light sleeper."

"Yeah. So, thanks." Kane plucked his toothbrush and toothpaste from the cup on his side.

I turned to face him. "You didn't tell me it was your birthday," I said.

Kane shrugged and said through a mouthful of mint, "I didn't."

"You and Kenzo have the same birthday?"

"We do."

"How many years have you been unlucky enough to live for now?"

Kane nearly choked on toothpaste in what I thought was a laugh and thumped his chest. He wiped his mouth. "Twenty one," he said. "Kenzo's turning twenty three."

"May 24th, 5:04 AM. What's your first act of twenty one?"

Kane grabbed a bath headband to push his hair back. I snickered at the tiny bow on top. Kane said, "Don't." I held up my hands. "I've got a paper to finish and another one to start. Rosalie is dragging us to her parents' house for the day. I've got a couple calls I gotta make."

"Your first act of twenty one is acting like you're thirty one?" I muttered. "What's the point of that?"

"Point is finals are next week and my phone is gonna give out if I don't shut some people up," he said. "Get off the counter, that's unsanitary."

"Is there any counter I can sit on?"

"What do you have against a chair and standing?"

Kane began to rub a sweet-smelling cream into his skin. I said, "What's that?" I scooted over to wipe my finger through it.

Kane flicked me away. "Stop it."

I put it on my face. "Smells like roses."

"Ya, don't mess this up, I've got a system."

I plucked a jar from the counter. "Is this just water? Did you pay triple digits for water?"

Kane snagged it from my hand. "That's an essence."

"Of what? Can't be of competence."

"You trying to talk competence to someone is like an elephant trying to talk discretion."

"What about this? Moisturizer?"

"Sunscreen. Give me that."

"Oil? We have oil in the kitchen."

"Please don't tell me you're putting canola oil on your skin."

"What's the difference?"

"Stop touching things."

I pushed past him to grab a green bottle. "What's this? More water?"

He cocked a brow. "That's a toner."

"You're toned." I paused. "Wait."

Kane gave a sharp breath of a laugh and plucked it from my fingers. He reached up and pushed the hair away from my face. "Here, try it."

"I've worked very hard to reach this level of porcelain skin," I snapped, patting my cheeks. "You know how much stress, isolation, and poor eating habits I've committed to?"

He stood between my legs, clipping my bangs atop my head with a HELLO KITTY claw. "Don't talk while I still have faith your organs will last until you're thirty."

"I wouldn't have too much faith."

He dabbed the toner on a cotton pad and swiped it over my cheeks. Sleep still clung in half-moon shadows beneath his eyes. I played a half-conscious game of connecting dots from the mole by his brow to the one on his neck to the ones on his shoulder to more on his chest.

"What're you doing?" he said, pushing my cheek to the side to swipe the cotton pad over my cheekbone.

"Nothing," I lied. "You have a mole at your brow."

Kane paused, glanced in the mirror. He laughed low and surprised. He said, "Toner is good for the skin. Balances your pH."

"Jesus, don't say pH," I muttered, glancing mournfully at my labs. I turned my attention back on Kane. "I don't take you can do my labs for me."

"Last-minute homework," he observed. "What else is new?"

"Don't be mean."

"Don't procrastinate."

"Are you a tracker or a mother?"

"Are you a Skittle or a student?"

"That's funny. I'm losing my goddamn mind."

"Over me?"

"Oh, you're good."

His grin was a flash of light and cool as mint. "How good?"

"Who are you?" I muttered, and pulled him down.

He was still holding onto my wrist and used such grip to yank me forward until I nearly slid off the counter. He settled between my legs, dropping my wrist to press his hand into my back. I kissed him to the same rhythm I breathed to, inhaling and exhaling through teeth and tongue. His palm rested above my hips, fingers pressing beneath false ribs. It was too warm for 5 AM. Someone was shaking July sun storms out of May.

"How's your shoulder?" I murmured.

"Not worth asking about."

"Self-respect, man."

"I'm not talking self-respect, I'm talking timing." He pulled my head back, throat exposed to the will of the lights above and his breath. "And now's really not the time."

"When is the time?"

"Not now. Stop talking."

My hands dipped below the sleeve of his shirt until I could drag my palm over his right shoulder blade. He pulled me flush against him by my legs, hands holding my knees and thumbs under the hems of my shorts. I rested my knuckles against his chest, felt the skin and heartbeat there. Kane rolled his hips into mine and punched a breath out of my lungs. I tore my hands through his hair, and mustered up just enough courage to return the movement. I pulled the collar of his shirt down to push my fingers over muscle and skin. Manubrium. True ribs. Clavicle.

But, fate, inevitably.

"Wake the motherlovin' fuck up and get out here now before I use your own blood for your birthday cakes!"

I startled so bad from the shout that I slipped off the edge of the counter. I didn't bother really stopping it from happening as the tile approached me, and simply let myself be content to take the blunt of the cold floor's blow to my unprotected body.

"Oh, fate," I groaned.

Kane yanked me to my feet and I yelped as I slipped on the mat, nearly taking him down with me. "Get up," he snapped.

"If you would let go," I snapped.

He let go. I slipped again. He said, "You're unreal."

"Don't let go of me that fast."

"What do you want, mode settings? Get up!"

Kane hauled me to my feet just as someone knocked on the bathroom door. "Cobayo! Are you in there? Get King out here, that bastard is asleep like he's special or something!"

"It's his birthday, Diego," Meredith hissed.

"This generation is full of excuses, lo juro."

Kane and I whipped our heads to each other. I shoved him towards his room. "Pretend to sleep."

"Hey! You two awake? What the hell, come out here, did you not hear my blood birthday cake spiel?" Rosalie snapped. A pounding came at the door.

Kane shut the door to his room just as the bathroom door opened. I nearly skidded across the tiles just to get there before anyone could peek through.

Rosalie's face appeared, and I grinned. "Fine morning?"

She frowned. "What gives? What part of my text did you not get?"

"All of it. That's my bad," I said and cleared my throat. "Blue light fries the optic nerve."

Diego frowned from behind her. "Really?"

"What are you all doing exactly?" I hurried.

Rosalie looked from me to the counter to Kane's door. She gave me a skeptical look, then said, "Birthday breakfast. Go get King, we're gonna eat and head out."

"Head out," I repeated.

"You exhaust me." She shut the door in my face.

I slumped against the wall, and gave a long, heavy sigh.

Kane joined the group minutes later, black scars leaking out over his bicep along with the patches and bandages, with a significant glare at Rosalie, who was halfway through a third round of pancakes.

"Happy birthday!" Corvus chorused.

"Thanks," he replied. He turned to Rosalie. "I thought we were leaving at noon."

"Is everyone's phone for decoration?" she snapped. "I said we'd leave at ten to avoid traffic."

"I've got homework."

"Did you just say you've got homework?" Diego called. "That's sad, man." He reached for another pancake, but was quickly cut off with a stab of Kenzo's fork. "What gives?" he snapped. "You can't hoard pancakes just 'cause it's your birthday."

"Yes, I can." He pulled the plate towards him for emphasis.

Zahir shrugged. "He kinda can."

I raised my hand. "I've got lab work."

Rosalie faced me with her spatula. "Do you want to be made into a cake?"

I lowered my hand. "I'll take that as a no."

Kane grabbed an apple from the basket. Rosalie frowned. "Rejecting my pancakes right in front of me. It's your birthday, have some."

He waved her off and took a bite of the apple. "We did your house once, we don't have to do it again. San Marino is a serious schlep anyway."

"It's an hour, and it'll be fun. You better have fun. If you don't have fun..." Rosalie took her spatula and made a slicing gesture.

"I feel so safe here," I said.

"Shut up, Yun."

Wynter nudged Zoe to nudge me. "Hey," she said. "You get them a gift?"

I had made a very fast, and very tired, excursion to the nearest pawn shop after Kane had gone to bed the night before, but what I'd gotten could barely be called a gift, at least in comparison to what the two had already. So I settled for, "Sort of? Why?"

"Gotta compare, make sure I'm not lame."

"What if I'm lame?"

"Then at least it's not me, that's the point."

I threw a blueberry at her. Rosalie clapped her hands. "Eat up, we leave at ten!"

"Yes, ma'am," we shouted.

I glanced at Kane. "Sure she's not the captain?"

Kane didn't even look at me, tapping his ring on my head as he walked away. "Eat your pancakes."

________________

I.GHOST - New Message

'Merci' sent you a message. View it here.

I.GHOST - Merci

wow wow! send my birthday wishes to your little crows!

hope you got them something fancy

i'm going through a lot of hell just to make that happen! where's my thanks?

you're off for the weekend

don't wanna ruin your eval right?

__________________

We piled into Kenzo's and Zahir's cars, Kenzo taking Wynter, Rosalie, and Zoe with him, leaving the rest of us to take Zahir's. I slid into the seat beside Kane, Meredith squeezing in beside me, Diego smiling happily at Zahir from the passenger seat.

"San Marino or bust, I say," he said, and flashed a grin back at us.

I cocked a brow. "San Marino?"

Diego shook his head. "You don't know what you're about to witness, cobayo."

I leaned my head back against the leather headrest. Meredith pulled herself forward by the back of Diego's seat to chatter in his ear over her upcoming finals and the latest literary work she was being forced to overanalyze. I glanced at Kane, who was squinting down at his phone.

Kane must've felt my gaze on him because he handed me the phone. I peered down.

It was an Instagram post from a username I didn't recognize, Kane's face caught in the frame mid-talk. The caption read out an enthusiastic paragraph of birthday wishes and grateful run-ons. I scrolled through the photos.

"Meredith?" I guessed, judging by the redhead in the profile picture. "You're a beloved captain, it seems."

Kane hummed, tapping his rings against each other. He said, "What's it say?"

I recounted the caption to him. He nodded along to it until I finished.

Meredith frowned at our exchange. She turned to me just as Zahir merged onto the freeway behind Kenzo. "Yun, don't tell me you don't have Instagram."

"He doesn't!" Diego called.

"I don't," I said.

"What kind of modern age young adult are you, cobayo?"

"Social media is a plague on self-assured competence and critical analysis," I said. "And, why would I?"

"You and your social media protests," Diego said, clicking his tongue. "I was wondering why you never said anything when we posted about you. I thought for sure you'd kill me for the sleeping post."

"The what," I said.

Zahir glanced at me through the mirror. "You should make an account, get yourself out on the media. It can be good buzz."

"You need it," Kane muttered.

The last thing I needed was more ways to be found out by people I've never met and people I didn't want to meet again. I barely used the new phone as it was, and with good reason. I didn't need a reason to use it more.

"I think I'll pass," I said. "What would I even do?"

"Post," Meredith said. She whipped out her phone and handed it to me. "King's right, it can be good buzz, and it keeps us all linked up."

It was her own profile, the boxes of photos chock-full of Corvus, Meredith, Avaldi, randomized coffee drinks or garden brunches, and the Birdhouse. Location, affiliates, and frequent hangout spots. I grimaced.

"I don't have it on me," I said.

"Are you kidding me?" Kane snapped. "Do you ever have that phone on you?"

"No," I admitted.

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't use it."

"A nineteen year old guy that doesn't use his phone," Zahir recounted. "That's impressive."

"Zahir gets it," I said.

Kane pulled out his phone, clicking through several apps before handing it off to me. "Do it on my phone then," he said.

"If anything fixes my disaster of a media image, it's not gonna be selfies and lattes," I argued.

"I hear talking," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Why do I hear talking?"

"It is his birthday," Zahir said with a shrug. "And he is your tracker."

"Never mind. Zahir doesn't get it," I snapped.

Meredith plucked the phone from my hands. "I'll help you," she said. "I love a social media makeover."

"You're lucky it's your birthday, or I'd..."

"You'd what?" Kane challenged.

"Give me a minute, I'm debating between tossing you out of a window or tossing you into the nearest truck."

"You can't even lift a milk jug."

"It was a very large jug."

"You toss me off something and I'll eat my shoe."

I glanced down at his shoes, which were outrageously ugly in the only way a luxury sneaker could manage to be and was frankly more platform than shoe. I glared. "I'd like to see you try."

"King, you have a photo of Yun somewhere, right?" Meredith asked, opening his photos.

Kane whipped his head from me to her in an instant. "No," he snapped. He lurched over the seats.

Meredith slid out of his reach. She laughed brightly. "Oh, a lot of photos!"

"Of Yun?" Zahir asked.

Diego hooted. "Oh, man, you gotta show me!"

"Give me the phone," Kane demanded.

"Did he fall asleep here? Did you take a photo of him sleeping? That's so cute."

"Wait, you what," I said.

Diego was doubled over on the dashboard cackling. Meredith giggled. "Is that him eating?" she said. "Oh, look, you're in the hallway in this one! From rather far away."

I gaped at him. "Stalker," I said.

"Tracker," they chorused.

Kane snagged the phone from her hands just as Diego looked ready to bust one of his internal organs at how hard he was laughing. Zahir frowned in the rearview mirror.

"You're really taking this tracker thing seriously, King," he said.

I said, "Maybe you can make my profile for me."

Kane slumped against the window and shut off his phone. "Fuck off," he sighed.

Diego and Meredith laughed wildly in their seats, leaving the rest of us in our own, San Marino-bound confusion.

San Marino was a royal madhouse of salt-cured Mandarin, sugar-coated streets, storybook sidewalks, and insurmountable amounts of square footage. It boasted homes that rivaled the White House and the hills of Italy, that could hold a flame against sunny Spain and uptown Boston. Hedges greener than the envy of those that drove through the neighborhoods covered the miles and miles of front yards. Smooth-paved roads took you to gated gardens or thorny libraries, cobblestone lining the walk from double doors to the Olympic pools. Cars sat like princes on concrete thrones in the driveways as children hopped from one end of their kingdom to another for play and teenagers flaunted luxury bags at nearby Chinese bakeries or open markets. No highway bombarded the opulent suburbia, and even its street signs were winged with serif tips and tails. The uptown hills held the crown of wealth, but San Marino could sure as shit hold the scepter.

"Pretty, right?" Meredith said as she saw my eyes gape out the window. "I love her house, reminds me of Granada in Spain. It's got the prettiest kitchens."

"Kitchens?" I said. "Plural?"

"Oh, boy, cobayo," Diego said just as Zahir parked on the street beside a house. "If that blows your mind, just wait."

We exited the vehicle soon enough, Kenzo's car not far behind as it pulled up beside the respective house's driveway.

The driveway, that was probably as big as our entire unit at the Talon.

It wasn't really a house, but rather three houses in one large structure. An iron gate halted anyone from entering, thick flora winding around the fencing and coming to a halt at the spire tips. Two stories of white plaster and clay tile roofing spanned from edge to edge, lanterns perched archways and glassy doors. Stone fountains lined one of two stairways leading up to the front, bubbling their contentedness at living in such an estate. Saturday afternoon was far too pale to boast something so gilded.

"I say we make a run for it out the back," I murmured.

"Where is the back?" Wynter whispered.

I said, "I'll work on that."

We headed for the entrance. Rosalie appeared and waved us over.

"You rookies get to see my house for the first time," she said and smiled. "I heard there was a stalker photo debacle in Zahir's car? Something about Yun being a cute sleeper?"

"Spare us all and open the goddamn door," Kane snarled, ears burning red.

She and Meredith laughed. She punched in the code to the keypad. The gate buzzed, then creaked open to pave the way for entrance.

"My dad's home for once, so he's setting the food up out back," she said.

Zahir perked up. "Your dad's home?"

"He's autographed every possible object you've thought of, so don't even think about it," Rosalie snapped.

I'd nearly forgotten about Rosalie's all-star family line. The idea of someone so forward in the public eye being face to face with me was enough to send my stomach churning.

Rosalie dropped her purse on a hook and headed through the entryway into one of the alleged kitchens, weaving past its island to swing through a crystalline dining room, where an arching set of doors gave vision to her backyard. A pool lay in cerulean blue at the far end, and short, green grass patched up parts of whatever concrete wasn't paved over with white tile. A large table shadowed from the sun was already hosting plates on plates of sliced fruit, crackers, pastries, veggies, and meat.

Plates on plates of meat.

I cursed. I took an instinctive step back, but hadn't bothered to look and ended up bumping right into Kane. He caught me by my shoulders.

"Which of us is partially blind again?" he muttered.

I brushed myself off. "Sorry," I said.

Kane looked from me to the table. His expression hardened. He glanced at Rosalie, and said in French, "Is there anything vegetarian?"

She paused, then cursed. "Shit. I told my mom about it, but I don't think she mentioned it to him."

"It's okay," I said to Kane.

Diego swung an arm around me, hauling me through the glass doors before I could finish or Kane could respond. "Come on, come on! You gotta meet the famous Jameson J. Gossard before Zahir steals him for the rest of the day."

Jameson J. Gossard was most known for three things: his role as the ongoing villain in the multi-billion dollar wilderness film franchise, Wolf Wars, that had a storyline spanning about a third of a century, his award-winning Wallstreet wife that was nearly as tall as he was at six foot four, and his up-and-coming elite racer of a daughter that was the first Alpha in the family since her great-aunt. He also had some seriously blue eyes going for him, and a suspicious lack of balding that worked in his favor in terms of keeping work.

He turned around at the sounds of our approaching, and flashed an Oscar-winning grin at us. Age drew lines in his face and deep into his skin, but I could see where Rosalie had gotten the structure of her face, the severity of her eyes, her face a mirror image of her father's.

"Corvus has clearly arrived," he said with a raspy laugh. "Diego! You look taller."

"You flatter me, sir, and I appreciate it," he said with a smile.

"Where's the birthday twins?" He glanced behind us and spotted Kane and Kenzo by the table. "Ah! What are you two doing over there, too cool to say hi now?"

Kane bowed his head. "Thanks for having us, Mr. Gossard."

"Who's he?" Jameson chuckled, clapping Kane on the back. "I think I ought to give up telling you to call me Jameson, because this is the third year by now."

Kane gave a polite smile back. "You got a new grill."

"That I did! Someone noticed." He sent a significant look at his daughter, who waved him off. "Meredith, my God, you all look so much older now. It's only been a few months, what do they feed you in Avaldi?"

Meredith gave a sparkling laugh and hugged Jameson hello. "You're still young as ever, though."

"Now that's a greeting I can get behind."

Zahir held his hands to his chest. "Sir."

"You need to stop," Rosalie said.

"I saw your latest film the other day," Zahir said. "You were amazing as always."

Jameson beamed and glanced at Rosalie. "Told you to bring this one here more often."

"Please, he'd never leave," she muttered. "These are our rookies of the new season, say hi."

Wynter and Zoe waved in a daze, looking a little too awed to step forward. Jameson flashed a smile and held out his hand.

"Zoe Davenport. Big fan, sir," Zoe hurried. "Great big fan. Wolf Wars was my childhood, used to sleep by a lampshade of it."

"Wynter Truong, I have three sets of Wolf Wars sheets at my house," Wynter added, shaking his other hand. "Big fan. Huge fan."

Jameson cackled. "Hey, I appreciate it." He glanced at Zoe. "You from England?"

She nodded. "Manchester."

"My wife's from there, she'll probably hound you with stories the whole night, just warning you."

Zoe lit up like a match at that. "I'll relish every second."

Rosalie pushed me forward. Jameson turned around, and startled a little at the sight of me.

"My bad, kid, I didn't even see you," he exclaimed.

I nodded. "I get that a lot. Nice to meet you, sir, thanks for opening the home up."

He shrugged and shook my hand, which was a nice way of saying his hand practically swallowed mine. "Anytime for Rosie's friends," he said. "You are...?"

"Echo."

"Echo what?"

"Echo Yun."

"Yun who"

"No, I'm Echo Yun."

"Echo who?"

"Echo me."

"Echo you?"

"Hey," Diego said with a snort. "There's an echo."

I shook my head. "Yun," I said. "Just call me Yun."

Jameson shrugged at that. "Sure. I like your hair. Hey, Kenzo, you hiding again? Come here, say hello!"

"A Hollywood legend just said he liked your hair," Zoe gasped. "Where's my phone? I need a photo."

"Spare me," I muttered.

Kenzo greeted Jameson with something almost like a smile, shaking his hand and saying something in response to him. Rosalie tugged at her father's sleeve. "Hey, Dad, Yun's a vegan," she explained.

"Vegetarian," I corrected. "Vegans are goddamn communists."

Jameson cocked a brow. "Bit of a mouth on you."

"You have no idea," Corvus said.

Rosalie waved me off. "He doesn't eat meat. Do we still have the veggie patties in the freezer?"

"A vegetarian lycan, that's one I've never heard before," he said with a dry laugh. Jameson sucked in a breath. "But, we ate those a few days ago, sorry. But we got them from the market just down this street, around the corner. If you wanna swing by and get some."

"I'll go," I hurried.

"You don't have a car," Wynter said.

"So? Down the street, around the corner, I'll walk. That's all right, right?" I asked.

Jameson frowned. "If you want to. But it's a shorter drive if you just—"

"Nope, no, no, I insist," I said, already backing away. So much raw meat wasn't really something I wanted to stick around long for, and the longer I could get some fresh air away from it, the better it'd be for everyone and the less hassle I'd become. It was supposed to be a party, after all. The last thing I needed was for anyone to worry about more than they already had in the past week. "I have to stretch my legs anyway, and why waste the gas? I'll be back."

I spun around before any of them could protest further, although I did catch Jameson muttering a, "Strange kid?" to Rosalie in French. Trust, Hollywood sir, that I'm far less strange away from meat.

I headed back through the glass doors, the dining room, kitchen, and entryway, until I realized I was being followed.

I sighed and turned around. "It's literally down the street, around the corner. I do not need to be tracked for that."

Kane raised a brow. "You got your wallet?" I paused. "You got your phone to see the veggie patties that Rosalie texted we should get?" I kept pausing. "You got the directions to the store?" Pausing. Kane hummed. "Thought so. Come on."

"Your practicality sickens me," I said.

"Could be worse," he said, opening the front door. "I could be vegan."

"Thought you were gonna say communist."

"Same thing."

I held in the laugh and walked out.

Kane input the directions for the nearest grocery store and we started down the street. May hadn't yet given in to June's promised scorching heat, and it left the air rather pleasant and mild-mannered. The shade was blue and cool, the sun soft and watery.

We made it past a four-way stop when Kane at my left said, "Are you okay?"

I hesitated. "What?"

"Are you okay?" he repeated. "You didn't look good."

"It's all right," I promised. "Being cooped up in the car made me sort of dizzy, I guess."

We stepped over cracks, dodged street lamps. Kane said, "If you want to eat something different—"

"Veggie burgers are fine."

"We can pick something else up. There's a Vietnamese restaurant—"

"It's all right," I said.

He looked a bit resentful. We turned a corner to head downhill. The wind was scented with new money and freshly cut grass, maple leaves and the distant city. He dodged a pole, and his side bumped into mine, our hands grazing. I resisted the urge to grab my chest, push the breath back into my lungs with the base of my palm.

We had just managed to cross a rather narrow side street when he asked, "What's with you and meat?"

It was crass, at best. But he didn't say it with any irritation, rather, interest.

"I get not liking the taste," he went on. "Or, the activism of it. But when you bit into the hamburger at Ramos's party, you looked like you were having a panic attack."

I pursed my lips. After all he'd told me, I knew I owed him some sort of honesty, but how took some thinking. I caught up to his steps.

I said, "It's...not really the meat."

He frowned. "What is it?"

"It reminds me of my mom."

We headed down, down, down.

Kane said, "Your mom?"

I nodded. I kicked at stray rocks and threads of grass. "I'm not crazy about the smell of it either, and the sight of it sort of freaks me out," I said. "The taste of it just sort of reminds me of her in a really bad way."

"Why?"

I thought of her under my hands, under my scalpel. I thought of her white skin and white bones. The scent of burning flesh. The scent of fresh blood.

"When she died, I had to stay with her for a long time before anyone came to help. The room wasn't very big, and it was hours," I said. "The sight of it, just smelling it..." I swallowed; it tasted like iron. "It makes me feel like I'm in that room all over again."

The words piled themselves onto me like bleeding corpses. My skin crawled with maggots chewing away at me. I tried to breathe in anything but the memory of that room, the knife in my hand, the sight of her open skin and ruined veins.

Kane was quiet for a long moment. I focused on the concrete blocks under me. One, two. One, two.

We were stopped at a light, the thrum of the cars waiting. Kane finally spoke, his voice barely audible over the engines.

"I thought," he began, "your parents were in Washington."

I winced. "She's not," I replied.

We walked onwards. We took another turn, the main street in view now, shops polluting the horizon line, houses dwindling out to nothing. I missed the fresh green and serenity of the neighborhood already. I could understand, even for those few moments, why the homes held such high costs; the prices people would pay for peace.

"I'm sorry, that I lied," I said. "Being honest was harder."

"Can I ask how?"

My smile was grim. "No," I admitted. "That's why."

Kane pursed his lips. We walked on, weaving through the pathways, silent in the thick of summer traffic. The sun wove through our hair, and turned Kane's from black to chestnut.

He said, "It's almost Poppy's birthday." I paused. There was a sadness that clung to his features, dragged them somewhere I couldn't go. "I almost forgot it the other day. I had it circled and I remember being confused for a few seconds about what it was." He waited as the light turned red. "I went looking for this one photo she gave me, but I found some old shirt and I forgot about that too until I realized it was the one I wore when she died."

I said, "Were you with her?"

Kane paused. "Something like that," he murmured. "I remember hating that shirt even though it was one of my favorites at the time. I threw away the pants. I got rid of the shoes, too. I didn't want any memory of it because every time I saw it or I tried to put it on, I'd feel sick."

We crossed the street. "Ramos told me you two were close," I said. "She said, you'd be very different without Poppy."

Kane pressed his lips to a thin line. "I didn't realize how accustomed I'd gotten to knowing she was around, how much of a fixture she was in Corvus." His Korean was fragile, barely there. "Trusting someone will always be there, and then you look away, and they're gone, it's hard to go back to how things were."

He'd paused at the street corner, watching the neighborhood. It reflected itself in his black eyes. It was an artistic type of sad, the kind that took experience to unveil, a soft melancholy empathy that was bone-deep and skinless.

"I'm sorry, about your mom, that she's gone. You must've been really scared." Kane's gaze swallowed me, and there was a stark recognition in them that I'd never lived to witness before. "You," he tried, "must've felt very alone."

I'd been scared since I was seven. I wondered if it was worse being known to be lonely, or to be scared. I'd never come to a place where someone knew me as both. I'd never come to a place where someone had seen either at all.

I pushed my palm into my heart, just to breathe.

"Do you miss her?" I asked him. "Poppy."

Kane considered that. "A lot," he admitted. "Do you miss your mom?"

"Sometimes. Most times," I said, then, "You didn't have to tell me anything."

He shrugged. "Neither did you," he said. "But I figure it helps."

"What?"

"Talking to someone, I guess."

As much as it ached, it was fairly honest when I said, "It does." I walked side by side with him as we entered a street. "Thank you."

He shook his head. "Don't thank me."

I realized we weren't going to Ralphs about ten minutes later.

"Where the hell are we?" I asked, as the avenue swelled into a full blown boulevard of shops, restaurants, incoming afternoon crowds, and San Marino sunlight.

"Detour," he said. "I told Rosalie not to wait on us."

"Detour? Where?"

We waited on a red light, the streets filled with the white noise of other lives and other people and other worlds I knew nothing of. The sun began to crisp in the waning hours, going from daisy to marigold.

"When I was younger in Korea," he said, "one of my cousins used to take me out a day before my birthday to celebrate just between us, without all the craziness of my whole family. We'd take a taxi to the city, and eat patbingsu and our stomachs always hurt after. Corvus doesn't like it, so I don't eat it very often. But, when I can."

The mention of Korea pulled at my lungs. "Kane King, having fun," I said. "Could I see it?"

He elbowed me. "Give me some credit. I can be fun."

"Give me another minute." He shot me a look. The laugh that came from me broke the silence, the tension, like a needle to a glass pane. I felt relieve shatter over me. "Is there anything you miss the most in Korea?"

He hesitated. "Mostly my cousins," he said. "Mostly that one."

"Sunhee?"

"Yes. How come you don't eat more Korean food?"

"No budget, and I wouldn't know what to make."

"You could ask me."

"If you have a cook like Diego in the house, how do you know how to cook so much?"

He shrugged. "I lived on my own terms for all of high school, so I had to learn how to cook," he said. "I didn't know how to make anything but Korean food because that's all I'd ever eaten." The grin that appeared from him was startling, relieving, ice and sweetness on my tongue. "And Diego is a good cook, but he doesn't know the right secrets."

"The secrets," I repeated. "Regale me."

"You can't survive off candy and cigarettes forever," Kane told me. "If anyone needs to learn to cook, it's you."

I hummed. "Do you take sign-ups?"

"When's your birthday?"

I technically had two. A real one, and the one I had to use when people asked for it. My real one landed in January, which meant I was always slightly younger than people knew. But my emergency one was, "November 24th."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Feel old?"

"Pretty much." He sighed. "I'll try not to think about it."

I said, "Can I ask you something?" He gestured for me to go ahead. "When did and Luan date?"

Kane nearly tripped against a lamp post at that one. He scrunched his brows. "I...was a sophomore."

"Last year?"

"High school."

"What." I did the math. "Wait. Wait, you dated him when you were fifteen and he was eighteen?"

"It wasn't serious," he hurried. "Not until my senior year."

"When he was a sophomore in college?"

Kane gave a shrug, sighing. "I don't know, I was just a gullible kid. He was in a friend group I met when I went into high school."

"You knew him as a freshman?" I shook my head. "You're kidding. Is this even legal?"

He shrugged. "He was...nice."

Having met Luan, I didn't doubt that. "You said he did a lot for you," I said.

"I didn't know how to race. He was a captain of the high school's team, and he offered to train me. Luan, he can be really sweet," Kane said slowly. "I didn't know many other people who were willing to help me."

I didn't know what to make of that statement, what to make of Luan for knowing such a thing. I said, "I think you're a hell of a lot better than whatever he is."

Kane's grin was faulty. "Let's move on, yeah?"

"So, what's good here?"

We stood in ZKS Binnie-soo, some sort of elaborately pink establishment that smelled of sugar and fruit. A few people were already sat down with bowls of their desserts, couples feeding it to each other in spoonfuls, friends gossiping through mouthfuls, family chattering away with shared cups.

Kane hummed. "Injeolmi. Definitely the injeolmi."

"What's that?"

"You do have a lot to learn," he said, raising a brow at me. "It's a soybean powder, sort of nutty, sort of sweet. Comes with mochi and red bean."

"I don't even know what any of this is, so I'm gonna trust your judgment."

He shrugged. "I got good judgment."

When we returned to our seats with our appropriate number, I said, "I can pay you back."

Kane gave me a pointed look, and tossed the receipt. "Just enjoy it," he said. "That'll pay me back."

When the dessert arrived, in all its icy glory, Kane took his phone out to point it at me. I shook my head, holding up my hand to the camera.

"Don't even, I refuse to join your social media cult. I've already got this crow one to worry about," I snapped.

"You're gonna need something to post," he said, as if I hadn't spoken. "Might as well be something nice."

"Social media is not in the pamphlet."

"Hold still."

Kane pushed me back in my chair and took a photo before I had the chance to say anything about it. When I went for his phone, he handed me a spoon.

"Birthday," he reminded.

I snatched the spoon from him. "Birthday card," I muttered. "Touché."

I took in a spoonful of sticky rice mochi and sweet bean powder. Kane gestured at one couple passing us by with a more colorful bowl of ice, red and pink and purple syrup coating the top below mountains of tropical fruit.

Kane said, "Maybe you should've gotten that. You'd match."

"You all need new material and to lay off my artful hair," I snapped. I took another mouthful of the bingsu and pointed at my head. "The goal of this dye job is not to be good. If I'm doing anything right, I'll be bald by thirty."

Kane choked on his spoonful. His laugh was electric and raspy. "I highly doubt you'll be bald."

"You don't wanna see how much bleach I've put on this hair, then."

Kane frowned. "But, why?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

"Terrible answer."

"Well, it should be your answer to more things." I popped a mochi into my mouth. "Have you ever dated anyone other than michin miso?" At Kane's puzzled look, I clarified, "Luan?"

He coughed at that, pounding his chest. "I went on a date or two before him, but they were mostly failed set-ups." He gestured his spoon at me. "You?"

I snorted. "No. Never could," I said. "I can barely manage friends."

"Then, would you date?"

It was true that Kane and I had still yet to put a name to our muddy dynamic, but I'd be blunt in that I didn't know if that was a bad thing. With all the discourse surrounding us, surrounding Corvus, I figured the idea of us was almost trite.

I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. "I don't think so. Sort of a pain."

He hummed. "Then, you probably shouldn't."

"No," I said. "I shouldn't." I gestured at him. "Should you?"

Kane's lips twitched at that. "No," he replied. "I shouldn't.

We ate the last of the shaved ice in silence.

We retrieved the veggie burgers just in time and let the rest of the party fall into practiced step, Corvus filling the Gossards' home with boisterous celebration and enough noise to warrant a call from the authorities. When all the food had been devoured, the candles on the cakes blown out, and Kenzo and Zahir had dragged our exhausted bodies back to the Talon through arduous post-meridian traffic, the only ones left standing were Kane and I in the kitchen.

"What's my first cooking lesson?" I asked.

Kane threw a bag of honey chips at me and tore one open for himself. "And it's only one step," he quipped.

I laughed. He rested his chin on his hand, staring out at the vacant space of the now-dark living room, the Talon quiet around us. "Thanks," he said. "For coming with me today."

I cocked my head. "I should thank you," I replied.

"For the walk or the bingsu?"

"For the conversation and the injeolmi," I said. "Not a bad birthday?"

Kane popped a chip into his mouth. "No." He smiled. "Not bad."

I nodded. I set the chips down to rifle through my pockets. "I know Corvus already gave you their gifts," I said. "But theirs were nicer and I figured it might be awkward." I held out a bag to him. "It's small, but, I don't know. In case you need it."

Kane frowned. He stared down at the bag. "You got me something," he said, not quite a question.

I shrugged. "I figured it's tacky to celebrate your birthday without anything to give you."

His grin was a slow, amused thing. Kane plucked it from my palm, opening the drawstrings. He turned it upside down. A small, glassy slab fell into his palm, equipped with a tiny looped handle to hold it up with. Kane frowned down at it. He held it up to the light, then at me.

"It's a magnifying glass," I said. "For reading. If something's hard to see."

Kane's gaze lingered on it for a long, long moment. He thumbed the edge of the glass.

"It's kind of cheap, so don't throw it around too much," I added. "I also have the receipt, so if it's not—"

"Thank you." Kane wrapped his fingers around it. "Really. Thank you." He placed it back into its bag, and when he looked down at me, his face was all soft edges and a warm buzz. "You've got a streak to you."

"A haphazard one?" I drawled.

"An unexpected one." He carefully pocketed the magnifier. "You're out of your mind, Echo."

"It's just a magnifying glass."

"Not what I meant."

"Well, when you start saying what you mean, let me know."

Kane pulled my face up towards his. The kiss was sugary, sticky at the edges of the mouth, and uncharacteristically delicate.

"Maybe later," he said.

Out of my mind.

Oh, you wouldn't believe.

______________________

[Alert - Upcoming Event in 1 MONTH :

STIRLING CLASS EVAL on June 30]

(ty for reading! this chapter changed its plot many a time when I was planning it, but I sort of like the softer tones, a nice break from all the back-and-forth chaos. I'm forever grateful for ur time and presence, u all encourage me even when this story gets very choppy or messy, so thank u for that :) the little star says hello with gratitude)