( jason had told kyle to be back home by five, because he was making a lavish dinner. home, to the stupidly nice apartment, with it's stupidly nice kitchen that jason does start cooking in. starts, because he gets about halfway through prepping vegetables before he realizes exactly where he's at and what he's doing. living with people--that isn't new. jason'd lived in the manor for a few years, he's shared safehouses with a few people on and off for a few years. hell, he, donna, and kyle'd been around the block together. he'd shared with loki a significant period, but. it hadn't been stable, any of it. they'd moved around, gone from building to building, referred to where they were at as safehouses, not homes. or jason'd taken off for a while, or it'd lasted a few months before he did something to fuck it all up. pissed off the wrong person, almost killed roy, gotten people sucked into black holes leading to fucked elseworlds. destroyed relationships intentionally, because leaving things be always spelled trouble.
it'd never been this. living with someone he's verbally told others he's dated, even if it'd been as a test. having his fourteen year old older brother taking up a room. purposefully fitting it full of shit he liked, outfitting the place like he was intending to stay long-term. standing around in a kitchen full of perishables with plans on actually using them.
he's been consistently inconsistent, because settling in one place has never turned out well for him. getting attached hasn't, and--hell, letting a fucking teenager live in the same space as him is just asking for shit to go so wrong jason regrets ever opening his mouth and telling dick jack shit.
the shift is sudden. from idly cutting down carrots with a nakiri, to jason's shoulders tensing, jaw clenching tight, mind running a mile a minute through all the worst-case scenarios. he's been plotting to fuck over junior, which he realizes is stupid in of itself, but that's because jason's an idiot. the kind of idiot who's been fucking around with the gangs here since he showed up, who intentionally got the attention of every robin in his vicinity in one of the worst ways possible, just to see how they'd react. who'd do it again. who shouldn't be here, surrounded by shit he's inevitably going to fuck up and ruin.
fingers tighten on the knife, before he's slamming it down into the cutting board hard enough it sticks into the wood. this was stupid. all of it. he feels that itch at the back of his neck, the one that screams danger, will robinson like it's expecting aliens to come flying through the window at any moment intent on murder. it doesn't usually stop but he let it, and now it just--feels wrong. all of it.
which is a perfectly reasonable reason to lean down to where he'd stashed a go bag beneath the kitchen island, swing the bag over his shoulder, turn off the stove, and go for the fire escape outside the balcony window. )
not because he is afraid. power corrupts, of course, which is why he's kept it at a distance, but ion in itself is not just power. it was the heart of the star. jenny's heart which she had entrusted back to him after she perished. it was the edge of grief that kept ion away. power in itself means nothing to kyle. he's powerful. he could tear worlds apart. he has torn worlds apart. other people may come to fear or respect it, but it means so little to him. not as much as other things. not as much as being kyle rayner.
his senses go off when he enters. the smell of food permeates, but there's nothing else. there's no one else here. for a moment, kyle feels a blinding moment of panic, of fear. from the corner of his eyes, the fridge is there. swallowing, he forces it down. jason is fine. he's not dead.
but he's not here.
oh. he's not here.
kyle nearly barks a laugh at that, pushing some of his hair from his face. so that's how it is, huh? fine. fine. he'll get his bearings. he'll manage. he'll figure out his next steps. he's not giving up.
but ion is there and he feels the inky blackness slowly crawl up his arms and face. it was comforting. he just needs to be . . . numb for a little bit.
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kyle | give my regards to oblivion
it'd never been this. living with someone he's verbally told others he's dated, even if it'd been as a test. having his fourteen year old older brother taking up a room. purposefully fitting it full of shit he liked, outfitting the place like he was intending to stay long-term. standing around in a kitchen full of perishables with plans on actually using them.
he's been consistently inconsistent, because settling in one place has never turned out well for him. getting attached hasn't, and--hell, letting a fucking teenager live in the same space as him is just asking for shit to go so wrong jason regrets ever opening his mouth and telling dick jack shit.
the shift is sudden. from idly cutting down carrots with a nakiri, to jason's shoulders tensing, jaw clenching tight, mind running a mile a minute through all the worst-case scenarios. he's been plotting to fuck over junior, which he realizes is stupid in of itself, but that's because jason's an idiot. the kind of idiot who's been fucking around with the gangs here since he showed up, who intentionally got the attention of every robin in his vicinity in one of the worst ways possible, just to see how they'd react. who'd do it again. who shouldn't be here, surrounded by shit he's inevitably going to fuck up and ruin.
fingers tighten on the knife, before he's slamming it down into the cutting board hard enough it sticks into the wood. this was stupid. all of it. he feels that itch at the back of his neck, the one that screams danger, will robinson like it's expecting aliens to come flying through the window at any moment intent on murder. it doesn't usually stop but he let it, and now it just--feels wrong. all of it.
which is a perfectly reasonable reason to lean down to where he'd stashed a go bag beneath the kitchen island, swing the bag over his shoulder, turn off the stove, and go for the fire escape outside the balcony window. )
no subject
not because he is afraid. power corrupts, of course, which is why he's kept it at a distance, but ion in itself is not just power. it was the heart of the star. jenny's heart which she had entrusted back to him after she perished. it was the edge of grief that kept ion away. power in itself means nothing to kyle. he's powerful. he could tear worlds apart. he has torn worlds apart. other people may come to fear or respect it, but it means so little to him. not as much as other things. not as much as being kyle rayner.
his senses go off when he enters. the smell of food permeates, but there's nothing else. there's no one else here. for a moment, kyle feels a blinding moment of panic, of fear. from the corner of his eyes, the fridge is there. swallowing, he forces it down. jason is fine. he's not dead.
but he's not here.
oh. he's not here.
kyle nearly barks a laugh at that, pushing some of his hair from his face. so that's how it is, huh? fine. fine. he'll get his bearings. he'll manage. he'll figure out his next steps. he's not giving up.
but ion is there and he feels the inky blackness slowly crawl up his arms and face. it was comforting. he just needs to be . . . numb for a little bit.
just for a bit. ]