1 Chapter One

He looked around moving only his eyes, keeping his head low, his arms crossed in a don't-fucking-look-at-me fashion, and a scowl etched into otherwise beautiful features. *I don't want to fucking be here* he thought angrily to himself. *I don't need to fucking be here listening to their fucking sob stories.*

He watched as more and more people filed into the room until a short, slight woman called the meeting to order. He pulled his arms tighter around him, trying to make himself invisible. "Alright, everyone, take your seats. I hope everyone has had a good week since we last saw each other." She smiled at everyone, her eyes scanning the faces as she said this. "We have someone new tonight. Let's make him feel welcome. I'm sure we all know how difficult it is your first time here." *Goddamn it* he thought as she looked at him and said, "Why don't you stand up and introduce yourself to the group."

He glared for a moment before he stood. He didn't look at them as he spoke. "I'm Fox Crow. I don't want to talk about myself. I don't want to fucking be here." He sat back down, his arms still crossed, and that ever-present frown on his face.

Kennedy watched him from across the circle. He could almost see his anger rolling off of him like heat waves off the summer pavement. And underneath all that presented rage, Kennedy could feel a familiar anguish that, when you looked into his eyes, could see as plain as day. Their eyes met for the briefest moment before he turned away.

He was beautiful. Amid the turmoil clouding his soul, Kennedy saw the beauty he tried hiding from the world. He had high cheekbones with a chiseled jawline that was indicative of a Native American heritage, accompanied with that natural tan that darkened even further with extended time spent in the sun. He was tall, but shorter than Kennedy. He turned his attention toward McKayla Forester, the meeting director, when she spoke his name. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Did you maybe want to start us off today?" She smiled at him and he returned it as he stood. He had been coming to this group for years now, but still he became a bundle of nerves when he stood and all eyes focused on him.

"Hey, y'all. For those new here, I'm Kennedy." He met Fox's stare for a moment before moving on to other faces in the group. "I've been having a hard time the past couple days. The anniversary of that night is approaching, and I find myself...kinda...stuck...sometimes. Doing simple things, like, washing dishes...and suddenly I'm back to that day...when I snap out of it...blocks of time are missing...this happened a lot when I was a kid. After I was put in foster care. But not for a long time now. And I'm not sure why." *But I wish it would stop* he silently added.

As he spoke, Fox watched him with his attention undivided. Instantly, he recognized the pain he saw on the man's face. He noticed how his hands shook, how his voice almost quivered. He saw the self-blame dripping off of him like blood. The blood of whomever he lost. Fox looked at his hands as Kennedy sat down. It was still there. The blood red stains that never went away. The blood of his twin brother.

Fox closed his eyes as he tried to ignore everyone else and what they said. He felt his chest tighten, seizing the air in his lungs. He breathed deeply, wanting to run, but not having the strength. His eyes watered as one man's pain mirrored his own and he swallowed it, determined not to let himself break.

At the end of the meeting, he stood, but before he could make his escape, the director approached him. "Hi, Fox." She smiled, but did not extend her hand, seemingly to understand that he couldn't be touched right then. He met her eyes not otherwise responding. "This is Kennedy Jensen. He's going to be your sponsor, alright. So I want you two to exchange phone numbers in case you need to get a hold of one another for something."

Fox, his scowl turning in deeper said, "For what? What's a sponsor?"

"In case one of us is having a bad day or night and need someone safe and who understands to talk to." Kennedy smiled as he spoke and held out a piece of folded paper, presumably with his contact information on it.

"I don't need to talk to anyone. I don't need anyone's fucking help. I'm fine." Fox crossed his arms, but his eyes kept sliding to the paper still held out in Kennedy's hand.

"Well, then, you won't need to call me. But maybe you'll need a good recipe for some risotto and not know who to call. Then...LIGHTBULB...that one guy's number! And with one phone call, you've got the best risotto recipe this side of the Atlantic."

Fox tried repressing a smile at his words, his lips quirking up the slightest bit. Gingerly, he reached out and took the paper, tucking it in his pocket. "I could just Google it, you know." He paused. "What is risotto, anyway?"

Kennedy did grin then before growing serious again. McKayla had walked away after the introduction, having had someone need to speak with her. So just the two of them heard the exchange. "Day or night. If you need to talk, call me." Fox looked down before he slowly nodded. "I'll see you next week."

Fox nodded again. "Okay." He didn't look up as he heard Kennedy walk away, standing there a moment longer to collect himself before walking outside. He didn't want to break and have his mother witness his tears. She worried, after all. It was her prodding that had him here tonight, where he didn't want to be. She wanted him to heal. What she didn't understand is that he would never heal. What she didn't understand is that if he allowed himself to be happy, he would be forgetting his best friend. He didn't deserve to have happiness. He deserved nothing but what he gave himself. Fox managed to quell any oncoming tears and he turned and exited the building.

The next week came faster than he'd have liked. He buried himself in his work and swimming. During those moments, he didn't have to interact with anyone. During those moments, he didn't have to see the side glances his family sent him. During those moments, he didn't have anyone to answer to. Not his mother or family. Not the ghost of his brother. And least of all, not himself.

Unable to ignore his growling stomach any longer, Fox decided to break from his work and get a snack. He'd been trying to not think about the meeting tonight. He didn't want to go back. He wasn't like them.

When he heard his mother enter the kitchen, he knew. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the fight he could feel coming. "Hey, honey." She kissed the side of his head, a small, tenuous smile gracing her lips. He knew she was bracing for this argument as much as he was. He could see it in her face. In her tired expression. "I have to drop off your brother at practice, but I'll be back on time to take you to the meeting tonight." She braced herself for his argument. For the fight.

He studied her. The bags under her eyes looked like bruises. In the past five years it seemed she'd aged no less than ten. And he knew he was to blame. He felt the fight deflate from him before he even had a full argument against going. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before meeting her eyes. She was watching him carefully. He nodded gently at her, his eyes watering. "Okay, Mom. I'll be ready."

She smiled at him, relieved. There had been so many fights. It seemed they've been more and more recently. "I love you, Fox."

He smiled a smile full of pain as he told her he loved her back. *I don't deserve your love, Mom. You don't know what I did.*

Kennedy watched the door of the room, waiting for Fox to appear. Most everyone was now, milling around and waiting for the few stragglers. Then Kennedy's breath caught as he finally appeared. He seemed to falter at the door but came all the way inside. His eyes came up from the floor, seeking, seeking...there...his eyes stopped when they found Kennedy.

He had a wild kind of desperation in his eyes that made Kennedy want to take him in his arms. Fox looked so young in that moment it made Kennedy's heart ache.

Fox took his seat, making sure to keep himself to where he was in Kennedy's line of vision. There was a storm inside him that seemed to calm when he looked at Kennedy that Fox didn't understand.

The meeting was called into order and the group quieted as they all took their seats. An older, light skinned black man raise his hand as he stood. "I'd like to start us off today, McKayla, if that's alright." He wore a sweater vest over a light blue button down with a bowtie. He arthritic hands gripped his cane and he favored his right leg as he stood amount the people.

"Of course, Albert. The floor is yours." McKayla smiled at Albert from her seat encouragingly and he thanked her with a nod.

"Today is my Anna's birthday. She would be sixty-five..."

Fox tuned him out, his eyes automatically searching out Kennedy. He didn't understand the calm that came over him at simply seeing the man.

He'd long ago comes to terms with his sexuality, the physical attraction wasn't a mystery; he was gorgeous. But there was something more than that outward, physical attraction. Something that went deeper. Somewhere he thought no one would ever be able to touch again. While he fought the need to explore that calm, he wanted to run from it.

"Fox?" He looked over at McKayla. "Would you like to try speaking a bit tonight?"

For reasons he didn't try and contemplate, Fox slowly slide from the chair he was occupying and stood. He briefly glanced around before his eyes found the ones he sought. Kennedy smiled at him the barest smile of encouragement and nodded. "My brother. My twin brother...was killed in a school shooting our senior year about five years ago..." He stopped speaking and Kennedy could see he was about to bolt. And run he did without another word.

Kennedy got up to follow, hoping the he hadn't left the property entirely. He found him sitting on the steps just outside, his head propped up on folded arms supported by his drawn up knees. Silently, Kennedy sat down next to him. Small sounds of despair eminated from him as he kept his face covered. "I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this...I can't do this without him." Kennedy watched him for a moment, listening to his mantra, remembering times when he'd been in this same position, speaking those same words. "Does it ever get easier?" Fox looked at him with red rimmed eyes as he gnawed on his lower lip.

Kennedy gave him a soft, half-smile. "Some days are easier than others."

"I'm not even sure if it should get easier. At least for me." Fox looked out into the night and took a shaky breath, wiping his cheeks on his shoulders.

"Why is that?"

His voice was so gentle and soothing, Fox's eyes watered and he looked to his right. "Because. It's my fault." Kennedy studied him a moment, deciding now wasn't the time to press. "I'm sorry about last week. I shouldn't have been such a dick to you. Once upon a time I was a nice person." Fox looked away.

"And now? You don't seem too bad."

Fox shrugged one slender shoulder. "Just ask my family. I'm a surly prick most of the time. My mom looks like she wants to cry every time she looks at me. My little brother won't come near me unless he has no choice. My father won't even look at me. All he sees is River when he looks at me." That last sentence was a mere whisper and he wiped at his eyes again.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you do around them?" Kennedy wanted to pull him into his arms at the anguish he saw all over Fox's face. He didn't move.

"I try not to be around them. I don't want to always see the looks in their eyes. My mom and I argue a lot now...sometimes I think it should have been me. River was always better at handling bad situations. He would have done better without me than I am without him." He sounded so defeated as he said those words, Kennedy's heart broke some for him.

"We all heal in our own time, in our own way. There's no time limit and it isn't up to anyone else how fast your progress is but you."

Fox shook his head as he stared at his hands. "I don't think I'm healing at all."

"Why is that?" Kennedy asked, glad that he was able to get Fox to open up, if only this little bit.

"Because I'm still finding his body in that hallway. Every single day, I'm finding him there all over again." His eyes flicked over to a pair of headlights that pulled into the lot. "My mom's here."

When he didn't immediately get up as his mother parked the car, Kennedy said, "I was serious about what I said last week."

Fox grinned at him. "The risotto recipe?"

Kennedy smiled widely back and Fox was struck at the absolute beauty he found in that smile. "About the risotto, right. But if you need to talk...if you need to get away...call me. I'll be there."

It was then a woman approached them. When Fox looked up she gave him a small smile. "Hi, baby. Am I late?" She looked around with a slight frown.

"No, Mom. We were just talking." He stood. "Mom, this is Kennedy. Kennedy, this is my mom, Maggie."

Kennedy extended his hand and she took it in a firm grip that belied her size. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Nice to meet you, as well. It's nice to see my son making friends." She smiled at Fox as she said this and he averted his eyes. "You ready to go?"

Fox nodded. "Yeah. I'll be right there."

She acknowledged Kennedy with a smile and a nod, and turned back to her car. Fox watched her go before turning to face Kennedy. "Thank you. For following me out here. For talking to me."

"Any time. I mean that. And not just because we're sponsoring each other. You look like you really need a friend. Someone who understands."

"Thank you," Fox answered. His voice was rough and his chest burned. He walked down a few steps before turning back. "Hey, Kennedy." Fox smiled gently at him, a soft up turn of one side of his delicate mouth. "You can call me, too, you know. Any time."

Kennedy smiled. "Thank you."

Kennedy sighed. He's been tossing and turning for hours, sleep completely eluding him. It had been two weeks since he and Fox had had their talk on the steps of the grief center, where the meetings took place.

He looked at the alarm clock with its mocking, blazing red numbers. 1:45. Rolling his eyes he flipped over, pulling the pillow over his face. He let out a groan of frustration and threw his pillow.

Just as it landed with a plop on the floor across the room, his phone began to ring. He frowned and looked at it with distain. Reaching over he snatched it up, panic setting in with a mixture of worry as he saw the name on the screen.

"Hey, what's up? Are you okay?" He knew that Fox wouldn't be calling for a social conversation at nearly two in the morning.

"Kennedy? I need your help. Please. Please come."

Kennedy was already out of bed and sliding into his jeans. "I'm getting dressed. Where are you?" He could hear sobbing on the other end of the phone. "Fox, I need you to breathe, okay. Come on, take a deep breathe. Good. Now, where are you?"

Kennedy listened to a shaky exhale before a whispered, "I'm not sure." Fox looked around at his surroundings. There's a Circle K near me and across the street from that is a laundromat. Sparkle Clean, I think." Fox looked around. "I don't see any street signs anywhere."

Kennedy grabbed his keys and walked out the door. "It's alright. I know where you are. Go sit at the Circle K, alright. I'll be there in less than fifteen minutes."

"Okay."

When Kennedy pulled up at the gas station exactly twelve minutes later, he found Fox sitting against the wall, as far from the door as possible while still being visible. His face was hidden in his arms, his legs drawn upward toward his chest. For the first time Kennedy noticed how small and young he looked.

He knelt in front of the younger man, his hand gently settling on his forearm. "Fox?" When Fox lifted his head, his face and eyes were red and tear-swollen. "Hey there."

"You came." The words were nearly whispered.

"Of course I came. Come on, let's get you out of here." Fox stood with Kennedy's assistance before wrapping his arms around himself. "Do you have somewhere you want me to take you?"

Fox glanced at him then with every ounce of vulnerability he possessed. "I can't go home." He hung his head as he repeated this. "Can I go home with you?"

Kennedy had half a mind to tell him no, but couldn't seem to deny the look on his face. "Yeah. Sure." He smiled lightly at him hoping to quell some of the obvious anxiety he felt. "Come on."

Fox quietly followed him back to the car. They drove back to Kennedy's with that same quieted disquiet surrounding them. Every now and then Kennedy saw Fox wipe at his eyes from his peripheral vision, but didn't comment.

When they finally got inside the house, Fox stood in the foyer, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

"Come on. Sit." He gestured to the couch that sat in the living room. He did, Kennedy sitting next to him, close but not touching. "You want to talk about it?"

"I can't stand the way they look at me," Fox said after a long minute. "My parents. My brother. Anyone that knew me before." He wiped his eyes even as more tears replaced those he wiped away.

"How do you think your family look at you now?" Kennedy asked after Fox didn't elaborate.

"They don't see me anymore, Kennedy. I'm not me anymore. I don't even know who I am anymore." More tears slid unnoticed from his eyes, the pain Kennedy saw reflecting there nearly broke him. It was such a familiar pain...

Kennedy shoved that thought aside to concentrate on Fox. "Who do they see?" Kennedy knew the answer to this question, but his knowledge wasn't the point.

"River." The word was barely whispered through the choke hold his heart had him in.

"What happened tonight, Fox?"

As his lamenting came harder at the question, Fox's phone, which he had sermon the coffee table in front of him, started ringing. Kennedy saw the word 'Mom' flash across the screen. "I can't talk to her. I can't. I can't."

Kennedy picked up the phone answering it. "Hello?"

"Fox? Who is this? Where is my son?" Kennedy could hear the panic in her voice, the fear.

"This is Kennedy, Mrs. Crow. You met me outside the grief center a couple of weeks ago."

There was a pause before she spoke again, and when she did, she sounded a bit calmer. "Right, yes. I remember. Fox is with you?"

"Yes, ma'am. He called me upset and I came and picked him up. He's safe."

He heard her exhale a shaky breath and sniffle. "Can I talk to him, please?"

Kennedy looked over at Fox who was still visibly shaking, though no longer crying. "That's not a good idea, Mrs. Crow. He fell asleep not long after we got back to my house. He was really upset. I'll tell him you called in the morning when he wakes up. Just know that he's safe with me."

He heard her sigh, obviously unhappy with with his response, but didn't argue. "Thank you. I'm glad he called you. Have a good night, Kennedy."

"Yes, ma'am. I am, too. Good night, Mrs. Crow." Kennedy set the phone back on the table, his eyes never leaving Fox.

"Thank you," Fox told him softly.

"You're welcome." Kennedy put a hand on his back, comfortingly rubbing up and down.

"She called me by my brother's name." His voice waivered and more tears slipped free. "It used to not be any big thing. And River and I would sometimes fuck with her for fun and we all would have a big laugh." He almost smiled at the memory. "She hasn't done that in a long time." He paused and looked at Kennedy and the pain in Fox's eyes made his throat clam up at the sight. "Sometimes I think they wish it had been me. I wish it had been me." At this confession, Fox broke.

The anguish in the truth of those word was something Kennedy was well aquatinted with. "It shouldn't have been either of you. But I understand how you feel, Fox."

In a sudden burst of rage, Fox shoved Kennedy's arm off him, not feeling he deserved the comfort he so desperately craved. "The fuck do you know about it?" The anger now present on his face masking the hurt he wanted to bury.

Kennedy smiled a sad, tired smile. "Because my parents really didn't want me after my brother died. Two weeks after they found his body, I was in foster care. The two months after he was taken to when they found him, I no longer existed except to be a punching bag."

Fox frowned. "How old were you?"

"I had just turned nine the week before he was taken. We were at the park playing. He was three years older than me, but we were best friends. He took care of me. He..." Kennedy paused, his own emotions bubbling to the surface. He closed his eyes.

Fox watched Kennedy swallow compulsively to keep from falling apart. As everything he felt flashed across his face, Fox had the urge to lean forward and kiss him.

Kennedy's eyes snapped open as he felt a soft palm against his face, his breath catching. Fox paused long enough to give Kennedy an out, and then gently touched his lips to the other man's.

Kennedy returned the kiss, soft and sensual. When they pulled away, Fox smiled the slightest bit before resting his head against Kennedy's chest and closed his eyes. For reasons he couldn't understand, he did feel safe with Kennedy. And as Kennedy's arms wrapped around him, Fox felt warm for the first time in years.