#continuing nano even tho its december

[lickstynine]

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Twenty

written with @ocsickficsideblog​

The next week or so went by smoother than Alistair had expected. Kit took his meals and his medicine without much argument, and went out with Siofra every couple of nights for drinks and conversation and whatever followed. November quickly became December, and as Kit looked down at his phone to answer a text, the date caught his eye: 6 Dec.

“Oh god… I turn twenty-three tomorrow,” he said, mostly to Oliver since Alistair was in the other room. The hamster stared at him cluelessly, chewing on a pellet of food.

“Are you saying something?” Alistair called.

“Our birthday is tomorrow.” Kit replied, running his thumb thoughtfully over the side of his phone.

“I know. I’ve been keeping track.” He went to sit by the hamster cage with Kit.

“Were you planning to remind me?”

“If you hadn’t noticed, I was going to tell you tomorrow.”

Kit nodded, though he couldn’t help wondering whether Alistair had just hoped he would forget the date. “What should I do?”

“What do you usually do?” Alistair asked. He paused. “What about...have you ever...gone to see her?”

“No.” Kit sighed. “I could never bring myself to do it. I usually just read Alice and drink…”

“I haven’t been either. I got as far as the cemetery gates twice.” He paused. “Maybe we should try it..?”

“You've tried to go?” Kit asked.

Alistair nodded. “I was only young-ish though. I was always in a mess ‘cause it’d be after some big fight when I’d just been punched or cut or burned. I’d get this dumb idea that if I went there, it’d be like hugging her again, like she used to do. But then I’d get there, bleeding and aching and so fucking out of breath because adrenaline had me running the whole way… And I couldn’t face it.”

Kit gave an understanding nod. “I've thought about going, but I could never bring myself to do it.” He sighed.

“We could try,” Alistair said quietly. “Take flowers or a letter or something…”

“I could bring my journal.” Kit mused.

“Maybe read her some bits. I want to draw something,” Alistair said.

Kit nodded. “Promise we’ll go?”

“If you want to, yeah.”

“I do.” Kit decided.

Alistair smiled, putting an arm around him. “I’m proud of you for that.”

Kit forced a smile back, but he was clearly nervous. “Thanks.”

“I know,” Alistair whispered. “I’m scared too.”

“I don’t even know what I’m scared of.” Kit sighed.

“Me neither. Welcome to anxiety.” Alistair smiled wryly.

Kit huffed. “I want a refund.”

“Me bloody too.”

The older boy flopped across Alistair’s lap. “How long is it going to be like this?”

Alistair messed with his hair. “Dunno. Depends on us, really. Apparently.”

“Pity it’s not something I can outsource to a servant.”

“Don’t give it to those poor bleeders. Half of them probably have it anyway.”

“You think so?” Kit asked.

“One in three people have some sort of mental health thing these days,” Alistair said.

“Really?” Kit seemed shocked.

“Yep. It’s a lot, right? Isn’t that fucked up? That the world does that to so many people?”

“It’s certainly troubling.” Kit sighed. He was twisting his ring on his finger, his face furrowed with thought.

“I’m going to draw something for her,” Alistair said decidedly, going to grab his big posh sketchbook he used for commissions.

“We’re not going today, Al.”

“I know, but I want it to be perfect. I want to start it now so I can make sure.”

“Oh. Okay.” There was a long moment of silence before Kit spoke again. “Can I hold Oliver?”

Alistair looked up, shocked. “Yeah, of course. You want to? You’ve never usually liked animals.”

“I know. I don’t know why, I just… I want to.” Kit shrugged.

Alistair nodded, crawling over. “Sure. Do you know how to pick him up, or should I give him to you?”

“Can you hand him to me? I don’t want to upset him…” Kit fussed.

Alistair nodded. Oliver was curled up in a nest of hamster bedding, lifting his little twitchy nose when Alistair reached in. “Hey, Ollie. My cousin wants to hold you,” Alistair whispered, carefully scooping Oliver into his hands.

Kit waited patiently, his own hands cupped to receive the hamster. Alistair lowered Oliver into Kit’s palms. The little hamster sat complacently, sniffing at Kit’s wrists. He tried a tiny chew of the rose ring, but gave up once he established it didn’t taste great. Kit moved his hands close to his chest, gently stroking Oliver’s head with his thumb. Oliver settled happily with the regular strokes, resting with his tiny feet gripping Kit’s finger.

Kit smiled, sitting back on the couch with the hamster in his hands. He seemed quite delighted with himself. Alistair grinned at the pair of them. “I can’t believe you’re sat there with an animal in your hand! You used to shriek the place down when I caught lizards at the island.”

“Lizards are vile. Oliver is soft and friendly.”

“Lizards are sweet. But Oliver’s fur is super soft. I like rubbing my cheek on it, but I can’t do it anymore. I don’t think he likes it,” Alistair said. “He started squeaking really bad.”

“Did you rub the wrong way?” Kit asked.

“Maybe. It’s like he knows us, you know? He sits quietly for you, but he climbs all over me.”

“He does?” Kit hadn’t noticed. He was usually busy reading or napping when Alistair played with Oliver.

“Yep. He goes all up my arm and across my shoulders,” Alistair said, grinning.

“That’s sweet.” Kit smiled. “Do you want to hold him?”

“If you’ve got your fix?” Alistair said, grinning.

Kit paused. He actually found the little warm ball of fur in his hands quite comforting. “Maybe you just pet him for now.”

Alistair laughed. “That’s okay, he seems comfortable with you.” Oliver certainly was, his ink drop eyes closed, his little chin resting on Kit’s finger. Kit smiled, his thumb still rubbing rhythmically down Oliver’s soft back.

“Al? Can you take a picture of us?”

“Oh my god,” Alistair laughed. “Yeah.”

Kit’s cheeks went red. “You take pictures with your animals all the time.”

“I know, it’s just funny. To see you loving animals for once,” Alistair said, grabbing his phone. “Okay, smile.”

Kit nodded, holding Alistair close and smiling for the camera. Alistair pulled a face, but it was one of those faces where he hoped he still looked cute doing it. There was no point going for “hot” when he was next to Kit. “Cute” would have to do.

“Can’t you ever take a picture looking sane?”

“Do you think I am sane?”

“I can dream.” Kit grinned.

“Look, what do you think of the photo?” Alistair said, showing him the phone. Kit smiled.

“I like it.”

“Yeah, it’s good. God, you don’t take a bad picture…”

“It’s called making yourself presentable.” Kit teased.

“Oh ha ha. Do you want me to send it to you?” Alistair asked.

“Yes please.” Kit nodded. Alistair did as he was told, using one finger to stroke Oliver’s head himself. Kit smiled. He wasn’t really sure why he liked the little hamster so much, but he couldn’t help being pleased by the tiny, warm presence in his hand. Oliver was perfectly content there; Kit’s hands were warm and soft and gentle. He curled in a ball as naturally as he did in his own bed in the cage. “Al… I think he likes me.”

“He really does. He’s comfortable with you.”

Kit smiled. “Good. I wasn’t sure he would like me.”

“You’re surprisingly good with him.”

“It’s strange, but I like it.” Kit declared.

“Well, good. You can hold him whenever you like.”

“Is it okay to take him out?” Kit asked.

“What, outside?”

“Out of his cage. If you’re not here.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Kit nodded. “Thank you.” He still wanted to hold Oliver, but he was feeling bad about keeping the hamster all to himself.

Alistair grinned at his face. “You can keep hold of him.”

“I didn’t… I wasn’t going to…” Kit just gave up, happy to continue petting Oliver with his thumb. Oliver looked up, briefly sniffing at Kit’s thumb, his little twitchy nose tickling. Kit giggled. “Hello.”

“I feel like I should have a love song in the background,” Alistair said, grinning.

“Shut up!” Kit whined.

“It’s just funny!”

“He’s mocking us.” Kit said to Oliver. The little hamster gave the tip of Kit’s thumb a soft nibble. Kit pet his nose. “You don’t mock me, do you?”

Oliver settled back against Kit’s fingers, very happy. Alistair rolled his eyes fondly. Kit cozied up on the couch, hamster in hand. “I’m glad I bought you.”

“Kit, how about you just make sweet love to him like you clearly want to.”

“Not my fault he’s better company than you.”

“I hope you don’t want to make sweet love to me.”

Kit gagged, only half-jokingly. “Lord, no.”

“Oh, thanks! I mean, obviously I don’t want you to be into incest, but do I warrant such a vehement reaction?” Alistair cried.

“It’s the way you said it. The idea of having to talk dirty to you in the process is just… eugh.”

“You wouldn’t. When I have sex, me and Jules don’t dirty talk. I think if Jules tried to do that I’d laugh so much we’d have to stop.”

Now Kit snickered. “I can’t imagine Julie dirty-talking.”

“Jesus, the image…” Alistair snorted.

“Julie!” Kit called. “Julie, come here!”

Julius came into the room, looking worried. “What is it? What do you need?”

“If you had to dirty-talk, how would you go about doing so?” Kit asked.

“If I had to…? This is what you wanted?”

“Yes.” Kit nodded.

“Um...okay. Is that like...calling him a bad boy and stuff?” Julius asked uncertainly.

Kit was already snickering. “Sort of.”

“Jules, please…” Alistair groaned. “Don’t. I can already see this isn’t going to work.”

“You could give him an example to get him started.” Kit grinned.

“I don’t dirty talk! He doesn’t respond to that. You’re always trying to dictate our sex! You’ll be in there with a clipboard soon like a driving test examiner.”

Now Kit properly cackled, stroking Oliver like a villain with a cat. “I mean… I could probably give you some pointers. But I wouldn’t show up uninvited.”

“Because it totally doesn’t kill the mood, having my cousin there to tell me what to do,” Alistair said, laughing too. “That’s just dogging!”

Kit couldn’t keep up the joke any longer, busy trying to keep Oliver steady while he guffawed. Oliver was evidently pretty confused, trying to crawl up onto Kit’s wrist. Julius just rolled his eyes at them both, going back to the kitchen. He had cupcakes to ice. Kit squealed when Oliver tickled his arm. “Al! What do I do?”

“Just pick him up gently and get him back in your hands. Make your hand a bowl shape, don’t squeeze him. Just scoop him up,” Alistair said, demonstrating the action, holding his hand like a claw machine arm.

“Oh… okay.” Kit plucked Oliver gently off his arm and cupped him back against his chest. “Hello, friend.”

Oliver settled back down, burrowing for a moment right down in Kit’s cupped hands until his little furry butt was in the air, then coming back up with very disheveled fur on his nose and head. Kit giggled. “I like you.”

“Be careful, Oliver. You’ll get shoved up his arse,” Alistair muttered.

Kit rolled his eyes. “You know no one’s ever actually done that, right?”

“I bet they have. People have shoved everything imaginable up their arse and/or vaginas. If it fits, it’s been up there,” Alistair said, grinning.

Kit just sighed and shook his head. Alistair pulled a face. “What? People are gross.”

“You’re gross.”

“Yeah yeah. You’ve been telling me that since I was a foetus.”

“Well, back then, the grossness was just proximity to your mother.” Kit grinned.

Alistair laughed hard. “True.”

Kit smiled, finally holding out Oliver in his hands. “You can have him now.”

“Have you had your hamster fix?”

“For now.”

Alistair grinned, taking Oliver back. He immediately became more active, running up Alistair’s arm and perching on his shoulder.

“It's really odd how he only runs for you…” Kit mused.

“He knows you just need gentle support.”

“But how does he know? He's a hamster.”

“Who says animals don’t think as deeply as we do?” Alistair argued.

“Scientists. Who have studied their brains.” Kit replied flatly.

“They don’t know everything.”

Kit groaned so hard, he thought he might've pulled a sarcasm muscle. “I can't talk to you.”

“Well, they don’t! I’ve always felt like I was more understood by animals.”

“That would be a measure of empathy, not intelligence. You can be stupid and still empathetic.” Kit argued.

“People aren’t. Look at Trump.”

Kit groaned. “I didn't say all stupid people are empathetic. I said you don't have to be intelligent to be empathetic.”

“Animals are intelligent. Let’s see you find a buried skier in an avalanche,” Alistair said.

Kit sighed, pressing his fingertips to his eyes. “I really don’t know why I talk to you.”

“If I piss you off so much you end the argument, I’m counting that as a win.”

“The only way you ever win our arguments.” Kit mumbled.

“True,” Alistair agreed. “But I’ve won a lot that way.”

“Yes, congratulations.” Kit rolled his eyes.

#continuing nano even tho its december #cause i can #misadventures of Kit #chapter twenty #collab #ocsickficsideblog #alistair #julius #kit #raycraft

[mercurialsmile]

Another Update---What Now?

So. I finally won fucking NaNoWriMo I finished that shit 5 days early in fact. I’m pretty proud of myself but more than anything, I kinda wanna lay down and never open up google docs ever again.

That being said, rest is for the weak, I still have a lot of shit to do, so this post is kinda me organizing my ideas and spitting them out. When I talk/type out my ideas and share them, it helps me figure things out. Which is what this is, mainly.

As of right now, I still need to actually finish Mirroring Shadows (My NaNo novel) as tho it is now 50k words+, it’s not even halfway done yet. Kinda makes me wanna cry but that’s how it is I guess. Since I wanna get the “update every day during November” achievement for NaNo, I’ll prob end up still working on that until December 1st. Then I’m gonna take a break from Mirroring Shadows and return to it either when I am no longer sick of writing it and wanna continue it, or in January. We’ll see which comes first. 

That being said, I will probably both be taking some breaks during most of December (both because of my current burned out-ness and also school shit) but once the semester ends, I’ll return to writing full-force hopefully unless my shitty mental health gets in the way. 

During December, I hope to post a new BAP oneshot (this one is gonna be smut ;3c), chip away more at LiaL and try and get. SOMETHING done. At least a chapter. I hope. Aaand lastly, I will also be trying to finish Icarus. I’m more than halfway done with Icarus so we’ll see how that goes.

On top of all that writing mumbo-jumbo, I also wanna get to reading my first draft for my Counting Stars novel. As of right now, it is severely underwritten and a lot of it needs a complete rehaul and most likely, most of it will need to be rewritten from scratch.

I won’t get into the nitty-gritty writing process during December, tho. December will be me printing it out, reading its bullshit, hating it, and then marking it all up and figuring out a new outline for it. God. Fun. I guess. But not until 2018! 

Now that NaNo is over, my main goal is, of course, “getting shit done that’s been sitting around.” I really wanna finish Icarus so I can be done with it and not have it on my plate anymore, I really wanna get back into the groove with LiaL so I can get that posted and put together again, and I ALSO am still applying edits to LiaFt.

AND ON TOP OF ALLLLL THAT STUFF I might be moving some of my fics over to WattPad. I haven’t decided quite yet. If I did, it would most likely be my more completed and... “”respectable”” fics. Sorry Triphile such as The Once Upon a Time Trilogy, Icarus, There’s Still No Cure For Crying, My Sincerest Apologies, and also some of my original works MINUS 30 Ways since 30 Ways is super old and misgenders Ophiel and I guess I should edit that but jesus that will take forever and I really don’t want to. 

Idk. I’m throwing lots of ideas at the wall and most of them I’ll forgot. I’ll probably make a poll about whether or not I should post anything fanfiction related on WattPad, then do ANOTHER poll with what fics I should transfer over there. 

Maybe. I might do that if I actually remember to do that.

Speaking of posting nonsense, I am debating on whether I wanna post Mirroring Shadows online. It might be a good idea to actually show my novels (or at least one lol) to people rather than just hope the charisma I totally have will interest people (note: I am being sarcastic. I am well aware my Charisma is like a -5 or smth). 

Thing is, Mirroring Shadows isn’t done, I have no idea when it will be done, I am terrified of people ignoring my original writings as most people do bc it sucks I guess idk, and yeah. Which is why I am REALLY on the fence and will probably do a poll about this as well December is gonna be the month of polls I guess guys 

Anyways. Yeah. That’s allll that’s up. I hope you can make sense of this gibberish I just typed out. There’s a lot of it. 

ANYWAYS those are my plans, if you’re interested, want clarification, or have a question about something, just shoot me an ask, and I’ll be happy to answer it. 

If not, if ya actually read through this entire post, like it so I know you read it please!

#shutuplanx #update

[timeisso]

It does not matter how American can cooperate with Chinese doctors in the case of Corona virus if American healthcare system continues to fail on its own structures, then early detect corona Virus might be meant as early crisis or early failure  for American Healthcare system to handle its load!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Make sure American scientists know all the techs which can weaponize a virus, if you say there is no other ways  than engineering ways, then I think American scientists are right about Corona Virus origins are not Chinese Communists weapons; if American scientists say there is other ways than engineering ways, then they must study the ways those might weaponize a virus to become Bio weapons, before they might conclude that Corona Virus is not origin from Chinese Communists Military lab or Wuhan City ; FOR EXAMPLE, THEY JUST DO NOT HAVE TO ENGINEER A VIRUS TO WEAPONIZE IT BECOMES A BIO WEAPON, INSTEAD, THEY JUST FEED IT SOMETHING TO TRANSORM IT INTO BIOWEAPON OR TRAIN THEM IN SOME SPECIAL SOLUTION TO INCREASE SOMETHING FROM THE VIRUS TO MAKE ITS MUTATION EFFICIENCY BETTER IN HUMAN ENVIRONMENTS OR HUMAN MEDICINE, ETC, ETC, ETC. . . . . . . . . .  ..ESPECIALLY, CHINESE SCIENTISTS MIGHT UNDERSTAND BETTER ABOUT CORONA VIRUS NATURES THAN AMERICAN SCIENTISTS WITH AM DUONG NGU Hanh kinhky bat mach, then they can used natures to train natures without a traces, then they can fool American scientists all the ways; besides, American Scientists could connect the events , Corona Virus events from December 2019 or even earlier to now March 2020, then American Scientists can see there is some experts who nurture the corona or somebody who master the Corona throught time and events, use your experts and used your MIND and be careful with what you knew about Corona Virus or what you knew about Chinese Scientists knew some things American Scientists never can or never know, the unknown in the world of Smallests Tho Huynh Dark Matter Maker Quantum techs Initiator Quantum techs Consultant Space Science Founder (Do not be confused with NASA space program or any other program) Final Particles Mfg NOTE: Do not forget there are some stories you should pay attention too!!!!! Actually it belonged to Former Soviet Union who claimed they have created 52 dangerous virus or Super Virus as their BIO weapons, that is around1990- 1992 the moment of Former Soviet Union Collapse, those are 52 super virus they say and we know, then there might be a nother set of 52 super virus, they did not say and we did not know, and another story is: Right after American scientists finished or completed their map of Human genome 1999-2003, somebody or some American jump into offer ideal DNA BOMBS   UP DATE:: I knew as everybody knew there are 12 animals in Chinese Astrology, and another cycle of 10( not everybody knows; especially, unknown to most American)  to match up for cycles of 12 Cycloids to cycles of 10 Cyloids  in 60 years, then it can be carried in Human  DNA Orbit of the Earth around the Sun, then the Question " Can Chinese SCientists applied to create Corona Virus?????"""" ANSWER: If Chinese Scientist understand how Human DNA on Earth Orbit around the Sun related and connected to Corona and Human , then they will not hesitate to use and apply it to create Corona; however, it is as a guessing, simply I can see Human DNA in Earth orbit around the Sun; unfortunately, I am not interesting with Corona relation or connection in my study, simply I am not Biologist, or Doctor, I am just Scientific Writer and Developer in my physics, Mutation physics, My Mathematics, Tam Mathematics, my Matrix Field (Quantum Field), Quantum Techs Initiator, Quantum techs Consultant, Quantum time, set of time: Dilation and Oscillation and I considered myself as an expert in DNA, the part of DNA nobody knows until me! simply I am not interesting in DNA, but EOSDNAPO2DS There are American professors have been related to Chinese Communists project "Thousand talents"; especially, Virus Professors in the news about American Government !!!!!!!! A Chinese female Lieutenant Military spy master has been caught by FBI in report; even though, they did not say she related to Corona Virus, but she lied about her works for Chinese Military in her expert as Virologist and spy Another spy master, he is as Chinese Canadian; however, I did not read enough news about tthis third person who involed with Virus developments NOTE Finally, I named 10 Cycloids and 12 Cycloids as Earth Orbit Sun DNA projected onto 2 Dimensions Surface,EOSDNAPO2DS It is as something new for people who are interesting about DNA after Genome map within 1999-2003, something belonged to DNA but from out of DNA to become inside of DNA, and it based on 3 main factors, your positions on Earth , Earth Rotation, Karma Quanta, everybody in different Positions will lead to different Speed, Different Timing, different Spaces, Different Frequencies, it related to Quanta, it invisible motion, until you set its conditions the way it supposed to be, then you will see its Dynamics EOSDNAPO2DS, you might need my consultation on the Subject EOSDNAO2DS EARTH ORBIT SUN DNA PROJECTED ONTO 2 DIMENSIONS IF CHINESE SCIENTISTS KNEW WHAT I HAVE JUST SHOWN, AND AMERICAN SCIENTIST HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS, THEN CHINESE SCIENTISTS MIGHT APPLIED IT AND NO WAY AMERICAN SCIENTISTS OR ANY SCIENTIST CAN TRACE THE TECHNICAL CORONA VIRUS OUT NOTE KEEP IN MIND THIS TECHNICAL MIGHT APPLY TO LEVEL OF SMALL CORONA EVEN GENOME GUYs CANNOT IMAGINE THERE IS SUCH EOSDNAO2DS and far more complex deeper  into Solar system and beyond Remember I have said about different approaches to small and smallest from the East 7^9 Divisions to the West as ATOMOS. this played also a role  for physics that the Western Scientist did not know until me. 7^9=40,353,607 made Particles Physics missed some steps or renew all steps in Decay , Meson, Separation, Mix, Division, Mutation and 85x2=170 Particles in small or very small to smallest Particles dynamics, No way American Scientists or any scientists can trace down technical parts of Corona that is out of generic Engineering It is as reason I did not want to expose some of my studies that might benefit to Chinese Scentists more than benefit to Arrogant American scientists NOTE: I should explain about KARMA QUANTA or QUANTA KARMA Scientifically and how an ORBITAL DNA from out of DNA become inner of DNA ; However, I would prevent long Article, so I expect you read my explanation somewhere else!!!!!!!!! If Genome required American scientists 5 years(1999-2003), ORBITAL DNA will require probably 500 years to 5000 years to complete the  observations with a lot of money to spend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Simply because observations start from you, your activities, then Earth, then solar system, then beyond To start Earth Orbit Sun DNA projected onto 2 Dimensions Surface,EOSDNAO2DS, it is on you first, your Position on Earth, your activities, then Earth Rotation in limit and outer limit,, then Record the repeat for the rest of time, then solar system or just moon part and close planets to Earth Do not concern about Real  or Not real , Imaginary or reality, true or false, simply it does not work that way, but it works with conditions you want to build logically and effectively , Translation Mathematically a+b+c+d=e, meant There are a,b,c,d,then there is e a+b+c+d+e=f, there are a,b,c,d,e, then there is f A+B+C+D+E+F=G, IT MEANT THERE ARE A,B,C,D,E,F, THEN THERE IS G Can Chinese Scientists shorten and focus the processing EOSDNAO2DS onto Covid-19 to create it???? Answer YES Again No way American scientists can see and understand this kind of science UP DATE: it seems scientists now realize another strain of Corona Virus might make it more contagious than before!!!!! Due to my mutation Physics, I advise Scientists around the world must find Vaccine or Medicine faster before Corona mutated and become more dangerous !!! And Chinese Communists continued to block the investigation and try to blame on others to cover their wrong doing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It might be even worse if somebody is looking for way to invent RCNTCV, Remote Control Nano Tech Corona Virus Imagine Invisible trillions of Flying RCNTCV can eat Flesh within a minute to left over only Bones or skeleton

[lickstynine]

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Twenty-Four

written with @ocsickficsideblog

The rest of the weekend was uneventful but unpleasant. For all the medicine he took, Kit couldn’t stop coughing, and his throat was so sore he refused anything but tea and broth. When Monday rolled around, he was still achy, wheezy, and miserable, and it took ten minutes of prodding for Alistair to even get him out of bed.

“Can’t we reschedule with the doctor? It’s freezing outside, and I feel lousy.” Kit whined.

“You’re not going to be any less sick tomorrow. I want him to check you over anyway,” Alistair said. He’d infuriated Kit by spending only a couple of days sniffling and coughing before bouncing back.

“Well I don’t want that.” Kit huffed. He grabbed his handkerchief just in time to muffle another coughing fit.

“Tough shit. Get your shoes on.”

Kit flinched, but obediently laced up his boots. He tucked the cuffs of his thick black jeans into the boots, and layered a jumper over his long-sleeved shirt before gathering his jackets.

Alistair immediately felt bad. “Kit? You don’t have to do what I say. You can yell at me and tell me I’m an asshole. If you want.”

“I know.” Kit knew he could snap back, but his voice often seemed to disappear when he was barked at. It was different from the good-natured bickering between him and Alistair, where he could fire off a hundred insults a minute. If he felt like someone was actually mad at him, he shut down.

“Don’t…” Alistair looked terrified. He couldn’t help remembering the fight with Toby. What he’d said. “I...am I really like Father?”

Kit shook his head. “Of course you’re not. I’m just an oversensitive priss. Always have been.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before wrapping his scarf around his neck. Alistair didn’t really look convinced. He was quiet and subdued too as he took Kit downstairs. Kit latched onto him on the way down; even the stairwell felt too cold. Alistair clutched him tight, his face falling even more.

Taddy raised his eyebrows when the boys got in his car, still somber. “Are we alright today, sirs?”

“Mnn. Kit just isn’t well,” Alistair mumbled.

“That’s no good. It is that time of year.” Taddy sighed sympathetically. “Hopefully, the doctor will get you straightened out, then.” Kit just nodded. Alistair leaned against him, cuddling close like he had as a little kid. Kit snuggled up, coughing and sniffling the whole drive. Alistair, amazingly, was quiet the whole time, staring straight ahead blankly.

When they got to the hospital, Kit shuffled out of the car, shivering fiercely in the outside wind. He stayed close to Alistair, coughing into his elbow. “Do you think we’ll be out long?” He asked, already sounding more hoarse and congested.

Alistair put an arm around him. “Hopefully not. I don’t want you in the cold.”

“I’m tired. Can I go back to bed when we get home?” As soon as they got into the waiting room, Kit flopped down in a plastic chair. Alistair nodded, picking at his nail varnish.

“Mnn. If you want.”

“Thanks.” Kit snuggled up to his cousin, trying to leech of his warmth. Alistair held Kit tight, keeping his eyes closed because he felt like he wanted to cry and he obviously couldn’t do it here. He used to do that a lot as a kid - keep his emotions bottled up after a fight or a beating, hold onto it for a few days and then howl for hours. It meant Kit could probably tell a few stories about Alistair suddenly starting to bawl in airports or stores for no apparent reason.

Kit could tell his cousin was upset. He scooted closer, looping his arms around Alistair’s neck. He hid his face in Kit’s hair. “I’m not turning into him, am I? Please tell me the truth. I still see him when I look in the mirror sometimes.”

“Of course not, stupid. I wouldn’t have anything to do with you otherwise.” Kit properly squeezed Alistair now.

“But Toby said it…”

“Toby is an idiot and a scumbag.” Kit hissed. “You might as well take advice from our parents.”

Alistair smiled a bit. “You really can’t stand him, can you? It’s weird seeing you so bloodthirsty.”

“He’s done nothing but give me more reasons to hate him.” Kit grumbled, his brows furrowing.

“I know. It’s okay. He’s not my friend anymore.”

“Good.” Kit huffed. “I never felt as safe when he was in the flat.”

“I don’t think he’d have hurt maliciously,” Alistair mumbled, sighing. “It was just when he was drunk. But I don’t want him near Jules ever again.”

“I can think of other people who are ‘only’ violent when they’re drunk.” Kit scowled. He thought about the scars he’d gotten over the years under similar circumstances.

Alistair nodded, gritting his teeth. “Me too. And I won’t ever ever forgive him for hurting Jules. It was Jules. He wouldn’t have been doing anything threatening.”

“Exactly.” Kit sighed, wrapping his arms around himself; he was starting to stress out, though it was entirely his fault this time.

“Sorry. I’m good now. I’ll shut up about it,” Alistair said. “Are you feeling okay?”

“No, I’m getting an awful headache, and I have to keep my mouth open to breathe.” Kit sighed.

“Shit… It’s a good job we’re here.”

“I’d rather just take some cold medicine and lie down. I don’t think it’s serious, just lousy.”

“You might need more specific medicine. It could get worse.”

Kit sighed. “With my luck, I’ll catch some bloody disease while we’re waiting here.”

Alistair smiled weakly. “Try not to.”

“I’ll try.” Kit snuggled up to Alistair, coughing into his handkerchief. “God, I hope this won’t take long.”

Kit’s name was called just as Alistair opened his mouth to answer. He helped Kit up carefully. “Come on.”

It was a slow shuffle down the hall, but the doctor was patient, allowing the boys to get settled in the exam room before he started talking. “We aren’t looking too well today. Have you been doing alright?”

“No.” Kit replied flatly.

The doctor chuckled, “What seems to be the matter, then?”

“A cold, I think. Or maybe the plague. Who knows?”

“He was in the cold for a while. I’m worried about his chest,” Alistair said.

“Does he have a history of chest infections?” The doctor asked.

“Yeah. Lots of pneumonia.”

The doctor scribbled that on his chart, turning to Kit. “I’d like to listen to your chest after I take your vitals. If you could take off your coats?”

“Right. Sorry.” Kit took off his gloves first, so it would be easier to handle the buttons. Even then, it took him a while to peel all his layers off, and he was shivering by the time he got down to his shirt and jumper.

“He won’t be undressed for long, will he?” Alistair asked.

“He can bundle back up in a minute, don't worry.” The doctor was busy checking Kit's blood pressure.

“He’s always very shivery…”

“Gaining weight should help some with that.” The doctor said, jotting down numbers on his chart before moving to check Kit's temperature. “Mm, yes, you need to go home and rest when you leave here. Take paracetamol or something for your fever.”

“So it’s not bad enough for antibiotics?” Alistair said, relieved.

“I wouldn't say so, no. There's obviously some congestion, but I'm not hearing anything worrying in the lungs.”

“Good,” Alistair said, smiling properly.

“Yay,” Kit mumbled, with all the enthusiasm of a zombie. Alistair snorted, helping him back into his many coats. Kit snuggled up to his cousin, letting Alistair answer the rest of the doctor's questions. It was strange, Alistair could speak up for Kit perfectly, though he didn’t know the doctor that well. He just couldn’t ever seem to speak up for himself.

“You seem to be doing well, aside from this cold. We'll run some more blood tests when you're feeling better.” The doctor said.

“Thank you,” Alistair said. “Come on then, Kit.”

“Mm.” Kit shuffled down the hall after Alistair, every step slow and laborious, as if he were climbing a mountain. Alistair sighed, eventually going to carry him. Kit nudged meekly at his cousin. “I can walk. I'm just tired.”

“Exactly. I’ll carry you, since you’re tired.”

“We're in public.” Kit mumbled. Even in illness, he had too much dignity for his own good.

“So? You’ll never see most of these people again.”

“It's still embarrassing.”

“I can literally see the car. It’ll be over in two minutes.”

Kit sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

Alistair deposited him back in the car, climbing in after him. Taddy waved at them. “How was the exam?”

“He’s got a cold, but it’s not in his lungs, thank god,” Alistair said, cuddling Kit fondly. Kit just coughed into his handkerchief.

“That’s progress, at least.” Taddy nodded.

“For Kit it is.”

“Back home, then?”

“Yeah, please. Unless you want to go anywhere, Kit?”

“Home. Hell. Wherever ends my suffering sooner.” Kit mumbled.

“Jesus, I’ve got Edgar Allan Poe in the car…”

“Then leave me on a park bench to die.”

“Obviously not, you dramatic shit,” Alistair said.

“I hear freezing to death is peaceful. Have mercy.” Kit moaned.

“There’s a poem about freezing to death. They made dolls about it. Called Frozen Charlottes.”

“Put one on my grave.” Kit flopped across the backseat, and by extension, Alistair’s lap.

He grinned, messing with Kit’s hair. “Okay. There’s a rumour that they’re haunted, so it’s appropriate,”

“I’m surprised you don’t collect them.”

“I used to have some. But Father wouldn’t let me have dolls. And they unnerve Jules a bit.” Alistair said.

“I’m guessing they’d unnerve most sane people.” Kit mumbled.

“Mnn. They’d have been great when I was, like, fifteen.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “I’m glad I didn’t know you when you were fifteen.”

Alistair laughed. “I’d have annoyed you so much… I might not have ended up that way though if I still had you. I lost you and Pammy in the space of a year.”

Kit nodded somberly; that was around the time he’d started drinking. Or was it? The more he thought, the less he was sure, and the worse his headache got. He groaned in frustration. Alistair glanced at him. “What’s up?”

“Headache.” Kit sighed.

“Bad?”

“Not great.”

“I’ll get you some painkillers at home. See if you can doze a bit.”

Kit nodded, resting his head in Alistair’s lap. It was hard for him to relax - he was too congested to breathe easily, and breathing through his mouth was an unpleasant reminder of his sore throat. Alistair stroked his hair gently. Kit stayed in a hazy state of half-awake misery the rest of the ride home. Alistair carried him into to the flat when they arrived, dumping him on the sofa and trying to wrestle him out of his coats.

Kit coughed when jostled, but otherwise didn’t fight, allowing Alistair to deposit him on the couch. “Can I have my good blanket?”

“Yeah,” Alistair said, rolling his eyes - but he fetched it and wrapped Kit up very tenderly. Kit snuggled up, holding his arms out for Alistair to join him on the couch. Alistair grinned, cuddling up beside his cousin. Kit rested his head on Alistair’s chest.

“Is Julie around? I want tea.”

“He’s in the bathroom. I checked. Not using it, cleaning it.”

“Will you call him?” Kit begged, “My throat hurts.”

Alistair didn’t bother getting up, just yelled for Julius. The small boy came running at once. “How’d your appointment go, Kit?”

“I’m not dying, sadly.”

“We’re all very happy you’re not. Do you want a drink? And you’d better eat too.”

Kit sighed. “I just want tea. Swallowing hurts.”

“How about soft porridge with honey? That’s easy to swallow.”

Kit sighed louder, but he nodded. “Fine.”

Julius smiled. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, going out to make it. Kit just flopped back against Alistair with a groan.

“Al, my head hurts.”

“I’ll get you painkillers if you want?”

“No, don’t get up.” Kit whined.

Alistair laughed. “I could ask Jules to bring you some?”

Kit nodded. “Please.”

Alistair yelled out the new information, and Julius returned with tea and painkillers a few minutes later. Kit forced a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Thank you, Julie.”

“I’m going to make you some food, okay!”

Kit nodded, trying not to sigh too loudly. “Okay.” It took quite a bit of tea for him to swallow the pills, but he managed to keep them down despite the pain in his throat. Alistair glanced at him.

“Is your throat really bad?”

“Hurts.” Kit sighed, coughing into his handkerchief. He had to swallow forcefully, the taste of bitter, half-dissolved pills coating his tongue.

“Drink more tea.”

Kit nodded, sipping obediently. Julius came back with a bowl of warm porridge. He’d made a smiley face in it with honey. Kit smiled again, his hands shaking when he reached for the bowl. Alistair helped him, not wanting everyone to drop it. Kit slumped back against his cousin to eat, taking slow, tiny bites. Though it was sweet and mild, he struggled to swallow the porridge, his throat tightening painfully every time. Julius smiled at him. “Thank you, Kit. We’re proud of you.”

Kit sighed, stirring his porridge unenthusiastically. “You don’t have to blow smoke up my arse. I know I’m pathetic.”

“We don’t have to what?” Julius said, blinking. Alistair burst out laughing.

Kit jumped a little when his cousin started cackling. “Good lord, it’s just a turn of phrase. Don’t look at me like I grew a second head. You don’t have to lie, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh. I’ve never heard that before…”

“It’s an American phrase, I think.” Kit was trying to remember where he’d picked it up, but his headache made it difficult to rifle through memories.

“Jules never knows any creative rude shit,” Alistair said. “When we first met he barely knew any swearwords either. Not any of the fun ones.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you remedied that.”

“He did,” Julius confirmed.

“Heathen.” Kit mumbled, taking a tiny bite of porridge.

Alistair grinned. “Snob.”

#continuing nano even tho its december #misadventures of Kit #chapter twenty-four #kit #raycraft #alistair #julius #whump #illness #caretaking #collab #ocsickficsideblog

[lickstynine]

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Twenty-Three

written with @ocsickficsideblog

Alistair was anything but surprised when Kit woke up the morning of the eighth with a meagre appetite and a massive headache. However, he started to get concerned when his cousin was still just as miserable come dinner, and his concerns were cemented when Kit dropped a mug of tea thanks to a nasty coughing fit. Julius came rushing in when he heard the clattering.

“Are you alright?”

Kit was standing sheepishly in the kitchen, handkerchief in hand and spilled tea at his feet. He waved timidly at Julius, offering a weak smile. “Sorry… I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Don’t move, let me clear up the bits. I don’t want you stepping on any,” Julius said, hurrying to pick up the pieces of the broken mug.

Alistair groaned, wiping his nose on his sleeve - he’d barely been able to breathe today. “You got bloody sick from yesterday, didn’t you?” he sighed.

“You don’t catch a cold by being outside in damp weather.” Kit grumbled. “And use a tissue.”

“So why are we both sick?”

“I don’t know, maybe graveyards carry the plague.” Kit shoved a tissue box threateningly at his cousin when Alistair lifted his arm towards his nose again.

“Jesus,” Alistair snorted, taking one. “That was like an invitation to a duel. Do you demand satisfaction, sir?”

Kit rolled his eyes, though it was less good-natured than usual. “I demand that you not wipe your snot on your clothes.”

“So what’s up with you then, face-ache?”

“Aside from being harassed by you?” Kit asked. “I was getting tea. Obviously that didn’t go well, so I was going to give up and go back to the couch to await my death.”

“I’ll make you some tea,” Julius said.

Alistair was just laughing. “Don’t die on our sofa, we can’t afford another.”

“Thank you, Julie.” Kit ignored Alistair entirely, hunching over on the couch to cough into his handkerchief. There was an awful rawness in his throat, and it burned with every cough. He decided that if he ever somehow found out who they’d bumped into yesterday that got them sick, he’d have the person publicly executed.

“Kit, what’s wrong, seriously?”

The older boy scowled. “I’m sick. It’s miserable. What do you want from me?”

“I was thinking more symptoms. God, you’re a right moody bleeder when you’re ill.”

“Oh.” Kit had to stop and think. “Aside from my lungs trying to turn inside-out? The worst is the headache. Oh, and my throat hurts.” He slumped down on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face and pulling a blanket over himself. Julius brought him a mug of tea, rubbing his back (or the general area around his back, he couldn’t see with the blanket there). Kit leaned into the touch, mumbling his thanks for the tea. Star hopped up onto the sofa too, settling down in the middle of Kit’s back. He cringed, but didn’t have the energy to shove her off.

Alistair laughed at them when he came to sit. “She loves you.”

“I cannot fathom why.” Kit said, “I'm not the warmest, or the softest.”

“She’s a cat. Maybe she thinks it's funny that you don’t like animals.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Maybe. If she takes after her obnoxious owner.”

“That’s my girl.” Alistair grinned.

Kit just sighed, sipping his tea and trying not to cough before he swallowed. Alistair had to blow his nose again, groaning.

“Julie, do you have medicine somewhere, or do we just get to suffer?”

“I’ve got medicine,” Julius said, dashing off and returning a second later with the box of pills.

Kit held out a hand for the package, wanting to examine it before he took any. Alistair peered at it too, nodding. It was just cold medicine of course, Julius wasn’t some serial killer with a ridiculously long-term plan. Kit nodded approvingly and took two pills before offering the medicine to Alistair. He took a couple too, sighing.

Kit downed his pills with a generous swig of tea, knowing he’d just cough and choke if he took them dry like Alistair. Even with a drink, it was hard to get them down; his throat was so sore, it didn’t want to swallow. He winced a little, but forced them down, slumping back on the couch. Star mewed in protest and squeezed out from behind him.

“Not my fault you sat there.” Kit mumbled.

“Don’t squash my cat,” Alistair said.

“Then don’t let her crawl on me.”

“She’s just being friendly.”

“I wish she’d be friendly like Oliver and respect that I don’t want to be crawled on.” Kit said, clearly annoyed.

“You’re so obsessed with Oliver,” he snorted.

Kit huffed. “I’m not obsessed. I just like him.”

“He is sweet. Want to hold him?”

Kit nodded right away. Alistair grinned, scooping the little hamster out of the cage. Kit set his tea aside, holding his hands out expectantly. He smiled as the tiny creature settled in his palms. “Hello, friend.”

Oliver gave the tip of Kit’s thumb a tiny bite, how he’d started to greet him every time. Kit rubbed his nose with the same thumb, settling back on the couch with the hamster against his chest. Oliver settled against him happily. Alistair shook his head. “You’ve got a weird bromance with Ollie.”

“It’s not inherently weird for me like an animal.” Kit said.

“No, it’s definitely weird for you to like an animal. You never do.”

“It’s not Oliver’s fault he’s the best animal I’ve met.”

“He’s a good hamster, yes.”

Kit nodded, though he gasped in surprise when Oliver’s tiny nose poked curiously into his sleeve. “That tickles!”

He hitched himself up into Kit’s sleeve, resettling in his cuff. He snuggled into it like a tiny hammock. Kit looked delighted, but also afraid to move. He whispered urgently to his cousin.

“Al! What do I do?”

“Either leave him there or gently tip him out. Cup your hand to catch him,” Alistair said, grinning.

“I don’t want to bother him.” Kit said, being very careful to keep his arm still.

“He’ll be fine. Just don’t fling your arms about or anything.”

“Of course I won’t.” Kit huffed, but a moment later, he nearly did just that, when a cough made him reach instinctively for his handkerchief. He of course caught himself, reaching with his free hand for Oliver’s sake. Oliver didn’t seem too perturbed, barely moving. Kit apologized to the hamster anyway. “Sorry, friend.”

Alistair snorted. “Why’d you call him friend?”

“Well, it would be stupid to call him Sir.”

“Just call him by his name.”

“That feels strange too, though. He’s still a hamster.” Kit pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“So? Animals recognise their names.”

Kit looked surprised. “They do?”

“Yep. Mostly just the sounds,” Alistair said.

“That’s strange. I thought it was only dogs.” Kit said.

It might well have been only dogs, but Alistair nodded convincingly. “They all can.”

“Fascinating. I don’t know much about animals…” Kit mused, coughing into his handkerchief again.

“Think you need to see a doctor?” Alistair asked, already internally panicking. “You need to watch your chest since that pneumonia…”

“You say that like that was the first time I’d had pneumonia.” Kit said into his handkerchief. “It’s practically a winter tradition of mine.”

“You two! It’s like living with a pair of Victorian consumptives,” Alistair said, nudging Julius with his foot. He’d sat on the floor to give Kit the adequate space on the sofa for his dramatic flop.

“I’ve never had tuberculosis, drama queen. Pneumonia isn’t that severe, it’s just… inconvenient.” Kit mumbled, stretching out on the couch.

“It’s pretty fucking severe. They didn’t put Jules in hospital when he had it. How dangerous was that?”

“It’s often treated at home, Star,” Julius said.

Kit rolled his eyes. “I was never in hospital for it as a kid. Why would you think that was necessary?”

“You know. Just in case.” Alistair, of course, didn’t have a good answer.

Kit sighed. “You're lucky we love you, idiot.”

“I love you, that’s why I worry.”

“You can worry about someone without throwing a fit every time they stub their toe.” Kit said.

“I know that. I’m working on it,” Alistair said. “Just keep safe.”

“I'm trying.” Kit slowly extended his arm. “Will you put Oliver away? I think I need a nap.”

“You not gonna sleep with him then? In a heart-shaped bed?” Alistair grinned, gently cupping Oliver in his hands and tucking him back in his sawdust bed.

Kit furrowed his brows, curling up on the couch. “Shut up.”

“How’re you feeling then, misery?”

“Lousy.” Kit sighed. His phone buzzed, but he just ignored it. Alistair looked up.

“Can I see who sent you a message?”

“Sure, I don't care.” Kit handed over the phone. It was actually a reminder - he had a doctor's appointment on Monday.

“It’s just saying you’re off to the doctor on Monday.”

Kit groaned. “I feel like I'm there every bloody day.” It was really only once a fortnight - the doctor needed to make sure Kit was gaining weight, as well as seeing how the steroid treatments were working.

“He’s making sure you don’t snuff it or off yourself. I have to go to my doctor once a month for that too.”

Kit cringed, but he said nothing, pulling the blanket over his head and closing his eyes. Alistair sighed. “Oh well, if you’re sick we can at least ask the doctor then.”

“It's just a cold.” Kit mumbled.

“We know what you’re like, though. It’s just a cold, then before we know it you’re in the ICU.”

Kit sighed. “Yeah…” he'd been trying to be optimistic, but Alistair wasn't making it easy.

“Star, don’t say that,” Julius said. “Kit has been eating better recently. That’ll help his immune system.”

“Doubt it's enough to make up for the steroids,” Kit muttered. His cousin's cynicism was rubbing off.

“Well, let’s not count our chickens. It probably is just a cold.”

“Mm.” Kit stayed nestled in his blankets, letting out a dramatic groan when Star jumped on top of him. Alistair laughed hard, especially when Star padded along Kit’s body and nestled happily in the crook of his neck. Kit sighed. “Why do you hate me, Al?”

Alistair carefully hooked Star up into his arms. “There. Happy now?”

“I’m less unhappy.”

“Better than nothing.”

“Mmhm.” Kit just wanted to sleep. Alistair and Julius left him there - Alistair never liked waking him up, and Julius was a big believer in convalescent napping. Kit snored into the cushions, out for the afternoon.

#continuing nano even tho its december #misadventures of Kit #chapter twenty-three #kit #raycraft #illness #whump #cold #alistair #julius #collab #ocsickficsideblog

[lickstynine]

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Twenty-One

written with @ocsickficsideblog

~tw death mention~

At this point, Kit was convinced his biological clock was aware of his birthday. He always woke up feeling heavy as wet cement, with a strange hollowness in his chest. The only thing that got him out of bed was Alistair’s prodding, and it took a good bit of bickering to get breakfast into him. He’d actually been doing well with eating lately, and had gotten a good report when he last checked in with the doctor, but today every bite just tasted like sawdust. Alistair knew it was a tough day for him - pretty much the toughest in the year - and sat by him as he ate, cuddling up.

Kit leaned against his cousin, prodding his food with a fork as he searched for the will to take another bite. He went completely still for a moment, then asked, “When are we going?”

“Whenever you’re ready. Now, if you like.”

Kit hastily shook his head. “No, not yet. I need to get ready.”

“As in, get dressed, or like...mentally?”

“Both.” Kit sat back in his chair, pushing his glasses up to rub his hands over his face.

“Yeah,” Alistair sighed. “I get it.”

“What if I can’t do it?”

“Then that’s okay. We can try again soon.”

Kit sighed, shoving his chair back and standing up. “I want to do it. I just… I don’t know.”

“I know,” Alistair sighed. “Trying it seems a start.”

“I feel stupid for being so scared.” Kit said, staring shamefully at the floor.

“Why is that stupid? It’s fucking tough, Kit. You’re doing fine.”

“I feel stupid for waiting so long to see her. And for being scared when I know nothing there is going to hurt me. It's not like… not like Father has ever been bothered to visit her.” Kit shifted where he stood, anxiously twisting his ring.

Alistair drooped. “Poor Auntie… That’s partly why I hated the idea of going for so long. I didn’t want to think of her under a slab of stone. I liked to picture her as a free moving spirit. Watching over you.”

“It's hard, because I know she was too practical to believe in that, so I feel stupid considering it.”

“I don’t see why not. Besides, your mum liked it when we were fanciful. She always encouraged us to play.”

Kit looked up at Alistair, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “You think?”

“Definitely,” Alistair said. “That’s what she’d want to do. You were her baby…”

Kit nodded, though he had to clench his jaw to quiet a sob. He shuffled off to the bedroom to get dressed and cry in peace. Alistair had a quick weep with his head in the wardrobe too, though he felt a bit of an idiot when Isabelle caught him, looking for a belt to borrow.

Kit was still hiding in “his” room, having spaced out sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd stopped crying only because he ran out of tears, and was still making tiny sobbing noises. Alistair eventually went off and found him, once Isabelle told him Kit was crying and the house was full of crying boys and it was worse than an entire flat of PMS-ing girls.

“Kit…”

He startled at the sound of Alistair’s voice, looking properly fearful for a split second. As soon as his focus latched on his cousin’s face, Kit relaxed, hastily swiping at his eyes. “Sorry, I… I’m trying to get ready. Can’t find an outfit.”

Alistair just sat on the bed with him and wrapped his arms around the older boy. Kit slumped against Alistair’s chest, struck with a new wave of dry sobs. Alistair held him tight, stroking Kit’s hair. It was one of the few times he didn’t feel like he needed to fill the space with conversation. They understood the grief in silence.

When he finally settled a bit, Kit opened his mouth. He wanted to say something, talk about what had been weighing on his mind all morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to start. Eventually, he just sat up, sighing and reaching for the shirts he’d laid out: a delicate blue button-up, with a dark navy jumper over the top. The colour scheme was off from his usual, but Alistair recognized it at once.

“Like Alice..?”

“I have a white sweater somewhere in my bag. I couldn’t find it…” Kit didn’t mention that was what had started him crying.

“I don’t have anything white… You could borrow Isabelle’s. I could ask her?”

Kit nodded. “Please.”

“Isabelle!” Alistair called. “Can Kit wear your white sweater?”

Isabelle came to lounge in the doorway, in the process of dragging a brush through her thick hair. “Yeah, sure. Wear what you like, it’s left in there ‘cause I never use it.”

“Do you think it would fit?” Kit fussed.

“Probably. It used to be my sister’s… She was bigger than me.”

He sighed, but nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

She rummaged in her wardrobe, taking out the sweater. She gave the soft wool a stroke, as if it was a pony, before handing it over. Kit forced a smile, but his eyes were still teary. He traded his blue sweater for the white one, settling instead to put navy slacks and a blazer over top.

Alistair’s eyes were wide. He nudged Kit when Isabelle left. “Kit! That was her sister’s!”

“Al!” Kit mimicked the same urgency. “You’ve never told me why that would matter!”

“She’s dead!” Alistair hissed. “Like, kind of recently too. Only just over two years.”

“Gee! I wonder why I didn’t know? Oh wait. It’s because you never tell people these things, like when you realized you’d never told Julie about my mum!” Though Kit’s voice was a hissy whisper, it wasn’t sharp. He was choking up, struggling to even try to sound harsh.

“Don’t, Kit!” Alistair looked upset. “I wasn’t trying to criticise you. I was just thinking she must like you to lend you her sister’s jumper.”

The older boy deflated at once, hanging his head. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault. I’m such a bloody pain,” he sighed. He wrapped his arms around Kit. “I wish she was here too.”

Kit sniffled, pulling a handkerchief from his blazer. “Not your fault.” He mumbled.

“Do you still want to go?”

Kit nodded right away. “I do. I want to go.”

“Good. Me too,” Alistair said. He squeezed Kit gently. “I’m proud of you.”

“Don't get excited yet. I don't trust myself to not fuck this up.”

“I’ll still be proud of you then.”

Kit smiled weakly. “You’re too nice to me.”

“I’m not nice. Just honest.”

“Alright, we… we should go. Where did I leave my coat?” Kit asked.

“God knows, but I bet Jules put it on the stand.”

Kit nodded, going to check the stand, where his coats indeed were. He layered them both on over his blazer - it was only getting colder, and he could barely step outside without getting frostbite. Alistair supervised like Kit was his toddler, throwing him a pair of thick thermal gloves like you’d wear for an expedition in the arctic.

“I can’t read my book with these on.” Kit argued.

“You can take them off for that,” Alistair said, rolling his eyes.

“Fine.” Kit was gathering his Alice book, his journal, and his pen into a bag. Alistair grabbed his sketchbook and art pens, not letting Kit see what he’d drawn just yet. The older boy was slow on the stairs, partly because he’d get winded otherwise, and partly because he was still nervous. Alistair reached out and held his hand like they were both little kids again. Kit squeezed it tight, his shoulder nearly touching Alistair’s as they walked.

It was particularly cold that morning, with faint white glitter on everything - it had been frosty overnight, but not properly snowed. The clouds flew across the icy blue sky, carried by a powerful wind that made Kit shiver even through five layers. Alistair had given his own hat to Kit, and was stuck wearing Julius’s pink furry ear muffs, but at least they did their job. He led Kit across town to the graveyard.

As they drew close, the sun was swallowed in grey clouds, cold wind tickling the back of Kit’s neck. He stopped at the gates, rubbing his hands together nervously. Alistair took a deep breath, his nose red. “You still want to do it?”

Kit’s face was grey under the red of his chilled cheeks. He was still for a long moment, but he nodded. Alistair nodded, his hand resting on the stone wall by the entrance. It was clear it took a lot for him to start walking too. The wind shifted a bit, and Kit forced himself inside, the trees and the stones providing some shelter from the harsh weather. Fox had been buried (to her family’s dismay) with the collection of Raycrafts past, under stones so grand Kit could have spied them without his glasses. They passed Victor’s grave on the way to hers, and Kit paused.

“I haven’t thought about Grandfather in ages…”

“I still have that amber elephant he left me in his will somewhere,” Alistair mumbled.

“I'd forgotten about that.” Kit said. “He was actually rather nice, wasn't he?”

“Yeah. A bit posh and that. But he wasn’t cruel.”

Kit nodded. “He used to share his desserts with you…” His face suddenly lit up. “Do you remember the time he grounded our parents in the middle of a party?”

Alistair snorted hard. “Oh my Lord, yes. He sent them to bed and let me and you stay up.”

“I could hear Father stomping around like an angry child all night.” Kit grinned.

“And Mother ranting. They bickered all night,” Alistair laughed.

“And they both blamed each other for weeks.”

“Nothing new there.”

Kit sighed and shook his head, straightening up from where he’d bent to look at his grandfather’s grave. He looked around the towering tombstones. “How many of my middle names do you think are buried here?”

Alistair snorted, a hand over his mouth. “Don’t, I shouldn’t be giggling in a funeral. Why can’t I ever behave right? Remember Great-Aunt Sophia’s funeral when you were about six? I needed to pee all the way through and I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.”

“I try to forget that one.” Kit couldn’t help grinning a bit, his eyes flickering around the graves as they walked deeper.

“God, that was actually painful. Felt like the longest service of my life,” Alistair said. He was trying to sound lighthearted too, but he squeezed Kit’s hand tighter. Kit’s hand squeezed his through the glove. They turned a corner in the path, and suddenly the scene was so familiar, Kit’s chest tightened.

A knotted willow perched on the edge of a tiny pond, the bare, stringy branches dancing in the wind. Nestled next to the trunk was a delicately carved granite headstone, the flecks in the rock catching what little light crept through the clouds. The neat letters in the center of the stone were all too legible even from a distance: Sinéad Dáiríne Raycraft. Kit was overwhelmed with emotions, but a flicker of confusion briefly cut through his grief.

“Al… there are fresh flowers up there.”

Alistair frowned. “Maybe they have a card or something. We can see who left them.”

Kit nodded, but he hesitated as he walked forward, as if it might be a baited trap. The wind made him shiver again, and he paused, nerves getting the better of him. Alistair ventured closer instead, though he was tentative as well, squinting curiously at the flowers.

The bouquet was chiefly made of gladiolus blooms in an array of warm hues, soft pink statice and tufts of Queen Anne's lace surrounding them. Wrapped in a shawl of off-white paper, the flowers were held in place by a wide peach ribbon; tucked into the ribbon was a small card, with gold embossing on the thick white paper. Alistair plucked it out tentatively, peering at the swirly writing.

Happy Birthday was inscribed on the front, and everything inside was handwritten with a pen.

45, huh? You’re really getting along now. I’m sure you would still look better than I do. You always did. I’m doing well enough, I suppose. I visit all the time, I just don’t always leave notes. I don’t really know where you are, but I hope Mum is with you, too. You both deserved the best. I think about you every day, even if I don’t show up for a while. I hope you like the flowers.

Love you always, Máire

Alistair read through it in silence, his shoulders slumping with grief. An image of Máire swam into focus; she’d often come to care for him and Kit if Fox was sick. “They’re from Auntie’s sister, Kit.”

The older boy ran up to see at once, reaching out for the letter. Alistair handed it over, and Kit quickly scanned through the words. He tried to keep his voice steady when he spoke. “I… I haven’t heard from Aunt Máire in years…”

“I doubt the family were too friendly to her. We should message her.”

“How would we do that?” Kit asked.

“She’s probably on Facebook. Technology is really wasted on you, Kit. Didn’t you have any awkward teenage years in your bedroom with internet porn?”

“I… no. No, I didn’t. And don’t talk about that stuff in front of Mum!” Kit huffed.

Alistair blushed. “Sorry, Auntie. But I’m sure you’d laugh anyway.”

“I want to sit down, so I can write.” Kit said. He stepped carefully around the grave, sitting by an exposed side of the tree. Alistair sat beside him.

“Are you leaving a letter?”

“I think I will, yeah.” Kit nodded.

“I will too then. To go with my picture.”

“Do I get to see your drawing yet?” Kit asked.

“If you want.” Alistair flipped through his big fancy sketchbook, shyly flashing the page at Kit.

He must have worked on it all night; it was a portrait of Fox, the scene one from Alistair’s memory, though he’d used photographs to capture her features properly. The lines were soft and gentle, like caresses, and the picture had been ever so painstakingly coloured with paints, the watercolours making Fox appear young and rich and vibrant.

Kit looked stricken; he hadn’t seen a picture of his mother since the night he was flicking through photo albums - the night he put on the dress. Tears filled his eyes, but he smiled weakly, reaching a hand out gently for the sketchbook. “Can I hold it?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alistair said, handing it over.

Kit held the book as carefully as he could, swiping his tears away before they could drip on the paper. “It’s beautiful…”

“You think it’s okay? I didn’t have as much time as I wanted.”

“It’s lovely, Al. She would be honoured.” Kit said quietly.

Alistair bit his lip, closing his eyes. “I hope so.”

Kit handed the sketchbook back to his cousin, leaning on Alistair’s shoulder. “Stay close. It’s cold.” He begged, already shivering as he took off his gloves to write.

“We could sit inside the church to write?” Alistair suggested. “Though it’s always freezing too.”

“I… I don’t want to go in the church.” Kit mumbled.

“Okay,” Alistair said, remembering the funeral. “We’ll do it here.”

Kit nodded, trying to steady his pen as it touched the paper. He was still for a moment, but then started to write.

My Beloved Mother,

It’s our birthday already. It feels so long since I’ve seen you. Al made the most gorgeous painting of you, it was absolutely surreal to look at. Seeing your face only makes me miss you more, but I would rather miss you than forget. I wish I could hear your voice again.

Aunt Máire left you flowers. I haven’t seen her in ages. Al said we should try to find her on Facebook. Part of me wants to, but I’m nervous. I haven’t really amounted to much. I don’t want her to be disappointed. I don’t want to disappoint you, either, but I think it’s a bit late for that, sadly.

Kit paused his writing, sniffling and wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. Alistair peered over and looked at his page. “She wouldn’t be disappointed, Kit.”

The older boy instinctively hid the page with his hand, staring sheepishly at the ground.

“Sorry. But she wouldn’t.”

“I know she would still be kind, but… I can’t help thinking she would’ve thought I could do better.” Kit sighed.

“Auntie would be content so long as you were happy. And it’s not as if you’re sixty, is it? There’s plenty of time to do stuff,” Alistair said.

Kit nodded, but he mostly just wanted to end the conversation. “Yeah, I guess.”

Alistair rolled his eyes, going back to his own letter. Kit stared at the page for a bit before going back to writing.

I wonder sometimes where you are, that is, if you are anywhere. It’s confusing, because I know you didn’t really believe in an afterlife, but I can’t help hoping you were wrong. I can’t stand the idea of you being completely gone. Maybe not in Heaven, per se, but some sort of spirit world where you can watch over us. Actually, I don’t know if you’d want to watch me right now. You’d probably just worry. Sorry. The more I write, the more I’m confusing myself. I’ll get back on topic.

I hope wherever you may be, you’re having a good birthday. I’m going to read Alice in a bit. You can join me, if you want. I’ll try to hold the book steady, but I’m shivering pretty badly out here. It’s freezing, literally. I can’t stand the weather this time of year. I’m glad I came to see you anyway, though.

I think I’ll come back when the weather is better. You’re in a lovely spot, you’ve got a pond and a willow tree. It’s on a slight hill, so you can see all around. Yes, I think I’ll definitely come back.

Have a splendid birthday.

Love, Kit

He set the pen down with a sigh. Alistair smiled at him, but his own eyes were full too as he wrote and scribbled little pictures. “I’ll show you mine if you show yours.”

Kit hesitated for a moment, but he eventually lifted his hand from the paper, handing it to Alistair. The younger boy gave Kit his own in return. Kit forced a smile, but he was shaking from more than just the cold as he took his cousin’s letter to read.

Dear Auntie,

Happy birthday, I guess. Seems a bit churlish to say that now, eh? Although maybe you have ghost parties somewhere. That’d be pretty cool. Anyway, it’s the first time I’ve had Kit over at my place for your birthdays. It’s hard to see him sad, of course, but I’m glad I can be with him. I get worried when he’s on his own. I bet there was a time when you did too, right?

He’d drawn a picture of himself panicking when Kit was just in the other room.

It’s a nice spot here. I bet there’s foxes at night. I’ve tried to come here twice before, but I was always alone and I couldn’t. I suppose I was scared about what I’d find. If you were hovering above, I bet you shook your head and gave me that fond, exasperated smile. Like you used to.

He’d scribbled himself and Kit as kids here, Kit very neat and placid, Alistair roly-poly and dirty, his hair tousled.

I don’t have any blooming money for anything, so I had to draw you a picture for your birthday. It was kind of short notice, but I hope you like it anyway. I miss you. It’s a bit too real, seeing that headstone, the turf. Maybe up until now I could just about kid myself you were on a very long exotic holiday or something. Or went to live up north somewhere, maybe back home in Ireland.

The handwriting grew even worse in the last paragraph.

I’m making myself cry and I don’t want to cry, not when poor Kit is holding it together. I know I’m supposed to be celebrating your life and everything that people say, but it’s not fair. You deserved more life.

Alright, I’d better shut up now - Kit says I babble. But I’ll come back, with Kit too if he wants, and I’ll leave more letters. I won’t leave you lying alone with all these stuffy assholes anymore. I love you.

All my love, Alistair x

Kit sat quietly for a while after he finished. He felt stupid sobbing now that Alistair had said he was staying calm, but the swelling grief in his chest made him want to wail. Eventually he swallowed down the scream building in his throat. “What… what does the X at the end mean?”

“It’s a kiss. You put them on the end of messages,” Alistair said quietly.

“Oh… that makes sense.” Kit actually smiled a little, but his lower lip was wobbling. “Do… do you want to give her our letters now, or… or when we leave?”

“We may as well give them now. I brought those plastic sleeve thingies that go in binders, so they won’t get wet if it rains.”

Kit smiled properly at that. “Really? I would never have thought of that…”

“Leave it to the artist,” Alistair joked, grinning. He handed Kit a plastic sleeve, and slipped his picture and his letter into two separate ones. Kit fumbled for a minute, his fingers half numb from the cold. Eventually, though, he slipped the paper into his own sleeve, setting it carefully by the headstone. Alistair put his beside Kit’s, weighing them down with a few rocks from the footpath.

Kit walked back to sit by the tree, reaching into his bag for his book. He was shivering pretty badly by now, but had no intention of leaving yet. Alistair was looking worried. He took his coat off and wrapped it around Kit. The older boy frowned.

“Al, don’t. You still need that.”

“It’s alright, I’ve got my jumper on,” Alistair said. He was cold, but he’d rather Kit be warm.

Kit sighed. “But… we still… I…” He gave up, unable to argue when he was so cold and miserable. “Stay close to me.”

Alistair cuddled up against Kit, positioning himself like he once had when Kit read to him as a kid. Kit held the book where his cousin could read, but he couldn’t bring himself to read aloud. His hands were shaking as he flipped to the first page, and he had to grip the book firmly to keep from dropping it. As he continued to read, he slumped down the tree, sniffling and fumbling through the pages. It took all of his self-control to keep reading, and at this point he was really just skimming. Tears flooded his cheeks and he didn’t bother to wipe them away, letting the bitter drops collect on his scarf.

Kit was in too much of a mournful stupor to notice, but Alistair had seen the light gradually fading, and he frowned when a white fleck landed on his cheek. Snowflakes drifted gently between the bare branches of the willow, landing in Kit’s hair and lashes. He had stopped turning the pages of his book, just staring blankly at an inky illustration as a delicate layer of frost accumulated on the page.

“We should go, Kit,” Alistair said quietly. “You’re starting to look like the Little Match Girl.”

“I don’t want to leave.” Kit mumbled. He’d drifted off into thought a while back, and now he dared to voice it. “What if she is watching, but she’s tethered here? What if she thinks I haven’t been bothered to visit till now?”

“She’ll understand,” Alistair said. “She’s seen you here now.”

“But I waited so long. What if she waited for ages and stopped watching?” Kit’s voice was wobbling as he tried not to wail.

Alistair put an arm around Kit. He couldn’t feel his own fingers and toes. “She wouldn’t ever give up on you.”

Kit leaned into Alistair, suddenly letting out a proper sob. “Why would she keep caring when even I don’t?”

“You do,” Alistair said, his voice wobbling too. “That’s why you’re here right now.” He hugged Kit tight, looking up through the flurries of snow in a sudden mad hope that his aunt might manifest herself. Kit let his book fall to his lap, clinging to Alistair as he continued to cry. He was shivering again, even with his cousin’s jacket over all of his, and his nose and cheeks were as red as his hair.

“We should go, Kit. You’re going to freeze. We can come back as often as you want.”

Kit didn’t argue, despite how much he didn’t want to leave. He allowed Alistair to pack up his book and writing things and pull him to his feet. For the first few paces, he walked obediently, but he paused in front of Fox’s grave when a fresh wave of guilt hit him.

“I’m sorry…” Kit mumbled, kneeling down in the frosted grass. “I’m sorry I didn’t come more often. I’m sorry I let you go so soon. I’m sorry I’m not the son you wanted…” That seemed like the crux of his rambling, and Alistair was ready to drag Kit on out of the graveyard when the silence was broken by a wretched sob.

“I’m sorry I kept you trapped with him!”

“It wasn’t your fault, Kit,” Alistair said, weeping too. “She loved you.””

“She didn’t deserve it. I wasn’t worth it. She could’ve had a life without me, Al…” Kit was hunched over, practically hugging the tombstone as snow gathered on his shaking shoulders.

“You were her life. She was stuck with him when she married him, you weren’t to blame, Kit,” Alistair said, going to put a hand on Kit’s back. “You were a kid.”

Kit shook his head, shriveling under his cousin’s touch. “But she could’ve left if she didn’t have me. She should’ve just left me with him, like… like I deserved.”

“She’d never do that. You’re worth better than that, Kit! If she was alive, she’d be telling you this too.”

“It’s my fault she’s not alive!” Kit sobbed. “She wasted all of her energy caring for me instead of taking care of herself.”

“Oh come on, you were never any trouble! If we’re going by that logic, I probably killed her more than you,” Alistair said.

Kit might’ve laughed on a better day, but he just sobbed harder. “Don’t say that!”

“Neither of us killed her, Kit! She died, and it’s really fucking horrible and bloody unfair, but it’s not your fault,” Alistair said, holding Kit’s shoulders. The older boy clung to the tombstone, sniffling quietly. It took a long time for him to settle enough to speak again.

“I… I don’t want to leave… to leave her again…” Kit mumbled.

“We can't stay here, Kit. Not tonight. It’s freezing.”

“You can go, then. I can’t.” Kit shook his head.

“I’m not leaving you here to freeze to death. Kit, please, you’re shaking already,” Alistair begged. “You can’t really stay with Auntie. She’s not here, Kit. That’s just her headstone…” He was sobbing too, the tears freezing on his face.

“That’s all I have!” Kit wailed, but his grip on the granite loosened in defeat. Alistair fell to his knees beside Kit in the settling snow, wrapping his cousin in his arms.

“Don’t you have pictures?”

“I… I did. At home. I don’t… I haven’t looked at them… in… in a while.” Kit realized that sounded stupid without context, but he didn’t have the energy, physical or emotional, to elaborate.

“You can hold onto those, can’t you?”

“I suppose, yeah… But they’re… they’re not at your house. They’re at Father’s.” Kit sighed, letting go of the tombstone to cling to Alistair instead. He was barely even shivering anymore, but he was freezing to the touch.

“Fuck, we need to get you inside… Where’s your phone, let me call Taddy…” Alistair sent him a text, his frozen fingers moving laboriously. “And I have a little handful of photos. Only about four or five. Will that do?”

Kit nodded meekly. “You.. you never told me you had pictures.”

“I thought you might be mad. I pinched them out the photo albums when I was little.”

Kit sniffled, actually managing a laugh at that. “I wouldn’t be mad…”

“You can have them if you like. If you don’t want to go back to your father’s place,” Alistair offered.

“No, they… they’re yours.” Kit argued. “I just want to see them.” There was less conviction in his voice now; he didn’t sound desperate, just sad and tired.

Alistair nodded, picking Kit up when he spotted Taddy’s car. “Come on, you’re frozen.”

“You’re warm.” Kit nodded, leaning on his cousin. Alistair was still warmer than him, despite having four less layers on. Taddy waved in greeting as the boys approached, getting out to open the door for them.

“Afternoon, sirs. It’s a bit cold to be out, but I do have the heater on.”

“Thank Christ,” Alistair mumbled, pulling Kit inside and slamming the door. He quickly pulled Kit’s gloves off, rubbing his pale hands between his own. “I can’t feel my fingers and toes…”

“Sorry…” Kit sighed, sinking back in the heated leather seat. He was vaguely aware of the melting snowflakes dampening his hair, but didn’t have the energy to complain.

“Back to your place, then?” Taddy asked Alistair.

“Yes please. I’ll toss you in the bath, Kit,” Alistair said. “Heating the water up slowly. I know what to do, we were taught that in first aid.”

Taddy nodded and drove off down the slick grey road, but Kit whined at his cousin. “I don’t want a bath. I want to sleep.”

“You’re cold! Look, you can doze in the bath while it’s happening. I used to do that when I got a bath before school. Almost bloody overslept all the time.”

“Blankets are warm. I want to go to bed.” Kit pouted.

“You will. Eventually. Look, you might need those fingers and toes some day,” Alistair said.

“Don’t want them. Want to nap.” Kit said, drooping sideways across Alistair’s lap. Taddy snorted from the front seat.

Alistair rolled his eyes, but he was grinning too. He stroked Kit’s damp hair. “We’re soaked…”

“How long were you two outside?” Taddy asked.

“A few hours…”

Taddy looked horrified. “What on earth for?”

“It’s our birthday…” Kit mumbled into Alistair’s legs.

“He wanted to stay,” Alistair said quietly.

“I see.” Taddy shook his head quietly. While he understood the boys’ logic to an extent, he still didn’t think anyone should be sitting out in the snow longer than necessary. He didn’t lecture them, though; he knew it was a rough day. When they reached the block of flats, Taddy pulled up as close to the door as he could. “You two go inside and get properly warm.”

“Thanks, Taddy,” Alistair said, picking Kit up again.

“Of course. Have a good night, sirs.”

#continuing nano even tho its december #misadventures of Kit #chapter twenty-one #kit #raycraft #alistair #isabelle #collab #ocsickficsideblog #angst #drama of the big gay #tw death mention

[lickstynine]

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Twenty-Two

written with @ocsickficsideblog

~tw death mention~

Kit waved as Alistair carried him off, quiet and complacent. He had dried off some in the car, but he was still frigid to the touch, his hands like icicles as he hugged Alistair's neck. Alistair ran with him through the snowy carpark, slipping and almost falling on his ass. The elevator was broken again - were they even trying to fix it? - so he had to tote Kit upstairs. The older boy didn't complain, half asleep as his head lolled on Alistair's shoulder.

Julius was waiting for them in the flat, and he looked horrified when they walked in. “You were outside in this weather?”

“Mum was outside.” Kit mumbled, too hazy to realize how stupid he sounded.

Julius sighed sadly. “Oh honey… Look, we need to get you warmed up.”

“I’ll stick him in the bath,” Alistair said.

“I don't want a bath, I want to sleep.” Kit whined.

“You need one,” Alistair said firmly, taking him to the bathroom.

Kit pouted, but he didn't fight, allowing Alistair to set him on the edge of the tub. He wobbled, and Alistair quickly moved him to sit against the wall instead. Alistair pulled the hundred layers of clothes off Kit, sitting him in the empty bath. “Okay, I’ll gradually warm it up.”

Kit sighed, cringing at the cold porcelain and wrapping his arms protectively around himself. He wasn't as skeletally thin anymore, but he was still significantly skinnier than a grown man should be. Alistair got lukewarm water running, slapping Kit’s feet lightly to get the blood moving. The older boy instinctively pulled away, tucking his knees up to his chest.

“It’s okay, I’m just trying to get the colour back,” Alistair said. “You’ll be fine.”

“Don't like it.” Kit stayed curled up, overly sensitive in his exhaustion and grief.

“It’ll feel good soon.”

Kit remained tucked into the corner of the bathtub, so still and vacant he could have been a statue. He whined at first when the water warmed up, but started to relax as proper feeling returned to his fingers, sinking deeper into the bath with a contented sigh.

“Better?” Alistair said, relieved.

“Yeah.” Kit nodded, stretching out his legs and shifting his hips to get comfortable. “It's warm. Can I have my good blanket when I get out?” He was referring to the electric blanket, which had arrived from Amazon about a week ago. It was delightfully toasty, and he spent most afternoons curled up in it like a cat with warm laundry.

“Yeah, of course. I want it too!” Alistair was still freezing in his damp clothes.

“Go change, you fool. I'm not going anywhere.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get in after you.”

“But I don't want you to get sick…” Kit fussed, as if Alistair was the immunocompromised one.

“I’ll be fine. I’m pretty hardy.”

Kit sighed. “Okay, well, come under the heated blanket with me after your bath.”

“I was planning on it. Don’t pee in there or anything if I’m getting in after you,” Alistair grinned.

Kit looked at Alistair like his cousin had accused him of shitting in a public pool. “Why on Earth would I ever do that?”

“Some people do.”

“Why?” Kit cried.

“I don’t know. Kids pee everywhere. I guess it’s just the relaxation.”

Kit gave him a suspicious glare. “I see. I want to get out of the bath now.”

“What? I don’t do it now,” Alistair said.

“I know, but the premise is making my skin crawl. Besides, I want my warm blanket.” Kit put his hands on the sides of the tub to pull himself up, but he got about six inches in the air before his noodly arms gave out and he plunked back into the water.

Alistair ended up with his jeans soaked through with warm water. “Nice.” He hauled Kit out himself. “You know that scene from Howl’s Moving Castle when Sophie’s dragging Howl’s naked body to the bathroom? That’s how I feel.”

“If you’re going to assault my dignity like this, it’d be kinder to just drown me in the tub.” Kit grumbled, his cheeks burning red.

“Oh shut up, it was said with love,” Alistair said, wrapping Kit up in a towel.

“Then lovingly find me some pyjamas, will you?”

“What am I, your maid?” Alistair asked, but he went to get them nonetheless.

Kit rolled his eyes, sitting in his towel bundle on the edge of the tub. He was still a bit shivery, anxious to get in his heated blanket. Alistair brought the pyjamas, dressing Kit like an oversized doll, and carted him to bed. He brandished the famous heated blanket, flapping it like a bull fighter.

“You’re a menace.” Kit sighed, but he took the blanket gratefully. “Now go bathe your dumb damp arse.”

“I will. I’m about to freeze to death,” Alistair declared, leaving Kit in the bedroom. Kit curled up in the bed, waiting patiently for his cousin to return. Within a few minutes, however, he started to doze, finally comfortable in his warm, dry nest.

Alistair always took unbelievably long baths. When he finally returned to Kit, he was fast asleep, and Star was curled up on Kit’s tummy, purring happily. Kit was snoring obliviously, unaware of the fuzzy menace sharing his nest. Alistair snuggled up to them both, grinning impishly. Kit instinctively cuddled up to his cousin, but didn’t wake. Alistair tucked the blanket around Kit tighter, hoping he wouldn’t wake up with a chill.

Though he slept soundly, Kit was clearly still morose when he woke late in the evening of his birthday. It was long since dark out, and snow was swirling furiously outside the windows. Just the sight of it made him shiver, and he pulled his heated blanket tighter around himself. He felt an unexpected resistance, sighing in frustration as he recognized the furry weight in his lap. Star mewed indignantly, passing up Kit’s tummy and chest, rubbing her little face against his chin.

Kit groaned, trying to shove her away without being rough. “Go bother Alistair.”

“I’m here,” Alistair mumbled, his nose in a book.

“Then get your cat off of me.” Kit said. He sounded more drained than grouchy, and despite having slept most of the evening away, he felt more tired than ever.

“She’s just saying hello.”

“Well she’s said it.” Kit gave up on asking his cousin for help, instead just sitting up and letting Star scramble away as the thing she was standing on moved. He swung his legs off the side of the bed, stepping into his slippers and shuffling off towards the kitchen. Alistair followed him like a little service dog. Kit was rifling in the cabinets, hoping to find something to drink.

“You need to eat first,” Alistair said.

“I’m not hungry.” Kit had been mostly cooperative lately, but he was in no mood today. As understandable as it was, he had already missed four of his six scheduled meals, and Alistair couldn’t exactly let that slide.

“You really need it this time, Kit.”

“I need to be left alone.” Kit clearly didn’t mean it - he couldn’t even look at Alistair when he said it.

“Yeah yeah. You can afterwards, emo.” Alistair said.

“You’re the emo.” Kit mumbled. “What are you going to make me eat?”

“An egg?” Alistair suggested. Julius was out shopping, and he couldn’t actually cook much himself.

“Can you make an egg?”

“I can boil it. Or fry it. I can’t poach, or scramble. Or anything else.”

Kit sighed. “Fried, then, I suppose. With toast. Please.” He shuffled off to the couch, plunking down in the corner. Star hopped up beside him, settling on his lap. Kit groaned. “Why is your cat obsessed with me?”

“I don’t know,” Alistair called from the kitchen. “She just likes warm places. Like laps.”

“I’m not even warm.”

“You’re warmer than most stuff,” Alistair said, coming back with a plate of food. Kit took it, but he didn’t look pleased, and he picked at the eggs instead of taking a bite.

“Eat the flipping things.”

Kit cringed. “Sorry.” he scooped some egg onto his fork, taking a tiny bite and forcing himself to swallow. Alistair had done a passable job cooking, but they felt like flavorless slime when Kit tried to chew.

“Is it still really hard to eat?” Alistair asked, his voice more gentle.

Kit nodded, staring vacantly down at his plate. Alistair put an arm around him, sighing. “Am I gonna have to feed you?”

Kit shook his head, his face burning with shame as he picked up the fork again. “I can do it.” He said, scooping up another pitifully small piece of egg.

“I was only joking.”

“Sorry.” Kit tore off a small corner of toast, dipping it in the yolk of his egg.

Alistair paused. “Sorry. I know today is shit.”

“Not your fault.” Kit mumbled. He chewed the toast for ages, it felt more like a sponge than a piece of bread.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Put me out of my misery, Kit wanted to say. He knew his cousin wouldn’t like that, though, so he shook his head. Alistair just sighed, putting his arm around Kit. Kit leaned on him, offering a piece of yolky toast.

Alistair recoiled. “Yuck! Egg!”

“Are you still that picky?” Kit sighed, eating it himself. He knew he was difficult about eating in general, but his cousin's disdain for any non-junk-food grated on him.

“Yep. Drives Jules mad.”

“It irritates me, too. You know eggs are in pretty much every baked good, right?”

“It’s not because of the periods thing anymore. I just don’t like them. They’re rubbery.”

“The yolk isn't rubbery.” Kit rolled his eyes.

“Really? I’m getting better at cooking then…”

Kit sighed and shook his head, going back to poking at his eggs. Alistair grinned. “Don’t pull faces. I’m not planning on being a chef.”

“I could be a weightlifter before you could be a chef.” Kit grinned.

“Oh ha ha. I’ve been trying to think what I could train for cause art and commissions are sporadic.” He paused. “Don’t laugh.”

Kit raised his eyebrows. “What are you training for?”

“Well, Nothing now. I’ve got to get a proper degree. Which is a shame, I’m a bit sick of uni… Anyway. I was thinking I could train to be a social worker…” he mumbled. “Not right now, I kinda need to sort my head out first, but...there must be tons of kids like we used to be, Kit. Kids who nobody listened to.”

“Why would I laugh at that? I would’ve given anything for someone to help us.” Kit said, somberly setting down his fork.

“I’d have thought you’d have said I couldn’t follow the rules or something.”

“I know you’re an idiot. But you care enough about this to not fuck it up. I hope.” Kit replied.

“I do. It’s just...it’s kind of fucked up, when you think about it. We could easily have ended up dead. Ended up like...like Victoria Climbié. Or...oh, there must be loads of abused kids who died.”

I wish I’d been one of them. Kit felt guilty for thinking it, but he couldn’t get rid of the thought. Alistair saw Kit’s face, and his own face screwed up. “I know what you’re thinking…” He shoved Kit’s plate aside, suddenly wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. “I’m sorry. I should have made you come live with us. If I’d made you when we first met up, this wouldn’t have happened…”

Kit cringed. He felt like a lot of his inner contemplations had just been dumped on the table, and he hadn't even said anything. “It's not… you couldn't… I didn't…. I'm sorry.” He sighed miserably, leaning against Alistair.

“I know,” Alistair mumbled. “I don’t know what to say either.”

“Then shut up for once and just hug me, you fool.”

Alistair did as he was told, holding Kit tight in his arms. Kit leaned against him, silent for a long time, save for tiny sniffles. Even Alistair kept quiet, clinging to Kit for comfort. There was really nothing to say. As the stress grew heavier, Kit finally spoke.

“Can I have a drink now?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Alistair mumbled, but he wasn’t really going to stop Kit drinking today. Kit still seemed discouraged by his cousin's words, hesitating for a long moment before pulling away to go into the kitchen. Alistair sighed. “No more than one bottle.”

Kit would've complained normally, but with how much Alistair had been restricting him, his tolerance had dropped. He just nodded, grabbing a bottle of cheap spirits from under the cabinet and filling a glass with ice. Alistair still rolled his eyes at the ice, but he didn’t say a word. Kit brought the bottle with him when he took his drink to the couch, reaching in his bag to grab Alice.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” Alistair offered. “Since you’ll be seeing double soon?”

“Not that soon.” Kit mumbled, but after a small pause, he held out the book. “Please? It’s always so quiet on our birthday. The servants know I’m upset, so they leave me alone, but then the house just seems so… empty.” He sighed.

Alistair nodded. “I know. I don’t ever want a big house, even if I could afford it.”

“I don’t blame you.” Kit curled up in the blanket he’d left on the couch, with only his head and hands peeking out. Alistair opened the Alice book carefully.

“Any particular starting point?”

Kit shrugged. “The beginning is fine. I can’t remember where I got to this morning.”

“Because you were slowly freezing,” Alistair said, opening the book at the first page.

Kit cringed. “Sorry.” He leaned against Alistair when his cousin started reading. Alistair gently ran his fingers through Kit’s hair as he read, remembering how Fox used to. Kit sniffled, draining his glass and grabbing the bottle to refill it. Alistair determinedly ignored how much Kit was drinking. He wasn’t mean enough to stop him on his dead mother’s birthday.

Luckily for both of them, Kit was still tired from their outing earlier, and his eyelids felt heavier with every drink. The bottle was just over half empty when he started to doze, glass still in hand as his head lolled against Alistair’s shoulder. Alistair set the glass aside, then read to him until he was properly asleep, lulled like a kid with a bedtime story. Before long, Kit was snoring into his cousin’s jumper. Alistair didn’t want to risk waking him, so he just tucked the blanket tighter around Kit and slept there with him.

#continuing nano even tho its december #misadventures of Kit #chapter twenty-two #angst #drama of the big gay #kit #raycraft #alistair #julius #collab #ocsickficsideblog