Tales Don't Tell Themselves

[Devon Wentsworth]

Send to: [Cade ]
Subject: [Long time no speak]

[Message body:]

---

Heya C.
Sorry it's been a while, but I've picked up a laptop at last! Yay!

The move went not too badly, though the place I'm in now is so very wrong. It's too clean and neat and I'm not allowed to do anything with it. I'm going to start looking for somewhere else soon, try and find somewhere a bit more me. The estate prices over here are ridiculous! The sale of my shitty little flat back there is going to buy me a house here! Like, an actual house, with bedrooms in the plural! Your house would probably buy you a mansion here, with peacocks and butlers and everything.

Anyway, the school is pretty great. The classes are going really well and most of the kids seem to have a lot of potential. There's already been some... drama, though. Some kids messing about and being arseholes, very nearly got me in a whole world of shite. I've already had to go see the school shrink. I'm not kidding, I really did have to go see the psychiatrist. Don't panic though, I'm okay. I'm not getting arrested or anything. I'll tell you about it properly when I next get you on Skype. The psych seems a really pretty awesome guy though, even with the mind-reading thing. Just a shame my first week was a complete cluster-fuck. Still, so far I've managed to avoid having to try to eat grits, so it's not all bad.

The rest of the staff seem pretty decent too. I think I've fallen in love with the chef's cooking skills; first time I met him, he gave me fish and chips. Just gave them over to me, like I was a starving puppy. Which I kinda was (café food for so many days straight sucks) but still. Seriously, it was epic, with vinegar and everything. It could have put Tommy's chippy to shame. Don't tell Tommy I said that. I think he'd be able to kick my arse regardless of the distance.

Unrelated but important note regarding arse kicking:
HA! Stakhovsky beat Federer! You owe me £50 next time I see you!

Right, it's probably about time I ate something so I'm gonna go. Hope you have an awesome time at Glastonbury, but not too much fun without me, yeah? If you can get a video of Bastille and Arctic Monkey's sets I'll let the £50 slide.

Give mum my love when you see her, but maybe don't tell her about me having to go visit the shrink so soon after getting here.

Until next time,
D.

P.S. Send jaffa cakes. And jammie dodgers. And real tea bags.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Send to: [Cade ]
Subject: [It's ungodly warm over here]

[Message body:]

---

Hey big bro.

Thanks for the Glasto vids! Hope you didn't miss me too much. Bastille's set looked amazing! To think no one had heard of them a year ago, and now look at them! So glad I got to see them opening for Muse before I left England, what a night that was!

I can't believe Andy Murray did it! He finally broke the losing streak at Wimbledon! Only the Brits could invent a sport and be so epically bad at it; 77 years since the last British champion, wasn't it? Some stupid number like that. I guess the Olympic fever is still running strong. Go Team GB and all that biscuit.

Anyway, things at work have definitely calmed down now. The stuff with the psychiatrist and whatnot is being taken care of and I'm honestly feeling great about things. I mean, it can only get better now, right? And the chef (Ferris) is still feeding me pretty much every time we run into each other. I'm going to be like a blimp next time you see me.
It's the summer break so everything's real quiet, but I'm still going in every now and then to do stock takes and get the art studio to my standard and stuff. Met a few more of the staff and locals, most of them seem pretty awesome. A few rather odd sorts, but I'm hardly the poster boy for normal so I'm not too worried.

Well, I signed the contract on my new house today! And yes, it's actually a house! No more leaky little flat for me, I own real estate now! It's a townhouse, kinda like a terraced but not as shite. I'm in the end one on the row and it's light and airy and SO huge compared to what I had over there. No garden but hey, when have I ever felt the urge to mow the grass anyway? I'll send you some pictures once I've moved in and unpacked. It's kinda hard to believe, how I've gone from teaching in that rough little high school to being over here with a semi-swish job and a house and everything. I feel all grown up. Just wish dad could have been here to see that his scrawny little brat turned out okay in the end.

Take care of yourself bud, and I'll talk to you real soon.

Love to everyone there.
D x

[Devon Wentsworth]

Send to: [Cade ]
Subject: [It's update time!]

[Message body:]

---

Hey Cade.
Just a quick update on what's going on here.

You know I'm in the new house now! Yay! Pictures will be coming as soon as I've managed to get it looking less shite. Seriously, the wallpaper looks like the stuff in Aunt June's, but it's all smoke marked and faded and just... bad. Spent all this morning stripping down the living room and hallway; there's paper absolutely everywhere! I think getting rid of that alone has added some value to the place already. Once it's all cleaned up (and I've recovered from that), it'll all be painted and then I'll take some proper photos to show you. I've also got a bloke coming round at the weekend to give me a quote for soundproofing the basement.
Speaking of which, next time you see mum could you ask her to release the rest of my money from dad into my account, please? He always said I should spend some money on a decent drum kit; I think he'd approve.

Anyway, I thiiiink that's about it on the updates front. Loving the new house, loving having a real kitchen again, and I re-bought the GoT book saga. Next time you want something, buy it yourself you cheap bastard

Right, I'm off to go and swim in the lake.
Speak soon!
D x

[Devon Wentsworth]

This means nothing to me, 'cause you are nothing to me.
And it means nothing to me that you blew this away.

The late hours of Saturday night had all too quickly become the early hours of Sunday morning and Devon wandered slowly up the road towards his house under the glow of the street lights. He didn't have a clue what time it was but he guessed somewhere around four am, which meant it had been about three hours since he had left the bustling club in the middle of down-town Pilot Ridge. He had arrived at the club alone but he hadn't left alone, and for the first time in several months he hadn't been in a bed alone.

A brisk wind caused the Brit to pull his light jacket tighter around himself, goosebumps rising on his slender arms, and he loosed a soft sigh of relief as his house came into sight. For a little while earlier he'd been convinced he'd been walking the wrong way, but Pilot Ridge was hardly half the size of Leeds city centre and he'd soon come across enough familiar landmarks for him to be able to navigate his way to the front door.

It opened with a soft creak, Devon quickly letting himself in and closing the door on the harshness of the night. He was exhausted but quietly content; they had both made it clear what they wanted and even though the offer was there to stay until the morning, Devon had thought it best to just head straight home since it wasn't really all that far. He couldn't even recall if they had swapped names. It was a hollow victory and one he wasn't particularly proud of, but it scratched the itch for a while and no harm had come to anyone.

Well...

Shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hook by the front door, Devon headed into the kitchen and flicked on the light, peeling off his shirt and discarding it over the back of a chair. Using the reflective hood of the cooker like a mirror, Devon leaned his neck around as much as he could to assess his back. A few faint scratch marks ran over his shoulders and down his side but they were nothing dramatic and would likely be completely gone in a few days. Much like the ring of circular bruises around his neck and running down his chest. Hmmm, he'd probably be stuck to wearing a polo-neck for the next few days.

As he straightened himself up again Devon caught sight of Uno, the big grey and white tomcat, staring at him from his perch on the back of the sofa in the living room. “Oi, don't judge me.” The cat looked utterly indifferent and quickly went back to snoozing. It had been almost a week since Devon had brought two cats home from the shelter in town. He'd initially only gone for one, but he felt bad about leaving one inside on its own all day. He still wasn't entirely sure why he'd picked out Uno to bring home; the adult male seemed to be permanently grumpy and disinterested in anything, which was the complete opposite of what he'd been looking for. Still, Uno seemed to have settled in quickly and got along well with the other cat that had come home with the art teacher.

After a quick shower that was mainly spent trying not to get shampoo onto the scratches on his back, Devon finally headed for bed. The alarm was set for only a few hours in the future because he didn't want to screw up his body clock too badly, but Christ he was tired and the cool bed was a welcome relief after the rather physical and heated evening. A few minutes after his head hit the pillow Devon was disturbed by something padding along the bed, and he reached out a hand to gently fuss the head of the ginger kitten that settled down near him on the duvet. Bliss was the complete opposite of Uno; cuddly and friendly and with affection enough for an army, and her gentle purring quickly lulled the exhausted art teacher to sleep.

[Lyrics: Uno by Muse]

[Devon Wentsworth]

I won't hold you back, let your anger rise.
And we'll fly, and we'll fall, and we'll burn.

The brand shiny new drum kit had arrived three weeks ago but so far not a single note had been played on it. After securing help moving the kit into the now fully soundproofed basement Devon had taken it all out of the packaging and carefully spread it out around the room, knowing it would be weeks before he would so much as sit at the stool.

The main kit was a stunning but very basically finished set, the unpainted wood beautifully polished but lacking in any real uniqueness or personality. That was precisely why Devon had picked it out of the hundreds of available choices. He had spent weeks browsing around both in stores and online to find the perfect pieces to assemble his dream kit, and after all the time and money it was finally worth it.

Each weekend and most of the evenings since the kit had arrived Devon had been shut away in his basement, stripping the polish off the bass, snares and toms and smoothing them down before taking paint and pens to them and making them his own. It had been a very long and hard slog but when he had stood back on Friday, the paint and surface polish all dry and shiny and buffed to perfection, he knew that every second had been worth it. All the months of pent-in frustration and longing had been worth it. The Hammel school drum kit could now be at peace without him thrashing out his agro on it... well, mostly at least. There would probably still be days he'd slink back into the band room again.

The kit had been set up yesterday and left to settle and rest overnight, Devon at one point seriously considering sleeping down there with them just because he could. He had eventually managed to drag himself to bed though, only to be awoken up at some ungodly early hour by Bliss mewling at him for some attention.

The hours had seemed to drag by, each only lazily folding into the next as Devon had sat and watched the clock. Even though his basement had been soundproofed Devon still felt a little paranoid about the thought of playing down there at antisocial hours, especially since his neighbour already had plenty of reasons to be frustrated with him right now. It didn't help that Devon knew all too well that he was unlikely going to be exactly whisper-quiet once he got going.

Several cups of tea and a banana-topped waffle had passed before the Brit had decided it was a sensible enough time, and after chasing Uno out of the basement and shutting the door, Devon sat behind his drum kit for the first time. A funny little sound passed between his lips as he ran his fingers over the rim of one of the basses. After sliding on his wrist supports Devon spent a few minutes tuning up the drums, getting them just the way he wanted them, before doing a few stick tricks and playing a simple rhythm to get himself warmed up.

The anticipation was sending an army of butterflies flailing madly around in his stomach, and Devon was all but bouncing on the stool with excitement as he plugging his headset into the large CD player behind him and cued up the very first song he would ever play on his new kit.

No one could accuse him of starting on a slow note...

[Lyrics and drum cover: Stockholm Syndrome by Muse]

[Devon Wentsworth]

Running down corridors through automatic doors.
Got to get to you, got to see this through.
I see hope is here in a plastic box.
I've seen Christmas lights reflect in your eyes.

Devon hadn't been counting the number of times he had looked at the tickets in his desk drawer, which was probably for the best. It was likely somewhere in the mid-hundreds by now. They had arrived a week ago, sealed in a perfect envelope with his name and address on, and to Devon those small slips of toughened paper had seemed like all of his birthday and Christmas wishes come at once.

They were his tickets home.

Hammel let out for the holidays on Friday. By Sunday lunchtime he would be once more on his home soil, breathing in the smoggy air and revelling in the ugly rain that made everything look grey and miserable. Eating grease-laden kebabs under the veranda of a much abused rock club at 11pm, laughing at the drunks staggering about the streets, knowing all-too-well that he would likely be in much the same state before the night was out. Cheap beer, music loud enough to make his ears bleed and empty promises whispered against willing lips. Leeds was a shithole, of that there could be no denying. But it was home, and Devon was longing to once more walk those familiar streets with faces he had known for forever.

Devon's mum had called almost daily in the past week, trying to make sure that everything was perfectly synchronised for his arrival. Lorraine, his mum, would pick him up at the airport and take him home, where Cade would head once he had finished work. Then besides the usual traditions, the rest of his time was his own to do with as he wished. In truth Devon hadn't made any real plans for what he wanted to do when he got home, besides check in with friends and family and spend a night or two at ROA, the rock club where he and his band used to play.

If he was being completely honest, Devon would admit that he was feeling a little apprehensive about the trip back home. Part of it was a quiet unease about the trip itself; he'd never been a particularly good flier and he always ended up in pain from the uncomfortable seats and inability to keep moving around. He was also a little anxious about the feeling that he might just be a bit of a loose thread – his mum took great delight in fussing over people, but what if Cade wanted to do his own thing all the time and not hang out with his baby bro?
The other, much larger and much more real fear was...

What if he decided to stay there and not come back to the States?

Bliss took that moment to leap up into Devon's lap, the ever-growing ginger kitten mewling softly and rubbing her head against his hand containing the envelope holding the tickets. With a soft smile on his lips Devon gently fussed her head, running his long fingers over her soft fur. He chuckled softly as Bliss pathered at his leg, and he stroked along her back and idly fidgeted with her tail. “You gonna be good for Uncle Ferris while I'm gone, ey?” Bliss replied by purring softly, curling up onto his lap with her head resting on his knee. There were some things he would miss about the States if he didn't come back, some people especially, but he had to try to force himself to come back for Bliss' sake, if nothing else.

He heard an almighty crash from downstairs, what sounded like the currently-in-progress snare drum being knocked off the coffee table. Again.

Uno he could probably live without.

[Lyrics: Wires by Athlete.]

[Devon Wentsworth]

When I left you there early that morning, my darling,
I told you that I'd miss you so.
I got on that plane with my heart soaring,
But now it's falling like snow.

Devon hadn't intended to get drunk tonight. Not at all. He had a few last bits and pieces to pack ready for his trip home, but in truth he hadn't planned on travelling with all that much. The bare essentials, his family's Christmas presents, his camera, his laptop and maybe (maybe) a change of clothing or two. Everything else he could pick up once he got back home. His plan was to travel light, leaving lots of room in the suitcase for bringing real food back to the states with him.

Now? Well, now it was tough motivating himself to even get up off the sofa to grab another beer.

Bliss lay sprawled out along the back of the sofa, her head behind his own. Every now and then an investigating paw would reach out, settle on the back of his head for a moment, and then be withdrawn again. Devon had no idea why she kept doing that, but it was oddly reassuring in a way. To know that someone, somewhere, gave a shit about where he was.

The empty bottles were cluttered messily on the coffee table, Uno chewing idly at the ham on a half-eaten sandwich left discarded on a plate. Grey eyes read over the email again, struggling to focus with the alcohol sloshing around in his system.

Hello love.

I'm really sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but Cade won't be around for the next few weeks. Tonight he's off to Spain for the holidays with some of his friends, having a warm Christmas in the sun. Lucky them! They booked it a few weeks ago but he forgot to tell us. I'm so sorry, but he wont be here while you're over. He said he would tell you himself, but he thought you might get upset and it would be easier to hear it from me. Such silly boys; you always did argue over the smallest things! Just because you wont see each other this time, that doesn't mean he will be away again the next time you come over!

Anyway, at least this means we can have a nice quiet Christmas, just you and me. You can rest and recover from the jetlag without all that noise and rubbish that you'd get up to with Cade. I know your aunt Josie has been itching to see you for a while, so we can go and visit her for a few days.

It will still be a good time even without Cade. I promise.

I'll see you very soon Squeaker.
Love you lots,
Mum.

Devon stared blankly at the screen, taking a long drink from the bottle in his hand, emptying it. Classes tomorrow would certainly be entertaining. Trying to teach dozens of excited kids eager for lessons to pause for the holidays, all while nursing a hangover, would be an absolute hellfest. But that would be nothing compared to the next few weeks.

The Brit adored his mother. He would kill for her if necessary... but he had always been so incredibly close to Cade. The two boys had been inseparable since they were infants and had practically grown up in one another pockets, and this... this felt like a betrayal. Pretty much since the moment Devon had arrived in America the two boys had talked about little other than when they would see each other again, and now Cade had abandoned all their plans without even taking a moment to let Devon know. Devon would be heading for the airport in twenty four hours, and Cade wouldn't be there to meet him like he had promised.

No, this wasn't a betrayal. This was far worse.
This felt more like dereliction.

After everything they had been through, after all the months of planning this holiday, after Devon spending a small fortune on plane tickets... Cade would rather run off to Spain with his mates. Maybe it was selfish to think that way, but Devon was hurt and upset and angry that Cade would do such a thing. Never before had his big brother done anything like this; had the six months or so that they had been apart really changed Cade that much? That he would just drop everything and run off, leaving Devon to spend Christmas with their mum alone?

Oh, but no. It would not just him and his mum. Aunt fucking Josie. That was the rotten cherry on top of the particularly repugnant cake.

Uno moved sharpish as Devon stood and all but threw his laptop down onto the table, empty beer bottles tumbling and rolling across the carpet as the Brit slammed the lid down. The grey cat let loose a low hiss as he skittered under the table, annoyed about having his meal interrupted, and Devon stormed upstairs and tumbled onto the bed, his alarm set for the morning. He would pack tomorrow. At least he wouldn't have to pack Cade's present any more. That would save some suitcase space...

---

Bliss stayed lay on the back of the sofa for a long while after her human had hurried away. His noise and movement had disturbed her slumbering, and the ginger kitten stood and stretched on the back of the sofa, claws scuffing it slightly before she gracefully hopped down to floor level. A grumbling growl emitted from under the sofa but Bliss had long learned to ignore Uno by now; he made a lot of noise but he only ever acted on anything if he was in a particularly bad mood. She quickly chewed up a few mouthfuls of the discarded ham before Uno chased her off it, and then she licked her lips before bounding up the stairs after her human.

The door to his nest was open again, as it always was, and Bliss trotted in slowly before jumping up onto the bed. Her human had his face buried into the pillow and he seemed to be making some sort of strange sound, and she rubbed against him until he rolled onto his side and gave her some scritches on the back of her neck. Bliss purred merrily and licked at her humans fingers, vaguely aware that he was still making strange sounds, but he eventually seemed to settle and she curled up on the duvet beside him to drift back off to sleep.

[Lyrics: Dead On The Floor by Alkaline Trio]

[Devon Wentsworth]

Home, now that I'm coming home,
Will you be the same as when I saw you last?
Tell me how much time has passed...

I'm sorry love. Because your flight got delayed I can't come to pick you up. I've phoned for a taxi though. It'll meet you in the car park around the corner from the airport. See you very soon love xx

Devon had stared at the text message from his mum for a long time, blinking in silence before sighing softly and sliding it back into his pocket. The suitcases went around on the conveyor belt at a painfully slow speed, and it seemed to him like every other bag had been around at least twice while his own was still nowhere to be seen. It wasn't like it was easy to miss. The case that had once been plain pale grey was now completely covered in a random assortment of painted patterns and designs and logos and would no doubt stand out like a sore thumb amongst all the professional business cases and neon pink holiday bags. That had, of course, been the entire reason for painting it in such a manner.

The Brit stiffly perched on the baggage trolley as he idly watched the cases going around. He had thankfully managed to sleep for most of the flight from Burlington to JFK, then from there to Leeds, but his body was paying for the long flights now. It seemed to him like almost every muscle and joint ached, and the ones that didn't ache hurt instead. He wasn't suited for sitting around for long periods of time, and there was only so many times he could pace up and down the aisle before one of the flight attendants asked him to please sit back down so they could bring the drinks trolley through.

Devon was excited to be home, of course he was. He had missed his mother terribly since he had left and the homesickness had never quite left him. There were still days when even just having a brew knocked his mood off for a while. He had made friends in America now; Ferris, Roman, Cecil, Midori, Tory... But the pangs for home were forever there, forever strong. Every cell of his being itched to see that smoky city again, and yet... It wouldn't be the same without Cade. He fought back another depressed sigh, checking his phone once again. He'd sent Cade a not-entirely-bitter 'have a great holiday' text that morning, before he had done a quick tidy up of the house, but he hadn't heard anything back from his big brother. Of course not. The prick was probably getting drunk on a beach somewhere.

After what felt like an eternity Devon's bag finally came into sight, the half-empty multi-coloured monstrosity crawling around the conveyor belt with the last of the straggling bags. Devon heaved it off the belt and didn't bother with the trolley; the case didn't weigh a great deal and the wheels on the base of it meant he could drag it along even though his body currently hated him for putting it through such an ordeal. Had he not been able to sleep most of the way over Devon was certain he'd have had to look completely pathetic having to get a trolley to haul the bag out to the car park-come-taxi rank around the corner from the airport main entrance.

Once he had finished checking out of the airport Devon made his way out into the cool Leeds night. Unsurprisingly, it was raining. The clock displaying on the front of the huge glass and concrete building told him that it was a little before midnight and his breath curled lazily in the air, the Brit tugging up the hood of his jacket as he made his way around to the taxi ranks. It was dark and eerily quiet as Devon headed out onto the car park, having to cross a small section of it in order to get to the taxi ranks on the other side. A few cabs were lined up at the stands but they were all dark and seemed empty from the distance, and a sinking feeling began to rise in his stomach.

That was when Devon noticed a hooded figure stood by one of the cars nearby, watching him intently.

With the poor lighting and rain blur Devon couldn't make out the person's face, but it caused him to become deeply unsettled as his paces towards the taxi's began to quicken. In this shitty little car park there were no CCTV cameras, so if anything did happen, there would be no trail. Out of the corner of his eye Devon saw the figure moving too, following him, and he muttered a curse under his breath as he picked up the pace more. With his aching muscles and towing the bag Devon's speed was limited, and it wasn't long before the taller figure was stood in front of him, blocking the path between him and the taxi's. From the height and build he could only assume it was a bloke. That didn't matter though; the Brit's gaze was fixed intently on whatever it was that had just shimmered in the faint light, something small and metallic held in the man's hand.

Halting his steps, Devon looked from the shimmering object up to where the man's face should be. Every muscle in his body was tense, every cell battling the urge to shift now and charge at this threat. In his normal shape he was a piss-weak flimsy easy target, but there were few stupid enough to stand in the way of a charging wolverine. Especially one that had been a seemingly harmless human only moments before. His hand slowly slid off the handle of his bag, and even though he was so frightened he thought he might vomit, Devon tried to ready himself for whatever might happen. “What the fuck is your problem, mate?”

'My problem?' The voice was quiet, distant, and Devon tensed more as the man began to walk towards him. A low growl rumbled from the Brit's throat, a warning, and the hairs on the back of his neck bristled as that so-familiar sensation began to spread through his body. As Devon began to lower, his shoulders rounding and his body morphing, the man started to run towards him. 'You want to know what MY problem is?'

Fur replaced skin, a long muzzle lined with fearsome canines stretching out from his face as Devon's body twisted and contorted into the huge mustelid, the massive black and tan creature snarling ferociously as it began its charge towards the hooded figure. The gap closed between them, Devon terrified of what just might happen now and the fact that the man wasn't back down despite what he had just seen, but too angry and upset and frustrated to back off himself.

And then the man stopped and dropped his hood.
'My problem is that you didn't recognise me, dickhead.'

The wolverine skidded to a halt, long claws clattering on the tarmac as it started at the other man in disbelief. Oh so familiar grey eyes stared right back at him. Devon tried to speak, but all that came out was a confused and bewildered chattering sound.

Cade laughed brightly, kneeling down on the ground to get to the same level as his little brother. 'That was for telling Ashley about the teddy bear collection I had when I was a kid. I still haven't heard the end of that.' The older Wentsworth just knelt, looking at the completely stunned mustelid that was staring at him with its jaw hanging open. After a long moment he held his arms open. 'Well, come on then. Getting a cold would be a crap start to the holidays.'

Devon charged towards the figure again, but this time there was no anger or fear or frustration. Undiluted glee flooded his system and he chattered loudly as he ran, jumping up into the open arms and knocking his big brother to the floor. Later on he would be annoyed. Later.

But for now?
This was the start of an epic holiday.

[Lyrics: Into Oblivion by Funeral for a Friend]

[Devon Wentsworth]

I've had nights I will never forget.
I've had nights I will always regret,
But I can take it on the chin and say "Boys Will Be Boys"

“Devon, please hang up. You're making a scene.” Cade gently pleaded with his little brother to please hang up now; the same thing he had been trying to get Devon to do for the past five minutes. From the earpiece of the phone Ferris could be heard laughing hysterically as Devon ranted, swearing by the power of God, The Seven and Thor that he would walk home across the ocean and kill that smug grey bastard. It turned out that Uno had taken something of a shine to the chef and had gone a whole five minutes curled on Ferris' lap without trying to claw a hole into it. Devon had refused to believe him, so Ferris had sent a photo.
A very ranty phone call had ensued.

Devon stood in the middle of the snacks aisle with the phone to his ear, the other hand gesturing wildly while hanging on to a bag of tangy cheese Doritos which he had already managed to drop twice. Thankfully Kris had been on hand to rescue the jar of dip before it too had taken an unfortunate tumble.

Kris, one of Devon's former bandmates, tugged at the art teachers sleeve gently. “Devi, give it a rest ey? I got enough filmed as is, don't need no more ammo yet.” The guitarist did indeed have his own phone out and was recording the little scene playing out in the middle of the supermarket, readying it to be sent to Cade to join the collection of videos and pictures that were being gathered over the course of this adventure. All three Brits were just thankful that Tesco's was deserted at 2am in the morning, even so close to Christmas. The only other people in the vast store were a few dreary night-shift workers and a couple of drunk shoppers. The trio didn't count themselves amongst the latter, despite the fact they had all had more than their fair share before Devon had announced that he really, really couldn't go to bed until he'd had Doritos.

Ferris had text Devon while they were walking over to the store, and it hadn't taken long for the younger Wentsworth to take the grey cat's actions as a very personal slight. How DARE Uno be a grumpy bastard for everyone except Ferris! It just wasn't on! After he had saved the cat from the shelter and given it a home and food and companionship and everything! It wasn't fair!

Devon had just begun a stream of very colourfully strung together curses when Cade was able to wrestle the phone away from his little brother, giving a quick apology to Ferris before hanging up and steering Devon towards the tills to pay for the snacks. Right in front of him, the jar of salsa dip slipped out of Kris' fingers (who would later swear that it jumped), and collided with the ground. Kris slipped backwards and slammed into Cade, and since Cade was holding on to Devon all three of them ended up in a heap on the ground in front of the tills.

And this was after one evening of drinking in the house. What the hell kind of state would they be in tomorrow when they went to the rock club in town?
God help Leeds...

[Lyrics: Boys Will Be Boys by The Ordinary Boys.]

[Devon Wentsworth]

The more we heard the music the more we got in sync.
The more I kept you laughing the less I stopped to think.
The last thing I remember you said this place is beat.
It must have gotten crazy 'cuz I can't recall a thing.

“Cade, I said I'll be two minutes. Calm the fuck down. The club will still be there when we get there.” Devon couldn't understand why his big brother was so anxious to get out and why he kept checking his watch every couple of minutes. In the past it had always been the other way around, with Devon anxiously fidgeting and trying to get out of the door ten minutes ago while Cade took his time getting ready for the off. It was barely nine pm and already Cade was clearly itching to get out, and Devon raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, what's your issue?” Devon was just met with a huff as Cade went back out into the living room of his flat. The art teacher rolled his eyes as he capped the eyeliner, slid it into his back pocket and followed after his big brother.

The taxi ride into town was a thankfully brief one and as the quiet suburbs melded into the heart of Leeds city centre Cade's uncharacteristic anxious excitement began to rub off onto Devon. He hadn't been out in his home town since about a week before he had left for America, and it had been in this same club that he had said his final farewells to his old band-mates. They had played one last gig to the heaving crowd of ROA before departing with hugs and tears in equal measure. This place held very many fond memories for Devon, and as he and Cade paid and got out of the taxi to head into the club Devon's mood was beginning to skyrocket.

Cade paid the entrance fees for both of them and as they passed through the wide entry doors the infectious thumping of Halo by Soil was flooding through the room, causing a bright grin to light up Devon's features as he and Cade half walked and half danced towards the bar. Priorities. Devon had a definite swagger in his step and was soaking in the so familiar and so very much pined for atmosphere. He sang along to the song as the bartender fixed their drinks, and grey eyes scanned around the room to see if there were any faces he recognised. One or two caused vague bells to ring but none in particular grabbed his attention, and once both boys had drinks in hand they headed out onto the dancefloor as the music blended seemlessly into All My Life by Foo Fighters.

About ten minutes had passed with both boys dancing and drinking in the atmosphere, Devon eyeing the pretty ladies who caught his attention and Cade trying to keep his baby brother away from getting too distracted too soon in the night. Devon had just begun rocking to the next song that came on, even though he didn't recognise it, when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. The art teacher balled up a fist and readied to use it if necessary, but it stopped short as he caught sight of the man who had grabbed him. “BEN?!?”

Ben Collier laughed loudly at the startled reaction from Devon, beaming a smile as the art teacher embraced him in a warm hug. The smile on Devon's face doubled into a mad grin as he saw Kris and Elijah behind Ben, and soon the whole of what had once been Lost Realist were hugging and cheering and rapidly swapping greetings in the middle of the dance floor. That was when Cade pulled out the flier that had been kept in his pocket and stuck it in front of Devon's face.

Grey eyes read over it... then read over it again. And once more to be sure. “Cade... Cade, is this a joke? Seriously?” The look on the older Wentsworth's face made it clear that no, it was not a joke, and Devon's jaw was hanging around somewhere near his knees as Ben, Elijah and Kris started to half-drag him around to the back of the club, where the doors were that lead to the backstage areas. Cade stayed behind on the dancefloor, getting his small hand-held camcorder ready. Kris flashed a cluster of passes to one of the bouncers guarding the doors, and before it had really began to sink in Devon was having wrist wraps shoved into his hands and behind handed a sheet of paper with a song list on it. “I... I can't... What...”

“We've got five minutes til kick-off. Get them on and get ready.” Ben's voice was gentle but heavy with authority, trying to snap Devon out of his disbelief and get him into the zone. The art teacher nodded in compliance and wrapped the supports around his wrists, rolling his wrists, elbows and shoulders to loosen up. As the initial shock was beginning to settle down it was quickly being replaced by an ecstatic excitement, and by the time the announcer stepped into the back to make sure they were ready Devon was bouncing on his toes, grinning like a lunatic and hugging his friends every few moments.

“Ladies and gents; it's been seven months since they were last here, but for one night only here they are – Lost Realist!”

Devon managed to keep his cool as he, Kris, Elijah and Ben made their way out onto the platform high above the dancefloor. Devon took his rightful place at the drum kit as Ben took the microphone, Kris the guitar and Elijah the bass guitar. It had been many months since he had been up here, and Devon petted the bass drum lovingly as he readied himself. “Oh baby, I've missed you so much.”

The cheering from the heaving club was deafening as Devon put on the headset, making sure all the drum elements were properly in line for him before giving the nod to Ben that he was ready. Thankfully they had picked a somewhat steadier song to begin with while they got warmed up and properly in sync, but Devon felt like he could have taken on the world. His heart was in his mouth, his adrenaline was pumping harder than it had for months, and all the way through the set he played and sang like his soul was on fire.

[Lyrics: Last Night by Good Charlotte.]
[Lost Realist setlist here]

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon's head was pounding as he pulled a pair of trousers on, his brain seeming to be made of cotton wool as he tried to recall the events of the night before. The little gig in the club had gone incredibly well, especially considering he hadn't really played with his friends properly since he had headed over to America, and afterwards there had been much drinking and dancing until the little troupe had all headed back to Cade's flat, some of them significantly luckier than others.

The brunette that Devon had brought back had let herself out at around three am; Leah or Leia or something like that. Devon had almost forgotten just how easy it could be at times. Eyeliner, tight jeans and a thumping setlist were like prime bait to certain women, and over the years Devon had developed the eye to be able to pick out the most promising of the catch. Looking in the mirror in the spare bedroom he occupied Devon could see the darkening trail of bruises running down the side of his neck and along his collarbone, and when he lowered his eyes he could follow their path down the front of his torso. Faint scratches were dotted on his chest, and he smirked to himself as he shrugged on a navy shirt. That was what life was really about.

Heading out into the living room, the art teacher stepped over a sleeping Elijah and made his way into the kitchen, following the delicious smell of eggs and bacon. Kris and Cade were pottering around cooking, both looking a damn-site perkier than Devon felt. Devon sat at the little breakfast bar, resting his forehead on the cool granite and idly swatted away Cade's hand as his big brother poked one of the bruises on his neck. “I thought you'd've outgrown that by now.” Grey eyes stayed closed as Devon lifted his head, flipping the bird in the general direction of his brother before once more resting his head on the bench. A plate loaded with deliciousness was slid in front of him. “Come on, eat up. You wanna get there before it gets too busy, don't you?” Devon slowly lifted his head again, blinking at the food unseeingly for a long moment before tucking in.

After Devon had eaten, taken an Alka-Seltzer, put the shirt back on the right way around and finished getting dressed, he and Cade headed out to the car and his brother made the long drive out to the other side of town, stopping at a 24hr off licence so Devon could pick up a bottle of Scotch to take with them. After last night he really didn't feel up to drinking anything else, but some traditions could never be broken even in the case of evil bastard hangovers.

Eventually Cade pulled up at the huge gates, turning off the engine as Devon stared out at the green fields beyond. “Do you want me to come with ya?” Devon's gut reaction was to say yes. Yes he wanted his brother with him, now more so than every other time he had been here in the past fifteen years. It was always hard, and it had been so long since he'd last seen Cade that the thought of being without his company for even a moment filled him with a quiet dread. Yet he had done this alone every year, and it would have felt very awkward to have his brother there. Cade seemed to pick up on Devon's turmoil, and the art teacher breathed a quiet laugh as his big brother ruffled his hair lovingly. “I'll just be in Morrisons, down the road. Give me a bell when you're ready and I'll come get ya.”

Devon nodded and leaned over to hug Cade, taking a deep breath before getting out of the car, shutting the door behind him and waving as Cade drove off to the supermarket about five minutes away. Devon tucked the bottle inside his jacket, pulling the fabric closer against the cold and trying to shake off his disquiet as he made his way through the gates and up the hill.

Even though Devon only came here once a year he knew the way by heart, and within ten minutes he was stood under the dull shade of a huge elm tree that he was fairly certain hadn't changed at all since he was eleven. There was something comforting about the consistency of this place, even through the veil of sadness that hung over it like a cloud. It was still fairly early in the day on Christmas eve and so the place was thankfully mostly deserted, and Devon pulled the bottle out of his jacket as he sat on the cold, damp ground in front of one of the hundreds of stones that littered the hillside. Grey eyes read over the inscription, even though he knew word for word what it said.

In loving memory of
Jacob Wentsworth
1st April 1945 - 28th September 1993
Beloved husband, father and friend
Rest in peace

Devon uncapped the bottle, pouring a measure onto the ground at the foot of the gravestone before taking a long drink himself. It was warming against the bitter cold of the morning, and Devon settled the bottle down between him and the stone. He had never gotten to have a drink with his old man, and over the years this had become Devon's way of bonding with the man who had been taken from the family far before his time. “Hey dad, how's things? I guess you know I'm living in America now; mum's probably told you umpteen times... I'm doing really well. I've got a house and a good job and cats and everything... I think you'd be proud of me... I really miss mum and Cade though. It's real hard not having them there all the time any more... and I really miss you. I know I say that every year, but it's true.” Devon took another drink before pouring another measure onto the ground of his fathers grave. “I miss you, dad.”

[Devon Wentsworth]

[Backdated to Christmas Day]

“Mam I swear, that turkey was fucking aw-OWW!” Devon rubbed at his arm, looking at his mother sat beside him as though she had just hit him with a serving spoon. Largely in fact because that was what had just happened. “What was that for?”

“No swearing at the dinner table. I brought you up better than that.” Lorraine, Devon and Cade's mother, had always held high standards... or attempted to, anyway. It was hard to bring up polite, well-mannered boys when one of them seemed determined to be constantly in trouble and the other spent every moment of the day chasing after his sibling. She had long ago learned to be happy of the fact that at least neither of them had done anything criminal and had stayed clear of drugs and other life-ruining habits. But swearing at the dinner table in front of the rest of the family? That she would not tolerate.

“Sorry mam. I was just tryna say that it was awesome. Thanks.” Devon stood to help his mum clear up the plates, staying at the far end of the table well away from his uncle Keith. Most of the family knew about Devon's meta-status but some of them had been kept in the dark, Keith chief amongst them. The elderly farmer was country-bred and old fashioned, and his opinions on meta-humans were stuck in the mindset of 'lock up all the mutant freaks'. No attempt had ever been made to try to ease him around to the idea of meta's not being all mutant arseholes because there was simply no point. It would be easier to try to change the direction of a tornado. Devon's power was hardly visible like this, but it still always left the younger Wentsworth uncomfortable around his uncle and he had spent the past fifteen years or so subtly avoiding him as much as possible.

It was good seeing all the rest of the family together though. In total there was seventeen people around the massive table in his mum's living room and it was one hell of a squeeze gathering all the plates up, but soon they had managed and Devon started rinsing off the plates while Lorraine was helped by Cade to get the two large Christmas puddings ready.

Five minutes later everyone was once more sat around the table, some eating Christmas pudding and some working their way through a yule log; Devon devouring some pudding with brandy butter that was far more brandy than it was butter. Keith had been mostly quiet throughout the meal, but then Auntie Josie had asked him how his farm was and that had prompted him to speak about badgers.

“You know I've shot seven of the bloody things this month already? That's not even elsewhere; that's just on my farm! I swear, this cull couldn't have been announced any earlier. They're everywhere, it's no wonder all the cattle farmers are shitting themselves. You don't know how many there are until you go looking. Still, once they're in the sights, they're easy enough to get; not exactly the quickest of animals. And the bounty on them is always a nice Christmas bonus.”

Devon finally reacted to the kicking he was receiving under the table, grey eyes turning to his big brother. Cade's face was slightly grim, and he glanced down at Devon's hand. Devon followed his gaze and quickly dropped his spoon, gently wriggling his hand with knuckles that had gone white from their death-grip around the cutlery. Cade leaned forward, looking around Devon to their mother. “We're just going to get some drinks, back in a moment. Excuse us.”

The arm on his shoulder led Devon into the kitchen, the art teacher letting out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding in. “I was fine y'know.”

Cade just tutted and shook his head, moving to sit on the worktop near the sink. “You were growling... Look, I know you don't like it. None of us do. But it's only for today. I know he's a prick, but he's dad's brother... Keep your head on for that, ey?”

Devon bit back a bitter laugh, pouring out a shot of the leftover brandy and quickly necking it with a slight wince. His face was flushed, partly from his annoyance and partly from the roll-neck shirt he was having to wear to hide the ring of bruises around his neck. It was partly becoming due to the alcohol as well. At the end of this holiday his liver would be due a much needed break of its own. “The man's a prick. I should shift into a badger and go in there and rip his hand off. Try firing a gun then, arsehole.”

Rubbing his brow, Cade just slid off the counter and moved over to his brother, pouring out a glass of orange juice for each of them. “Come on... Just another hour or so, then they will all fuck off and me, you and mum can all watch bad Christmas movies like we always do, hmm? We'll start with The Santa Claus and by the time we get to the end of that you will be drunk and asleep, and me and mum can watch It's A Wonderful Life without you talking all the way through it. Tradition.”

After a long moment Devon nodded slowly, hugging his brother tightly before picking up the two glasses and heading back to the living room. He paused outside, taking a deep steadying breath. Ignore Keith. Ignore the fact he's been merrily shooting badgers. Ignore all the bullshit. Focus on what's important.

Once Devon was certain he could go back into the room without fursploding and attacking his uncle, he stepped into the living room and sat back down next to his mum. Lorraine reached under the table, giving her youngest son's hand a reassuring squeeze. Devon smiled at her warmly before slipping on his clown mood, grinning brightly at everyone sat around the table. “So! Who's for charades?”

[Devon Wentsworth]

It was fast approaching the countdown, and Devon's mood was high as he all but vibrated with energy in the large pub not far from his mum's home. Family and friends and strangers alike had gathered in the Boat And Horses and the atmosphere was buzzing as Devon carried the tray of glasses back towards the table where his brother, mother and a select few family and friends were gathered around a large table. He hadn't run off with anyone yet, partly because no one had caught his eye yet and partly because it still felt a little awkward copping off with someone while his mother was sat there.

But oh! The night was still very young and his mother would go home with most of the family members not long after midnight, leaving him very open and very free to go a'hunting. In honesty he knew that his mother knew about his rather more promiscuous slant on life, but he still didn't like to show it off when she was around. Admittedly he didn't have many standards but that was certainly one he followed closely.

As he placed the tray down on the table half a dozen arms reached out and grabbed their drinks, Devon taking his own once everyone else had taken their own. “Everyone's getting ready to go out. We wanna get a good spot we should go now.”

With that everyone stood, putting on their coats and jackets and woolly hats and heading out the wide double-doors into the beer garden of the pub. It was a typical Leeds winter night, chilly but not too cold with a faint drizzle in the air and a thick cover of clouds overhead. Walking down to the bottom of the beer garden where the fence was, the view looked out over the river Aire and to the country park beyond. That was where everyone's attention would be turned at midnight.

The Leeds new years fireworks display was always a grand spectacle, and the Boat And Horses pub gave by far the best view of it. The lights reflected beautifully off the water and they were close enough to see them in all their majesty but far enough away that they didn't all choke on the smoke fumes. Tickets into the pub were never cheap, but it was where Devon and his family had come every year since he was about nine years old.

Sipping his beer, Cade draped one of his arms around his mum's shoulder as Devon stood on his other side rather quickly working his way through a vodka and coke. The night did have a rather bittersweet feel to it for the younger Wentsworth. His overall mood and energy was high, as it always was at new year. It was a time of new beginnings, new promises and new hopes for the future. But he couldn't shake the knowledge lurking at the back of his mind; this would be his last night out with Cade for a long while. On the 2nd he would be on a plane on his way back home, and that thought filled him with more sadness than he would ever openly admit to anyone.

Slipping his phone out of his pocket, Devon quickly fired a group text out to Ferris and Roman. 'Probably be comatose when it's new year there, so saying it now. Happy new year! Have a good one!'

Once it marked as sent Devon slid the phone back into his pocket, looping his arm around his big brother's waist moments before the countdown began.

TEN...
NINE...
EIGHT...
SEVEN...
SIX...
FIVE...
FOUR...
THREE...
TWO...
ONE!

The sky exploded into a chaos of colour and sound as the first rockets fired up the night sky, the cheers from the pub beer garden and from the park on the other side of the river deafening as everyone shouted and whooped with excitement and joy, saying goodbye to 2013 and welcoming in 2014. The synchronised display of music and fireworks launched into full swing as everyone started reaching for their lovers, following the old tradition of welcoming in the new year with a kiss, a symbol of love to grow over the coming year.

Lorraine turned to her right, sharing a kiss on the cheek with her friend Alan. Cade was watching the fireworks and cheering loudly with everyone else when he was abruptly interrupted, his head grabbed and turned to the side where his lips collided with those of his little brother.

Devon laughed brightly as he let go of Cade's head, ducking back to avoid the playful swipe that was aimed at his own head. “What? We didn't have anyone else, and it's bad luck not to!”

Cade pulled a disgusted face but the mock look failed as he dissolved into laughter too, using the sleeve of his coat to wipe his lips. “Scruffy little fucker. The Vatican called; you're going to hell.”

The younger Wentsworth laughed brightly, embracing his brother firmly and exploding with joy as Cade hugged him back equally tightly. Long moments later the boys opened their arms up, bringing their mother into the group hug. A single tear rolled down Devon's cheek as he bit back a sob, the combined joy and sadness pressing heavily on his chest. Joy for getting to spend new year with his family... and sadness because he had absolutely no clue when he would get to see them again after he went back to America.

2014 was already proving to be one hell of a ride and it was only minutes old. Who knew just what the rest of the year would hold in store for them all?

[Devon Wentsworth]

[Backdated to 3rd March 2014]

With his feet up on the coffee table, legs crossed at the ankles, Devon was reclined back on the sofa with his laptop on the tray across his lap. It had been a long, tiring day spent helping his students start to come up with ideas for their end of year projects, and he had really been looking forward to just kicking back and watching a few cheesy movies, preferably with an even cheesier pizza and a couple of beers to keep him company.

Well, the pizza and beers were happening at least. The remnants of the double pepperoni with extra cheese were sat in the box at the other end of the coffee table, with Uno occasionally stealing a bite of the crust. He was an odd cat in every sense of the word. Bliss lay curled up asleep on the sofa beside Devon, her tail twitching as she dreamed, and in the background the TV showed season two of Game of Thrones with the volume turned low. Devon often had that show on in the background while he was doing other things, but today he was paying far less attention to it than usual. In fact, he hadn't even noticed that the last episode on the disc had finished and it had returned to the looping title menu almost twenty minutes ago.

A frustrated sigh left the art teacher’s lips as grey eyes scanned over the typed up list in front of him for what must have been the fortieth time. Why on earth had he volunteered to do this? It should have been a simple task that took up half an hour at the absolute most, and yet he had been working on it for somewhere close to three hours. Granted some of that time had been spent eating pizza and quoting parts of one of the episodes almost word for word (‘Would it be excessive of me to ask you to save my life twice in a week?’), but it was still proving to be a very difficult and laborious process and he was twenty seconds away from just giving up and throwing the damned CD straight out of the window.

Beside him Bliss stirred, the ginger and white overgrown kitten stretching in her sleep, one of her front paws coming to rest on the side of his leg. Despite his initial reservations about getting the kitten instead of another adult cat, Devon did not regret a second of it now. Sure he liked Uno, despite the grey tom’s miserable nature, but he adored Bliss. Even though she was technically past the kitten stage now she was still so very young at heart and had enough love in her tiny little body for an entire nation, and she purred softly in her slumber as Devon ran a hand lightly over the top of her head. It was a nice momentary reprieve from the massive annoyance that the CD was turning out to be.

It should have been a simple task, and for anyone else it likely would have been. Had Ferris or Roman or Kateri or hell, even Sean, asked for a selection of songs to demo his favourite band, Devon would have been able to throw a disc together in a heartbeat. He would have been able to so quickly decide on which songs, in what order, and had it in their pigeon holes the next morning. Why was it proving to be so very much more difficult, just because it was Midori he was doing it for and not any of his other friends?

Deep down he did know why; he didn't want to give her the wrong idea.

Sure he liked Midori as a friend, but he didn't like her like her, and he knew it would be epically shitty of him to potentially make her think things she really shouldn't be thinking. He was a romantic dead-end with no intention of ever going there, especially not with a co-worker, and... damnit, that was the problem with Muse. For every epic song about the end of the world or the hidden agendas of people in power or the controlling power of the media, there was an equally amazing song about the trials and tribulations of the heart or coping with the controlling effects of love. Then there were others that were just flat-out unabashed audio porn.

It was all proving to make picking a selection to share with Midori very, very difficult indeed. He knew he could just go with all of the 'safe' topic ones... but then some of his absolute favourites would be missed off, and that kinda defied the whole point of the CD. The poor case for the disc had been doodled on until there was not a centimetre of plastic or paper sleeve left without some sort of drawing on it, and Devon knew he really had no excuse to keep procrastinating any more.

Grey eyes looked up at the clock. Half past midnight, and he had to be up at six so he could shower before going to work. “Shit.”

With a final grump of frustration, Devon snatched at the mouse and quickly scrolled through the Media Player list, clicking on all of his favourites so quickly he didn't have a chance to second-guess them. Then he hit the 'burn to disc' button. It had taken him a grand total of two minutes to complete a task that he had spent the entire evening questioning, putting off and getting mightily frustrated over. Hopefully she would like it, and if not... well... It didn't matter, really.

Once the laptop ejected the disc after finishing burning the songs to it, Devon removed the disc and put it into the rather elaborately doodled case. He'd make a list of the songs at some point tomorrow before dropping it into the mailbox so she could grab it next time she was in. Assuming he didn't wimp out and just bin it, of course.

It was nearing one am before Devon finally collapsed into his bed, Bliss curling up at the foot of it. He fidgeted awkwardly as he drifted off to sleep, the knot of what he told himself was only indigestion tightening his stomach.

The CD playlist

[Devon Wentsworth]

‘I will, I will’ she sighed to my request,
And then she tossed her mane while my resolve was put to the test.
Then drowned in desire, our souls on fire, I lead the way to the funeral pyre.
And without a thought of the consequence I gave in to my decadence.
One slip, and down the hole we fall…

Winter was coming.

For many people this was an exciting thing. Winter meant Christmas and snow and hot chocolate and other good things. Sure it meant those things for Devon too, but it also meant several months of constant aches and pains. The cold affected his muscles and joints to the point that just walking became more tiring that usual, and he spent an increased amount of time in his other forms as they were naturally far better equipped to deal with the cold than he was. However, he couldn’t spend all his time running around as an otter or badger, so he had taken to other methods to control the aches.

Pain medication.

Whilst fine occasionally in small doses, during the cold months Devon’s intake of them was hardly limited to once or twice a week. He knew the risks associated with taking larger quantities of pain medications, especially the stronger ones, and had decided to go for regular check-ups at the doctors to make sure his body was processing them properly and he wasn’t causing any danger to his system. Well… he said he decided to do that. In reality Cade had threatened him into it.

The twice-yearly checks had been going on for about six years now, and Devon had made sure to sign up for the appointments when he’d moved State-side so they could continue. His appointment had been two weeks before and he’d passed the physical check absolutely fine, and was just awaiting the results of the bloodwork and other tests they had ran. He fully expected it to be fine, as it always was. He was as healthy as the metaphorical horse, his body just felt like he was ninety when it got cold. That’s all.

The Brit had just finished lessons for the day and headed home, ready to spend the evening lounging around with a few beers, a pizza and season 4 of Fringe. A lazy plan sure, but Monday’s were always hard and he felt like he deserved to switch off for a while. There was a small amount of post as he got in, and he looked over the envelopes as he greeted the cats and dumped his bag onto the sofa. Two fliers, one that looked like it would be a slightly early birthday card from someone, and one that looked like it was probably from the doctors. Well, should probably get the boring one out of the way first.

Devon slumped onto the sofa, lightly scritching Bliss’ back as she hopped onto his lap. He opened the enveloped and started reading over the letter. Bloodwork fine, kidney and liver function normal. However, one of the tests was positive for… for...

“…. You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!”

Twenty minutes later and Devon had phoned the doctors. It had taken the poor woman on the other end of the phone a solid five minutes to convince him that the letter was correct and it was correctly addressed to him. It had then taken even longer to convince him that he wasn’t dying but he did need to make an appointment to see the doctor as soon as possible. Needless to say Devon’s appetite was well and truly gone, and he was still not quite convinced he wasn’t dying. Shakily he dialled the number he knew off by heart. The oh-so familiar voice was a delight to hear, even if it did seem a touch grumpy.

“I’m at work, Devon. What do you want?”
“Cade… I think… I think I’m dying…”

Devon heard the click of the monitor being turned off, the scrape of a chair as Cade got up and left the office where there would no doubt have been others milling around. Devon waited impatiently, fidgeting on his spot on the sofa while he waited for Cade to get to somewhere they could talk. After what felt like a week had passed Cade’s voice came back over the line, the grumpiness having being replaced with deep concern.

“What’s wrong? Did you get your doctor’s results back? Is it to do with that?”
“Yeah, but… it’s not my kidneys or anything.
“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Cade… I’ve got chlamydia.”

The silence along the line stretched out for what felt like an eternity. “Cade? Cade, y’still there?”

When Cade spoke again his voice was quiet but firm, not willing to listen to any argument. “You’re not dying, dickhead. Get an appointment booked and get on antibiotics. You’ll be fine in a few weeks. I’m going back to work now, I’ll call you when I get home.

Devon stared at the phone in stunned disbelief as Cade hung up on him. How DARE he hang up on his potentially dying baby brother! For as much as Devon could be rational, he was also prone to panic over small things and for him losing the use of his parts was akin to having a deadly plague. What the hell had he done to deserve this cruel fate?

Well… In truth he knew exactly what he had done, but that knowledge was doing nothing to soothe his bruised pride.

[Lyrics: One Slip by Pink Floyd.]