Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Ignite
Lark sighed, resting his head in his hand as he stared blankly over the counter.
Normally, he would be reading his textbook for tomorrow’s class, but he’d forgotten it at his apartment in his haste to make it to work on time. L.A. traffic was no joke, even just the pedestrian kind. Now he had nothing to do but stare at the stocked shelves, bright lights, and the few people still wandering around so early in the morning as they passed the clear glass of the storefront.
Humming under his breath, he let himself zone out for a moment, mentally cataloguing the things he still had to do for the week. Finish writing that Medieval History paper. Study for next week’s Psychology quiz. Reserve a music room to practice his vocal performance. Figure out what to buy Jason for his birthday in a few weeks. Remember to check in with the kids to make sure they were still alive and hadn’t drunk themselves to death. Give Bay another scathing lecture about responsibility.
He glanced up as the door slid open, straightening his back and offering a polite, practiced smile to the man in the suit who’d stumbled in on shaky legs. He would have been handsome if he weren’t so sweaty and red-faced, his white shirt soaked through under his unbuttoned blazer. Well, actually, Lark had to admit that he was still handsome even in his rough condition, which wasn’t entirely fair.
On closer inspection, it looked like he hadn’t slept well for weeks, dark circles smearing exhaustion across his expression. Lark set his mouth in a thin line even as his forehead furrowed in concern. He looked away. “Stop caring so much, you idiot,” he repeated like a mantra under his breath.
The man staggered for a moment before disappearing behind a shelf.
A few seconds later and he’d already staggered back, a bottle of hangover medicine and an energy drink slammed unceremoniously down on the counter in front of Lark. Lark hurriedly scanned the items, avoiding eye contact as he read the total. “Eight dollars, please,” he said.
The man grumbled as he patted around his pockets until he managed to locate a credit card. Lark managed to snag it just as it fell out of the man’s fingers. Huffing in relief, Lark swiped the credit card himself.
Denied.
“Umm, sir, I’m sorry, but it says that your card was denied,” Lark said, holding the card in front of him with both hands. “Do you…maybe…have some other card or cash…?” Lark asked hesitantly. He felt bad for the guy.
“What the heck,” the man muttered, fumbling around through his pockets again and coming out empty-handed. He stared at Lark despondently. “No, I guess not…” he sighed, words slurring together at the end. Because he was close to Lark’s height, when he hunched his shoulders in disappointment, it almost made him seem small.
“Oh,” Lark said, fingers curling into fists. Stop caring so much. Stop caring so much! “How about…I just…” Lark sighed, pulling his own wallet from his back pocket. “You look like you need it, so…” He quickly bagged the two items, pushing the small bag towards the man.
“Thanks…” the man said, voice despondent as he pulled it from the counter. “I…” he shook his head. “Thanks.”
Lark nodded curtly, offering his trademarked polite smile as the man dragged himself from the store.
“Idiot,” Lark sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He needed that money.
A snicker startled Lark from his self pity. “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say about someone.”
A man had slipped inside the doors while Lark had been distracted with the drunk. Lark flushed. “I wasn’t—“
“No worries,” the man said lazily, throwing a disinterested hand in the air.
Lark sighed again, eyes tracing the man as he meandered around the candy and cup noodles stocked near the front. He looked around Lark’s age, with dyed blonde hair and a tattered leather jacket clinging tightly to his frame. He was good looking, and with the way he carried himself, he probably knew it.
“Will you buy this for me?” the man asked suddenly, grabbing an instant ramen package from the shelves and waving it at Lark.
“Wh-what?” Lark spluttered. “No! I mean…can you really not afford it?” he asked hesitantly.
“Aw,” the man said, lopsided grin revealing a spectacular dimple. “You would have really paid for it, wouldn’t you?” Lark made a choking noise. He really would have. Idiot.
He sauntered up to the counter and slapped a fifty dollar bill on its surface. Lark stared at it. “Keep the change,” the man grinned, walking out with his ramen.
“Wait, I have to ring that--!” Lark tried, but the man was already gone.
He looked down at the large note, breaking it with the change left in the register and putting in the two dollars for the ramen. He didn’t know what to do with the leftover money. Who on earth just gave away fifty dollars for instant ramen? It felt wrong, dirty even, to think of pocketing it. He made a mental note to donate it to the next church he passed.
He paused, catching himself.
“Stop caring so much, Lark!”
What a strange night.
***********
“Lark!”
“Huh? What? I’m awake!” Lark spluttered, nearly rolling out of bed in his haste to get up.
“Right,” Kal said bluntly. “You have class in half an hour.”
Eyes widening, Lark turned to the clock next to his bed and gasped. What was with him lately? He was never late. Never! Was this some kind of karma for trying to be less nice to people? “Thanks, Kal!” he said, rushing to his closet and throwing on the first things he could lay hands on. He scrambled into the bathroom and combed his dark hair while simultaneously brushing his teeth, starting to sweat from the stress.
On his way out the door, Kal thrust a full travel mug into his hands, the strong scent of coffee already helping to wake him up.
“Thanks,” Lark said, slowing down a little to convey his appreciation. “Really, Kal—“
“Ten minutes,” Kal said.
Lark booked it.
He was still five minutes late to the lecture, skulking into one of the back-row seats, but the lecture hall was so large that he doubted anyone besides the few people near the door even noticed.
He glanced at the lecture slides being displayed on a gigantic screen at the front center of the room. “Narcissistic Personality Disorder,” the first one read, and Lark sighed in relief. Personality disorders. He knew about those. He didn’t miss anything, after all.
Lark wasn’t a Psychology major, but he’d always found the subject interesting. It wasn’t very difficult to learn, and it never hurt to know more about how people’s brains worked, particularly his own. It was a way to compartmentalize. To rationalize. To somehow explain the stupid, emotional side of himself that continually made bad decisions.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Lark pulled it out to read it under the lecture table.
Fr: Bay
Lunch????? Y/N?????
Y
Lark rolled his eyes.
Fr: Lark
Where?
Fr: Bay
Jas brought leftovers yest. Our place?
Fr: Lark
K
He would never pass up greasy Chinese food, especially when it was free.
Bay was always…a little too much for Lark. He was the ultimate free spirit compacted into a tiny, energetic body. While he was glad they were friends, he was often just as glad that they were no longer roommates. He kept Lark young, but gave him grey hairs at the same time. Bay had definitely found a more suitable roommate in Jason. He was willing to go along with whatever Bay wanted, and he seemed to have an unearthly tolerance for whining. They’d moved to an apartment near but off campus because Jason was too tall to fit comfortably inside student housing.
“Remember, quiz next week!” the professor announced, students flipping notebooks closed and shutting laptop lids.
Lark looked down at his notebook, startled to see he had written exactly nothing. Stupid.
The person in the seat next to him dropped their book with a startled cry, and Lark leaned down hurriedly to pick it up. Still in a half daze, he hit the back of his head against the table top on the way back up. “Ouch,” he grumbled, rubbing at the back of his head as he handed the book back with a smile.
“Are…are you okay?” the other student asked, concern in his voice.
“I’m fine, just an idiot,” Lark replied, smile more sincere this time even as his skull radiated with pain.
“Hey, do you…maybe, want to copy my notes?” the other student offered, almond eyes sparkling. “You came in late, and then you didn’t write anything down, so I figured maybe something was up.”
Lark stared, surprised. “Would that be okay?” he wondered. “I don’t want to put you out, or anything.”
“Oh, it’s completely fine!” he said happily. “This is my only class today, anyway.”
“Thank you, ugh…” Lark said, looking at him expectantly.
“Lucien,” the student proffered, “but I go by Luke. I’m actually a grad student, but they let us get away with taking an easy elective to avoid complete brain melt.” He did seem oddly nicely dressed for a college class, with dark-washed jeans and a collared shirt, both slim-fit against his lean but apparent muscles. .
“You look even younger than me!” Lark said, surprised. “I’m Lark. Lark Jones. Well, really, thank you. If you don’t mind, I can just copy these quickly at the library and give them back to you.”
“Of course,” Luke smiled, his grin childish and endearing.
They left the building together, Lark holding Luke’’s notebook to his chest like it was treasure and Luke smiling happily at nothing. “So, why were you late today?” Luke said, reaching out to pull a bit of fuzz off of Lark’s threadbare sweater, hand brushing over his chest.
“I’m honestly not sure,” Lark admitted, quirking his brow at the unusually familiar gesture and fighting the overreactive flash of panic that unexpected touch tended to provoke. “I worked late, I mean—early—today, but I usually always do, and I’ve never woken up late before. I guess it’s just bad luck this time.”
“But you met me, so is it really?” Luke joked.
“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Lark smiled wryly.
Lark copied the notes quickly with the library scanner, emailing them to his school account as he offered Lucien’s notebook back with both hands. “Again, thank you so much. I don’t know where my head was at today.”
“Hey, no problem! I’m happy to help after you practically gave yourself a concussion!” he laughed, cheeks rosy.
“Hey,” Lark said, tilting his head in consideration. “I know you said you only have one class today, but are you busy right now?”
“I’m free as a bird! Why?” Luke asked.
“Do you like Chinese food?”
************
“Put the chicken down, Jason!” Bay shrieked, holding his chopsticks like a weapon as he circled the couch, with Jason mirroring his movements on the other side.
“I’m the one who brought the food, so I can eat what I want!” Jason growled back, petulantly stuffing his cheeks with the meat.
“I hate you! Stupid, big-eared—“
“I brought a guest,” Lark interrupted, shaking his head as he closed the door behind himself and Luke. Jae and Grant were watching the show from the living room carpet, and Kal was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, the corner of his mouth subtly turned upwards. Lark had gotten much better at reading his moods, even with the slightest twitch of an eyebrow.
“Luke, these are my…friends,” Lark sighed, watching with embarrassment as Bay vaulted over the couch and clung to Jason, reaching futilely for the takeout box.
“Hello!” Luke waved, not put off in the slightest.
“There’s more food in the kitchen,” Kal said, baritone voice filling the room in a way that even Bay’s screaming couldn’t.
“This is Kal,” Lark said, leading Luke into the kitchen. “Kal, this is Luke from my Psychology class. He’s a grad student.”
Kal dipped his head in greeting, but said nothing otherwise, eyes following Bay and Jason’s battle. He never spoke much around people he didn’t know well.
Lark grabbed the nearest container, which happened to be filled with fried rice, sticking it into the microwave.
“Wow, so much food!” Luke marveled at the full table.
“Jason works at a Chinese chain restaurant that clears itself out every Thursday night. Everyone else who works there is sick of the food and the potential for food poisoning, so Jason just takes it all.” Lark explained, as Luke peered into the containers.
“I’m going to kill you!” Bay screamed from the living room.
“Should we be worried about that?” Luke questioned.
“No,” Lark said. “Bay would never hurt Jason. I’m not actually sure he physically can.”
Not that Lark was in any place to judge, he was probably even shorter than Bay was. He liked to think his cheekbones had more character, though.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Luke said mysteriously, waggling his eyebrows.
Lark let out a huff of laughter, glancing at Kal as he continued to watch the two bickering in the other room. “Believe me, with friends like mine, I am aware.” He pulled his fried rice from the microwave and was about to take his first bite when there was a loud thunk from the living room.
“Lark!” Jae cried, racing into the kitchen with Grant hot on his heels. “Bay’s bleeding!”
“What?!” Lark said, turning an accusatory eye on the expressionless Kal. “Why didn’t you stop them? You were watching!”
“Some lessons can only be learned by experience,” Kal shrugged.
Lark abandoned his food on the table as he rushed into the living room.
“Bay? Bay? Are you okay? Where does it hurt?” Jason hovered nervously over Bay, who was sprawled on the couch with a hand over his left temple. “I’m sorry, I--! Bay! Why aren’t you talking? Bay?”
“Because my head hurts, Bigfoot!” Bay grumbled, sitting up slowly and grimacing as his hand came away bloody.
“Let me look at it,” Lark said, nudging Jason to the side and carefully pushing Bay’s hair from his forehead. It was just a small cut, maybe a few centimeters long, but it was bleeding profusely. “It doesn’t look too bad, but we need to apply pressure.”
“Here,” Luke appeared at Lark’s side with a hand towel. Lark accepted it gratefully, pressing it to Bay’s head. The latter hissed but held still, raising his own hand to maintain the pressure so that Lark could let go.
“What happened?” Lark asked, unable to prevent glaring at Jason.
“I didn’t mean to! He just got tangled and tripped!” Jason whined. It was odd, to say the least, coming from such a large person.
“It’s not his fault,” Bay said, wincing as he pressed harder. “Hit the table edge on the way down.”
Lark just shook his head and shuffled to the bathroom, pulling the first aid kit from under the sink. He set the kit on the coffee table before rifling through its contents, pulling out gauze and surgical tape as well as medicated ointment. He turned to Jason.
“Jace, make sure he keeps pressure on that for a few minutes. If it’s stopped bleeding or looks like it’s clotting, tape his head. If it’s still bleeding, come get me. Okay?” Lark said patiently.
“Kay,” Jason mumbled, gingerly sitting next to Bay on the couch and staring at him pensively, like he was afraid to touch him.
Lark nodded and returned to the kitchen, only to find Jae and Grant eating the rice he’d heated up. “Really?” he frowned, picking up another container at random and sticking it in the microwave.
“Sorry, Lark,” Grant said sheepishly. “We were hungry.”
“What good are you if you won’t even let me eat?” Lark muttered in mock outrage. “Oh, it’s fine. There’s plenty left.”
“Hmm,” Luke said, eyeing Lark with an interested grin as he leaned against the table. “Everyone comes to you in an emergency.”
Lark sighed. “I’m the mom friend. Against my will. They would probably die if I didn’t at least try to patch them up.”
“You ran out of here awful fast for it to be against your will,” Luke said.
Lark shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention.
“Lark,” Kal said. “You have class in half an hour.”
“What? Already?” Lark whined. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “Okay. Kal, make sure Bay doesn’t bleed to death, alright?” Kal didn’t respond, just gave him an unimpressed look.
Lark shouldered his school bag and nodded to Luke. “Sorry about this. I didn’t realize the time. I don’t mean to abandon you.”
“Oh, I think I can keep myself entertained,” Luke smiled. “But, aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’ll grab something later,” Lark waved it off. “I’ll see you in class, Luke”
He steadfastly ignored the puppy eyes that Jason was sending him from the couch, rushing out the door in a hurry to get back to campus on time. Just one thing thrown off in his day, and everything else was following suit. It was a guarantee that he would never be late again.
***********
Lark was late again.
He burst into the convenience store with no air in his lungs and sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead. His coworker barely gave him time to inhale before she pulled her vest off and pushed past him. “Sor—“ Lark tried, but she was already gone.
“Ugh,” Lark groaned, shuffling behind the counter and shrugging the uniform vest on over his clothes, pushing his backpack next to his feet.
“I was wondering when you would get here,” someone said, and Lark jumped, startled, putting a hand over his chest. “I’ve been waiting here forever. I have better things to do, you know.”
He looked around frantically before spotting the same man from yesterday, the one with the leather jacket, step out from behind a shelf. His blonde hair was neatly styled, and his clothing was much more formal. Lark had to wonder what, exactly, he did for a living.
“You…were waiting for me?” Lark said incredulously. “Why? Actually, how did you know I’d be here tonight?” The last thing he needed was a stalker, even if it was good looking one.
“I asked your manager,” the man shrugged.
“He’s not legally allowed to tell you that! And again, why would you do that?” Lark said suspiciously.
“Hey, I don’t have any ill intent,” the man said, putting his hands in the air defensively. “I was just curious.”
“About?” Lark pressed.
“What he’s going to do,” the man said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Lark stared at him blankly. He was running off of caffeine and desperation, and he didn’t want to deal with any suspicious characters when he had homework to do. “Okay, I’m not going to pretend I have any idea what you’re talking about, but I also don’t really care that much.” He sighed, wiping at his forehead with the back of his arm. “Oh, but, hold on—“ Lark said, reaching into his bag. “Here,” he pulled out the money the man had overpaid last night.
“Are you seriously giving that back to me?” the man said, approaching the counter.
“Of course I am! It’s not mine!” Lark said, almost offended.
“Well, I don’t want it back, either!” the man said.
“That’s not my problem!” Lark said, holding the money out.
“I’d say it is.”
“Look, just take the money and go away, would you!” Lark said, shaking his hands for emphasis.
The man took hold of Lark’s wrist and attempted to shove the handful of bills back in his direction, but Lark stubbornly resisted, even over the spike of fear. “Stop it!” Lark huffed, becoming slightly concerned at how strong the man’s grip was.
One moment, the man was laughing in his face, and the next, he was being tackled to the ground by a blur in a business suit.
Lark stared, frozen, as the two figures rolled around on the laminate floor in front of the counter.
“Call the police!” the man in the suit said, trying to wrestle the first man’s arms behind his back.
“What the hell?” the first man said, using his legs to buck the suited man off of him. He threw a punch, and then they were rolling around again, limbs flying.
“Hey!” Lark said, heart seizing. “Hey, stop it!”
They didn’t listen.
It was clear that both of them had some kind of defense or martial arts training, because while they continued to maneuver, neither one of them was gaining an upper hand. It was a lot of twisting and turning and grunted expletives.
“Hey!” Lark screamed, hopping the counter. “What the hell are you doing?!”
“Jun, fucking—!” the blonde man yelled. “It’s Rome, you idiota !”
“Huh?” the man in the suit paused, narrowing his eyes. “Rome?”
“Yeah, Rome!” the man rolled his eyes, pushing the man in the suit off of him.
“Oh,” Jun blinked. “Rome, why were you robbing this store?”
“I wasn’t robbing the store, you—“
“Would you both please get off the floor?” Lark sighed, trying to calm his pounding heart.
“Oh!” Jun said, cheeks flushing as he scrambled onto his feet. “I…I’m sorry, I…I guess I misunderstood. I just…he was trying to take your money, and—“
“No, I was trying to get him to keep the money!” Rome said, climbing to his feet with a groan. “Because you were so drunk yesterday that you let this college student buy your drink for you! You’re just as much of a loser as I thought you’d be.”
“I…” Jun sighed. “I barely remember last night.” He pulled his phone from his trouser pocket, fiddling with it before he turned the screen towards Lark. Lark was confused before he realized that it was a blurry picture taken of him through the glass of the storefront, the store’s name and logo emblazoned on the door. “I found this in my phone. I guess drunk me at least remembered that he wanted to pay you back.”
“That’s…nice?” Lark said, still a little overwhelmed at what was going on. Remembering his original goal, he approached Rome intently.
“Wha—“ Rome began, but before he could react, Lark had stuffed the handful of bills down the front of his shirt.
“Now it’s your problem again,” Lark shrugged.
Rome stared, wide-eyed.
“Now, would you guys leave? I’m working,” Lark said, stepping behind the counter again.
“Oh, okay, but I was just going to pay you—“ Jun tried.
“No,” Lark said.
“But—“
“No,” Lark repeated sternly.
“Would you just—“
“No!” Lark said, pulling his history book from his bag and slamming it on the counter.
“Drunk me remembers you being much nicer than this,” Jun mumbled.
“We have to pay you back,” Rome said.
“Too bad,” Lark said petulantly, fear sufficiently overcome by annoyance.
“Look, we literally have to return the favor!” Rome said, frustrated. “Why won’t you just take the money?”
“Because you made me mad, and now I don’t feel like it,” Lark said bluntly. “It’s a few dollars. Just let it go, and more importantly, leave! Unless…you buy something,” he added grudgingly. “And pay the actual amount this time!”
“You’re the only person I’ve met in this place who won’t take free money,” Rome said. “Is there something wrong with your head?”
“Rome!” Jun hissed. “You can’t just say things like that!”
“I can do whatever I want, actually,” Rome shrugged. “Got a problem with that, partner?”
The sound of shattering glass. Shards exploding over the floor, as chips and soup went flying from the shelves.
Lark didn’t understand what had happened, until the two men were sprinting behind the counter and shoving Lark down to the floor. “That was sooner than I expected,” Rome said, keeping his hand on Lark’s shoulder.
“They had a chance, and they took it,” Jun frowned, daring to peer over the edge of the counter.
“Are we being shot at?” Lark said incredulously. “What…what the…” he stuttered, beginning to feel faint.
“Oh, shit,” Rome said, maneuvering Lark’s body like it was nothing until he had a clear view of Lark’s side. “Graze,” he said, like it was nothing. “Still losing some blood.”
Lark looked down to follow his line of sight until his eyes hit the bloody gash by the top of his ribs. He hadn’t even felt it. “Oh,” Lark said, eyes widening. “That looks like it should hurt more.”
“You’re probably a bit in shock,” Jun said, eyes softening as though in concern. “Just hold still, and we’ll get you out of here, okay?”
“Someone should really apply pressure to that,” Lark said absently, head spinning.
Rome pulled a gun from the back of his waistband.
“I have homework,” Lark protested, vision beginning to spot.
“Yeah, I don’t care,” Rome said.
“We still owe him, Ro,” Jun said calmly.
“I hate this,” Rome complained.
“Me too!” Lark said.
“Well then you should have just taken the money!”
It was a circular argument, and Lark was getting really tired. Sighing, he rested his head against the inside of the counter, eyes fluttering shut.