Chapter Text
Death the Kid wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, truth be told. One minute he and his friends (he still couldn’t shake the strangeness of what it was like having true friends, of having a found family that were connected to him without obligation) were sitting outside of Gallows Mansion, on one of the large balconies that rivaled the size of bedrooms, all huddled around the fire pit in their respective chairs, and the next Kid found himself speaking up, yellow irises not daring to leave the rim of his can of sparkling death water.
It was amidst the idle conversation of the group declaring how they should all find a way in order to celebrate their accomplishment of graduating from the DWMA, when Kid’s voice broke through. “My father owns numerous resorts. I’m certain we could rent one out in celebration.”
Every eye turned towards him, and Kid did his best not to falter. Mouths agape, eyes wide, all attention was locked to him in utter disbelief. While the idea was admittedly surprising, Kid didn’t necessarily anticipate a strong reaction. He made a conscious effort to appear nonchalant and shrugged. “What? He’s Lord Death. Don’t act surprised.”
“Why are you just now telling us this, man? We could’ve had the best parties ever!” Soul groaned as if the information is somehow troubling to him and dramatically flailed his arms over his face as he leaned back into his bean bag chair. Maka whacked him across the arm with surprising force and twisted her face in a scowl. Soul rubbed defensively at his arm in response and shot her with an equally aggravated expression. “What? Do you not think this information would’ve been fucking cool as hell to know before now?”
“Soul, you’re such an idiot-”
“Now wait just a second, Maka,” Liz spoke up, leaning forward, elbows on her knees and face twisted in what Kid assumed was some mixture of confusion and anger. “Soul is definitely an idiot, but maybe he’s onto something here. Kid, you brat! Why didn’t you tell any of us that your dad owned resorts? We could’ve had weekends at the spa! You suck!”
“Yeah, Kid!” Blackstar chimed in despite Tsubaki’s gentle arm on his shoulder as a subtle sign of protest, “what gives? You keepin’ that all to yourself?”
That earned a scoff from Kid as he rolled his eyes and waved his hand at the wrist, as if trying to shoo the nonsense out of the air. “Please,” he said, “I hardly ever went. The idea of all of that sand and the slime on those rocks and the bacteria from the creatures in the water-”
“Paradise,” Soul whispered absently, before Maka had a chance to slap his knee.
“-It was all too much. I have been getting… better, as time goes on, at managing my, uhm,” he scratched thoughtfully at his chin, “my tendencies, but some things still tend to feel insurmountable. Plus, it isn’t as if I have always felt the closest to you all. Getting close with people has been a bit of a challenge for me. I suppose I just never considered it.”
“No offense, Kid, but you could’ve totally offered us a weekend trip to one of these fancy ass places without coming along.” At the look Maka directed his way, Soul held up his hands in mock surrender and backpedaled sheepishly, “Not that we wouldn’t want you there, man! I’m just, ya know. Saying.”
“I suppose-” Kid was interrupted by Patty uttering a loud wail and falling into her older sister's lap, sighing as she muttered, “I guess we’re just chopped liver.”
Kid glared at most of the group and rolled his eyes. “Well,” he began in a huff, “I could always rescind my invitation, if the idea being brought up now is so distressing for you all.” A quick and strained series of “no”s, followed closely by apologies, leaves the mouths of most of the group. Kid brought his drink up to his lips in order to hide a grin. “I thought as much.” He took a generous sip from his can and stared absently into the flames that lick and flicker upwards towards the sky, as if they were reaching for a goal that becomes more unattainable with time. A feeling panged within Kid’s chest that he can’t quite place. He lowered his drink and breathed steadily through his nose.
“I can talk with my father about it, but I don’t see why it would be an issue. All of you are welcome, but none of you are obligated to join.” His eyes made careful work of landing on Crona without drawing too much attention to them. He could understand more than most the anxiety of being around numerous other people for extended periods of time, especially in unfamiliar places. As if sensing his gaze, Crona’s eyes lifted from their cup of tea and a small, understanding smile tilted their features ever so slightly. Kid offered his own in return.
“Oh, please. You are so not getting out of taking all of us, you little brat.” Liz enjoyed another generous sip from her wine. At twenty years of age, she was the only one legally allowed to drink. Kid still indulged in a bit of wine with dinner or champagne at his fathers gala’s every now and again (and he was plenty aware of the underage shenanigans that the others, namely Soul and Blackstar, have gotten up to in the past), but he preferred most alcohol not be distributed at his home; especially as they relaxed on a balcony several feet in the air. “And if you owe anyone here an all expense paid trip to a fancy rich people resort, it’s Patty and me.”
“Right!” Patty affirmed and snaked her arms around her sister's waist.
“When are we goin’?” Blackstar interjected with a laugh. He pumped his fist in the air and Kid couldn’t help but note with only slight amusement that he was more standing than sitting. The assassin punched the air as if he were boxing, a grin stretching from ear to ear. “Tomorrow? I can be ready tomorrow! No time like the present, baby! That’s why it’s a gift, or whatever.”
“Do you ever know what you’re saying, man? Like, ever?” Soul eyed his friend skeptically, but his smile held no real irritation. Tsubaki chuckled softly behind her hand. Blackstar, never the wiser when it comes to jokes at his expense, threw his head back in a hearty laugh. Kid watched as Blackstar’s fists land squarely on his hips, and he confidently said, “Sometimes!”
Maka shook her head and turned her attention towards Kid. “What are these resorts like, Kid? Are they beachfront, near a boardwalk, in a hotel?”
“On a cloud, surrounded by babes, maybe?” Soul offered his own inquiry and grinned smugly despite his meister rolling her eyes so aggressively they could have easily fallen in the back of her head. Kid cleared his throat before continuing, his gaze on neither one of them but instead focusing on a distant spot away from the group, as if staring at a far off star long enough would bring it close enough to simply reach out and grasp it, feeling the burn in the ache of his palm or the stinging of his fingertips.
“Well, I haven’t been since I was very young, so I’m afraid I can’t say much about what ‘babes’ may or may not be there.”
Soul snorted but otherwise let Kid continue.
“But Father has numerous types of resorts that are in his name. Really, he owns them about as much as one might own a drink after they order it. Someone else made it for you, and they know much more about what makes it taste the way that you like it, but you can discard the drink or keep it for as long as it entertains you, but once it is out of your sight you think very little about it.”
“Woah, deep,” Blackstar murmured under his breath. Kid chuckled and kept his eyes distant.
“There are small rentable homes, sort of like cabins, and hotels, and houses that are a bit of a mix of both. I was thinking we could rent out one of the latter for a week or two. They tend to be along the beachfront, with arcades and indoor pools as well below. The upper floors are mostly rooms and hallways, vending machines, those sorts of things. The first floor includes a kitchen, living area, spaces to simply relax. There are multiple options.” The young death god tried desperately to ignore the incredulous glances that remained fixated on him as he finished his sparkling water in a final sip.
“Father owns them mostly because they’re in his city, but I don’t recall him ever visiting the premises when it wasn’t to try and get me to have fun.”
“Well, did ya ever have fun?” Blackstar asked and rocked back and forth in his chair. Kid gave the question a thought and hummed.
“I enjoyed the arcade.”
“Nice.”
“I still think it’s really uncool of you to keep this sweet info all to yourself for so long, Kid, but I’m still pumped about going.” Soul crossed his arms behind his head as he snuggled even deeper into the beanbag. At that point, the chair might as well have the imprint of his back permanently engraved in the leather. Kid bit his lip to fight back the thoughts of washing his chair, and everyone else's, until the material frays and the paint chips. He closed his eyes as if the action could physically dispel the thoughts from his mind, and he hopes that maybe it can. The itch began in his skin, just below the surface, and he knew that if he opened his eyes he would begin to see every minute imperfection, every hair out of place, every crease and crooked table edge and asymmetric clothing design. Multiple thoughts raced through his mind at once, about what his friends might think if he continued to sit with his eyes closed, clenching his fists to keep them from trembling. He thought about how his mouth suddenly felt as if he had swallowed sand despite having had a drink just a moment ago. His heart rate picked up as he worried about the mess he will have to clean when everyone leaves, he worried if his compulsions will keep him awake during the night, he worried if perhaps bringing up the idea of a vacation with the others was a bad idea. He worried, worried, worried.
Kid forced his eyes open and paid more attention to his breathing than to wherever the conversation had gone in his mental absence. If anyone noticed his rising anxiety, they were all kind enough to keep any observations to themselves. He forced his mind to try and think about the calm summer breeze that kissed his cheeks and brushed his hair back like a gentle friend, the tired laughter from those who he cared about, or the feeling of his bed when he finally tires for the night and relaxes in his own bedroom.
He will most likely have to remove his sheets and air them out, however. It had been hours since he last laid in bed, who knows what kind of unsightly dust could have gathered there since then? Not to mention his pillow cases and comforter as well. If he fans the material, he will have to sweep the floor after. Sweeping doesn’t always get the job done, he may have to vacuum just to be certain. It wouldn’t make sense to only begin to clean his room and not finish, if he vacuumed then it might be in his best interest to dust his shelves and wipe off his desk-
“Hey, earth to Kid,” Liz snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. Kid blinked several times to clear his head and gripped the underside of his chair to feel grounded again. “Where’d you go, huh? Did you get lost up in that weird brain of yours?”
“I suppose you could say that.” He worried at his bottom lip. His eyes quickly found Liz’s objectively unevenly plucked eyebrows and he couldn’t keep himself from saying, “You really should let me pluck your eyebrows from now on. You never get them quite right.”
She scoffed and leaned back, the brows in question creasing in the middle of her forehead. “Rude! You’re such a brat, you know that?”
That made Patty laugh, and the conversation devolved once again. After a few minutes of idle chit-chat and Kid trying his damndest not to allow every small sound to feel like someone’s clawing at the base of his skull, Blackstar raised his voice to be heard over the side conversations happening amongst the group.
“Hey, did we ever decide when we were gonna go to this fancy shmancy hotel?”
“It isn’t a hotel,” Kid groaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with two fingers, “it’s a resort. And really, deciding when we depart and for how long will depend on all of you. Like I said, I will need to bring it up to my father, but I doubt he will have any reservations about it. Especially if we treat it as a celebration.” The fingers that massaged his nose then moved to the crease between his eyebrows. Any meager physical sensation helped keep Kid grounded, but only when it came from his own hand. He wasn’t sure what triggered his flare up or why it happened, but a knot was beginning to form in the back of his throat and it was becoming harder and harder not to let his breaths come out hitched. He cleared his throat into his hand to try and regain some control of his quickly spiraling thoughts, but the more he focused on ridding them, the more persistent they became. He feared that if he didn’t get somewhere that he could decompress and get away from the panic growing in his chest like a caged animal, his compulsions would spring forth and ruin what had once been such a nice gathering.
It was Blackstar once again who managed to break through the crowd, and for once Kid is almost thankful for the others loud nature. Blackstar made a big show of yawning and stretching his arms up over his head.
“Well,” he started and sniffed lazily, “I don’t know about you guys, but a big star like me has gotta get his beauty rest. Besides, staying at Kid’s too long kinda creeps me out. No offense.”
“Uh-huh.” Is all Kid could manage.
“Yeah,” Soul said as he stood and stretched backwards to get the ache out of his spine, hands at his sides, “if anyone needs their beauty sleep, it’s definitely you.” He looked down at Kid, who hadn’t moved from his place in his seat. The shinigami gripped his hands into such tight fists that he could feel the subtle dig of his nails into his palms. The sting helped him focus. Soul pursed his lips.
“Just, uh, keep us updated about the whole resort thing, yeah? I could seriously use a vacation.”
“Noted.”
“Kid,” Crona finally acknowledged him, giving him a soft nod as they stood up and rubbed absently at their arm. “Thanks for having us. I’m gonna head back with Maka and Soul, but it was a lot of fun. I handled it better than I thought I would.”
The smile that Kid forced across his face made him feel like his skin was splitting. “I’m glad.” He gave them a curt nod and waved to his friends as they took their leave. Liz, who remained on the patio with her sister, was visibly tipsy but knew how to handle herself. She pried Patty off of her and stretched as she stood. The look she gave Kid was pointed, but sympathetic.
“Hey, I can tell it’s getting bad again,” she said with only a slight slur at the end of her words. “Just take it easy and we’ll regroup again tomorrow, yeah? You did really good tonight. I mean it.” She ruffled Kid’s hair affectionately, and for a moment Kid wondered if Liz had one younger sibling or two. He can’t fight the small smile and doesn’t try to. Patty yawned and took Liz’s hand to reenter the mansion and presumably go to bed. Kid had about a million words of appreciation that danced across his tongue, all fighting for dominance, but none made it past his lips before the Thompson sisters opened the sliding door and went back into the house, leaving Kid alone outside.
After what felt like an hour but was most likely no more than a minute, Kid felt as though he was able to release the breath he hadn’t realized that he had been holding. His fists unclenched and his eyes scanned his palms for any discernible marks. He wondered absently if he would have left small, red crescent moon shapes into his palms had it not been for his regenerative healing, or if the subtle sting was merely a figment of imagination that his mind conjured in its efforts to keep him grounded. His thoughts wandered and swirled and formed long, clawed hands that wrapped themselves around his neck so he could no longer breathe.
His hands trembled as he clumsily fumbled in his pocket for his cellphone. Kid desperately needing a distraction to help him keep grounded. The moisture that gathered in the corners of his eyes began to blur his vision, but he blinked the unwanted tears away and shakily unlocked his phone. The air was getting thinner and he was managing less and less control over his own limbs. Without putting much thought into what application to select, he clicked on the groupchat that he was added to without his permission (and that he tended to keep muted) that consisted of himself and the other members of the group.
Blackstar: YAHOO THAT WAS GR8 C YA GUYS LATRRRRR
Soul: caps lock, man
Blackstar: LOLOLOLOLOLOL
Maka: Goodnight, everyone! Thanks for having us over, Kid. It was great!
Soul: yk he never checks the chat but ya thnx it was cool
Crona: it was nice. thank you everyone. thank you, kid.
Tsubaki: Thank you kid, it was lovely <3
Blackstar: BYE KID BYYYEEE TY
The young Shinigami became unable to read any more of the words through the water droplets landing on the screen. He wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve and hiccupped into the quiet night, with the sound of a dying fire as his only company. It still felt undeniably surreal to have these people in his life who he truly felt he could rely on, and who cared about him despite his neurotic tendencies and peculiar nature. None of that mattered to them. The itch that had buried itself under his skin was beginning to ease, and it made the pressure building in his chest relax as he breathed out once more, long and slow.
He tucked the phone back safely into his pocket and allowed his eyes to remain closed for a few more seconds before opening them and taking a look at his surroundings. His friends had done their best to fix their chairs and take any trash with them, but it still wasn’t perfect. Unfortunately, Kid needed it to be perfect. Despite his rising levels of anxiety regarding the state of his once pristine balcony, Kid was able to make quick work of tidying up. Soon enough, he was dusting off his hands and smiling at a job well done. The night was getting darker, the fire was becoming quieter, and the allure of the comfort of his bed and a good night's sleep was beginning to sound more and more appealing. Kid tried to get precisely eight hours of sleep each night, regardless of when he eventually falls asleep, but his body had tried to fight him on getting well rested ever since he could remember.
Oftentimes, he wondered if his father had ever struggled with insomnia, and if so, had creating Kid helped alleviate some of that? Kid found himself frequently worrying at the idea that he was simply an amalgamation of all of his fathers worst traits that the death god had simply been attempting to get rid of. Kid crossed his arms over his stomach and nervously considered the possibility, not for the first time, that perhaps he was only a physical manifestation of the aspects that Lord Death hated about himself and wished to eradicate from his own soul and put into the soul of someone else. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cool summer air snaked up and down Kid’s spine, and he physically shook his head as if that would make the thoughts fall right out of his brain.
Deep breaths. Slow and steady and deliberate. It was getting late, or maybe early, depending on how one looked at it, and the balcony was as put together as it was going to be. Kid rubbed his hands together, slim fingers gliding over white knuckles, and counted to eight, counted backwards from eight, and then from zero to eight once more, before he took one last cursory glance around the balcony to double (triple, quadruple) check that everything was once more in its rightful place. After what felt like an agonizingly long amount of time, Kid finally felt settled enough to return inside. He closed the screen door with a satisfying ‘click’ and then shut the wooden door in front of it, securing his distance from the outside world. His hand rested on the doorknob and his body didn’t move from its place. He tried to think about how comfortable he would be once he changed into his pajamas (maybe the satin ones, those also always helped to cool him down when the heat of summer threatened to infiltrate his home), but his mind continued to drift elsewhere.
I don’t know about you guys, but a big star like me has gotta get his beauty rest. While believable at first (though part of that might have been Kid’s growing desire to be left alone), it was incredibly unlike Blackstar to not want to overstay his welcome. Kid had accompanied the group on a couple of occasions for parties, and Blackstar was hardly ever the first one in, nor the first one out. Kid didn’t even realize the sweat that had begun to perspire in the palm of his hand as he gripped the doorknob like holding onto it with all that he had would provide some answers, somehow. As long as there were laughs to be had or snacks and drinks to consume, Blackstar was normally satiated. Why was now any different? Kid’s lips pursed into a tight line. Blackstar had also made a remark on the nature of staying at Kid’s house for too long, but they weren’t even inside, and the atmosphere on the patio outside felt much different. At least, Kid could tell the difference in expectations and “vibes” alone that there was a difference.
What had Liz said once the rest of the party had migrated back home? I can tell it’s getting bad again? Was it that obvious to everyone, or was Liz simply able to read Kid better than most with their compatible soul wavelengths? Ugh, he thought with an exasperated sigh, why must my brain make things so difficult?
If he didn’t know any better, Kid would almost believe that Blackstar had moved the party along only for his sake. But, no, that would be preposterous. Sure, Kid’s flare up had seemingly come out of nowhere, and the sudden nature of it was enough to surprise even him, but it wasn’t as if he had been actively throwing a fit. Was it truly possible that Blackstar took notice? And if that were the case, could it be that he cared enough to cut their festivities short just because Kid was having a hard time getting a hold of his thoughts? The idea made his mouth dry. He snapped from his trance and released the doorknob, a subtle throb that followed his heartbeat pumping through his hand. No, that idea was ridiculous. It was a kind thought, sure, but Kid was probably reading too much into it, as he was prone to do. He ignored the hole that his phone was burning in his pocket and did an absolutely wonderful job of not acknowledging the urge to text Blackstar for confirmation that was like electricity in the tips of his fingers.
He went to his room and picked out his pajamas while only contemplating texting the assassin maybe one hundred times. Before changing, he went to his bathroom, brushed his teeth, washed up, and didn’t think about texting Blackstar anymore than fifty times. Upon returning to his bedroom, Kid carefully removed his old clothes and folded them, placing them on top of one of his dressers before deciding to place them in the washing machine. For a moment he considered splashing his face with water just so he could stop thinking about how easy it would be to text one of his friends a single question, but he thought better of it. He hated going to bed partially wet, and he was not about to get his satin pajamas soiled. By the time Kid was finally laying down in bed, pillows fluffed, sheets pressed, comforter positioned just so, his phone was in his hands and he was clicking on a familiar icon to message. He was surprised he had managed to hold out as long as he did.
Hello. You probably aren’t awake, but I just wanted to ask
Kid shook his head against the pillow and deleted his message. He tried again and scrunched his face up in the darkness, with only the glowing blue light from his phone breaking through and reminding him of what it was that he had set out to do.
My apologies. I don’t mean to bug you, but I was wondering
“Dammit,” he swore silently and deleted his message again. This was infuriating. Why couldn’t Blackstar have just left him alone to suffer in silence like a real friend?
Did you decide to leave the party tonight just for my sake?
He sent the message without allowing himself to overthink. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest that for a moment he worried that he would have to sit up and do some breathing exercises, lest his chest explode from the force alone. His hands trembled as they held the phone away from his face. He stayed with the messaging app open and watched as a couple of grey dots from Blackstar’s end appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Of course, he was still awake. Kid didn’t have it in him that time to be annoyed with Blackstar’s poor sleeping habits. In all fairness, he hardly had any room to judge.
When Blackstar eventually answered, it felt like all the air had been stolen from Kid’s lungs.
sry wuz it that obvius lol i culd tell u were havin a hard time n stars dun let there friends struggle ukno? Its wat any big man wuld do
Kid stared at the multiple emoji’s that followed his response for at least the next three and a half minutes. Two stars, a thumbs up, and a black heart. His head swam with a dizziness that hit him like a freight train and he had to physically put his phone back down on the bed to catch his breath. After a couple of minutes of hearing no response, Blackstar must not have been able to take his silence as an answer, because Kid’s phone buzzed and illuminated the otherwise pitch black room once again. Kid debated not looking at it until morning and feigning confusion if Blackstar attempted to bring it up the next time that they saw each other, but knew realistically that any chance of falling asleep would be futile if he was staying up all night wondering what the other had said. Despite the numerous guesses running through Kid’s mind, he never assumed what Blackstar had actually said.
how r u doin now?
Kid swallowed around the basketball sized knot that had somehow lodged itself in the back of his throat. He texted back genuinely, which surprised him even as he typed the words.
Better. Thank you. I truly appreciate it, though I am sorry if I ruined your fun.
Blackstar’s response was almost instantaneous.
hell yea glad ur feelin better!!!!!! an no prob u didnt ruin anytihng promise
still holdin u to the beach trip tho. have a good nite i had lots of fun
He ended his text with a couple of smiling faced emoticons, and Kid was glad that it seemed the conversation was finished, because he was certain he would pass out if it continued on much longer. The feelings and emotions swirling in his chest and seeping into his stomach were unfamiliar and frankly unwanted, so he refused to acknowledge them- at least, not that night. Against his better judgment, Kid responded to Blackstar’s text one final time.
I truly enjoyed myself as well. Sometimes the world can just seem like too much. Thank you again, sleep well.
Just as Kid had begun to beg the gods to let the conversation end there, Blackstar answered. The text didn’t come in quite as quick as the last, but it made Kid feel just as woozy.
nxt time the wrld is gettin loud, jus focus on me. i can b louder. gn!
Kid couldn’t bring himself to wish the other a good night. His hands had begun to shake to the point where simply holding the phone felt like a challenge. He put the device down and laid on his back, staring up at the nothingness that was his incredibly high bedroom ceiling in the blackness of the night. He was convinced that there was no way that he could possibly fall asleep with his body in the whirlwind that it was, but after a bit of laying in bed and gripping the front of his blanket so tightly that it whitened his knuckles, Kid managed to fall asleep. Most of his dream was fuzzy around the edges and hard to make out, but one element was clear; there was a knight, dressed in full armour and riding on a noble steed. In his dream, Kid’s omniscient presence was unable to make out who this brave looking hero is until he removed his helmet. Kid immediately recognized the blue tresses that fall into place as the metal covering is removed, and the last thing that he can recall is Blackstar flashing a brilliant smile, brandishing an excellent sword, and then riding off into the night.