#location . ﹙ 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻'𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 ﹚

[ofvolatile]

tag drop !

[ofvolatile]

i'm  apparently  not  fucking  -  welcomed  anywhere . taylan regrets it as soon as he says it , because he doesn't mean it like that . well-aware of the relationship june has with their sisters . he has his own ugly options on them ; could never understand how one could treat their own sibling like shit . but he's embittered . he doesn't feel welcome anywhere , june , santi , the names keep pilling up . “ don't get offended on me , ” he bites back , hiding behind hostility , because its familiar , its easier than showing how much he truly cares . this close to each other , he feels june's gaze everywhere , except on his scar which only serves to frustrate him more , inhaling sharply through his nose . “ are you fucking serious ? you don't get to ask for that . it's not like you know how to answer your fucking phone . ” words hang accusingly in the air , because june doesn’t have the right to turn this back on him . yes , he left , but he didn't it abandon them . she pushed him away all by herself . “ thanks for checking up on me when i was in the hospital , by the way . ” he speaks with a roughness that houses his emotions , a dig at the concern they showed for selin tonight , but not for him . taylan won't admit it out loud , because its his twin , but jealousy presses underneath his skin like hot coil , burning and pressing for the closeness that selin and june share now . it makes him feel like he's been replaced , and it bothers him endlessly to know that the only reason she's in his room is to come and see his sister . not him . he feels his eyes are too expressive , honey brown melting into dark bitterness , and taylan swallows down some more vodka . lowers the bottle with a smack of his lips in irritation , fixes his stare on an art work from his childhood that selin had hang up , to make him feel more at home , he guesses . pretends that it interest him more . pretending — isn't that what they have been doing for all these years ? between drunk confessions in the warehouse and his feelings that were forcefully buried the next day , shoveled under dirt and distractions found in others , rotting inside his ribcage and not allowed to blossom , because june made it so damn hard . “ its that idiot ha-jun that started a fight with damon . ” two names line up that sentence , but one agitates him to no end . he may have lost his chance tonight , but the good things about small towns was that he will undoubtedly have his opportunity with him , sooner , rather than later . “ he's fucking dead when i see him . fucking dead . ” taylan spits out ; his temper had completely shifted onto someone else and he allows june to grab the bottle from his grasp without protest , watches as they settle on his bed . blunt nails are digging into the palm of his hands . “ caught me . got fed up of hearing my neighbor screech every morning like a fucking banshee to get her fucking kids to wake up , so i decided to get rid of my problem . ” launching on the bed right beside her , taylan lets his body sink into the mattress in silence , searching for a comfort that he hasn't found in years . gaze trails across the familiarity of june's costume has his mouth twitching up at the corners with fondness , and taylan cast his eyes back to the blank ceiling before she finds his eyes . “ got into anything interesting tonight ? ”

her  first  instinct  has  always  been  to  fight,  to  bite  and  claw  and  scream  and  yell,  but  with  taylan  standing  before  her  -  the  same,  yet  so  incredibly  different  -  june  feels  partially  suffocated.  a  candle  snuffer  atop  a  wildfire.  she  wants  to  run,  wants  to  jump  from  the  second  story  as  if  it's  nothing  -  as  if  it's  better  than  sitting  beneath  his  dark,  scrutinizing  gaze.  as  if  they're  the  one  who  left  him.  the  autumn  wind  presses  against  her  skin,  plasters  their  hair  against  cheek  and  jaw;  sends  a  chill  down  their  spine  that  only  reaches  marrow�� when  taylan  pulls  her  back  inside.  back  to  him.  his  hand  is  hot,  rings  pinching  the  skin  trapped  between  his  fingers;  and  part  of  june  wants  to  laugh  -  sharp  and  biting  at  his  concern.  "i  thought  i  was  a  stray?  don't  have  to  worry  about  a  curfew  if  i'm  apparently  not  fucking  -  welcomed  anywhere."  it's  the  closest  they've  been  in  years  and  she's  startlingly  aware  of  it.  wants  to  peel  him  off  of  her  despite  the  sick  twist  of  comfort  it  brings  her,  despite  missing  it  -  missing  him.  his  presence  in  their  life.  the  other  side  of  her  bent  coin.

but  it's  not  the  same  anymore;  they're  not  the  same  anymore.  a  scar  adorns  taylan's  throat,  just  beneath  his  adam's  apple,  all  new  and  pink  and  angry  and  alive  and  june  can't  bring  herself  to  look  at  it.  she  can't.  if  she  doesn't  look  at  it,  then  it's  not  real.  because  if  it's  real  -  that  means  taylan  almost  died.  that  he  was  bleeding  out  on  that  ice,  and  june  wasn't  there.  that  she  abandoned  him  when  he  needed  her.  so  the  scar  isn't  there,  and  it  isn't  real,  and  the  thought  of  it  existing  doesn't  sour  her  stomach  -  and  the  guilt  doesn't  press  a  blade  of  it's  own  against  her  throat.  her  gaze  stays  on  him  -  on  his  features,  both  inches  apart  and  a  hundred  miles  away.  it's  almost  relieving  when  he  steps  back,  because  june  can  breathe  properly  now  -  hadn't  even  realized  that  they'd  been  holding  it.  "yeah,  i  know  -  heard  about  it  from  some  fucking  -  gossiping  losers  who  don't  know  when  the  fuck  to  go  home.  thanks  for  the  call,  by  the  way.  really  appreciate  you  keeping  me  fucking  -  informed  on  my  friend's  wellbeing."  it's  not  fair,  and  june  knows  it  -  they've  ignored  his  calls  for  all  these  years,  ignored  his  return  to  town  like  an  apparition  needing  to  be  banished  from  her  mind.  june  misses  him  so  bad  that  it  hurts,  even  as  he's  standing  in  front  of  her.

"christ,  chill  out  there  -  bateman.  leave  some  for  the  rest  of  us."  they  should  leave  -  check  in  on  selin,  if  only  to  confirm  with  her  own  two  eyes  that  she's  alive  and  safe.  put  her  mind  at  ease.  instead  -  june  lingers  in  his  room,  in  his  presence  -  reaching  up  and  over  to  snatch  the  vodka  from  his  hands.  "you  look  like  shit,  by  the  way.  the  blood  real,  or  are  you  an  inauthentic  boogeyman?"  they  settle  back  onto  his  bed,  back  pressed  against  the  wall  as  she  tilts  the  liquor  into  her  mouth.  it  almost  numbs  the  stinging  of  their  knees,  forgotten  in  their  haste  to  come  and  go.

[ofvolatile]

the  hastily  imposed  halloween  curfew   ,  fragile  as  a spider's  web  in the wind  ,  had  already  been  broken  by  two  late-night  visitors  .  the biting chill of autumn crept through the window , slashing into the room like a blade , and taylan stirred from uneasy sleep , muscles groaning under the weight of old hockey wounds , the ache coiling around him like ghost chains — a haunting reminder of everything he lost . his  eyes  ,  still  heavy  with  sleep  ,  drag to  the  empty  side of  the  bed  .  kieran  wasn't  there  . only the faint imprint on the pillow said he'd ever been . being back felt wrong , like a dislocated shoulder — familiar but misaligned . and he sighs , throws an arm over his eyes . sleep had come in fits and starts , dreams of cheers , chased away by nightmares of his collision on the ice . when he finally rolls out of bed , his bare foot hits something solid . taylan stumbles , cursing as his hip hit the desk . a hockey stick lay abandoned on the floor , its surface rough and splintered from years of use . the same battered one he'd left behind . “ figures , ” he mutters , kicking it aside . the house creaks as he makes his way downstairs , the weight of last night lingering in the air . the  acrid  scent  of  burnt  eggs  curls around him , drawing a grimace . voice filter up from the kitchen , tugging him the rest of the way , and taylan pauses in the doorway . the scene was of familiar chaos : kieran  standing  by  the  stove  ,  futilely  trying  to  salvage  a  pan  of  charred  eggs  , pasha curling lazily by june's feet , but  then  his  gaze  lands  on  selin , and the rest of the room fades . guilt surges , sharp and unrelenting , and the tide turned bitter . six  years  away  ,  and  now  he's  back  , useless as ever , unable to protect her . he crosses the kitchen , rough palms brush her hair back from her face , chest tightens at the bruise darkening her eye —  a  cruel  souvenir  from  last  night's  bar  fight  ,  and it tightens  his  chest  .  “ does it hurt ? ” he asks , voice low , rasping . turning to the cabinet he grabs a bottle of painkillers , a  necessary  ritual ,  a uninvited  reminder  of  the  body  that  had  once  been  unstoppable  now  betrays  him  at  every  turn  , and taylan shakes out  three  pills  into  his  hand  , he  swallows  two  dry  ,  the  faint  trace  of  iron  biting  on  his  tongue  .  the last , he presses into selin's palm , his touch brief but firm . “ he climbed through my window like you did , june . ” taylan comments , takes one look at the pan , a  mixture  of  charred  eggs  and  half-burned  butter , and shakes his head in mock disapproval . “  trying  to  burn  the  house  down  ?  ” he chides ,  swatting kieran's hand away , before he could make things worse . stepping  past  him  , taylan yanks open the fridge . his movements , already  knowing  what he's  looking  for .  he grabs a half-empty protein shake , gives it a vigorous shake like a bartender . “  guess this  is  what we'll have to do for breakfast .  ” ( @inlustre )

even  asleep,  as  selin  lifts  herself  up  and  out  of  bed  -  june's  body  moves  on  it's  own  to  fill  the  empty  space,  to  soak  up  her  leftover  warmth  like  a  poor,  sun  -  deprived  houseplant.  even  somewhere  in  her  subconscious  -  it's  unfamiliar,  the  soft  silence  that  hangs  in  the  air  instead  of  screams  and  shouts,  doors  slamming  shut;  glass  shattering  against  ground.  her  feet  kick  out,  legs  spreading  across  the  mattress,  only  to  meet  more  comforter,  more  empty  sheets.  no  shins  to  smash  her  heels  into,  no  other  bodies  to  combat  with  for  a  good  night's  sleep.  the  only  thing  that's  familiar,  even  asleep,  is  the  scent  of  selin's  shampoo  -  a  heavy  arm  emerging  from  duvet  to  wrap  lazily  around  her  now  -  abandoned  pillow,  drawing  it  near  and  dear.  even  asleep,  june  misses  selin's  presence.  she's  not  used  to  it,  loving  someone  so  much  -  or  at  least,  someone  so  soft.  malleable.  and  no  longer  in  bed.  her  eyes  flicker  awake,  sleep  clinging  between  eyelid  and  sticking  to  her  eyelashes  -  instantly  squinting  against  the  sunrays  that  slit  between  blinds.  she  wants  to  go  back  to  sleep;  wants  to  pretend  for  a  moment  that  she  doesn't  live  in  a  glorified  shed  with  certified  mole  -  that  it's  just  her  and  selin  against  the  world,  that  taylan  isn't  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  -  that  chaos  doesn't  trail  behind  her  like  a  bad  omen.  that  she  isn't  the  bad  omen.  then  the  scent  of  burnt  eggs  trail  beneath  the  door  -  and  june  sighs.

she's  slow  to  get  up  -  if  the  apartment  was  on  fire,  there'd  be  a  lot  more  screaming,  probably  -  socked  feet  hitting  the  ground  as  she  attempts  not  to  roll  right  back  onto  the  ground.  selin's  room  is  so  -  different,  to  everything  june  knows.  love  is  held  everywhere,  from  the  photos  adorning  the  walls  to  the  pieces  of  her  strewn  across  every  surface.  possessions  that'll  always  be  hers',  and  nobody  else's.  for  a  brief,  fleeting  moment  -  june  feels  envious.  she  doesn't  know  what  it's  like,  to  have  something  all  for  herself  -  not  even  her  bedroom  is  her  own,  her  most  prized  possessions  kept  in  a  shoebox  beneath  the  floorboards  and  away  from  sticky  fingers.  it's  suffocating,  almost  -  to  be  surrounded  by  a  life  she'll  never  have.  june  pushes  against  the  door,  only  walking  a  few  feet  forward  before  stopping  in  her  tracks  completely.

there  kieran  stands,  bent  over  the  kitchen's  stovetop  as  he  frantically  tries  to  stop  the  eggs  from  burning  further.  it's  a  foreign  sight,  and  june  can't  help  but  feel  possessive.  "what  the  fuck  is  going  on?"  as  she  steps  closer,  pasha  circles  her  feet,  bumps  against  her  ankles  -  practically  tries  to  trip  and  kill  june,  just  to  get  her  sleeping  spot  back.  "you're  a  sick  fuck,  pash  -"  a  briefly  distracted  mumble  as  june  bends  down  to  pat  pasha's  back,  half  -  fond  -  before  she's  jerking  upright  again  to  glare  at  kieran.  "christ  -  are  you  following  me  now,  or  some  shit?  first  you  have  me  go  on  a  fucking  -  high  speed  chase  in  fucking  -  platforms,  like  a  sicko  -  then  you  follow  me  to  selin's  and  make  shit  eggs?"

[ofvolatile]

taylan can feel the mattress dip under their shared weight , laying side by side , shoulders barely brushing , they fall into a familiar silence that feels like a ghost of better times , the kind that once stretched lazily between late-night confessions and early-morning banter , back when insomnia was an unspoken companion and not a relentless torment . “ if i killed anyone , you'd know , ” taylan murmurs into darkness . his eyes flicker to kieran , who take a swig from the bottle . a low , raspy laugh falls at the hiss that leaves his friend's lips , but its short-lived , dissolving into the quiet as kieran grabs his hand . taylan's breath falters , shifts uncomfortably beneath the touch with the urge to pull away , but something keeps him rooted . he looks up , meet kieran's brown eyes , and the exhaustion in his own gaze weighs heavy . his eyes drift to their hands , a gentleness that feels so foreign , so alien that it might as well belong to a different species . and he doesn't know if he wants to explore it or run . unlike his twin , taylan has never been the bearer of kindness . his hands have always been tools of violence — clenched fists , rough shoves . they press into bruises , and prod at weakness , cause more pain than they have ever healed . “ don't call me that ” he snaps , but there wasn't much bite in his voice , instead his tone betrays more than he wants , making his jaw tighten . hand still caught in the warm embrace of the other , his throat tightens , the betraying motions of his adam's apple rising and falling as if suffocating on words unsaid , and taylan's gaze drift upward , surrendering to the fractured patterns on the ceiling above . his lashes , long and dark , flutter against the full of his upper cheekbone , and his lips , press into a line , tightly sealed . there is loss hidden under his pillow and this is how he lives with it , he stays up for hours every night , reliving the hockey accident that left its mark not only on his body , but on his soul . the sound of his head hitting the ice reverberates in his thoughts , sharp and jarring , the echo of fear still bitter on his tongue . blood mercilessly flows in his memories , threatening to extinguish the flickering light of his consciousness . twelve days ago , he had tasted the possibility of an end — the terrifying certainty that maybe this was the last chapter of his story. it hollows him from the inside out , and he wants to tell kieran about it without mentioning how much it hurts , but he cannot bear to peel back the scar on his throat and reveal the raw wounds beneath . vulnerability wasn't something he knew how to do , a forbidden language he has never been taught . his father's anger towards him , filled every corner of his childhood home , leaving little room for softness or surrender . he was never allowed to be like selin . shifting his head on his pillow , taylan meets kieran's eyes , hand remain caught in his grasp , fingers twitch , hesitant and unsure , but he doesn't let go . “ i missed you , ” he murmurs voice rough , settles for a truth he can manage .

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ asking the difficult questions was his wheelhouse⸻ how contemptuous it must be for someone to ask if you were a killer, only expected the acerbity of taylan's reaction, but it was a necessary evil. for his own peace of mind. for that part of him still frozen at fourteen, who looked at taylan with an all-consuming adoration, always following closely behind as he dove into every trouble and brawl. and even now, if the answer given was not the one he predicted and received, there was probably still nothing he wouldn't do for him ﹕ ready to take a shovel and bury all the skeletons of whoever taylan needed to feed the feral animal that had been clawing at his ribcage since they were children. but thankfully, there was no need to help an old friend get away with murder. taylan's admission struck with all the rawness of truth, cutting through the frayed fear clinging to the corners of his mind, pulse slowing down as certainty finally gave way for something softer. vulnerable. the question and any doubt he had fell away, like a leaf dislodged from a branch, drifting to a place unreachable, irrelevant. tension finally unfurled from his body, every muscle and sinew loosening, allowing himself to finally be obedient to the exhaustion for once and fall to the mattress. there was an apologetic look across his features as his gaze lingered on taylan, underlined by a small foolish smile conveying that he didn't regret it however. it was just to be expected after all. kieran talbot ﹕ freak of nature, curious and paranoid, morbid and indelicate. but the world seemed to narrow here as two old friends reconnect⸻ the uneven rise and fall of breaths, the overlap of their shadows on the wall. his fingers found the neck of the vodka before thought did, prying it from taylan's hold. the glass was cool and wet against his palm, the liquid bitter as it seared down his throat, conjuring a hiss that tasted of every reckless decision he made soaked in pale moonlight. the burn subsided, but the string lingered for a little longer, letting out a quiet laugh before eyes were drawn toward the pale line running along taylan's throat ﹕ so many questions he wanted to ask ( were you scared ? i was ) but kieran let each one die on his tongue before they could be spoken out loud. maybe another time, a time chosen by taylan. instead, gaze shifted towards his eyes, and he reached for taylan's hand, fingers pressing into the jagged red streaks marring knuckles. he rubbed slow circles into bruised flesh, gentle and deliberate, mapping out a comfort that spoke where language faltered ﹕ i see you. “ did you come home to lick your wounds ? ” kieran asked, thumb ghosting over the deepest cut. “ be a good dog, yeah ? i can't handle both you and finch bein' a pain in my ass. ” it was a request that he knew would fall on deaf ears, trouble just an inevitability with taylan around, a smile curling his lips upward knowingly.

[ofvolatile]

the television plays rewinds of last nights hockey game , and in the dark living room , taylan is restless . sleep has never come easy , but these days , it's difficult to make peace with it ; there are no early flights to wake up for ; no match games to prepare for . hockey gave him purpose , and now , each days blends into vast endless of nothingness . the buzzing of the doorbell pulls him up from the couch and makes him shoot glance up the stairway , his mind wandering upstairs to selin , who is asleep . for once they have a visitor that actually knows how to use the front door , and taylan's expression turns to amusement as he takes finch in . undone buckle , swollen lips , a violent bruise on his jaw , he can take one guess on what happened . “ been out fishing finch ? ” question laces through a chuckle . he leans against the doorframe , arms crossed over each other , he decides to torment his friend for a little longer by leaving him out and exposed in the november chill - a cold he doesn't mind . “ only if you ask nicely . ” appearing serious for a moment before his shark - line grin widens and he steps back inside , leaving the door wide open for his friend . “ come in , i won't be tending your whiny ass if you get sick . ” taylan throws himself back on the couch , reaching for a bottle on the coffee table that he had stolen from his father's liquor cabinet . he takes a swig of vodka lets it burn his taste buds for a second longer than necessary , before passing it over , “ so what the fucked happened ? ”

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗱      :   taylan    &    finch    (    @ofvolatile  ) !

𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿:   11:52pm, the night after halloween.

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻:   the yalçınkaya residence.

*      ❪        🦇       ❫    ﹕   𝗮   𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽   𝗮𝗿𝗺   𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀   𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁   𝘁𝗵𝗲   𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗲   𝘁𝗼   𝗵𝗼𝗹𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿   unbalanced   movements  –    feet   pulsating   from   the   walk   toward   the   home   embodying   the   sole   persons   that’d   take   in   such   a   shoddy   appearance   at   this   time   of   night.   once   purposely mussed   locks   were   now   plastered   against   a   beanie covered   forehead,   buckle   undone   &   long   sleeves   embalmed   in   stale   sweat   &   a   variety   of   other   curious   stains.   hues   of   violet   &   cyan   bloom   along   the   clean   bone   of   his   jaw,   bare   skin   of   paleing   hips   lined   with   thin   cuts   from   unkind   nails.   finch   stands,   waiting,   focused   on   the   device   encased   within   sore   fingers   (   earned   from   tonight’s   failed   conquest   ;   the   miscalculation   of   a   wife   who’s   lover   had   returned   a   day   earlier   than   expected   ).   the   pad   of   his   thumb   scrolls   over   incoming   messages,   rose   swollen   lips   twitching   with   every   flicker.   a   burst   of   apologies   from   one   end   &   reparational   demands   from   the   other.   the   front   door   opens   with   a   loud   swing   &    black   irises   blow   over   whatever   expression   his   counterpart   displays,   nose   scrunching  up  in   a   flurry of    sniffles.    ❛    gonna   let   me   in   before   i   freeze   my   fuckin   balls   off   or   what   ?    ❜   he   cuts   in   before   anything   else   is   said.   he   knows   the   answer   already,   though.   but   fuck   if   it   ain’t   music   to   his   ears — especially from redcreek's most infamous feral.

[ofvolatile]

the twenty minutes screaming match he had with his father over the phone is all part of the welcoming package of being back home in red creek , wrapped in red bow of disappointment . only adding pressure to vocal cords that still scratch and hurt from his accident , but taylan can't focus on his own pain . all that matters to him is that selin is safe in bed , while the steam of adrenaline keeps him awake and restless , leaving him picking at his thought , nails scraping and poking against the cuts on his knuckles - wounds that never heal . as he makes his way upstairs , taylan is still in his costume , the fake blood clinging everywhere as if he had just emerged from the murder scene himself . insomnia creeps under his eyelids , seeps into his bones , and soaks into his brain . the taste of prescribed meds leaves a faint traces of iron as he swallows , forcing them down . its the sight of someone in his room - in his bed - that makes him halt by the doorway ; his heart is so alive within him , only to realize seconds later who it is . the scene is familiar , june in his room lying in his bed like she belong there , but there is that bitter reminder of those six years where every attempt of contact went ignored . there was a time where he felt like they were inseparable - no one else could fill that place that june holds in his heart - but when he woke up in the hospital without them there , days without visit , he knew enough . “ says the one who climbed through my window like a stray . ” sourness is pungent , slips from his tongue like acid . he knows he shouldn't care , not when she doesn't , but underneath the layers of anger and agitation , there is something which is probably not dissimilar to hurt . as june climbs out of the window without their shoes , taylan is by her side in quick strides . his hand wraps around her arm ; ringed fingers leaving prints , pulling her back inside and into him . “ where are you going ? don’t you know there’s a curfew ? ” comical for two people that never followed the rules , but with everything that happened tonight , taylan needs her to stay here , even if she only came for selin . hand still clutching her arm . in the dimly lit room , as the moonlight shines through , illuminating every part of june's face , he can't help the way his eyes race , searching for bruises . despite knowing that they could handle it , he needs to make sure that she's okay , and only once he’s certain he lets go . putting back the space between them . “ she got hurt in the fight . ” taylan is angry at himself for allowing that to happen , evident in the taut pull of his jaw . he reaches for the bottle of vodka that rests by the side of his bed , soothing his anger with spiteful intoxication . “ but she's fine . ” safe .

FOR:   taylan ( @ofvolatile ). DETAILS:   3:04am; taylan's bedroom in selin's apartment.

in  the  drunken  stupor  that  guides  her  to  the  only  place  she's  ever  felt  secure  in;  june  feels  like  a  juvenile  again.  like  she's  sixteen  and  scaling  up  the  side  of  the  yalçınkaya  family  home,  up  trellis  and  atop  garage  roof  just  to  climb  her  way  through  taylan's  window.  it's  different  now;  apartment  turned  to  home  -  no  threat  of  parents  discovering  their  presence.  it's  no  longer  taylan  that  june  seeks,  but  selin;  an  affection  that  she'd  rather  take  to  the  grave  than  admit.  selin  stayed;  taylan  didn't.  she'll  never  forgive  him.

the  window  is  unlocked;  both  convenient  and  infuriating  -  newfound  anxiety  pricking  under  their  skin  as  they  push  the  wooden  frame  up  and  lift  themselves  in.  june  immediately  lands  on  the  bed;  empty  and  unmade  and  warm.  it  smells  familiar,  in  all  the  best  and  worst  ways.  if  she's  lucky  -  taylan's  not  home  yet,  or  better  yet:  staying  at  someone  else's  fucking  house.  if  she's  lucky  -  she  can  have  a  whole  bed  to  herself.  if  she's  lucky  -  selin's  in  the  next  room,  breathing  and  alive  and  well.

june  should've  called  ahead,  sent  a  text,  maybe;  but  selin's  used  to  her  antics  by  now.  she  should  expect  nothing  less  from  her.  she  kicks  off  her  boots,  losing  them  to  a  dark  corner;  sheds  her  jacket,  if  only  to  hug  a  pillow  instead.  just  a  moment  -  and  she'll  get  up.  part  of  june's  afraid  that  selin's  not  there,  that  she's  alone  in  their  apartment  and  there's  a  cold  body  in  the  morgue  that  could  be  selin,  or  taylan,  or  -

she's  staring  at  the  ceiling,  and  there's  a  figure  in  the  doorway.  she  can't  make  it  out;  but  a  sigh  of  relief  leaves  her  anyway;  like  she's  been  holding  her  breath  in.  "thank  fuck  -  thought  i  was  gonna  have  to  go  hunt  you  down  like  a  fucking  -  freak,"  a  single  beat  passes,  "not  to  be  fucking  -  insensitive.  sorry  to  the  dead,  or  whatever.  being  murdered  sounds  shitty."  june  lifts  onto  her  elbow,  turning  towards  the  doorway,  "seriously,  though,  selin  -  are  you  like,  good  -"  she  freezes  at  the  sight  of  taylan.  he's  not  selin.  obviously  not.  clearly  not.

"fuck's  sake  -"  june's  climbing  to  her  knees,  shoes  forgotten  as  she  turns  towards  the  window  and  thrusts  it  open  again.  "-  why  are  you  so  fucking  -  silent,  like  a  fucking  -  shitty  cat."  her  words  are  watery  at  best,  slurred  at  worst.  of  course  taylan's  here  -  it's  his  bedroom,  his  twin  -  why  wouldn't  he  be  here?  she  gets  one  leg  through  the  frame  before  she  can  look  at  him  again,  as  if  remembering  the  entire  reason  she's  even  come  to  selin's  apartment,  "selin  better  be  fucking  -  alive  in  the  morning,  or  i  swear  to  god  -"

[ofvolatile]

june had just left his room , and taylan's sigh comes out like a groan . he lets his body drop back onto the mattress , doesn't care to change out of his costume , and throws an arm over his eyes . in the darkness of unrest , he feels exhaustion in his limbs and on his lids , but he knows it will take him hours to put his consciousness to rest . still he begs sleep come take over , so the memory of his accident will stop haunting him and stop him from picking his scabs . its the sounds coming from his window that catches his attention , head lifts up from his pillow , taylan prompts himself up on his elbows , a flutter of lashes in the dark room , and he makes out the intruder . kieran and his long limbs don't have the grace that avery has from years of ballet , and amusement blooms in taylan's gaze watching him stumble and fall to the ground . “ two break- ins , in one night . selin needs better locks . ” a pressing concern he shelves for tomorrow , watches as kieran stands up , his shadow crawling up the plain white walls like a spider , spreading its long limbs . “ its a popular costume these days . maybe whoever that was , thought it was slender man running behind him , can you blame the guy ? ” a chuckle , low and vibrating , taylan defaults to find humor in a night so dark and gruesome . but his amusement dissipate with the next breath . his eyes narrow , lips fall into a tight line , and his tongue curls in irritation , against the open wound where his teeth have cut into his cheek from arguing with his father . the taste of the raw flesh sobering . “ bold of you to break into my home , and ask me if i'm the killer . ” he speaks rough , voice hoarse and slashed , feels the heaviness of all the arguing tonight against the back of his throat . taylan rests his head back on the pillow dismissing the urgency in kieran's need to know . nose sniffs on instinct , june's perfume is abusively overwhelming , marking their territory even in his space , and taylan throws the pillow in his direction . “ then why are you asking ? ” there's a look in his eyes , for the doubt that emanates from his childhood friend , and irritation coils tightly in his voice . “ i'm not a killer , kieran . ” eyes roll up and away , linger on the boogeyman mask left on his desk . before his arm stretch out to the side of his bed , blindly searches for the bottle of vodka that he grabs by the throat , with slim fingers flawed by marks of red cuts on his knuckles . “ got anymore questions for me deputy ? ” he asks , lift the drink to his lips , alcohol drips down the neck of his bottle . “ need me to tell you my alias for tonight too ? ”

…                      he already knew the answer, already knew that taylan might be capable terrible violence but he wasn't a killer. or at least that was the wish of someone who yearned to clear the dust off old photographs, nostalgic for a time when they were still young together, never quite innocent but still boyishly unaware of the slow decay of their flesh and bones. but a lot could have changed with taylan in the last seven years, couldn't ignore that the slaughter had only now began with his return, couldn't ignore that he was wearing the mask donned by who he believed to be the killer ⸻ and there was no room for the ache of childhood memories when blood had been spilled, only objectivity. he needed to know. he needed to know. he needed to know. but kieran still cared for taylan enough to go straight to the source of his worries. the desire for truth led him to worse places and worse choice before, but someone was dead and it was already well past curfew by the time he was hoisting himself up over the window sill, the edge biting into the curve of his palms, leaving shallow dents that should fade by sunrise. kieran moved with urgency, before some cop on patrol could notice him, wedging him in : uncomfortably contorting his long and wiry body, one leg first, then the rest, until his grip faltered and gravity took its chance. the room's darkness and the streetlight outside blurred as he tumbled forward, landing in a graceless heap on the hardwood floor, the thud echoing sharply. and for a split second, kieran just laid there, dazed and breathless, staring at the ceiling as if it had wronged him. but he was already pushing himself up on one elbow, muttering a string of curses ( and a prayer that the noise wouldn't wake selin ) under his breath, when his vision finally adjusted and caught sight of taylan, a smile tugging on his lips ⸻ sweet and verging on a laugh because, of course, taylan would still be awake. kieran could barely remember a time when he had fallen asleep before midnight. but this wasn't a time for reminiscing, quickly reminded by why he was here in the first place. and kieran was nothing if not honest. “ i saw the boogeyman tonight. wearing the same mask as you. chased after him for blocks and blocks. and he wouldn't have done that if he was just some guy wearing a costume .... ” said as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the dust from his jeans with a feigned casualness that felt hollow. he shifted his weight and leaned back against the wall, the cool plaster biting through his thin shirt, grounding him in this surreal moment. “ was it you ? ” gaze cast on taylan, it'snothimit'snothimit'snothim, but kieran just needed to hear it from him for his own peace of mind. “ i don't think you're a killer. so, tell me you're not. ” @ofvolatile