(EDITED)(Note to readers: Some chapters ahead may not be in line with the new edits.)

The match was going well. That being said:

"Mother. Fucker!" Wynter snarled just as Windsor slammed himself against her left side. "Someone tell me we're winning or I'm gonna punt this kid so damn far across the track he turns into a front starboard."

"We're winning," Meredith assured. "By a small margin."

"A small margin?"

The biggest disadvantage of a small track was the fact that a smaller area meant less obstacles meant less space between you and the opponent, all of which meant point gaps were harder to hold onto. The smaller the track, the more vital the fronts—and their speed—became. Any margin was a good one, considering Diamond Prix matches were won by any number of points, and we had a semi-respectable ten above the Waves. But it was cold comfort.

Because Luan was fast.

Kane and Zahir were lapping the track at speeds so inhuman, they weren't any more than blurs of bleeding colors sailing past our eyes. But Luan wasn't far behind; if anything, he was neck and neck.

Kane swerved around a corner, heading for the logs. Luan raced around Meredith, his back wheel knocking into her front one and sending her wobbling into a pillar. He took the opening and slammed his foot into the acceleration. 

He sidled up beside Kane, the two parallel from head to tail. Kane soared for the log piles, but Luan knocked into him, and he faltered.

"King! Get your head in the damn game, don't let him in!" Coach snapped.

Kane didn't reply, but braked hard instead. He swerved around Luan in a clean sweep and headed for the tunnel instead. But Luan was already sinking back to block his path. Not to strike him, but just to force him forward.

"He's fucking with him," I said. "He's trying to mess with his head."

"Then quit letting him," Coach hissed into her mic. "Where the hell is defense?"

"Getting there!" Diego called.

As promised, Diego took the ramps and landed on Luan's other side. Kane slammed on the brakes and turned his bike in a perfect half-moon just as Diego arrived. He collided into Luan's left side who—although bigger than Diego—didn't have the time to react and went reeling into a concrete pillar with a resounding crash.

Kane soared through the tunnels, weaved through two pole series with textbook perfection. We rose above by another six points.

Coach clapped her hands and I gave a small grin. The crowd roared, the sound deafening as it rattled against my eardrums. Meredith whooped in approval.

The buzzer rang loud and clear to signal halftime. 

Everyone rolled to a stop at their respective canopies. Corvus tore off their helmets as the pit crew ran for their vehicles, Ramos dishing out waters and sports drinks as they made their way back to us. The Waves, although a speedy and snappy group, weren't nearly as violent as the other teams Corvus had versed, so it left them all with scratches and cuts at best.

Better for them, it seemed, considering it left them with ample energy to spare on fury.

"They're fucking with us, they're all fucking with us," Rosalie said. "Luan, the tails, all of them."

"They're just trying to get a rise out of you," Zahir said. "Besides, they're sloppy, it doesn't matter. We need to play defensively, let them have their fun."

Kane sat down on an empty bench. Sweat dripped from the ends of his hair, the slope of his nose. He chugged half the water bottle and stared quietly at the floor.

Diego pointed across at the Waves' canopy. "Babosos. Mira, what kind of play do they think that is? It's ridiculous and goddamn—"

"I know it's frustrating," Meredith tried. "But this could be good, it means they don't have much else to rely on. We're in good shape."

Corvus looked wholly reluctant to accept that, but didn't argue. Ramos climbed the stairs, setting her bag down on a bench and looking around at us.

"You're all doing very well out there," she said. "Seems as though the Waves are rattled."

"Rattled? More like humored," Wynter muttered.

Ramos sat beside Kane. "Are you all right?"

Kane blinked blankly at her. "Yeah. A few scratches."

"Not what I meant."

Coach raised a brow at him. Kane tugged at his jacket's collar. "I'm all right."

"Don't lie to me, King," Coach said. "If you're not—"

"I said I'm all right," he snapped. 

Coach looked unconvinced, but turned her attention back to Corvus. "Let's get through this last half smoothly. If they wanna screw with you, let them, but don't react rashly. Gupta's right, we're on the defensive for this round. Everyone got that?"

"Yes, Coach," they chorused.

"Drink up, you're back on in ten."

I sat next to Kane as he finished the rest of his water. I handed him a towel. I said, "He's got bad balance." 

Kane, along with Diego and Rosalie who were close enough to hear, turned their gazes down at me.w

"What?" Rosalie said.

"Luan," I explained. "He's right-winged. He's got a bad balance."

Front ports were typically ambidextrous, and tended to be the lead over the front starboards in terms of position, since they tended to have to drift farther towards the middle of the team when racing because of the tight left-hand turns. Because of it, port and center tails usually followed in having a good sense of their right and left side. A fast port was blatantly good, sure, but a balanced one was quietly advantageous. 

Kane said, "How do you know?"

"Only attacks on his right," I said. "Diego threw him off pretty easily from the left, which is unusual for a front port. I think he relies on his speed to try and bypass any tails getting between him and the wall."

They glanced amongst each other. Rosalie cocked a brow, then got to her feet.

"Then we should get him to the right and take him out from the left," she said. "Higgins is too chicken to take Diego on, and Patel is too slow to catch up in time. Kane can lead him up ahead and I'll take him out."

"What about O'Brian?" Diego asked.

"Kenzo's gonna have to go tail on tail," Zahir said, glancing at him. "If that works."

Kenzo nodded. Kane chewed his lip as he thought, then said, "All right."

Corvus looked a little more at ease with that, returning to their drinks. Eventually, the buzzer sounded for the racers' return. Coach gave one last inquiring glance to Kane, who just nodded and grabbed his helmet, before she directed them back on the track. 

As he went, he told me, "Thanks."

I shook my head. "Don't thank me."

The crowd surged in their ruckus as the second half began. I watched Luan out of the corner of my eye as he mounted his bike. I tried not to think of Kane flinching.

We ought to bring a knife on that damn track.

The countdown began. 

"You think it'll work?" I asked Coach. 

She sighed, leaning on her elbows. "For our sake," she said, "I hope so."

They shot off into the concrete skies below.

For the first twenty minutes, it was a matter of holding out against the taunts and teasing. Beowulf zig-zagged around Meredith, Higgins let Diego shove him around between tunnels, Kim and Windsor harassed Wynter without end. Zahir and Kane were pushing points like they couldn't get past obstacles fast enough. We were up by a twenty-point lead by the time someone made a real move.

Unsurprisingly, it was Luan.

He surged around Higgins and Diego, heading straight for the fronts. Diego shouted into his mic, "Zhang's coming up."

Zahir sank back, heading for the tunnel. Kim raced for him at full acceleration. Luan sank through the opening, trailing Kane.

"Finish the lap," Kane said. "Meredith, block Patel and Train, they won't try and go around you. Rosalie, start weaving up here after the first bridge. Kenzo, keep an eye on Beowulf, but don't worry about him too much until Rosalie makes a move, then shift on O'Brian."

Corvus chorused their understanding. The crowd screamed from the depths of their lungs.

Smoke began to beam from Kane's and Luan's tires at the speeds they were going. Kane weaved with ease, never hesitating on the sharp corners or the harsh angles, moving like a knife through water. It might've made Luan scarier.

Because he was just as good.

"I see why you wanted him," I told Coach. "He's fast."

She pursed her lips. "That's what I'm worried about."

They completed the lap with a record score, now only ten points separating Corvus and the Waves. Luan watched Kane like a hawk hovered over a mouse, waiting, waiting, waiting.

It made my bones rattle.

Luan yanked his bike left.

Kane saw him a second before he could smash into his back wheel, braking so fiercely I swore  flames spiked up from the track. Luan shoved him up fast and merciless against the wall, metal on metal, the screech of the grating bikes a choir filling the stadium. Kane yanked his arm out and slammed iron knuckles into the wall. Fireworks showered in his wake.

"Rosalie!" he snapped.

"On it!" she replied.

Rosalie appeared from a ramp above much like a guardian angel would, her body and bike bouncing on the ricocheting impact of tires slamming on stone. She yanked herself around, out and between obstacles, racing like her head depended on it. She reached them a minute later just as Kane began to falter under the grinding pressure. The crowd roared. 

Luan turned his head.

She smashed her wheel into his back one. The impact sent him reeling forward, careening away from Kane, who took the seconds to pull his wheel into the wall and send himself soaring against gravity. He rose up until his tires were toe-to-toe with the fencing, a motorcycle on a tightrope. The moment the first ramp appeared, Kane was yanking his bike off and flying down towards its nose. When his tires greeted the asphalt, he careened down the slope, and re-entered the track like a bullet fresh from the barrel.

"Awesome," I whispered just as Coach said, "Madman."

Rosalie swerved herself around to locate the first-available pole series. In one swift swing, her and her bike were crashing into Luan's like two colliding battleships, and bashing him into the metal poles with a thunderous ring.

The crowd gave a pained sound of empathy. Luan went spinning from the collision. He nearly took Rosalie down with him in the process, only missing her due to her retreat onto the bridge. Corvus gave a raucous cheer.

"Don't celebrate," Kenzo said.

"Why not?" Rosalie huffed.

We all looked ahead.

The attack Rosalie had delivered on Luan would have been enough for anyone to be taken out completely. However, the man was still racing, albeit slowly and a bit crooked. Either he was seconds away from collapsing, or he had a thicker skull than assumed. Or, worse, he was simply as determined to win this race as Corvus was.

None were good explanations.

Then suddenly, all the Waves were moving.

"You're kidding me," I cursed.

Beowulf surged ahead in a sudden burst, ramming through Kenzo and O'Brian. Kim and Windsor began to knock more and more violently against Zahir and Wynter, their rhythm forfeited for protecting their skin. Zoe was denied entry every time by O'Brian, who refused to let her find Rosalie, and busied her efforts with avoiding crashing into Kenzo, who was equally preoccupied trying to fight O'Brian off. When he was satisfied the two were getting tired, he swung right ahead, and I swore I could hear him cackling as he went. 

He found Rosalie with ease. In a merciless blow, he cracked his front wheel into Rosalie's back one, yanking her into a pillar. He cornered her against the wall, the gap between her and Kane growing miles by the second.

I cursed violently. "We're idiots," I muttered.

"What the hell are they doing?" Wynter said.

"Playing tricks," Rosalie grunted. "We need a new plan!"

Kane was only going faster, taking on every bridge and tunnel and ramp and log pile in his path, but the track was too small for him to go too far, and if he sped up even more, he could only run into the Waves and Corvus from behind. 

"Fuckers," I muttered. "They're trapping him."

"Then get him untrapped, we need a plan," Diego said. "Patel's blocking my view, I can't go farther without running into her or Train."

"King!" Meredith yelled. "Can you get out?"

"I've got a plan," he said.

"Then save us all the hospital bill and tell us!" Rosalie hissed.

"Stay where you are," he said. "Give me a distance and the next two minutes."

"What are you planning?" Coach snapped.

He paused. "I just need a distance."

Coach rubbed her eyes, but said, "Quit twiddling your damn thumbs, it's the Diamond Prix, get him a distance. Go, go, go!"

Corvus rallied, steeling up to their tails or fronts. Wheels began to knock into wheels, iron on iron and orange on purple. The crowd was on their feet by now, searching the track to see what was going on. The points' gaps were beginning to shrink too fast for comfort.

Luan sidled up next to Kane. The gap that had grown between them and the teams left all available help too far to be of use; there was no one but each other. Kane headed for the track's only set of chicanes, five jagged corners, a pole between each. He said, "Echo."

I said, "What are you doing?"

"Tell me when to turn."

"What?"

"On the corners. Tell me when. There's a ramp."

"Kane—"

You could only believe it if you saw it.

Kane took the ramp with Luan at his heels. He tilted his body right, bike swerving. He went up, he went down, and he went backwards.

"Backwards?" we said.

Kane swerved his bike around in a half-moon, skidding to a hasty landing that had him facing Luan head to head. His black helmet faced Luan's blue and orange one, their face shields reflecting each other. Luan didn't do anything for a moment, likely in shock, much like the rest of the entire stadium.

He pushed the accelerator. 

I hoisted myself nearly over the railing to see the corners clearly, and began to shout through the mic. Right. Left. Left. Right. Right. Right. Left. Left. Right. 

Kane's wheels barely made it around the poles and away from the corners in time, swerving this way and that as he gripped the handlebars for dear life. Luan tracked him at the same pace but sloppier. Distracted. Too focused on the racer in front of him than the race around him. A slight of hand, a trick of the eye.

Playing tricks.

If I was crazier, I would've smiled.

The moment Kane and Luan were out of the chicanes and halfway to the bridge, he went for him.

Kane shifted gears and sailed forward, straight at the man. When a foot separated them, Kane swung his bike away and grabbed onto Luan's bike's bars. In one strike, he closed the last of the distance with a cleated foot, sinking deep into Luan's left side. The strike sent his body flying off the bike and into the track's stony, unforgiving embrace.

Kane abandoned his bike. He swung himself up onto Luan's by the wobbling handlebars and sank the accelerator to concrete. He headed for the ramp, which sent him over like a love letter to the bridge. 

When he rounded about and came screeching back down, he cleared every single obstacle left in the lap without a spark to spare.

The buzzer sounded. 194 to 172. Corvus's favor.

Everyone was at the pit in moments. Diego tore Kane's helmet off his head as he screamed with laughter. Meredith was bouncing with her fist pumping in the air in time with Zoe's and Wynter's. Rosalie bubbled with laughter, half-shock and half-delight painted on her face.

Before I knew it, I was beside them with Coach and Ramos. Zahir ruffled my hair.

"You two are out of your minds," he cackled. "You put him up to that?"

I shook my head and managed to breath out, "No." 

"That was horrific, and amazing, I'm gobsmacked," Zoe gasped. "Swear I couldn't even breathe!"

"You assholes," Wynter snapped. "Since when do we race backwards?"

I turned on Kane, whose cheek was torn open and whose brow was bleeding and whose temple was bloodied and whose left arm was limp, who was the only one not smiling. He was too busy looking at the stolen bike.

I said, "That was amazing. I think only you could pull off that play."

Kane turned a gaze as black as ashes on me. His one-shouldered shrug was fragile. "Thanks for the idea," he said.

"Told you there was no rule."

Kane nodded. "It won," he admitted. "I'm never trying that again, though."

"Who wants a traditional play anyway?"

"I guess."

"You just won, you know." I gestured at a celebrating Corvus. "Fuck the Waves, they lost. Who cares?"

Kane could only gave me a smile. But felt as pained as his shoulder looked, and seemed as sick as he was starting to become from that stolen bike.

Corvus didn't seem to notice. 

"That was outrageous. Outrageously awesome," Diego said and slapped him on the back. "¡Este es mi capitán!"

Corvus cheered at that just as Ramos appeared, clapping in time with them. "Este es tu capitán herido," she added, and whatever that meant had Diego frowning. "So come on, let's patch you all up, and let me take a look at that arm." She pointed at Kane's left arm, which he was holding a bit fiercely for comfort. 

"Aw, but, celebration," Diego said.

Kenzo raised his hand. "I'm injured."

"Oh, Kenzo! Where?" Ramos asked.

"Pride," he said. "That was stupid."

Zahir spun him around and pushed him away. "You could just say 'it was cool' next time."

"Ramos, please bandage us so we can drink those fuckers away," Wynter called, and Corvus gave their loudest cheer yet at that.

I stayed behind to grab Kane's abandoned helmet on the handlebar of the Waves' bike. The crowd was shuffling out by now, and the press was likely readying themselves to be on our asses in no time. My ears still rang from the final two minutes, but I figured it was a sound I could get used to.

I'd turned on my heel to head up the stairs, when someone said, "Forgetting something?"

My body froze. I looked back.

Luan stood near the pit, Kane's bike wheeled up beside him. He had more than a foot on me, towering like the Eiffel would a rock pile. He looked sort of terrible, his nose bloody, gashes on his forehead, a split lip staining his teeth. Nonetheless, he smiled.

I clenched the helmet. "Oh. Right. That."

"Trade you," he said, and jutted his chin at the blue and orange monster beside me. His voice was smooth and easy, an accent catching at the ends, a lost melody or a misplaced ode. It made my skin curl off my muscles. 

"Sure," I said, and wheeled his bike over, but he didn't take his hands off Kane's.

"You're the new recruit, right? Echo, is it?" I didn't reply, but he still nodded to himself with a light laugh. "Stirling on Corvus. Hey, why not?"

"Sure," I said again.

"I'm Luan." He held out his hand. I didn't take it. His smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed. "Not a friendly kid, are you?"

"Not a kid," I corrected. "And not really. I've got one of those faces."

"Clearly. Ah, I get it though. But, never a judge a book by its cover. You're pretty good. I've seen some matches."

"Sure. I'd like the bike back."

Luan blinked. Then said, "I wouldn't have thought you the new kid. You and Corvus get along so well."

I didn't miss that distinction separation. I pursed my lips. "I'd like the bike back."

"So quick?" he asked. "I just wanted to chat."

"I'm not the conversational type."

"Maybe some practice would do good, then."

"Probably not. Give me the bike."

"You're pretty new to the racing world, Echo." His voice was easy, but there was a threat beneath the words. "You should really keep your connections open."

"You're not a connection," I said, tightening my grip. "You're a live wire."

Nothing really changed about Luan's face except his eyes. His gaze went from cool to downright sinister, a dark thing that froze the time around you, spotlighted you in a frigid, white, inescapable beam. It was as startling as it was haunting, a wolf only in slivers.

"You've got a bit of an attitude," he said.

"I've been told," I replied.

"You don't know me."

"I consider myself lucky for that. I don't need to know you. We're just trading bikes after your shady team lost its one and only Diamond Prix shot."

"That's haughty, from a Class III." His grin only widened, and he leaned down to lower his voice. "Just what is it about you that made Corvus, of all teams, choose you? Your captain is not the bold kind."

"You don't know anything about my captain," I snapped.

"No?" he asked, and the mockery dug nails into my organs. "If you think that, he's said a lot less about me than I thought."

"That's haughty," I retorted, "to assume you'd even cross his mind at all."

Luan blinked. Then, he laughed, a mirthless sound that peeled the epidermis off my body. He said, "And his new stray is all the rage? You don't really think your captain believes you deserve to race, do you?" He laughed at me, his brown eyes like scalpels. When he spoke, a snarl curled up from his words, wrapping itself around my throat. "At best, he just wanted to feel some redemption in teaching a street dog some new tricks."

My blood popped, broiled, filled my skull with heady rage. I took a step towards him.

"I'm not talking about me, but if I'm your only good target after getting your ass kicked by someone three years younger than you because you don't know your right from your left and your team doesn't know how to race without elementary-level fakeouts and dodges, then that's a hell of a lot bolder and a serious blow to whatever measly pride you've got as a half-assed captain who has to rely on playing Speed Racer just to make up for the fact your team is a D1 joke who couldn't even make it past Yellow Diamond on their own credit. Take a strike at me all you want, but you can't just admit you're bitter the guy you wanted wrapped around your finger is three times the champion you are and ever will be. So kill the nice-guy act, quit screwing with people's heads for your own sick fun, and take your ugly, migraine-inducing, Frosted Flakes Tony Tiger bullshit bike back already."

Luan gaped, smile gone, the dark stare in his eyes leaking over the rest of his face. I pushed his bike forward and propped it up between us, holding out my hand for Kane's bike. I'd deal with Coach's screaming and shouting about this later. For now, I just wanted to see anyone's face but Luan's.

He let out a sharp breath, a laugh or a gasp of some sort. "Thought they were exaggerating about your mouth," he muttered. "Someone ever teach you manners?"

"Not any more than they taught you."

"And I'm a live wire?"

"Takes one to know one, I guess."

"You don't know me," he repeated, tone icy. He was smiling again, but it was a glacier's embrace. "You don't need more enemies than you're bound to make in this industry, Echo. What'd I ever do to you?"

"Give me the bike."

"Don't be so angry."

"Or what?" I said. "You'll hit me?"

It struck him like a hammer. A shadow bloomed over his face. He let Kane's bike fall onto its kickstand. He stood as if to grab me, and I forced myself to stand still, to grow roots into the concrete even as my heart began to race. 

"What did you just say?" he hissed as purple flooded his eyes.. 

"Why so angry?" I hissed. "I thought you were just being friendly."

"A Class III Stirling on a team like Corvus," he began carefully. "Do you think they'd appreciate you causing so much chaos? It's not just you anymore. Successes like them, they boast a high profile. You're barely past Yellow Diamond. How long do you think they're planning to let you swim before you sink?"

It was a terrifically terrifying inquiry, much like a pin needle up your spine, intrusive and violating. I couldn't muster up a response fast enough, but to him, that was a response in itself.

His smile was like vitriol thrown in my eyes. "You're right. Your captain is a champion." Luan righted himself. "But what have you won to make you anything? You're a press liability and a lucky rookie and a sub." His grin was vile. "You," he said, "are no one."

It was a brand, a poison. It was bloody and brutal. It was true. As I was coming to see, that only made it worse.

He pushed Kane's bike to me. "Didn't mean to keep you waiting. Sorry, about that."

I looked up just to realize he wasn't talking to me. I turned around.

Kane was standing a ways away, his shoulder in a haphazard sling, his whole body rigid as uncut marble. He was staring somewhere that wasn't Luan's eyes.

"Echo," he said. "Let's go. We're leaving."

"Already?" Luan said.

"Echo."

"Hey." Kane tensed. Luan didn't shout it, but there was an order in the syllable. You only saw it if you knew to listen. "Don't be rude. Where's my hello?"

Kane clenched his jaw. After a beat, he said, "Hi, Luan."

Luan looked pleased at that, and I felt utterly ill. I snagged the bike.

Luan called, "Let's catch up some time, yeah? I feel like you never want to talk."

Kane swallowed. He said, "Maybe."

"Come on, Kitae," Luan sighed, and Kane's entire face drained of color. "For me?"

I didn't let them finish. I couldn't. I'd be too sick to move. I'd ring it in my head until I went deaf. Kitae. Kitae. Kitae.

"Let's go," I told Kane. "Let's go now."

I pushed him gently until he finally moved, turning and heading back up the stairs. Rosalie's murderous stare was already on Luan. Meredith snagged her arm before she could go running for him.

"King," Zahir said. "Are you okay?"

"It's all right," he replied, voice shaky. "Coach."

Ramos touched his shoulder. "Kane—"

"It's late. The press is waiting," he told Coach. "Can we go?"

Everyone exchanged glances. Coach stared at him for a long, long moment. Then, after a beat or so, nodded. She grabbed her tablet, gesturing for the door. 

"Come on," she told them. "Let's get the hell out of here. I think we've had enough of Pepperdine for one day."

We left the Waves in our wake, a win bitter on the tongues.

______________________

Count on Diego to absolve any awkwardness, because he was able to fill most of the silence on the way back and eventually bring out a semblance of a conversation for distraction until we arrived at the Talon. Bless Meredith and Zahir's optimism too, because by the time we made it up to the halls, everyone was back on about drinking their furies away in celebration.

"Just don't show up to any classes drunk and drink water," Coach said, waving us off. "And if you don't, then don't tell me."

"Love you, Coach!"

"Get away from me, go drink yourselves to sleep."

They laughed. Ramos quickly relayed something to Kane and handed him a box of some sort before waving us goodbye and slipping away to return to her own home. Kane was free from his sling, but he looked the least happy out of anyone about the win.

"Hey, man, we won, you know," Diego said. "That's usually a good thing."

"Diego," Meredith said. "Let him be."

"I'm just saying."

"You can come to our room," Zoe offered. "Have a drink?"

Kane shook his head and gave a half-hearted grin. "I'm tired," he placated. "I'm gonna sleep early."

No one argued with him on it, simply offering their congrats and goodnights before slowly pulling back to the girls' room. When I didn't follow, Wynter frowned.

"Don't pull a 'this is yours not mine' on us," she snapped. "You deserve to celebrate."

"I don't drink," I said. "And I've got finals to study for. But have fun."

"Yun—"

"Really," I said, smiling. "It's all right. Go celebrate, you deserve it."

I turned away and went into the unit, leaving them with that. 

Going from the pre-match controversy to the match's discord to Corvus's party talk had left me with little to no peace and quiet to catch my breath. I had half a mind to bask in the silence the near-empty unit left me with. The other half was preoccupied with Kane.

He'd set the box down on the counter, the kitchen light a cold and withered drapery over him. His cuts were already starting to heal, but his shoulder seemed obstinate in its injury. I dragged my feet over.

"You need help?" I asked.

Kane popped open the box with his fingers. "No. Go to sleep."

"It's before my bedtime."

"It's eleven."

"I've got three hours."

Kane shook his head. They were heat and lidocaine patches. Kane stared at them for a few moments, seemingly realizing that applying them one-handed and partially-blind would present some issues.

I sat on the counter. "You got it."

"Yeah, thanks. And stop doing that, we eat on there."

"Drama queen." 

Kane sighed. We sat in the quiet, the night life outside bursting with Friday night, the promise of the weekend fueling reverly. It seemed distant from where we were.

Finally, Kane pushed the box at me. "Let's get this over with."

I hopped off the counter, snagging the box in my hands. I'd done my fair share of patching myself up after Mercy's gigs, from burns to bruises to shit that likely needed a real medical professional, so I figured I had some merit to show for in wound care. That being said, it'd only ever been my body. 

Kane tore off his shirt as I looked up from the box.

If someone had dropped an ink pen into water, the result wouldn't be far off from Kane's back. It was a lightning storm, an H-bomb, of black. Cuts and bruises scraped across its potent permanence, the blood disappearing into the pitch blackness coating his skin.

Silver poisoning, if untreated, obstructed accelerated regeneration of lycans since it was such a carnivorous poison. Timing was key in treating the poison, since as long as it was in your blood, it could damage stem cell proliferation and cell function from your bones to your eyes without flinching. 

The 607 was a combination of stem cell engineering, chemical neutralization, invasive surgery, and strategic neuroregeneration. Most never made a full recovery, since the operation was so technical, and oftentimes, most patients were too late to save their body from the damage. Just as there was no telling what the poison would do to you, there was no guarantee you'd survive the 607.

I couldn't blame Kane, not with what stood before me, but I could equally not believe him either. His timer was a blaring, indelible scar. His life was bleeding black before him. How he could stand to choose not to save it, when I had done bad and worse just to keep some semblance of my own, I didn't understand.

Kitae. Kitae. Kitae.

When I didn't move for another minute, Kane glared at me. "I'm not at a fucking cattle call. Get that look off your face ."

I wrenched my eyes off his back. The kitchen light nestled severely over the planes of his torso, a sharp, lithe silhouette cut out by the X-Acto knives of years on a square track and unforgiving shadows. At the junction of his hip, a clean, blazing Drachmann brand was seared onto the skin, right across from the faintest Alpha mark.

I said, "Where?" 

He gestured at his left arm and made a triangular gesture from his scapula to his sternal head to his bicep. I peeled off the patches' backings.

"Told you you'd screw up your shoulder," I muttered. 

"Thanks," he snapped. 

"Not bad for half-blind, though."

"No," he murmured. "I guess not."

I placed a patch over his trapezius. His skin was warm under my fingers, heat beading under the patch. I thought of Luan's wretched grin, the purple in his gaze. At best, he just wanted to feel some redemption in teaching a street dog some new tricks.

I said, "Who's Kitae?"

Kane turned to stone. Where's my hello?

The waters between me and Kane were muddy and deep, the paths unclear in what was a bridge and what was a plank. I didn't know the exact nature of it, but I knew I didn't want to injure it.

Still, Ramos was right: no one knew Kane before he'd come to Avaldi. No one but Luan and the rest of his friends, who'd known him before and after. And no one but Luan seemed keen on remaining in Kane's life through both. 

"I'm sorry," I tried, dread spilling down my spine. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Kane said, "Kitae is my birth name."

It was my turn to go still.

Kane kept his eyes from me. "Luan knows me as Kitae," he said. "Not Kane."

I pursed my lips hard until my teeth were digging into my flesh. "How long have you known Luan?"

Kane shook his head mournfully "Too long," he said. "We met in high school."

Someone very close to him. "Where you met Baluyot?"

He nodded. "Group of us," he explained. "We were all friends."

I blinked. "He's...three years older than you."

Kane tried to shrug but it pulled his shoulder and he winced. The breath he let out was heavy. "America was a whole different world, I barely spoke English, and I didn't know anyone. My parents had low hopes for me, if any. They didn't want anything to do with me if I didn't prove to be something worthwhile. I came here to race, but I didn't know the first thing about it," he said. "But, Luan did." 

It was uncommon for golden children to change their name upon second birth, even more uncommon to be known only by the new name. It was an uppercut to the family, a blatant disregard of their prestige. There must have been a reason for Kane to want to take such a risk.

"Does Corvus know?" I asked.

"No," he said firmly. "And I don't plan on them knowing."

"Why not?" I asked. "They wouldn't judge you for it."

"Corvus has already had to suffer through enough of my discourse," Kane said, sighing. "I think the last thing I want is for them to go knowing more about my past than they need to. There's a reason I'm not Kitae anymore."

"Why do you let him do that?" I said. "If you're not Kitae anymore, then why let him bring it up?"

"Luan and I are...complicated."

"Those jars," I said, and Kane stiffened. "That makeup." I didn't finish. I figured I didn't need to.

Kane closed his eyes. "It's not that simple. Everyone makes it seem that way, but it's not. We've been through things together. He's known me for so long, and he did a lot for me when I didn't know what to do," he pressed. 

"He didn't do more than you could've done for yourself."

"I owe him my life," Kane said, and I hesitated. He shook his head. "I didn't have anyone else."

But his voice wasn't gratified, not even content, but pained, bound in rope and bloated with bricks. Something regretful and halfway to defeat. A strange, sudden, young desperation budded around it, like thorns.

I let my hands rest in my lap. "Why did you change your name?" I asked.

Kane came to face me. He leaned his forearms on the counter to let his shoulder ease, the black veins stretching under parchment skin. 

"I've made a lot of bad choices," he said. "And, Kitae is part of a lot of them." He gave me a grim look. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Why?"

"You don't know anyone but who I am now, and I'm not honest enough to change that," he confessed, his voice thin and full of weighty secrets. "I believed a lot of things I shouldn't have, and it made me do some things I can't ever take back. Being where I was, I think I just wanted someone to be honest with me because I thought that'd make me honest with myself."

I turned to face him, my knee against his arm. "Was it?"

He shook his head. "I thought I could make them say what I wanted," he said. 

The earnestness rattled me, made my skin hot and cold at the same time. It was strange to admit dishonesty, ironic if you will. It felt more strange from Kane. Maybe because I'd never known someone so far from me. Maybe because I'd never met someone who understood.

"Not everyone gets second chances," Kane said. "It was a miracle I got mine, and even more so that I didn't lose it from all my recklessness. I owe it to Corvus to do the best I can, and not bring my past into it. I have to try."

Kane glanced at me. He didn't look at me like Luan had, like how a spear sank into a fish's scales or how a knife gutted fresh game; a gaze that stripped you into scar tissue and ash. He looked at me like you would a solar eclipse, an optical illusion, a black hole. Like looking was as forbidden as it was imperative. A closing primrose, a bleeding lung.

I said, "You don't owe your past to someone." Kane blinked, the words stunning him for a second. "It's not theirs. If you don't wanna be Kitae, then don't be. What the hell does Luan know? Just because someone knew you as one person, doesn't mean own that person. You get to stay by it or leave it. You don't have to trade your truths, that's your own shit. So what if you made a bad choice, it's been made. Forget it, who cares? Give it to Luan. He can have it." I reached over and tapped his sternum. "I'd take Kane any day."

I didn't know what it was like to be someone else, but I knew what it was like to be nobody at all. Ghosts and masks weren't all that different. Neither were very honest.

But a foolish part of me wanted. I knew better than hope, than to invite it in or hold its hand or look it in the eye. Hope was a weapon and a devil and an unforgiving god. Hope was a scream in space, a sun for Pluto, a star over the city. Hope tore you up like a heartbeat, and let you bleed to death from the inside out.

Kane reached up and touched my finger with his. He slid his palm beneath mine, his rings warm on my skin, until his hand was under mine and my hand was under his jaw. 

"How's that for a pep talk?" I asked him.

The smile he gave me was unspeakable, indomitable, bluer than unforeseen dawn. 

"Not bad," he murmured. 

The world burned inwards.

Racing right for me.

_____________________

12:01 AM - Sexiest Port Tail of the West Coast <3 <3 <3

HAPPY BIRTHDAT THE K TWINS
I'M FIRST U HEARD IT HERW

12:03 AM - MEREDITH !! <3 <3 :D XD

HBDDDDD

12:04 AM - Rosalie Corvus

Happy bday king
i guess kenzo too whatever 

12:09 AM - Your Favorite Z

OMG it's ur bdays?????
happy birthday!!!!

12:12 AM - Zahir G

happy birthday kane and kenzo
diego took my phone 
i would've been first
u guys know that right

12:14 AM - Wynter is Coming

hbd ur old fucks
jk
wait kenzo is rly old tho right

12:18 AM - Rosalie Corvus

bday outing at noon today no excuses no backouts if ur not there i'll kill u in ur sleep
that means echo
where tf is echo i know that kid is awake

12:21 AM - Sexiest Port Tail of the West Coast <3 <3 <3

Echoooooooooooo
hear the echoooooooo

12:24 AM - Zahir G

echo

12:31 AM - Your Favorite Z

Echo!

12:35 AM - Wynter is Coming

echo wish ur tracker a happy day 

12:39 AM - MEREDITH !! <3 <3 :D XD

Echo??

(no real life hate to pepperdine, though. i've had to do quite the amount of stem cell and nerve cell research for this, even if it's only, like, two paragraphs, so forgive any inaccuracies, medical biology is a serious beast of a topic, i've got so many random article tabs open, you have no idea.
thank you for reading, this is a shorter chapter, thank goodness. ur presence is so very appreciated and the little star gives a big hug for u for being very supportive :D )