The Lucky One

[Niall Gallagher]

Oh, how he wanted to believe in what Ken said, in what saw in him. He did. He really, really wanted to. And when Ken spoke so gently and touched him so softly, he thought he could believe that there was some way out of the dizzying world he'd buried himself alive inside. The problem was that he still had those lingering doubts of I can't bouncing around furiously in his mind. He couldn't. He could. He didn't know.

"Oh, that's not fair."

Playing that card on him. For years now, Niall had been what they would call... passively suicidal. As in, he hoped for death and longed for death but he didn't actually pursue it. That was fair enough, to want to die in a nice, gentle, happy way, was it not? He imagined it often: just curling up in a warm ball and closing his eyes and never opening them again.

Every time he woke up, he hated it. But he kept chasing his highs. They kept him sane. They kept his head above water when he was ready to drown in feelings that had never fully been acknowledged or dealt with. He was still running; he just found a new form of doing it.

Part of wanting to die was grief. Loss. Part of that was Ken. So if Ken was here, did that bring back a part of the whole? Did it stitch up a gaping hole that had been festering far too long? He didn't know. But he wanted to believe in Ken. He so wanted to.

"...no," he said after a moment. He couldn't leave Ken, no. He dropped his gaze, though Ken still held his face in place. Then he slid his gaze sideways. "...but I am not jogging."

[Kenneth Branagh]

Maybe it was fair and maybe it wasn't, but nothing was exactly fair in life. Nothing worked out the way one hoped or fantasized about. Theirs was a stark reality and no amount of drugs and alcohol could help them escape. When the pills and the bottles wore off, reality was still there. It was always there.

But it was a start to acknowledge that he didn't want to leave. Niall would never abandon Ken. He didn't, when their peers and elders sneered at them and called them filth and perverse and unclean. If Ken had been stronger... Niall would have been by his side. They might have weathered that storm.

Or they might not. Their relationship was one of secret trysts and lies to everyone around them. There was no telling what could have happened to them once the pressure was applied. Ken was trying to work through his past, to leave parts of it behind and to make up for other parts of it the best he could. By some miracle, he found Niall--he'd been searching in between jobs, hoping that the next lead would take him to wherever Niall was living. He'd traveled across the UK and Canada and America and God delivered Niall right into his hands.

That had to be a sign. Cain was right.

"One block." He leaned in; the tip of his nose nuzzled against Niall's. No kiss, not yet, but perhaps soon. Perhaps later, when the moment was right. Or... perhaps... just... a little... one? A... peck? And a little smile, relieved and hopeful.

"One block. Please?"

[Niall Gallagher]

One.

Block.

A whole block!

Ken made it sound so easy but when was the last time Niall did such a thing as jog? Sure, he sprinted for his life all the time but he didn't exactly count how many blocks he ran before he was flat on his ass. He sort of stayed in shape... but he sort of didn't? It was a weird little place he was in; he was thin but not anorexic but he was no Hulk. Not that he wanted to be, thank you very much. All green and icky... He probably looked diseased when he took off those famous purple trousers. Yuck.

"One?" He didn't want to, though. Kinda hard to say no to Ken acting so sweet, though. Ooh, he had a kind of magic all his own, Ken. Why did he have to smile right as Niall was about to reject his one block idea? Like seriously, his mouth opened to say No petulantly and instead, he was struck dumb for a moment by a smile.

"Alright, fiiiiiine," he said in his most dramatically long-suffering tone. "But only one block. If you try and cheat, I'm getting you."

[Kenneth Branagh]

"I'm. Terrified."

Ken let go of him and rose, lifting Niall off the ground too. Niall could be fast. Back when he was in tip top shape, not even Ken could catch him. Right now he didn't appear terribly out of shape either, but there was no telling what the drugs and alcohol had done to him. If he couldn't make it past one block, though, then at least Ken would know how badly things had gone in the ten years that he'd been missing from Niall's life.

A block to Ken was nothing, though. He could jog for miles--he jogged for fun, too, when he needed to unwind and de-stress from a particularly trying day. But he didn't say that to Niall, because he didn't want to rub it all in his face.

"Come on, get changed." Ken had changed earlier in the bathroom into sweats and a light pullover. Even while Niall was sleeping, he hadn't felt quite right changing in the room with him. Call him a prude (many did) but he preferred to keep some semblance of decorum. Some structure and order could be what Niall needed in his life, too, and Ken was the epitome of that.

[Niall Gallagher]

"Ha! Ha!" Niall was aware that he wasn't scary but he could still get Ken back if he cheated! Like he could sneak behind his back and find those pills or whatever he did to the rest of his stuff. Or he could... cheat back! Which was exactly what sneaking behind his back was but never mind that. He could paint a penis on his cheek in his sleep. Now he was getting into downright juvenile territory.

Which was not above Niall, even at this age. Especially at this age.

"Yeah, yeahhhhh, I am, I am. MOTHER."

He stalked over to the closet and yanked it open. All manner of interesting colors and fabrics met the eye. Floral patterned prints, knitted tops, gauzy tops, short tops, long tops, there were all kinds of things in his closet and it didn't look as if anything in there belonged to the same person. It could have been the shared closet of emo kid, a punk rocker, and a grandmother.

Niall, not a prude, pulled his clothes off right there, nudging them away from himself with his foot as he reached into the closet for a pair of shiny silver capris. Pulling them on, he eyed his choice of tops and he decided on a lavender colored cotton v-neck, mostly for comfort. He grabbed his sneakers and plopped down on the end of the couch bed to slide them on.

"You don't have to actually look like a typical jogger, you know," Niall said, appraising Ken as he yanked on one sneaker. "You look like the man on the news going 'Yeah, I found the body when I was jogging with my little yapper dog at three in the morning.'"

After his sneakers were on, Niall stood up, hands on his hips. "Alright, Kenny boy. Let's do this."

[Kenneth Branagh]

If it made Niall feel better to call him names—like mother—then all the more power to him. Ken, no longer susceptible to name-calling, only smiled to himself. Regardless of the verbal abuse, Niall was doing as bidden. And that meant that the clear-cut winner in this scenario was Ken.

Naturally, winners could afford to be gracious.

He turned away when it became clear that Niall was not changing in the bathroom, and forced his gaze onto the now-cleared table. Maybe he could buy a little camper stove for it; he would have liked to subsist on something more nutritious than microwave meals while he lived with Niall.

The rustle of cloth behind him was distracting, though. He wanted to look. Of course he did; he was still a man. But he resisted. He stared at the table and kept his hands in his pockets. "How do you want me to look?" Joggers looked like Ken. And Niall...

Ken had to force the Look off his face when he turned around. Niall didn't... look like a jogger. There wasn't quite an accurate word for what he looked like and Ken wasn't up to the task of trying to find one. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Let's get going then."

There were going to be a lot of Looks cast in their direction, he could already tell. But what did it matter, when they were together again? Briefly, Ken checked his pockets again, and then he opened the door—after another little battle with the doorknob—and stepped out into the dank, dimly lit hallway.

"Don't forget to lock the door," he reminded Niall—Ken had a lot of valuable equipment inside that he would have liked to remain in his possession.

[Niall Gallagher]

"Not like a jogger," he said promptly. But really, he didn't mind if Ken actually looked like a jogger or not. It just made him feel better to bitch and moan about it while he dressed. Ken looked ready to jog through the streets of Hazleton and up to the forests. Really, he looked just like any proper jogger would and that was what Niall found funny. Did he do it on purpose? Or was it just how jogging people tended to dress?

Ken wasn't even looking at him as he got dressed. Hah. Seemed like some things hadn't changed. Niall used to strip down straight to his skivvies--sometimes even ditching those--when they went swimming in the lake. Niall had been stripping down since he was a kid, though. He was that boy in their family and in the neighborhood. The toddler that couldn't keep a diaper on, the primary school boy that promptly stripped everything off the moment he got home.

Really, some things didn't change. He smiled because of the way Ken cleared his throat when he turned to see him. The shirt might made of cotton but it just barely touched the top of his capris. All he had to do was raise his arms to show off a flat midriff.

"Wait." He grabbed a headband and slid it over his curls as he followed Ken to the door. Pausing only to lock the door behind him, he scoffed. "Even with the key, that thing's a bitch to open."

As they headed for the stairs, Niall leapt down half the steps and then the other half, jolting his poor headache in the process. He slid his hand over the wall as he turned down the landing and faced the next flight of steps.

"Note to self: don't jump when you're hungover." He held his head and gingerly went down the next flight. "Aren't we supposed to stretch or do some yoga or some shit before we do this?"

[Kenneth Branagh]

"That seems wise," said Ken serenely as he took the steps not like a rambunctous ten year-old. He walked—carefully, sedately. Properly. Ken did things properly, always. Except when Niall's influence stole over him. Then he might strip off his clothes (but still gather them into a neat bundle) and jump into an ice-cold lake. Sometimes he regretted his rash decisions but in general, a good time was had by all afterwards.

"We can warm up for a block, just by walking." They could stretch, too, but a brisk walk was usually enough for Ken. Besides, it was only a jog for one block—Ken didn't foresee sprained ankles and pulled muscles. It wasn't as if they were doing proper training, either. For that, he would have led Niall through a half-hour stretch.

"Here, this way." He nudged Niall down the street once they had cleared the building with a hand at his back. It felt good to be out again, in the nippy morning air. Everything smelled fresh and clean and pure, especially in a place surrounded by forests. Ken inhaled deeply and then smiled.

"I like the air here," he remarked while setting off at a brisk pace himself. "Let's jog every morning from now on. And later, we can go and buy some things for the flat. I noticed you don't even have a stove." That was clearly no way to live, according to Ken.

[Niall Gallagher]

"Already cheating, I see..." Niall eyed Ken warily. Walk a block, he said. Walk a block and then jog a block but then what? Sprint home? Luckily for Ken, Niall did a lot of walking around downtown because he kinda had to--not owning a car or anything. He could bum rides and take the bus--which he did often enough--but walking around downtown? Not that bad. Jogging it? Another story.

But he was fine while they were walking. Kinda. His head still pounded something awful and his wrist really didn't like the abuse he'd put it through. Also, his stomach was churning a bit in a really-not-good way that the walking was either going to make better or very, very worse. He tried not to think about it as he straightened out his headband, wearing it the way a girl would and not like some 80s exercise guru.

"Oh god. Are you hearing yourself right now, Kenny? Every morning? A stove?" Oh, why did he agree to this? Why? This was madness, was what it was. Ken came along and now Niall's perfectly childlike life was being stripped from him and replaced with real, honest-to-goodness adulthood. "Jogging and cooking. What next? Should we start discussing baby names and primary schools?"

[Kenneth Branagh]

Warming up wasn't cheating and as far as Ken was concerned, the deal was to jog for a block. No mention was made of activities prior to and after the jog. He could not be held accountable for Niall's failure to anticipate that—yes, Ken cheated. But he did it legally.

He looked askance at the headband, reminded of the hippies of olden days, and then he shook his head. A stove was a basic necessity. "Stephen for a boy, Bella for a girl." Obviously, his children would attend the best primary school in the area. In a small town like this, he supposed that choices were limited but Ken had always imagined raising a family back home—in Ireland, where he grew up.

Even knowing that Niall was being facetious and poking fun at him, he couldn't help but give a serious answer. A traditional family was out of the question but Ken still wanted one. He thought that he would make for a good father. He wouldn't treat his child the way that his own father treated him.

"I find it interesting," he mused as he picked up the pace slightly, "that we haven't met for a day and you're already planning our family." If Niall could twist words around on him, then he could do the same thing to Niall.

[Niall Gallagher]

Ugh. Niall made a face. Stephen? Why Stephen? And Bella couldn't be used seriously after that mess that was Twilight. That was the main girl's name, wasn't it? Bella... something or other. No, if Niall had to think of baby names--which he had never done before in his life--he would choose more fanciful names. Nothing so weird as Rainbow or whatever. But he thought something flashier like Seraphina or Lucifer would be cool. The face his father would make if he ever knew that name was on the table.

Maybe he should stick to naming pets, instead.

Resisting the quickening pace, Niall reached up and brushed the low hanging branches of a nearby tree. Was he? Planning for their family? He made another face.

"I'm not! That wasn't the point of what I said, you twister of words, you! You... nipple twister. Twisty fresh." Had they been kids again, Niall definitely would have gone in for a nipple twist at those words. As they were not kids anymore and there was still an awkward strain in their relationship, he settled for snapping off a leaf and twirling it in his fingertips.

"Besides, I'd be shite as a father."

[Kenneth Branagh]

Not being an avid consumer of mainstream media, Ken didn't know who Bella was from Twi-whatever. He liked that name. It had an old-fashioned ring to it. Arabella was the full name that he had in mind, with Bella as a pet name. And Stephen was a sound name for a boy, too. A good, solid name. Nothing wrong with either of those, and they didn't warrant that wry face from Niall.

Noticing that Niall was still going at a laggardly pace, he slowed—but only long enough to put a hand to Niall's back to give him a meaningful nudge. "Keep up, slacker," he said sternly for good measure, shortly before he was called a... twisty fresh.

Ken's brows shot up. Twisty fresh? Nipple twister evoked certain mental images, too, for that matter. He reached over and plucked the leaf from Niall's very fingers, and tossed it away. "Then I'll raise our children alone."

But of course, they would still be their children—Niall's and Ken's.

"And if they turn out to be right monsters, they can blame you, their absentee father figure."

[Niall Gallagher]

"Hey! Stop being mean!" Pushing him and taking his leaf away! How dare he?! Niall glowered at him. They weren't even jogging yet and he already resented this outing. Maybe Ken liked the nice air and whatever but Niall would rather be warm in his bed, still sleeping soundly. And he wouldn't have minded Ken being there, as long as he was being sweet to him and not being pushy and grabby.

"Don't," Niall said with a frown. "Don't talk about me like that."

If he were to be a father, he'd be a shite father, it was true. But talking that way, like Niall would vanish and leave Ken alone really wasn't fair. Yes, he ran away from home and his family then but he wouldn't do that again and the thought of Ken thinking it made him feel sicker.

The churning in his stomach definitely felt like it was getting worse now. Feeling the sudden urge, Niall immediately ducked away from Ken's hand and crouched by the curb so he could let the sick out.

"...ugh..."

For a moment, he just remained crouched there, hugging his knees and staring blankly down at it. But once it was out, the nastiness inside died down, as it always did after a hangover. Retch out the poison, make it all better. Still, he felt particularly sweaty, shaky, and generally unwell.

[Kenneth Branagh]

The only kind of shite father was a father who wasn't there for his children when they needed him. There was no other kind of bad father. Even one who struggled, who didn't know the first thing about raising a kid, was better than one who vanished or one whose love was conditional upon their son fitting into a certain kind of mold.

Ken frowned too, remaining silent at Niall's rebuke. He didn't think that Niall would be a terrible father. Maybe an irresponsible one, and he would let the children run amok across the rolling hills of Ireland, but he would still be their father. Niall would probably be running alongside them, come to think of it—while Ken brought up the rear, laden with coats and shoes and whatever else they may have shed along the way.

Suddenly, Niall wasn't there anymore. He wasn't off to the hills, either; he was by the curb, emptying out his stomach. Ken was by his side immediately, rubbing his back. He paused to take off his pullover and draped it over Niall's shoulders.

"Are you all right?" He slid an arm around Niall and pulled him close so that he could rest against Ken if he needed to. Maybe Niall wasn't fit to be out yet, if a simple walk had this effect on him. "Can you go on? Or should we turn back?"

[Niall Gallagher]

"No! I'm not all right!" He coughed against the back of his hand, that vile taste in his mouth making things worse. At least the churning had stopped. This was the part where he could just tip over and fall asleep and hope that the hangover disappeared by the time he woke up again. But he didn't. He tipped over and Ken was there so he leaned on him instead.

"I'm hungover and I'm jonesing at the same time." He slid his hands up over his knees. Part of him was so tired and unwell that he wanted to just cry like a toddler who needed a nap and a back rub. Part of him wanted to play into that side of himself and just say, no, he couldn't do it. Just bring him home and let him sleep. Sleep, sleep. But he wouldn't be able to, as tired as he was. Because he still ached and hurt and the withdrawals were nasty.

In the back of his mind, he knew he could stop them. All he had to do was go back to the building and ring up JC. She would hook him up. If Ken didn't kill her first. With shaky limbs, he made himself stand up, even though he felt his head spinning and his vision going temporarily black.

"No. No... just I ... I just need water. Water. Lots of... water."