RPF: Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas
Fandom: Real Person Pairing
Pairing: Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas
Theme set: gamma
Title: keeping the stars apart
Rating: R
Warnings: minor character death pre-fic, somewhat schmoopy angst, abuse of punctuation, sentences that are far too long for their own good
Summary: “I miss her so much,” Kevin whispers, and Mike swallows hard past the lump in his throat and doesn’t say it’s okay that you still love her too, you know. | Fifty mostly connected sentences about Mike and Kevin finding their way, together.
#48: unknown
He’s just a friend of a friend when they first meet, a curly-haired boy with a too-loud voice and a too-bright grin, and Mike shouldn’t like him but when he smiles at Mike and says, too quickly, “Kevin, Kevin Jonas,” Mike finds himself smiling back.
#27: fall
Kevin is easy to like, with his innate sweetness and his unique brand of awkward charm which make it so easy to spend hours with him, with his soft lips which make it even easier to kiss him.
#39: overwhelmed
Nick warns him, after the third date, that Kevin has a lot of baggage and Mike has to be sure he really wants this before he lets it go any further; he doesn’t regret ignoring Kevin’s brother, later, but he wishes he’d paid more attention.
#01: ring
It’s just a simple silver band on Kevin’s left hand but it’s the bane of Mike’s existence, it’s the reason Kevin pulls away when Mike tries to map his promises into his skin as well as into his heart.
#31: sacred
“It matters,” Kevin says, and Mike says, “I know,” because he does, really, he knows how important it is to Kevin even if he doesn’t always understand, doesn’t always want to.
#12: temptation
Mike will never push Kevin further than he wants to go, not ever, and he will never force him to make a choice he isn’t ready for but sometimes he just wants, so much and so hard it twists something awful around his chest and he doesn’t know how much longer he can stand it.
#37: lies
Kevin says, “I’m getting over it,” and, “It’s nearly been a year, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to,” and, “I’m fine, really, I’m fine,” and Mike nods and smiles and doesn’t believe a word.
#25: mask
Mike knows Kevin holds himself back a little when they’re together, doesn’t let Mike see everything he is and everything he has, and Mike knows why, he understands, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
#06: hurricane
(He never thought it would get this serious, is the thing, never thought he could feel that much for one person without it tearing him apart; in all fairness, it very nearly has.)
#24: strength
Kevin nearly has a breakdown on the anniversary; Mike pulls him close and squeezes him tight and whispers into his hair, into his neck, into his mouth, that he’s the strongest man Mike has ever met and he can do this, he can get through this in one piece, and gradually he feels Kevin stop shaking.
#46: gravity
“You’re not okay, are you,” Mike murmurs and it’s not a question, he can fucking well see that Kevin is the furthest from okay that a person can get before they tip over the edge of the world, but Kevin still shakes his head in answer, turning his face away when Mike tries to kiss him again.
#34: formal
Mike lets Kevin straighten his suit and fix the tie around his neck and doesn’t protest about being dressed up like a doll because this was his idea and he’s not about to let Kevin down, not today.
#32: farewells
Kevin places a single rose on her grave and clutches Mike’s hand tighter as his eyes flutter shut and he starts to pray.
#40: whisper
“I miss her so much,” Kevin whispers, and Mike swallows hard past the lump in his throat and doesn’t say it’s okay that you still love her too, you know.
#03: memory
“-and what did she smell like, Mike, why can’t I remember?” and Mike holds Kevin while he sobs, arms squeezed tight around his heaving body.
#04: box
All her stuff is packed away in the attic and sometimes Mike hears Kevin pull down the latch and hoist himself up there, and he wonders what Kevin is seeing as he carefully unpacks each box.
#10: drink
Mike doesn’t drink much around Kevin, knows he doesn’t like it, but when Kevin gets that look on his face, he can’t stop himself from grabbing a bottle and emptying the contents down his throat in a mostly fruitless attempt to scrub it out of his memory.
#18: dream
When Kevin can’t sleep, when he can’t shake the nightmares tormenting his fragile mind, he picks up his guitar and starts to play, something haunting, something beautiful, and Mike closes his eyes and stretches out his arms and just listens.
#23: fire
It’s always been the same dream, every single time, flames licking at his feet and smoke burning through his lungs and he can’t breathe to speak, to scream, to warn her to stay away, but now there’s someone else’s face flickering in the fire, distinctly masculine, framed by scraggly dark hair.
#45: eclipse
There are traces of her everywhere even though Kevin has tried his best to hide them all away, enough that Mike feels the ghost of her watching him wherever he goes, and he can’t shake off the silent feeling of condemnation.
#15: silk
Kevin nearly trips over something when he goes out to shoo away the neighbourhood cat; his eyes widen as he bends to the ground, whispering, “Oh, oh you poor thing,” and he picks up the injured bird and cradles it in his hands, stroking its impossibly soft feathers.
#07: wings
The bird looks tiny cupped in Kevin’s hands, its broken body curled in on itself, its wings still fluttering gently as he holds it out to Mike with a question in his eyes and his lip caught between his teeth.
#44: hope
“It’ll be okay, won’t it?” Kevin asks as they watch the bird fly away, and he sounds so vulnerable that Mike can only nod.
#26: ice
The central heating gives out a month into the coldest winter ever recorded; Mike crawls into bed with Kevin and wraps his arms around Kevin’s shaking, half-frozen body and doesn’t let him push him away.
#35: fever
The cold makes Kevin sick, sicker than Mike’s ever seen him, and when Mike feeds him soup and presses damp flannels to his forehead and nurses him back to health, Kevin moans the wrong name in thanks.
#50: breathe
(She doesn’t always hang over the two of them, a ghost unwilling to leave; sometimes it’s just Mike and Kevin and no one else and Mike doesn’t care how selfish it makes him, he loves those times more than anything.)
#22: journey
“Let’s go somewhere,” Mike says, when Kevin isn't sick any more, because God knows they need a holiday, “anywhere, anywhere you like,” and Kevin’s eyes crinkle in a grin as he nods.
#47: highway
Mike watches Kevin out of the corner of his eye, careful to keep his focus on the road even as he finds himself smiling at the way Kevin’s singing along to the song on the radio, the wind whipping through his curls as they drive.
#13: view
Kevin stares out of the window of the place they’re staying for a few days, out at the sand and the sea and the winding path that leads down to it, and Mike can’t help but be pleased at the awe shining in his eyes.
#19: candle
Mike draws the line at roses, he is not that kind of guy, but while Kevin is showering off the smell of being stuck in Mike’s car for hours on end, he lights a few candles and slips Kevin’s favourite album into the CD player.
#29: dance
“You’re such a secret cheeseball,” Kevin whispers, grinning up at Mike in delight as he dips and twirls him, one hand tight around his waist to keep him from falling or spinning away, “I knew it.”
#20: talent
When the song ends, their faces are inches apart and they’re both breathing hard into the space between each others’ mouths; Kevin tells Mike that he’s a shockingly good dancer, and Mike bends his head to show him what else he’s shockingly good at.
#41: wait
They stumble into the bedroom, a tangle of teeth and lips and hands, hands everywhere they can reach, and Mike tries not to think about how long he’s been waiting for this.
#28: forgotten
“I don’t want to forget her, Mike, I can’t,” and Mike swallows Kevin’s helpless whimpers with his mouth and whispers, “I know, Kevin, I know, it’s okay.”
#05: run
Mike wakes up alone the next morning, his hands fisted in the sheets where Kevin should be.
#43: search
He finds Kevin sitting on the beach, toes curled into the sand, an oddly peaceful expression on his face as he watches the sun rising on the rolling waves.
#42: talk
Mike kicks viciously at the sand, says, “We can’t keep ignoring this,” and he says this but they both know who he’s talking about.
#17: promise
Kevin’s smiling when he says, “She said it’s okay,” and when Mike just frowns at him, he explains, “Dani, she said it’s okay, I don’t have to feel guilty about us any more.”
#36: laugh
It’s an absurd thing to do, Mike’ll think later, but right now he can’t stop the laughter rising in his chest because Kevin doesn’t just look happy, he looks peaceful, calm and perfectly at ease and Mike has never, ever seen him look this free.
#33: world
(Kevin doesn’t say I love you and Mike doesn’t say it back but he kind of thinks you don’t need to put something into words to make it real.)
#30: body
Mike leaves kisses all down Kevin’s body, grinning stupidly into the skin when Kevin whimpers and bucks up against him, still half unable to believe that he gets to have this, that he can do this now and that Kevin won’t stop him.
#09: red
Kevin is flushed all over when Mike finally gives in and gives him what he needs, a delicious shade of crimson that’s somewhere between fresh strawberries and bloodstained hearts.
#16: cover
After, Mike tugs Kevin into his arms and spoons up against him, pulling a blanket up over them both and flattening it down at the sides.
#08: cold
“Are you cold?” Mike asks, because he can feel Kevin shivering where their bodies are pressed together, but he only shakes his head and settles back against him and after a minute or so, his body goes still.
#11: midnight
Mike wakes abruptly sometime later, panic rising in his chest when he realises he’s alone, again, but then Kevin’s slipping back under the blanket, smoothing one hand over Mike’s hair and the other down Mike’s side, murmuring, “It’s okay, just had to go to the bathroom,” and, “Never, Mike, never gonna leave you,” and Mike relaxes into his touch.
#21: silence
When they get home, Kevin takes Mike by the hand and leads him up to the attic; he takes a box, seemingly at random, and unpacks it slowly, laughing softly and quietly narrating the object’s story as he takes it out, and Mike watches and listens and doesn’t say a word, doesn’t remember how.
#49: lock
Kevin takes one picture of Danielle to be positioned next to a picture of him and Mike on the mantelpiece, a necklace he bought her for their first anniversary that she never took off and the half-filled bottle of her favourite perfume, setting it all aside before he lets Mike help him gather everything else and carefully pack it away, before he locks the attic door and gives Mike the key.
#02: hero
“You’re, fuck, you’re so fucking strong, I can’t even- I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t go through what you have without-” and Kevin just shakes his head, staring at Mike with the intensity he usually reserves for the heavens when he’s praying, and says, “Yes you could, Mike.”
#14: music
Later, when Kevin picks up his guitar and starts to play, there’s something that sounds a lot like hope threading through the sorrow, a note of joy that slowly overpowers the minor chords, and Mike wonders how he couldn’t hear it before.
#38: forever
Kevin doesn’t think he believes in eternity, not any more, not now he’s known the truth of ’til death do us part and lived through the aftermath, but he knows that he wants to spend the rest of however long he has with Mike and maybe, maybe that might just be enough.
end.
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
-i carry your heart with me; e e cummings
Pairing: Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas
Theme set: gamma
Title: keeping the stars apart
Rating: R
Warnings: minor character death pre-fic, somewhat schmoopy angst, abuse of punctuation, sentences that are far too long for their own good
Summary: “I miss her so much,” Kevin whispers, and Mike swallows hard past the lump in his throat and doesn’t say it’s okay that you still love her too, you know. | Fifty mostly connected sentences about Mike and Kevin finding their way, together.
#48: unknown
He’s just a friend of a friend when they first meet, a curly-haired boy with a too-loud voice and a too-bright grin, and Mike shouldn’t like him but when he smiles at Mike and says, too quickly, “Kevin, Kevin Jonas,” Mike finds himself smiling back.
#27: fall
Kevin is easy to like, with his innate sweetness and his unique brand of awkward charm which make it so easy to spend hours with him, with his soft lips which make it even easier to kiss him.
#39: overwhelmed
Nick warns him, after the third date, that Kevin has a lot of baggage and Mike has to be sure he really wants this before he lets it go any further; he doesn’t regret ignoring Kevin’s brother, later, but he wishes he’d paid more attention.
#01: ring
It’s just a simple silver band on Kevin’s left hand but it’s the bane of Mike’s existence, it’s the reason Kevin pulls away when Mike tries to map his promises into his skin as well as into his heart.
#31: sacred
“It matters,” Kevin says, and Mike says, “I know,” because he does, really, he knows how important it is to Kevin even if he doesn’t always understand, doesn’t always want to.
#12: temptation
Mike will never push Kevin further than he wants to go, not ever, and he will never force him to make a choice he isn’t ready for but sometimes he just wants, so much and so hard it twists something awful around his chest and he doesn’t know how much longer he can stand it.
#37: lies
Kevin says, “I’m getting over it,” and, “It’s nearly been a year, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to,” and, “I’m fine, really, I’m fine,” and Mike nods and smiles and doesn’t believe a word.
#25: mask
Mike knows Kevin holds himself back a little when they’re together, doesn’t let Mike see everything he is and everything he has, and Mike knows why, he understands, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
#06: hurricane
(He never thought it would get this serious, is the thing, never thought he could feel that much for one person without it tearing him apart; in all fairness, it very nearly has.)
#24: strength
Kevin nearly has a breakdown on the anniversary; Mike pulls him close and squeezes him tight and whispers into his hair, into his neck, into his mouth, that he’s the strongest man Mike has ever met and he can do this, he can get through this in one piece, and gradually he feels Kevin stop shaking.
#46: gravity
“You’re not okay, are you,” Mike murmurs and it’s not a question, he can fucking well see that Kevin is the furthest from okay that a person can get before they tip over the edge of the world, but Kevin still shakes his head in answer, turning his face away when Mike tries to kiss him again.
#34: formal
Mike lets Kevin straighten his suit and fix the tie around his neck and doesn’t protest about being dressed up like a doll because this was his idea and he’s not about to let Kevin down, not today.
#32: farewells
Kevin places a single rose on her grave and clutches Mike’s hand tighter as his eyes flutter shut and he starts to pray.
#40: whisper
“I miss her so much,” Kevin whispers, and Mike swallows hard past the lump in his throat and doesn’t say it’s okay that you still love her too, you know.
#03: memory
“-and what did she smell like, Mike, why can’t I remember?” and Mike holds Kevin while he sobs, arms squeezed tight around his heaving body.
#04: box
All her stuff is packed away in the attic and sometimes Mike hears Kevin pull down the latch and hoist himself up there, and he wonders what Kevin is seeing as he carefully unpacks each box.
#10: drink
Mike doesn’t drink much around Kevin, knows he doesn’t like it, but when Kevin gets that look on his face, he can’t stop himself from grabbing a bottle and emptying the contents down his throat in a mostly fruitless attempt to scrub it out of his memory.
#18: dream
When Kevin can’t sleep, when he can’t shake the nightmares tormenting his fragile mind, he picks up his guitar and starts to play, something haunting, something beautiful, and Mike closes his eyes and stretches out his arms and just listens.
#23: fire
It’s always been the same dream, every single time, flames licking at his feet and smoke burning through his lungs and he can’t breathe to speak, to scream, to warn her to stay away, but now there’s someone else’s face flickering in the fire, distinctly masculine, framed by scraggly dark hair.
#45: eclipse
There are traces of her everywhere even though Kevin has tried his best to hide them all away, enough that Mike feels the ghost of her watching him wherever he goes, and he can’t shake off the silent feeling of condemnation.
#15: silk
Kevin nearly trips over something when he goes out to shoo away the neighbourhood cat; his eyes widen as he bends to the ground, whispering, “Oh, oh you poor thing,” and he picks up the injured bird and cradles it in his hands, stroking its impossibly soft feathers.
#07: wings
The bird looks tiny cupped in Kevin’s hands, its broken body curled in on itself, its wings still fluttering gently as he holds it out to Mike with a question in his eyes and his lip caught between his teeth.
#44: hope
“It’ll be okay, won’t it?” Kevin asks as they watch the bird fly away, and he sounds so vulnerable that Mike can only nod.
#26: ice
The central heating gives out a month into the coldest winter ever recorded; Mike crawls into bed with Kevin and wraps his arms around Kevin’s shaking, half-frozen body and doesn’t let him push him away.
#35: fever
The cold makes Kevin sick, sicker than Mike’s ever seen him, and when Mike feeds him soup and presses damp flannels to his forehead and nurses him back to health, Kevin moans the wrong name in thanks.
#50: breathe
(She doesn’t always hang over the two of them, a ghost unwilling to leave; sometimes it’s just Mike and Kevin and no one else and Mike doesn’t care how selfish it makes him, he loves those times more than anything.)
#22: journey
“Let’s go somewhere,” Mike says, when Kevin isn't sick any more, because God knows they need a holiday, “anywhere, anywhere you like,” and Kevin’s eyes crinkle in a grin as he nods.
#47: highway
Mike watches Kevin out of the corner of his eye, careful to keep his focus on the road even as he finds himself smiling at the way Kevin’s singing along to the song on the radio, the wind whipping through his curls as they drive.
#13: view
Kevin stares out of the window of the place they’re staying for a few days, out at the sand and the sea and the winding path that leads down to it, and Mike can’t help but be pleased at the awe shining in his eyes.
#19: candle
Mike draws the line at roses, he is not that kind of guy, but while Kevin is showering off the smell of being stuck in Mike’s car for hours on end, he lights a few candles and slips Kevin’s favourite album into the CD player.
#29: dance
“You’re such a secret cheeseball,” Kevin whispers, grinning up at Mike in delight as he dips and twirls him, one hand tight around his waist to keep him from falling or spinning away, “I knew it.”
#20: talent
When the song ends, their faces are inches apart and they’re both breathing hard into the space between each others’ mouths; Kevin tells Mike that he’s a shockingly good dancer, and Mike bends his head to show him what else he’s shockingly good at.
#41: wait
They stumble into the bedroom, a tangle of teeth and lips and hands, hands everywhere they can reach, and Mike tries not to think about how long he’s been waiting for this.
#28: forgotten
“I don’t want to forget her, Mike, I can’t,” and Mike swallows Kevin’s helpless whimpers with his mouth and whispers, “I know, Kevin, I know, it’s okay.”
#05: run
Mike wakes up alone the next morning, his hands fisted in the sheets where Kevin should be.
#43: search
He finds Kevin sitting on the beach, toes curled into the sand, an oddly peaceful expression on his face as he watches the sun rising on the rolling waves.
#42: talk
Mike kicks viciously at the sand, says, “We can’t keep ignoring this,” and he says this but they both know who he’s talking about.
#17: promise
Kevin’s smiling when he says, “She said it’s okay,” and when Mike just frowns at him, he explains, “Dani, she said it’s okay, I don’t have to feel guilty about us any more.”
#36: laugh
It’s an absurd thing to do, Mike’ll think later, but right now he can’t stop the laughter rising in his chest because Kevin doesn’t just look happy, he looks peaceful, calm and perfectly at ease and Mike has never, ever seen him look this free.
#33: world
(Kevin doesn’t say I love you and Mike doesn’t say it back but he kind of thinks you don’t need to put something into words to make it real.)
#30: body
Mike leaves kisses all down Kevin’s body, grinning stupidly into the skin when Kevin whimpers and bucks up against him, still half unable to believe that he gets to have this, that he can do this now and that Kevin won’t stop him.
#09: red
Kevin is flushed all over when Mike finally gives in and gives him what he needs, a delicious shade of crimson that’s somewhere between fresh strawberries and bloodstained hearts.
#16: cover
After, Mike tugs Kevin into his arms and spoons up against him, pulling a blanket up over them both and flattening it down at the sides.
#08: cold
“Are you cold?” Mike asks, because he can feel Kevin shivering where their bodies are pressed together, but he only shakes his head and settles back against him and after a minute or so, his body goes still.
#11: midnight
Mike wakes abruptly sometime later, panic rising in his chest when he realises he’s alone, again, but then Kevin’s slipping back under the blanket, smoothing one hand over Mike’s hair and the other down Mike’s side, murmuring, “It’s okay, just had to go to the bathroom,” and, “Never, Mike, never gonna leave you,” and Mike relaxes into his touch.
#21: silence
When they get home, Kevin takes Mike by the hand and leads him up to the attic; he takes a box, seemingly at random, and unpacks it slowly, laughing softly and quietly narrating the object’s story as he takes it out, and Mike watches and listens and doesn’t say a word, doesn’t remember how.
#49: lock
Kevin takes one picture of Danielle to be positioned next to a picture of him and Mike on the mantelpiece, a necklace he bought her for their first anniversary that she never took off and the half-filled bottle of her favourite perfume, setting it all aside before he lets Mike help him gather everything else and carefully pack it away, before he locks the attic door and gives Mike the key.
#02: hero
“You’re, fuck, you’re so fucking strong, I can’t even- I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t go through what you have without-” and Kevin just shakes his head, staring at Mike with the intensity he usually reserves for the heavens when he’s praying, and says, “Yes you could, Mike.”
#14: music
Later, when Kevin picks up his guitar and starts to play, there’s something that sounds a lot like hope threading through the sorrow, a note of joy that slowly overpowers the minor chords, and Mike wonders how he couldn’t hear it before.
#38: forever
Kevin doesn’t think he believes in eternity, not any more, not now he’s known the truth of ’til death do us part and lived through the aftermath, but he knows that he wants to spend the rest of however long he has with Mike and maybe, maybe that might just be enough.
end.
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
-i carry your heart with me; e e cummings