The Long Road, Part 1/?
Title: The Long Road
Author: scowilily
Rating: PG
Pairing: Alan/Kevin
Summary: The love story of Alan Bradley. AU
In the 1980s, Alan Bradley’s greatest wish is to be normal. That might seem odd for a man nostalgic about differential analyzers, ARPANET, and the PDP-1, but Alan’s spent his life being teased and doing nerdy work while trying not to be too weird for regular social interaction. Ultimately, his dreams are ordinary and rather average. He wants a good salary, a job he doesn’t hate, a comfortable house, some friends, a wife, a kid, and maybe a dog. Those last three are pretty vague in his mind but he’s a smart guy; he’ll figure it out as he goes. It’s the being normal part that stands out in his mind, mostly. He wants to fit in and not feel like an outsider looking in on life.
When he meets Lora, “the wife” part of that equation seems a little more well defined. They have a good time together. She keeps him from getting too absorbed in his work, and the sex is nice. She’s pretty. She’s smart. She’s smarter than him in physics, though he’s got the math down. They both like computers. It seems like a package deal. It’s everything he’s wanted in a woman, and yet somehow it seems off. Wrong, even. Alan thinks he must be having bachelor jitters because only a crazy nutball wouldn’t want Lora.
Then he meets Lora’s ex-boyfriend, Kevin Flynn. Kevin isn’t a bad guy per se, but he’s juvenile and he struts around like a stud bred for show. He flirts with Lora. Lora tells Alan that it’s just Kevin being Kevin, and Alan tries to understand, he really does, but Kevin bothers him. Kevin should be another stupid high school quarterback-reject smoking weed and picking up girls at the bar, but he’s not. Kevin is bright. Kevin gets his lame jokes and has the gall to laugh. He even fixes a few bugs for Alan. Then Kevin muddles the favor with his eccentric hijinks. Alan finds a cleverly concealed easter egg in the revised code and Alan wants to hate Kevin, but the prank makes him smirk before he catches himself. Kevin makes hating difficult.
He’s a little relieved when Kevin is fired from ENCOM, and that makes him feel all sorts of conflicted because Alan’s not like that. He’s not that much of a bastard. Alan considers inviting Kevin over for dinner, with Lora of course, but decides that being a nice guy doesn’t mean he has to be a doormat.
Then Lora drags him over to the arcade. Kevin spins some wild story about Dillinger stealing his software. It’s crazy. But Alan’s willing to help him because that’s what nice guys do and Kevin’s earned a bit of leeway. Alan might get in trouble, but his work is too important to the company. Dillinger can’t hang Alan without hanging himself.
Alan doesn’t expect Kevin to become ENCOM’s new CEO.
*
They become inseparable after a while, he and Kevin. Lora tags along when she can escape the lab, but Kevin is thrown into his presence constantly: programming, reviewing statements and quarterly reports, more programming, coffee breaks, debugging, lunch breaks, meetings, and hiring committees. The only time they’re away from each other is when they sleep. And since they’re building a large, successful business, they don’t sleep much.
Alan discovers that Kevin isn’t just smart; Kevin is brilliant. His mind is an associative multidimensional network, and he leaps from one node to another with frightening speed. Anyone not familiar with the topography of Kevin’s mind is left behind. Alan has a knack for figuring out where Kevin is at, and so he becomes something of a bridge between Kevin and the rest of the world. Whether the bridge exists for Kevin’s benefit or the world’s benefit is debatable. But to Alan, it’s thrilling. Kevin paints amazing futures with broad, grandiose strokes, and Alan enriches the vision with texture, light, and sound. Kevin’s natural charm also soothes over an awkward moments Alan might normally stutter through. And Alan never has to explain or justify himself, which is the best part of all.
It feels like a dream. They’re rich. They’re successful. They’re doing important, ground-breaking work. Alan is growing, expanding, and becoming something more.
One night, they’re at Alan’s apartment. They’ve each had a few beers to celebrate their latest success, and Kevin is slouched against Alan who’s draping his arm over the back of the couch behind Kevin. Kevin makes some godawful joke. Alan laughs because he’s just on the right side of drunk, and they both stare at each other with these goofy grins plastered on their faces. Suddenly, there’s this question in Alan’s head-what would it be like to kiss Kevin Flynn? His eyes drift down to Kevin’s moist lips.
Kevin, never a dull student, notices immediately. The humor in the room dissipates, and everything narrows down to just them. Kevin looks at Alan and doesn’t look away. Alan looks at Kevin. Then Alan jumps up and distracts himself with clearing the empty bottles from the table. He doesn’t sit next to Kevin for the rest of the night.
*
Things aren’t quite the same afterward. Kevin meets Jordan. Lora gets pregnant. Then Jordan gets pregnant. Then Jordan and Kevin get married. Alan gets married, too. Everything is the way it should be, but Alan feels off center-like he’s missing something vital and until he gets that part back, he’s going to hobble. He wonders what’s the matter with himself. This should be the best part of his life; he’s having a family, he has friends. He doesn’t have a dog but, really, that’s a stupid thing to be upset over. He buys one anyway just in case. It doesn’t seem to help. Lora decides she wants a cat, and the cat and the dog have these horrific fights at ungodly hours, waking Lora, Alan, the baby, and their neighbors. On both sides of the street.
Alan sees the cat-dog conflict as some kind of symbolic manifestation of the disharmony in his life. It’s like something in his home isn’t right; the mystical feng-shui energies are eating up his happiness.
Instead of being elated with all he’s achieved, there’s this shapeless miasma of bitterness infecting his soul. It taints his work and his relationships. Lora cries sometimes. Kevin won’t laugh with him the same way, and though they’re still creating new software, new goals, new targets, the golden age of their work is fading. Alan doesn’t always read Kevin right. Kevin isn’t always there to help him not act like an idiot. Ideas are miscommunicated or lost, and sometimes there’s an undercurrent of anger between them. Why is that? The anger is mostly his, Alan will admit. Kevin doesn’t put up with Alan’s bullshit and runs back to Jordan before he and Kevin can have it out. Even then, when Kevin is only trying to preserve the peace, Alan feels cheated-like he wants to beat Kevin up. Hurt him.
When he can finally look that nasty, writhing sentiment in the face, he’s filled with so much self-hate he feels ready to implode. He drinks instead.
Then one night he gets a phone call. There’s been an accident, and Kevin is calling him from the hospital. Jordan is dead.
*
It gets better before it gets worse. Alan is strong for Kevin and Sam, and Lora’s there to hug them all and make dinner. They box up Jordan’s things for Kevin, saving what Sam will want when he’s grown up. Everyone is hurt by the loss, even Alan, who could never like Jordan too much. She was family; family still counts for Alan, no matter what malicious thoughts enter his darker moments. So he shares the burden and they all pull through together.
The loss changes Kevin in ways Alan doesn’t understand. The frantic desperation of that first phone call is gone. He’s quieter now, more withdrawn. He doesn’t cry at the funeral, which isn’t unusual (Kevin never was one to wear his raw feelings as day clothes), but Alan doesn’t see him cry at all. It’s as though Kevin’s shut off some valve of feeling, and he just smiles for the rest of them. It hurts Alan. The closest they come to any real expression is as he leaves Kevin’s house that night after Jordan’s funeral. Kevin sees him to the door and pulls him into an unexpected embrace.
“You’ve been a good friend,” he murmurs, lowering his voice for their ears only. He can’t even look at Alan as he says it. Then Kevin turns to Lora and says something that draws a smile from Alan’s son. Alan can’t hear it, because he’s trying his damnedest not to let the tears in his eyes out. Alan-a good friend? Alan’s been a stupid asshole, and he knows it.
He doesn’t say anything, though. Alan marches himself into the car and drives home with Lora.
*
Kevin starts disappearing from ENCOM. It happens gradually at first-so slowly, Alan doesn’t really notice until Martha, his secretary, tells him that Kevin hasn’t been in all day. Kevin later tells Alan that he’s working on a project. Alan wants to ask about the details-details like what the project actually is-but there’s a wall between them now that Alan doesn’t know how to breach. The wall is a mountain of bones, and Alan’s put some of them there so he can’t pretend to be the victim. Some of the bones are the remnants Alan’s anger, and some of them are Jordan; most of them are the words he and Kevin never utter. So Alan waits, hoping Kevin will open up to him and decide Alan’s worth sharing with again.
And then Lora decides to move to D.C.
“I don’t understand,” Alan says, because he can’t think of anything else.
Lora’s swirling a glass of wine and watching him fondly, as if they aren’t discussing a permanent separation, as if they aren’t talking about the collapse of this life they’ve spent years building together. It confuses Alan. There’s even a gleam in her eye that Alan hasn’t seen since-he can’t remember.
“We had a good run,” she starts slowly, in that way she does when she’s really worked something out and Alan’s being slow. “But don’t you think it’s time we stop caging each other? I’ve got this job, and it’s exciting research-a good career move too. I’ll be in charge of my own team.”
“That’s just great.” His voice cracks just a bit. “What am I supposed to do?”
His wife peers at him over the rim of her glass. “You’ve got Kevin.” The statement isn’t rancorous, but matter-of-fact.
“Kevin?” he scoffs, trying for incredulous amusement. “What’s Kevin got to do with us?”
“Alan,” she sighs, exasperated, “you can lie to everyone else. You can lie to yourself. You can even lie to Kevin. But give me a little credit for not being a complete moron.”
Alan shuts up because, even though Lora’s wrong, he still can’t talk about it. He’s just a normal guy losing his normal wife and kid to a shitty, fucked up world. He might be stuck in the mire, but Lora’s not. He’s not going to be selfish and hold her back because he’s still basically the good guy. Maybe he’s made some mistakes. But mistakes are only permanent if you let them lie.
He’s in a sour mood for the next several weeks. He doesn’t tell anyone about Lora’s impending move because he’s afraid of the words that might spill out: I’ve lost my wife because I’m in love with my best friend. Or, I’m a failed husband because I don’t know how to be happy. And then he’s afraid of the words behind those words, words like homosexual and faggot. That old bitterness swells back up again. He thought he’d burned out his anger with Jordan’s cremation, but it’s been lurking there, festering like an infected wound left untended and out of sight. So Alan’s snapping at everyone. He can’t feel too bad because he pays most of them to put up with him. Kevin is the only one who’s not an underling, and Kevin’s not around most days. It makes Alan furious. That son-of-a-bitch should be here, at ENCOM, and instead, Alan’s the one doing the work while Kevin plays hooky God only knows where.
The last straw is an important meeting with a room full of potential investors. ENCOM could really use the cash injection, but Kevin doesn’t show. Alan does his best to mop up the mess. Inside, though, he’s suffocating-like he can’t breathe because he’s being buried right there alongside Kevin’s dead wife.
Kevin shows up just as Alan’s knocking back some very expensive scotch.
“Alan,” Kevin says, pulling the office door shut, “I’ve got something to tell you.”
Alan laughs. It’s an ugly sound, and he revels in it. “Oh do you? Well tell it to someone else because I don’t give a damn.”
Kevin just sort of freezes up. “Alan? What’s wrong?”
Alan struts up to him and gets in his face. “What’s wrong is I’m sick of you, Flynn.” He sneers up and down at Kevin’s rumpled appearance. Nevermind that Alan’s thrown his tie across the room and torn open the upper lapels of his shirt. Alan’s pissed. He’s going to have his pound of flesh this time. “You still look like some goddamn backwater hippie Lora dragged off the streets, and I’m sick of you ruining my life.”
Those blue eyes don’t tear up. They don’t even flinch. “Alright,” Kevin says softly.
It’s not enough for Alan. He wants Kevin to hurt like Alan’s hurting because this is all Kevin’s fault and Alan shouldn’t be the only one- “I’ve cleaned up after you again, Kevin,” he hisses in lieu of finishing that thought. “You missed the board meeting today. I bet you didn’t even remember there was a board meeting. You were probably asleep in that broken little hovel you call an arcade. Or playing another one of your games.” Kevin looks down at that, and Alan just eats it up. “I’m right aren’t I? My God, you really are pathetic.”
“I’m sorry,” Kevin says. He’s about as unhappy as Alan’s ever seen him.
But Alan’s still feeling vicious. “Sorry doesn’t cut it.”
Kevin just assumes this kind of preternatural calm, the same one he’s had for months that’s been driving Alan nuts. “What do you want from me?” he asks levelly.
“What do I want?” Alan repeats the question, but he’s not really thinking about it. The mere idea that he could have what he wants is so ludicrous, so impossible, that Alan’s mindless rage forms the answer for him. “I want you gone.” He dies a little just saying it, but he can't take the words back while he’s got his pride.
Alan turns away and sips at his scotch. He doesn’t look back. He tells himself how nice it is to finally have had the last word. He stays there, long after the click of the door as Kevin leaves.
*
It takes about five weeks for him to face facts. Before that, the police are discussing kidnapping and potential homicide. Or even suicide. Alan just thinks Kevin’s ditched him again. It’s unusual that Kevin would leave his Ducati behind, parked in front of the arcade. But Kevin’s smart enough to pull any kind of disappearing act.
It’s only the saved, unsent email which makes the unthinkable real.
One of the detectives shows a copy to Alan. The email is a resignation letter written by Kevin the last night Alan saw him. In several very blase paragraphs, Kevin abdicates as CEO of ENCOM, citing an obligation to his son and his research. He nominates Alan as the new CEO. Alan just shakes reading the missive, and the detectives have to support him on his way out of the room, because there’s no way Alan can stay there and have Kevin’s last words from the output of a dot matrix printer.
He lasts a day before calling Lora. She flies back from D.C. He’s crying before he can even explain the whole sorry mess, and he doesn’t hold anything back; he repeats everything he said that night word-for-word so she can hear what a fucking miserable, little shithead he’s been to his best friend. Lora listens. But she just sounds weary as she comforts him. Alan doesn’t want comfort. He doesn’t want weariness. He wants someone to scream at him and flog him. He wants Kevin to come back and yell at him for being a jerk-or just be back at all, even if Kevin’s ignoring Alan. He doesn’t care anymore, as long as it means Kevin is nearby and still in this world.
Author: scowilily
Rating: PG
Pairing: Alan/Kevin
Summary: The love story of Alan Bradley. AU
In the 1980s, Alan Bradley’s greatest wish is to be normal. That might seem odd for a man nostalgic about differential analyzers, ARPANET, and the PDP-1, but Alan’s spent his life being teased and doing nerdy work while trying not to be too weird for regular social interaction. Ultimately, his dreams are ordinary and rather average. He wants a good salary, a job he doesn’t hate, a comfortable house, some friends, a wife, a kid, and maybe a dog. Those last three are pretty vague in his mind but he’s a smart guy; he’ll figure it out as he goes. It’s the being normal part that stands out in his mind, mostly. He wants to fit in and not feel like an outsider looking in on life.
When he meets Lora, “the wife” part of that equation seems a little more well defined. They have a good time together. She keeps him from getting too absorbed in his work, and the sex is nice. She’s pretty. She’s smart. She’s smarter than him in physics, though he’s got the math down. They both like computers. It seems like a package deal. It’s everything he’s wanted in a woman, and yet somehow it seems off. Wrong, even. Alan thinks he must be having bachelor jitters because only a crazy nutball wouldn’t want Lora.
Then he meets Lora’s ex-boyfriend, Kevin Flynn. Kevin isn’t a bad guy per se, but he’s juvenile and he struts around like a stud bred for show. He flirts with Lora. Lora tells Alan that it’s just Kevin being Kevin, and Alan tries to understand, he really does, but Kevin bothers him. Kevin should be another stupid high school quarterback-reject smoking weed and picking up girls at the bar, but he’s not. Kevin is bright. Kevin gets his lame jokes and has the gall to laugh. He even fixes a few bugs for Alan. Then Kevin muddles the favor with his eccentric hijinks. Alan finds a cleverly concealed easter egg in the revised code and Alan wants to hate Kevin, but the prank makes him smirk before he catches himself. Kevin makes hating difficult.
He’s a little relieved when Kevin is fired from ENCOM, and that makes him feel all sorts of conflicted because Alan’s not like that. He’s not that much of a bastard. Alan considers inviting Kevin over for dinner, with Lora of course, but decides that being a nice guy doesn’t mean he has to be a doormat.
Then Lora drags him over to the arcade. Kevin spins some wild story about Dillinger stealing his software. It’s crazy. But Alan’s willing to help him because that’s what nice guys do and Kevin’s earned a bit of leeway. Alan might get in trouble, but his work is too important to the company. Dillinger can’t hang Alan without hanging himself.
Alan doesn’t expect Kevin to become ENCOM’s new CEO.
*
They become inseparable after a while, he and Kevin. Lora tags along when she can escape the lab, but Kevin is thrown into his presence constantly: programming, reviewing statements and quarterly reports, more programming, coffee breaks, debugging, lunch breaks, meetings, and hiring committees. The only time they’re away from each other is when they sleep. And since they’re building a large, successful business, they don’t sleep much.
Alan discovers that Kevin isn’t just smart; Kevin is brilliant. His mind is an associative multidimensional network, and he leaps from one node to another with frightening speed. Anyone not familiar with the topography of Kevin’s mind is left behind. Alan has a knack for figuring out where Kevin is at, and so he becomes something of a bridge between Kevin and the rest of the world. Whether the bridge exists for Kevin’s benefit or the world’s benefit is debatable. But to Alan, it’s thrilling. Kevin paints amazing futures with broad, grandiose strokes, and Alan enriches the vision with texture, light, and sound. Kevin’s natural charm also soothes over an awkward moments Alan might normally stutter through. And Alan never has to explain or justify himself, which is the best part of all.
It feels like a dream. They’re rich. They’re successful. They’re doing important, ground-breaking work. Alan is growing, expanding, and becoming something more.
One night, they’re at Alan’s apartment. They’ve each had a few beers to celebrate their latest success, and Kevin is slouched against Alan who’s draping his arm over the back of the couch behind Kevin. Kevin makes some godawful joke. Alan laughs because he’s just on the right side of drunk, and they both stare at each other with these goofy grins plastered on their faces. Suddenly, there’s this question in Alan’s head-what would it be like to kiss Kevin Flynn? His eyes drift down to Kevin’s moist lips.
Kevin, never a dull student, notices immediately. The humor in the room dissipates, and everything narrows down to just them. Kevin looks at Alan and doesn’t look away. Alan looks at Kevin. Then Alan jumps up and distracts himself with clearing the empty bottles from the table. He doesn’t sit next to Kevin for the rest of the night.
*
Things aren’t quite the same afterward. Kevin meets Jordan. Lora gets pregnant. Then Jordan gets pregnant. Then Jordan and Kevin get married. Alan gets married, too. Everything is the way it should be, but Alan feels off center-like he’s missing something vital and until he gets that part back, he’s going to hobble. He wonders what’s the matter with himself. This should be the best part of his life; he’s having a family, he has friends. He doesn’t have a dog but, really, that’s a stupid thing to be upset over. He buys one anyway just in case. It doesn’t seem to help. Lora decides she wants a cat, and the cat and the dog have these horrific fights at ungodly hours, waking Lora, Alan, the baby, and their neighbors. On both sides of the street.
Alan sees the cat-dog conflict as some kind of symbolic manifestation of the disharmony in his life. It’s like something in his home isn’t right; the mystical feng-shui energies are eating up his happiness.
Instead of being elated with all he’s achieved, there’s this shapeless miasma of bitterness infecting his soul. It taints his work and his relationships. Lora cries sometimes. Kevin won’t laugh with him the same way, and though they’re still creating new software, new goals, new targets, the golden age of their work is fading. Alan doesn’t always read Kevin right. Kevin isn’t always there to help him not act like an idiot. Ideas are miscommunicated or lost, and sometimes there’s an undercurrent of anger between them. Why is that? The anger is mostly his, Alan will admit. Kevin doesn’t put up with Alan’s bullshit and runs back to Jordan before he and Kevin can have it out. Even then, when Kevin is only trying to preserve the peace, Alan feels cheated-like he wants to beat Kevin up. Hurt him.
When he can finally look that nasty, writhing sentiment in the face, he’s filled with so much self-hate he feels ready to implode. He drinks instead.
Then one night he gets a phone call. There’s been an accident, and Kevin is calling him from the hospital. Jordan is dead.
*
It gets better before it gets worse. Alan is strong for Kevin and Sam, and Lora’s there to hug them all and make dinner. They box up Jordan’s things for Kevin, saving what Sam will want when he’s grown up. Everyone is hurt by the loss, even Alan, who could never like Jordan too much. She was family; family still counts for Alan, no matter what malicious thoughts enter his darker moments. So he shares the burden and they all pull through together.
The loss changes Kevin in ways Alan doesn’t understand. The frantic desperation of that first phone call is gone. He’s quieter now, more withdrawn. He doesn’t cry at the funeral, which isn’t unusual (Kevin never was one to wear his raw feelings as day clothes), but Alan doesn’t see him cry at all. It’s as though Kevin’s shut off some valve of feeling, and he just smiles for the rest of them. It hurts Alan. The closest they come to any real expression is as he leaves Kevin’s house that night after Jordan’s funeral. Kevin sees him to the door and pulls him into an unexpected embrace.
“You’ve been a good friend,” he murmurs, lowering his voice for their ears only. He can’t even look at Alan as he says it. Then Kevin turns to Lora and says something that draws a smile from Alan’s son. Alan can’t hear it, because he’s trying his damnedest not to let the tears in his eyes out. Alan-a good friend? Alan’s been a stupid asshole, and he knows it.
He doesn’t say anything, though. Alan marches himself into the car and drives home with Lora.
*
Kevin starts disappearing from ENCOM. It happens gradually at first-so slowly, Alan doesn’t really notice until Martha, his secretary, tells him that Kevin hasn’t been in all day. Kevin later tells Alan that he’s working on a project. Alan wants to ask about the details-details like what the project actually is-but there’s a wall between them now that Alan doesn’t know how to breach. The wall is a mountain of bones, and Alan’s put some of them there so he can’t pretend to be the victim. Some of the bones are the remnants Alan’s anger, and some of them are Jordan; most of them are the words he and Kevin never utter. So Alan waits, hoping Kevin will open up to him and decide Alan’s worth sharing with again.
And then Lora decides to move to D.C.
“I don’t understand,” Alan says, because he can’t think of anything else.
Lora’s swirling a glass of wine and watching him fondly, as if they aren’t discussing a permanent separation, as if they aren’t talking about the collapse of this life they’ve spent years building together. It confuses Alan. There’s even a gleam in her eye that Alan hasn’t seen since-he can’t remember.
“We had a good run,” she starts slowly, in that way she does when she’s really worked something out and Alan’s being slow. “But don’t you think it’s time we stop caging each other? I’ve got this job, and it’s exciting research-a good career move too. I’ll be in charge of my own team.”
“That’s just great.” His voice cracks just a bit. “What am I supposed to do?”
His wife peers at him over the rim of her glass. “You’ve got Kevin.” The statement isn’t rancorous, but matter-of-fact.
“Kevin?” he scoffs, trying for incredulous amusement. “What’s Kevin got to do with us?”
“Alan,” she sighs, exasperated, “you can lie to everyone else. You can lie to yourself. You can even lie to Kevin. But give me a little credit for not being a complete moron.”
Alan shuts up because, even though Lora’s wrong, he still can’t talk about it. He’s just a normal guy losing his normal wife and kid to a shitty, fucked up world. He might be stuck in the mire, but Lora’s not. He’s not going to be selfish and hold her back because he’s still basically the good guy. Maybe he’s made some mistakes. But mistakes are only permanent if you let them lie.
He’s in a sour mood for the next several weeks. He doesn’t tell anyone about Lora’s impending move because he’s afraid of the words that might spill out: I’ve lost my wife because I’m in love with my best friend. Or, I’m a failed husband because I don’t know how to be happy. And then he’s afraid of the words behind those words, words like homosexual and faggot. That old bitterness swells back up again. He thought he’d burned out his anger with Jordan’s cremation, but it’s been lurking there, festering like an infected wound left untended and out of sight. So Alan’s snapping at everyone. He can’t feel too bad because he pays most of them to put up with him. Kevin is the only one who’s not an underling, and Kevin’s not around most days. It makes Alan furious. That son-of-a-bitch should be here, at ENCOM, and instead, Alan’s the one doing the work while Kevin plays hooky God only knows where.
The last straw is an important meeting with a room full of potential investors. ENCOM could really use the cash injection, but Kevin doesn’t show. Alan does his best to mop up the mess. Inside, though, he’s suffocating-like he can’t breathe because he’s being buried right there alongside Kevin’s dead wife.
Kevin shows up just as Alan’s knocking back some very expensive scotch.
“Alan,” Kevin says, pulling the office door shut, “I’ve got something to tell you.”
Alan laughs. It’s an ugly sound, and he revels in it. “Oh do you? Well tell it to someone else because I don’t give a damn.”
Kevin just sort of freezes up. “Alan? What’s wrong?”
Alan struts up to him and gets in his face. “What’s wrong is I’m sick of you, Flynn.” He sneers up and down at Kevin’s rumpled appearance. Nevermind that Alan’s thrown his tie across the room and torn open the upper lapels of his shirt. Alan’s pissed. He’s going to have his pound of flesh this time. “You still look like some goddamn backwater hippie Lora dragged off the streets, and I’m sick of you ruining my life.”
Those blue eyes don’t tear up. They don’t even flinch. “Alright,” Kevin says softly.
It’s not enough for Alan. He wants Kevin to hurt like Alan’s hurting because this is all Kevin’s fault and Alan shouldn’t be the only one- “I’ve cleaned up after you again, Kevin,” he hisses in lieu of finishing that thought. “You missed the board meeting today. I bet you didn’t even remember there was a board meeting. You were probably asleep in that broken little hovel you call an arcade. Or playing another one of your games.” Kevin looks down at that, and Alan just eats it up. “I’m right aren’t I? My God, you really are pathetic.”
“I’m sorry,” Kevin says. He’s about as unhappy as Alan’s ever seen him.
But Alan’s still feeling vicious. “Sorry doesn’t cut it.”
Kevin just assumes this kind of preternatural calm, the same one he’s had for months that’s been driving Alan nuts. “What do you want from me?” he asks levelly.
“What do I want?” Alan repeats the question, but he’s not really thinking about it. The mere idea that he could have what he wants is so ludicrous, so impossible, that Alan’s mindless rage forms the answer for him. “I want you gone.” He dies a little just saying it, but he can't take the words back while he’s got his pride.
Alan turns away and sips at his scotch. He doesn’t look back. He tells himself how nice it is to finally have had the last word. He stays there, long after the click of the door as Kevin leaves.
*
It takes about five weeks for him to face facts. Before that, the police are discussing kidnapping and potential homicide. Or even suicide. Alan just thinks Kevin’s ditched him again. It’s unusual that Kevin would leave his Ducati behind, parked in front of the arcade. But Kevin’s smart enough to pull any kind of disappearing act.
It’s only the saved, unsent email which makes the unthinkable real.
One of the detectives shows a copy to Alan. The email is a resignation letter written by Kevin the last night Alan saw him. In several very blase paragraphs, Kevin abdicates as CEO of ENCOM, citing an obligation to his son and his research. He nominates Alan as the new CEO. Alan just shakes reading the missive, and the detectives have to support him on his way out of the room, because there’s no way Alan can stay there and have Kevin’s last words from the output of a dot matrix printer.
He lasts a day before calling Lora. She flies back from D.C. He’s crying before he can even explain the whole sorry mess, and he doesn’t hold anything back; he repeats everything he said that night word-for-word so she can hear what a fucking miserable, little shithead he’s been to his best friend. Lora listens. But she just sounds weary as she comforts him. Alan doesn’t want comfort. He doesn’t want weariness. He wants someone to scream at him and flog him. He wants Kevin to come back and yell at him for being a jerk-or just be back at all, even if Kevin’s ignoring Alan. He doesn’t care anymore, as long as it means Kevin is nearby and still in this world.