Not The Sun - 5. Chapter Five: Sin and Confession

05 ~Sin and Confession~

Brandon stared up at the ceiling, moonlight and branches painting patterns on his ceiling. He couldn't sleep, wasn't sure he wanted to. Who would he dream of tonight? The incident in the shower was easily explained away. Really. It was just... Jordan. Someone who had been on his mind due to all this weird shit that had been going on lately. He was on his mind, sure. That he just happened to pop up at an inopportune moment... yeah. Coincidence. He smiled in the dark, feeling a hot bitterness boil up in his chest. He was getting goddamn good at rationalizing things away when the pieces didn't fit the way he wanted them to.

Leia missed another day of school, but Brandon found out later that it was because she and her mom had spent the time discussing her options and picking out a ob/gyn for her pregnancy. Keith had not spoken to him or left any more notes requesting a meeting. And Jordan, who had gotten into the habit of picking up Brandon every morning, hadn’t even broached the subject of Leia until Thursday.

“So, what did she tell you?” Jordan asked as he drove Brandon to school.

“Not much,” Brandon admitted. “She won’t talk about how she got pregnant, not to anyone. She has her mind set on adopting it. I couldn’t talk her out of it, and neither could her mother, from what I heard.”

Jordan sighed. “If this was a normal pregnancy, her decision would be admirable. Since it’s not, however, it only complicates things.”

“Can’t you do your hypnosis... thing?”

Jordan glanced at him. “Yes, I can do that hypnosis 'thing'; looks like I don’t have a choice. We need to get together, figure out how to approach her.”

“She’s going in for her physical in a few weeks.”

“It’ll have to be soon then... How about we get together tomorrow afternoon and figure out a game plan?”

“Sounds good.” Brandon tried to scratch his arm surreptitiously. Last night he had cut again. He had been drawing a picture of himself when he remembered the feeling of Keith’s hands on him and his skin had started to skitter and crawl. He had drawn himself gouging long, deep scratches into his own face with his fingernails, then had cut along his old, scabbed over injuries to make them bleed again, and rubbed the droplets of blood into the scratches on the drawing to give them color. So much for getting over shit.

His plans for meeting Jordan on Friday went to hell after he found another note in his locker from Keith.

My little deviant,

Come home with me and play at my house.

It wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be.

Don’t do it, his mind told him. Just don’t fucking do it. Go home and meet up with Jordan. Talk about alternate realities and abortions and a monster growing in Leia’s womb, but don’t you go and have sex with Keith again. But his body was telling him a completely different story, and it was his body that he listened to.

"What's on your mind?" Keith asked, leading him into the house.

"Wondering why the hell I'm here."

Keith smiled and led him into the same bedroom as before. "Because I can make you feel good. Sex is just sex. No deeper meaning behind it, no strings attached." Keith advanced on him, a cold predatory grin on his face. "Who wouldn't want it?" Keith pulled on his tie, loosening it. "Do you want to know what's been on my mind all day?"

Brandon shrugged out of his jacket. "What?"

"I've been thinking about you and your beautiful mouth." He reached out to rub a thumb over Brandon's lower lip. "I was thinking of how pretty it would look wrapped around my cock. How good it would feel."

Brandon's eyes grew wide. "Um... I don't know..."

"Come on, come on," Keith said softly, unbuttoning his pants. He kissed Brandon, biting his lip gently. "Do it. Get me ready so I can fuck you hard."

Brandon moaned softly against Keith's mouth as he kissed him again, already feeling himself growing hard at his words. Brandon found he was only offering token resistance as Keith pushed down on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees. Tentatively, he pushed Keith's pants down so that they pooled around his ankles and took his cock in his hand. It didn't look terribly long, but it was thick. He didn't know how well it would fit in his mouth. Glancing up uncertainly, he wrapped his hand around the base of it and slowly slid his lips over the head, which was a flushed, deep red.

"Watch the teeth," Keith said, his voice low.

Brandon took a breath and tried again. He didn't like this; didn't like having Keith's cock in his mouth. He didn't like the taste, a kind of moist, sweaty saltiness, and didn't like the sensation of it in his mouth, on his tongue. His stomach recoiled strongly and he struggled not to gag as it slid deeper into his mouth, tickling his throat.

"Harder," Keith demanded, pulling Brandon's hair, not forcing him to take him deeper, just pulling, and causing a deep hot pain to radiate out from Brandon's head. Brandon slid his lips up the shaft, then back down, taking it back into his mouth. He could feel it thickening and hardening. He couldn't take very much, not without needing to gag, but judging from the sounds Keith was making, he didn't mind.

"Fuck," Keith gasped out, pulling on his hair again and pushing his hips closer, forcing more and more of himself into Brandon's mouth. Brandon gagged and then Keith was pulling out and dragging him back up to his feet by his hair, bringing hot tears to Brandon's eyes. Keith crushed his mouth against Brandon's, kissing him savagely, the brutal pressure of his lips almost painful. When Brandon felt Keith's mouth open, he parted his lips, Keith's tongue thrusting deeply, wetly inside. Brandon kissed him back, his jaw aching slightly. Keith pulled back then in a surprisingly tender gesture, kissed him on his forehead. "You're doing fine. Don't worry."

Before Brandon could reply to that, Keith’s fingers were over his lips, sliding inside his mouth, and his other hand was unfastening Brandon’s pants, letting them fall to the floor. His fingers wrapped around Brandon's cock, pumping it slowly as Brandon sucked on the fingers inside his mouth, all while Keith was whispering dirty, shameful things into Brandon's ear, the heat in his face and stomach spreading out simultaneously.

Keith pulled his fingers free and the next thing Brandon knew, he was on his hands and knees on Keith's bed, bent over so his face was pressed into the scratchy comforter. It smelled like sex and Keith, and made his stomach clench involuntarily. He knew Keith was saying something to him, but he couldn't hear it over the pounding in his head.

He felt Keith pressing his fingers into him and then his cock. Brandon clenched his teeth. Either he had forgotten how badly this had hurt the first time, or Keith was taking less care, because the pain this time was intense. He pulled away and Keith grasped his hips and pulled them back.

"Be still while I'm fucking you," Keith growled. One hand snaked around to grip his cock, the other pressed his neck and shoulders down into the bed. "Good boy." He panted against his ear, thrust again, hitting that spot that made Brandon gasp.

"You like that?" Keith asked, breath hot against his skin.

"Yes," Brandon gasped out, fisting his hands in the comforter and pushing his hips back. Keith chuckled and drove into him brutally, pulling his head back by his hair. "I like you," he said, running his tongue along the shell of Brandon's ear, making Brandon shiver. "You're such a good fuck."

Brandon grimaced, feeling the warm heavy build up in his gut, unable to say anything as his body trembled and jerked as he spilled cum all over Keith's hand and the comforter underneath him. Keith thrust a few more times, his hand tightening painfully on Brandon's cock before he came, driving into Brandon to the hilt.

Brandon sighed and collapsed onto the bed, sticky and sweaty, his muscles slowly uncoiling and relaxing. Keith groaned and fell on top of him, breathing heavily. After a few moments, Keith levered himself up, slid out of him and went into the bathroom. He came out a few minutes later and tossed Brandon a wet towel. "Clean yourself up. I think I tore you up a little."

Brandon took the towel, wiped himself down and got dressed hurriedly. He didn't mind the nudity during the prelude of sex, but after it was over, he felt terribly overexposed. There were several rust colored streaks on the towel and from the way his body felt, he wasn't surprised. He blinked, startled to find the moisture in his eyes, and swallowed hard. He would be damned if he was going to cry over this. It was just sex, like Keith said. Sex was just sex. No deeper meaning behind it, no strings attached.

Brandon hadn't forgotten about his meeting with Jordan, but he had hoped that Jordan might have gotten fed up with Brandon blowing him off and would have left. That hope faded away as he saw Jordan's car parked in his driveway.

Jordan was sitting on the front porch with his sister, looking at a sheet of paper she held. As Brandon approached he could hear what Jordan was saying.

"...so you have to pay attention to what they are asking for. They want to know the difference. How do you figure out what that is?"

"Compare and contrast?" Kelly asked.

"Not in math."

"Subtract?"

"Correct. So, look at what they are asking for. Apples and oranges. The peaches are just thrown in to confuse you and mix you up. So take these numbers... yes, those... and subtract them and you should get your answer."

"Word problems suck," Kelly complained.

"I know. But if you learn how to decode them, you'll find out that they are not that hard." Jordan glanced up at Brandon. "Hey there."

"Hey." Brandon glanced at Kelly. "What are you doing?"

"Homework," she answered as if it should be obvious.

"Out here?"

"I'm not allowed to let people in the house when I'm at home alone."

"So, what you'll sit out here with them? Complete strangers?"

Kelly looked up. "I know him. He's a friend of yours. He was here the other day."

"Why did you let Leia in and not him?"

"I know Leia better."

Brandon rolled his eyes. Her logic didn't make any sense to him, but that was an eleven year old for you. "Well, sorry you had to wait outside," he said, stepping past them and unlocking the door. Kelly remained sitting. "You coming in or what?" Brandon asked.

"No, it's nice out here today. I'm going to do my homework outside," Kelly said.

Jordan started to get up, but Kelly grabbed his wrist. "Help me with one more problem, please?"

Brandon went inside to fix Kelly a snack. He spread some Ritz crackers out on a plate and used some Easy Cheese to spell out her name, then drew some random shapes, spirals and stars.

He viciously wished that Jordan had just gone home, had given up when he saw that Brandon had blown him off. He felt exhausted, sticky, smelly and sore. He wanted a shower and his bed and some alcohol. Throw in some heavy metal music blasting into his ears at full volume, so loud that he couldn't even think of anything else. Anything but sitting down with Jordan and having to think about Leia and her pregnancy and Jordan's talk about impossible possibilities.

As he poured milk into a tall glass, he wondered if he would feel differently if Jordan was just coming over to hang out, like Andrew and Leia would sometimes do. He tried to picture it and was unable to do so... They were far too different to ever voluntarily spend time together.

He took the snack out to Kelly, who took it with a smile... no "thank you", but he wasn't expecting one.

"Jordan and I are going to go up and work in my room. Are you going to be okay out here by yourself?" Brandon asked.

"I'm fine. I'm not a baby."

"Okay," Brandon said mildly, feeling the tenuous threads of his frayed temper thinning slightly. He glanced at Jordan. "C'mon then."

Jordan got to his feet, followed him inside. "So, what is your excuse?" he asked.

"Excuse?" Brandon repeated.

"Yeah, your excuse. The reason I was left out there helping your sister with her homework for the last hour and a half. You know, alien abduction, you had to stop and help an old lady cross the road, what?"

"I don't have to report to you," Brandon scowled, opening the door to his room and sitting down on the bed.

"Look, if you couldn't meet right after school, that's fine. But you should have told me."

"I had every intention of meeting you after school. Something came up."

"You couldn't call?" Jordan asked.

"You sound like my mother."

"What the hell is your problem?"

"What?"

"You're the one who was late, who didn't show up when they promised to. Yet you're acting like I did something to piss you off."

"You're asking too many questions. That's what's pissing me off." Brandon glanced at Jordan briefly, who was showing some color and frowning, beginning to look pissed off himself. Good. Maybe if he got mad enough, he would leave.

"I'm just trying to figure out what's going on," Jordan said. "I don't like it when people are late. It's disrespectful. And when I didn't hear from you... I was getting a little worried."

"Oh please. I can take care of myself," Brandon said, walking to the window and looking outside. He could see the top of Kelly's head as she sat on the porch steps, a textbook open on her lap.

"Are you just going to sit here and argue with me the entire time?" Jordan asked.

"If I fucking feel like it," Brandon responded, crossing his arms defensively. Jordan rolled his eyes.

"So, I'm basically just wasting our time here."

"Correction, you're wasting your time here."

"You're wasting hers, too."

Brandon shook his head. "Don't. Don't you dare start talking about her."

"Why? 'Cause you don't want to hear about it?"

"Damn right I don't want to hear about it," Brandon said, spinning around from the window to look at Jordan. "I don't want to hear about any of it."

"Why are you so determined to resist me on this?" Jordan asked, growing more frustrated by the second.

"Because I don't like you telling me that you and I have to make decisions about her life for her."

"It's the best thing for her; don't you get that? Don't you care?"

"Don't you fucking tell me that I don't care about my friends," Brandon warned, his voice lowering slightly.

"You sure aren't acting like it."

"You just don't get it."

"No, I don't get it. Why don't you explain it to me?"

"Why don't you go fuck off?" Brandon snapped instead, turning back to the window. Jordan, who was reaching the end of his patience, grabbed Brandon's wrist, pulling him back around to face him. "Now you-" Jordan paused, looking down at his hand around Brandon's wrist, then slowly pushed Brandon's sleeve up. Brandon caught on a second later, tried to pull away, but it was too late.

"Oh my God," Jordan said, his eyes darkening as he saw the scars marching up Brandon's arm, some pale pink, some still fresh with blood. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

"None of your business," Brandon said, yanking himself out of Jordan's grasp. Jordan grabbed his arm again and pushed the sleeve all the way up. Brandon cursed and tried to twist his arm away, but Jordan held it tight, turning it to see the marks that ran up his arm.

"Who did this to you?" Jordan looked up at him. All that earlier frustration and aggravation had melted out of his voice, and his expression was so concerned and compassionate that Brandon felt torn between wanting to cry and wanting to sock him in the face. "Did you do this?"

"Fuck off!!" Brandon shouted, wrenching his arm free again. "I told you, it's none of your fucking business."

"It is my business," Jordan said. "You're hurt."

"No." Brandon closed his eyes and tried to make himself breathe through the panic. He couldn't believe someone had found out what he had been doing. "Just... stop it. Leave me alone."

"I can't," Jordan said softly, then reached out and touched his arm, his uninjured one, with gentle fingers. Brandon's body stiffened, but he didn't pull away like the last time. "It is my business, because I don't like seeing you hurt... whether it's by someone else or through your own means." The last part was more of a question than a statement. One that Brandon couldn't answer. He felt his chest tighten and his eyes fill with tears. He didn't want this, out of all the people he did not want to break down in front of, Jordan topped the list, but he couldn't help it. The news about Leia, this fucked up thing he had going on with Keith, having to deal with an ability he still didn't really understand... God, how was he supposed to handle any of this?

"Brandon..."

"Please stop," Brandon whispered. Jordan moved closer, carefully lifted a hand and put it on Brandon's shoulder. Brandon could feel every inch of that contact, felt the heat of Jordan's skin seeping through his shirt. He closed his eyes, unbearably tired. He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to be here, and he didn't want to have to feel anything.

"C'mon," Jordan said. "Let's talk about this, okay? Please."

Brandon didn't want to talk, he wanted to rest, he wanted everyone around him to vanish, to leave him alone in the dark and cold where he could sleep forever and ever and not have to open his eyes to this world anymore. Wanted to draw himself into an alternate reality that was all his own.

"I can't. You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not," Jordan said. "But I'll still listen. I won't judge you."

Brandon pulled away from Jordan's hand and sat back down on his bed, putting his head in his hands, staring at the floor. "I-I-" He turned his head, pressing the heel of his hand against his eye when he felt tears wet on his face. "I couldn't help it. I didn't even think. It helped me deal with what had happened, how it made me feel. Helped me forget. I know what I did is pretty fucked up, but it was all I could think of."

"What happened? What did you need to forget?" Jordan asked quietly, sitting down next to him. Brandon shook his head, shame burning up his stomach. He couldn't possibly tell Jordan, who was so beautiful, so warm and friendly and so fucking perfect about what he had done, what had happened to him, or worse, how it had made him feel. How it had burned in him until he went crawling back to it again and again, wanting more. He was beginning to understand how a drug addict felt. How could he explain how he kept going back and back and back to the person, who would use him, hurt him, humiliate and degrade him? How could he tell Jordan any of that?

He couldn't, so he just sat there, trapped by his silence and his tears, and he completely broke down after Jordan leaned over and folded him into a protective hug. He couldn't do anything but sit there like a baby and sob while Jordan held him for hours and hours until pure exhaustion came to yank him away.

When Brandon woke, Jordan was still there, on the bed next to him, as sound asleep as Brandon had been earlier. Brandon stared at him for a moment. Jordan looked so relaxed when he was asleep, his face young and soft. Brandon had been too busy indulging in his self-destructive behavior to give Jordan much notice, but thinking back, he had rarely seen Jordan smile or laugh or even look happy. His face had carried a tired weariness, a dark shadow of too much responsibility and not enough rest smudged underneath his eyes. Brandon felt struck by a deep pang of guilt. He was too steeped in his own issues for him to be thinking about what Jordan might be dealing with. What responsibilities did an Enabler have to deal with? What was Jordan's life like when he left here each day? Was he grappling with the pressure of being perfect, being the best, being one of those shiny straight A students that made his parents beam proudly and boast about their son's GPA at country club get togethers, while bestowing him with a shiny new SUV every grading term for his efforts? Why did Jordan care so much about him? Because of his ability, his friendship with Leia? Did it bother him, having to spend time with Brandon, whose wild hair and wardrobe rebelled so fiercely with what Jordan stood for?

He reached out with stiff, nearly numb fingers to touch Jordan's face, just the slight brush of fingertips against his cheek, but that was enough to make Jordan's eyes fly open, his eyes instantly darting up to Brandon's face, making him wonder if the boy had ever been asleep to begin with.

"You're awake," Jordan said, his voice hoarse.

"So are you," Brandon said.

Jordan propped himself up on his elbows and rubbed a hand over his face. Brandon's hand was safely back against his hip.

"What time is it?"

"Almost seven."

"Jesus." Jordan was obviously having a hard time waking up and Brandon felt like a complete ass for waking him.

"Do you want to stay for dinner, spend the night?" Brandon asked. "You can stay in the spare bedroom."

"Sure... Let me call my brother and let him know," Jordan said.

Brandon went down to check with his parents, and when he came back Jordan was side lying on his bed, all tousled and sleep mussed, talking on his cell phone.

"Yeah, it's fine... from school.... um-hmmm. Okay, I'll be back in the morning. I know, I know. Yeah... Good-night." Jordan turned his phone off and let it fall back onto the mattress. He turned over onto his back, tossing an arm across his face.

"You can go back to sleep," Brandon offered.

Jordan moved his arm and looked at him. "No, I better not." He pushed himself up and looked at Brandon. "We need to talk."

Brandon shifted nervously. He was embarrassed about his outburst and breakdown earlier and didn't want to dwell on it. "'Bout what?"

"Lots of things, Leia included. But right now, about what made you do that to yourself. If it's something that is really, really too hard for you to talk about, I'm not going to force you into it. But I think it would make you feel better if you talked to someone about it. It doesn't have to be me."

"I don't-"

"Dinner!" Kelly shouted from the other side of his door, cutting off what Brandon was about to say. He was never so happy to have Kelly interrupt in his entire life.

They sat down at the table instead and it was an unspoken agreement that in front of family members, everything must be perfectly normal. Even so, Brandon could feel his parents' mild surprise at seeing quiet, polite, clean cut Jordan at their dinner table.

"So... Jordan?" Brandon's mother asked. "Are you new to the area?"

"Yes ma'am. I've only been here a couple of weeks."

"Where did you live before?"

"Chicago," Jordan said flatly.

"So, why did you move?"

"My brother changed jobs."

"What does he do?"

"He's an attorney."

"Oh, I see." His mother stopped her friendly interrogation for a moment, before taking it up again. "What about your parents? Did they move here, too?"

"No," Jordan said quietly. "I live with my brother."

"Why?" Kelly asked, possibly finding the idea of living with her own brother and no parents unfathomable.

"Kelly, that's none of your business," Brandon's mother admonished, and Kelly blushed. Jordan did not answer the question.

"So, how long have you lived with your brother?" Brandon's mother asked.

"The past seven years."

"How did you meet Brandon?"

Jordan seemed to think for a moment and smiled. "I bumped into him at school. I was still new and he was nice to me, helped me out." Jordan took a drink of water, looked away nervously before giving Mrs. Williams a bright smile. "So, how long have you and your family lived in the area?"

"You are such a liar," Brandon scoffed later. "Nice to you, my ass."

Jordan shrugged. "She wanted to know and it was something she would want to hear. Maybe I should have told her the truth?"

"No." Brandon sat back down at his desk and took up his sketchpad again. "God, don't do that. So, why do you live with your brother?"

"What, you think I'm going to tell you?"

Brandon paused, unsure what to make of Jordan's tone of voice. He didn't sound angry, but his voice carried a certain weight to it. "I just thought that you might feel more comfortable talking about things around me than you might be with my family. But you don't have to tell me."

Jordan contemplated this for a moment. "I'll tell you... not tonight, but eventually, if you tell me about what happened to you," Jordan said. His voice was teasing, almost a little amused, but Brandon could hear the anxious trembling under the surface.

Brandon reached for his sketchpad, turned to an empty page and started to doodle to help relax. He had a feeling that Jordan wasn't going to let this go until they had done the talking and the crying and the hugging shit. "I'm afraid you'll be disgusted... hate me even."

"I won't," Jordan said. "Trust me, if you want to compare things that we haven't been proud of, I would beat you by a mile."

Brandon rolled his eyes. "Right." Somehow it was hard for him to picture. "Like what?"

"Later. Go on."

Brandon looked down, felt his throat tighten and constrict, like it was trying to keep the words from coming out. He felt absolutely sick and terrified. He couldn't do this. Not yet. Not right now with all this other stuff going on. "Look... I would like to tell you. I really would, because I know you are worried. But it's a really complicated issue and I just don't feel ready to tell anyone about it yet... I want to get it all straightened out in my head first. Okay?"

"All right. No pressure." Jordan looked disappointed. "But promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Promise me that if you want to do... that thing to yourself again... Don't. Just call me first, all right? I know you said you don't want to talk about it now, but when you are ready, I'm willing to listen. Whatever it is, I won't judge you, I swear. Keep it in mind, all right?"

Brandon smiled at him, a relieved, genuine smile. A smile that Jordan privately thought was quite beautiful. "All right. And I promise to call you before I do anything."

They sat there for a moment, Jordan rubbing the back of his head, and Brandon guiding his pen in smooth, soothing lines across the paper in his sketchbook. He was drawing Leia, thinking about her, worrying about her.

"We still have to talk about what we were going to talk about when I first came over this afternoon," Jordan finally said.

Brandon sighed and rolled his eyes. "Do we really have to?"

"Yes, of course we do. Why do you always resist me on this?"

"I'm just tired of it!" Brandon said, all the old ugly feelings from earlier that afternoon flooding back. "I'm so sick of all of this... all the time, whenever I ask you about something, all I hear is.... it's hard to explain, or trust me, trust me, trust me... Trust you! You are asking me to do things, impossible things, and I don't even know why half the time. You are telling me that one of my close friends is carrying a monster child inside her after she was raped by some creature, and you expect me to believe that with no proof at all! Hell, you could have been lying all this time and I would be none the wiser."

"Again, why would I lie to you?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because I have no reason to. I..." Jordan paused, took a deep breath. "Okay, how about this. I promise not to lie if you promise to trust me."

"Well, that's kind of counter-productive, isn't it?" Brandon replied.

Jordan raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Then go ahead. Ask me anything. Anything. I swear I'll tell you the truth."

"How do you know Leia was raped?"

"I felt it," Jordan said.

"How?" Then, as the full meaning behind his words sunk in, "What?"

Jordan sighed. "Okay, fine. Just listen and I'll tell you everything." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I have a psychic connection with all Enablers," Jordan began. "You will have one, too, in time, to other Creators. When an Enabler is at work, it's like an alarm or something goes off in my head. It's powerful, not something that can slip by your attention or be ignored. It's almost like... like a physical pull or something." Jordan blushed slightly. "I feel like a dork talking about being psychic, but I don't know any other way to describe it, this connection I feel to others like me, others with this strange... ability. It's something very real, almost tangible. Anyhow, this Enabler brought over something... I already told you this part, right?"

"Yeah," Brandon said. "Something big, almost killed him and all that jazz."

"Right. Well, once I made that connection, I held onto it for as long as I could, because one, I wanted to know what was going on, and two, I was worried about the Enabler. But before too long, I realized that the connection I had wasn't to the Enabler anymore... It was to the Beast. I don't know how exactly that happened. I talked it over with some of my people and we decided that it was something like when wires get crossed and you can hear someone else's conversation, you know, but the point is, I had this psychic link to this creature, a strong one. I couldn't see what it saw or hear what it heard or read its thoughts or anything like that. But I could feel the very base, primitive urges that drove its behavior. There were no higher functioning activities or emotions or even thoughts slipping through like you might get with regular people; this thing was purely driven by its id." He looked at Brandon carefully. "Are you getting this?"

"I think so," Brandon said, a little unnerved by the way Jordan was studying him. It reminded him of how he felt the first day of school after he had bumped uglies with Keith, how he felt like everyone there knew, could see right past him, into the darkest chamber of his heart where that secret had hidden, that everyone could look at him and see what he really was inside --a freak, a deviant, a pervert. "You know it wasn't human because it wasn't acting like a human. It wasn't thinking or processing like a human."

"Yes." Jordan nodded. "It's impossible to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced it. I don't even know if anyone else has. But all of a sudden, I had this link with him and I could feel what he felt. It was frightening, unsettling, to say the least. Driven by his urges... hunger, sex, aggression. He was running around, unchecked, either intentionally or unintentionally, I can't be sure. But anyhow... it was roaming around, ran across her and..." Jordan swallowed hard. "He had at least one appetite he could satisfy, and he did. I was there the entire time; I could feel it." Jordan shook his head. "I won't go into any more detail than that. I don't want to recollect it and you don't need to hear it."

"Okay. God." Brandon capped his pen, closing the sketchbook. "Um... how did you know it was Leia?"

"I knew it was someone within the town, and I knew it was someone young. Everyone has a distinct kind of signature, a type of energy pattern that they give off. They are born with it, like how you are born with a certain eye color or skin tone. I was able to pick up traces of hers, and some very vague details... enough so that I was able to pick her out of the people at school. I have the same connection with her sometimes that I have with the creature. I'm not sure how; maybe it has something to do with the fact that I was connected with the creature during their... union. I get flashes from her sometimes, when she is feeling something especially strong. Anger, fear, anxiety... She's been an emotional rollercoaster these last couple of weeks."

"You can feel what she's feeling?"

"Vaguely and not all the time. Not even most of the time. I can't read her thoughts or anything. It's kinda like being in a room full of people and occasionally being able to hear what someone else across the room is saying when they raise their voices. I'm not intentionally invading her privacy; like you wouldn't intentionally listen to someone else's conversation, but when they raise their voice, you just can't help it. When she is feeling something very strongly, I can't help feeling it."

"Okay." Brandon tried to digest all this for a moment. "So, how come you can do all this and I can't? You have all this psychic stuff going on and I don't have any. I don't think."

"You do have some," Jordan said with a small smile. "But Enablers are usually more sensitive to psychic activity due to the kind of work we do. Bending and shifting reality and bringing things through requires a certain psychic awareness, so I think it's just being an Enabler that makes us more susceptible to stuff like that. It comes with the territory, so to speak."

Brandon leaned back, staring at him with dark thoughtful eyes, but didn't say anything.

"What are you thinking?" Jordan asked.

"I just can't believe I'm sitting here listening to all of this and believing every single word."

"I promised to tell you the truth."

"I know you did. And I know you're being honest."

"Oh really? How?"

"There are signs a person gives off when they're being deceitful," Brandon said, leaning forward slightly. "You aren't giving off any. So, either you're telling the truth, or you are an extremely talented liar. I'm betting on the former."

"What are these signs?" Jordan asked.

"Body language, speech, stuff like that. For example, when people are lying, they use certain words, phrase things a certain way and talk at a different speed and a different pitch. They usually sweat, fidget, pull on their cuticles or touch their face and neck. You didn't do any of this. But the most important indicator of lying has to do with the eyes."

"Keeping eye contact, right?"

"Partially. But when people are lying, making stuff up, they usually look to the left."

"Interesting. Why is that?" Jordan was definitely interested, leaning forward as well.

"Well, let's do an experiment. I want you to imagine a... pink penguin."

"What?"

"Just do it. Picture a pink penguin in your mind."

"Um... okay."

"Now I want you to picture your favorite stuffed animal when you were little."

Jordan actually smiled a little at that. "Okay."

"Good. Now, I was watching your eyes when you did that. When you thought of the pink penguin, you looked to up and to the left. That means you are making something up in your mind, that you are visually constructing. There are also auditory constructions where you look left. When you thought of your first stuffed animal, you looked up and to the right. That means you were visually remembering. People look to the right when they recall something auditory as well. So, when people are asked what they saw and what they heard and they look to the left, they are constructing something, making something up. And when they are looking to the right, they are remembering something that they really did see or hear. Get it?"

"Interesting. So if I want to lie to someone, I just make sure to look up and to the right?"

"It's very hard to do voluntarily. Try it. Tell me a lie while trying to look to the right."

Jordan did. Brandon started to laugh.

"What?" Jordan asked.

"You almost had it, man. But then your eyes started to wobble back and forth and then they went back to the left. And your ears turned bright red. I bet you've never lied a day in your life."

"Everybody lies sometimes," Jordan said, his face turning a little pink. "Where did you learn all this?"

"I read about it in a book."

"Really. What kind of stuff do you read about?"

"Oh, whatever. I usually like stuff about psychology and sociology. I think it's neat to learn about how people think and how they act. And I like true crime, especially books that profile serial killers and stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Brandon shrugged. "I think that kind of stuff is interesting. And I'm a knowledge whore. I like to know everything about something that I think is interesting."

"You had a couple of medical books on your bookshelf," Jordan noted. He remembered seeing them when he was at Brandon's house the first time. "What about those?"

"Most of them are anatomy textbooks. I like them because of their illustrations. And I have a few books on medical things that are interesting to me." Brandon shrugged. "I used to want to be a doctor."

"Used to? What changed your mind?"

"Chemistry." Brandon smiled. "That and I just wanted to spend all my energy on art and stuff. Besides, I don't want to spend so much time in medical school and I would have to get a scholarship for us to be able to afford it and..." Brandon shrugged. "I dunno, I guess it was too much trouble. Besides, it wasn't like a passionate dream or anything."

Jordan flopped down on his back, feeling sluggish and tired. "So, when you talked to Leia the first time you found out she was pregnant, did you look at her eyes?"

"No," Brandon said after thinking about it. "She was crying." He ran a hand over his hair. "Besides I'm not sure if it would have worked."

"Why not?"

"Well, if she constructed the story about the mystery lover, she would be looking over to the left. But if she genuinely believed this story, she might not have done it. It would be real for her, inside her head. I don't know. I'm not sure." Brandon rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Do you want me to ask her again?"

Jordan shook his head. "There's no need to." He sighed. "We're in a difficult position. I want to help her, but I'm afraid of damaging her mental state. She's barely holding it together."

Brandon shook his head. "No, she's fine. She's scared, of course, but she's thinking things through, making good choices. She looks like she's holding together fairly well." Brandon thought for a moment. "I didn't believe her cover story when I first heard it either. I don't know why, but something just seemed off about it to me."

"You see, there's an example of your psychic ability right there. You could tell that her story wasn't true. You picked up on that."

"Yeah, but that was just instinct or something. It just didn't feel right. It wasn't like I knew or anything."

"Being psychic is all about feeling, Brandon. It's like... gut instincts or deja vu and all that stuff. Psychic ability isn't going to parade around you waving a flag or shouting in your face. It's extremely subtle."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Brandon asked.

Jordan actually smiled. "I was contacted by another Enabler. You know that we're able to sense each other?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she contacted me and told me everything. And if you think you were hard to convince, you should have seen me. She and her Creator had to show me how it was done before I would even listen. And even then I had a hard time believing I was one."

"What convinced you?"

"The move, for one. This first happened when I lived in Chicago. She told me that I would be brought to my Creator, that destiny would bring us together. A few days later, my brother told me that we were moving. It was kinda freaky. Then once I got here, I just kept my psychic eyes and ears open until we crossed paths."

Brandon slid out of his chair, knelt down next to Jordan. "Hey." He poked him with his finger.

"Hmm?"

"Don't fall asleep on my floor."

"Why not?"

"It might eat you."

Jordan opened his eyes. "You are totally weird."

"Yeah, I know."

Brandon sent Jordan off to the guest bedroom and was finally able to go and take his long awaited shower. If nothing else, Jordan's visit had done a little to take his mind off that afternoon. He spat out a mouthful of water.

He couldn't believe that Jordan had found out what he had been doing. And that he had almost told Jordan why.

Hey, guess what. I think I'm kinda gay. And while we're at it, I've been screwing around with one of the school losers and have a little bit of a crush on you because you look entirely too hot while you're sleeping on my bed or stretched out on my floor.

He grinned as he turned the shower off. Yeah, he couldn't see that one going over too well.