Starry Eyed - 1. Chapter 1

STARRY EYED

Brandon knew, before he even touched the cool metal of the doorknob that she would be there. Discontent twisted in his stomach, the interwoven strands of irritation and jealousy leaving him cautious and weary. He tried to rid the automatic tightness from his posture and fixed a facsimile of a smile on his face—for Jordan’s benefit, not for hers. He didn’t care for her and he didn’t give a damn if she and the whole world knew it—but he did care about Jordan. So he would tolerate her grating laugh and her nails-on-a-blackboard voice and her overly perfumed scent. And he would let Jordan pretend to be oblivious to the simmering animosity that was there under the surface, if it made him happy.

She didn’t give him much more than a disinterested glance as he entered their dorm room, but Jordan gave him a warm smile and the welcome greeting shined in his eyes.

“Hey baby.”

Brandon smiled back. “Hey Jordan, Lisa.” He resisted the urge to approach Jordan, to hug or kiss him just to remind that bitch that Jordan was with him, not her, and instead sat down near his desk, dropping his bag on the floor. His sketchbook and iPod beckoned invitingly, while his nearby textbooks and binders pulled at his still developing sense of academic responsibility. He didn’t bother with either, knowing that any effort to focus while she was in the room would be a futile endeavor. Instead, he organized his notes from the day, shuffling papers around and eavesdropping shamelessly on their conversation.

“Well, I feel like I should be doing more,” Lisa said, tucking a long, sun-kissed curl behind her ear. She had a light soft voice, but there was a slightly twangy, Deep South note to her words that scraped along Brandon's nerves. Jordan apparently found it cute, but there was no accounting for the eccentricities of his boyfriend’s taste sometimes.

“You don’t need to do anything but be patient,” Jordan explained. “Stop worrying that you will 'miss' them somehow. The initial bond won’t let that happen. It’s strong, and it is strongest for Enablers.”

“Why?” Lisa asked. She had leaned towards Jordan slightly and Brandon found he really didn’t like that.

“We're more sensitive, due to the type of work we do.” Jordan explained. Brandon smiled as he watched his boyfriend elaborate. He was surprised when Jordan had finally settled on pursuing his Education degree, but Jordan had a natural aptitude for explaining concepts that Brandon would stumble over and a seemingly endless supply of patience. Brandon wryly thought that Jordan had learned it from dating him. "Creators have psychic ability too, especially where their Enabler is concerned, but most of their energy is channeled into into the creative work they do, the painting, the sculpting, the writing. As a result, they are not as attenuated to their Enablers, as the Enablers are to their Creators. Also, Creators don't have to do the work involved in bridging their realities. They are part of what they create, but we are not. Therefore, we have to cultivate a greater mental openness to access that alternate reality. Nature gives us a hand up by loading us with that extra ability when we're born, and then boosting it even further when we meet and connect with our Creator. Creators can feel their Enablers, but it's not as strong as when you find them and feel them. Trust me, you will know." Jordan's eyes flicked up to Brandon and he smiled. Brandon, surprised but pleased, smiled back, enjoying the slow tendril of warmth that Jordan's gaze elicited. Jordan's eyes dropped back to Lisa. "You will know." He continued in a serious tone of voice. "But the one thing you must not do is worry and fret over it. Anxiety will cloud your thinking, block your psychic energy, and maybe even delay your connection. But trust me, Lis, when it happens you'll feel it."

"Feel what?"

"Well, I don't know how Brandon felt. But for me, it was like being knocked off my feet. I saw him and I knew, absolutely, certainly, in an instant. I knew it was Brandon, just as much I knew my own name and that one plus one equaled two. It was concrete, it was factual. There was no way it could be anyone else."

Lisa sighed. "That sounds romantic. I hope my Creator is male. Maybe we'll fall in love."

Jordan frowned a little bit. "Not all pairings have a romantic relationship. My mentors didn't. Dalaja is married."

"But you two--"

"Yes, true, but that might have even happened without a Creator/Enabling partnership." Jordan stood up as Lisa got to her feet.

"I'm sorry, I've just got class coming up so I better get going," she said, sliding her bag onto her shoulder.

Thank God, Brandon thought. He wasn't careful enough, though, and some of the thought must have leaked over into Jordan's mind, for the blond gave him a stern look over Lisa's tanned shoulder.

"Try not to set up any expectations, and just keep your mind open," Jordan counseled. "You'll know. Trust me. You'll know."

Lisa smiled. "Thanks Jordie." She gave him a hug and Brandon stared daggers at her back until she let go and left the room.

"Jordie?" Brandon repeated once the door was safely shut. Jordan rolled his eyes and pulled a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge.

"Very mature. I'm surprised you didn't stick your tongue out at her."

Brandon stood up and flopped onto the bed. "She's annoying. And she is over here all the damn time."

"She's an Enabler, curious about what it means and she is anxious and impatient to find her Creator. I was the same way with Dalaja, always plying her with questions until we moved. It's not easy waiting for your Creator. It's like you suddenly realize a hole has opened up inside you and you're waiting for it to be filled again."

Brandon gazed at him. "You never told me that before."

Jordan shrugged. "Did it matter?" He climbed onto the bed with Brandon, leaned down to kiss him. "I found you."

Brandon drew back a little and gave him a wry look. "You lied to her."

Jordan gave him a wide-eyed stare. "What do you mean?"

"When you were telling her that not all pairings are romantically involved. You said that you and me might have ended up together even without the Creator-Enabler bond. But I don't think so."

There was a flash of hurt in Jordan's eyes and Brandon could feel the resonance of it inside his own chest.

"No?" Jordan started to move away, but Brandon grabbed his hands and pulled him back.

"Think about it Jordan. Think about how different we were. Think of how we disliked each other at first. If we hadn't had the Creator/Enabler bond to bring us together, we might have traveled on different paths for the rest of high school and beyond. Might have even enrolled in different schools. Hell, if not for becoming an Enabler, you might not have even moved from Chicago." When Jordan went to move away again, Brandon tugged until Jordan tumbled on top of him, and then lifted his head to kiss him firmly. "Thank God you did though. You saved my life."

Jordan didn't speak, but Brandon was taken aback by a tumultuous crash of conflicting emotions that flooded his own mind through their tertiary link. Unsure of what to do, but certain that he had fucked up majorly along the line, Brandon wrapped his arms around Jordan, pulling him against his body and holding him tightly.

"I'm sorry, baby."

Jordan drew back and kissed him fiercely. His face was flushed but his eyes were calm. "Brandon, you might have been just fine without me. Maybe Leia would have turned out okay, and maybe you wouldn't have ever met Keith. You could have gone through high school healthy and happy, and never met the horrible creature that assaulted you." Jordan touched Brandon's face, cupping his cheek in his hand and then running it back through his dark hair. "But me...if I hadn't gotten out of Chicago, if I hadn't met Dalaja and Nikki, I would probably be dead now."

"Baby, don't say that," Brandon protested. But Jordan shook his head.

"No Brandon, I'm serious. You know what I had been through, losing my family, losing Sam...I wasn't handling it well. At all. I had a death wish, almost, wanting to give up but too scared and too sad to figure it out myself. The fighting, the drugs, the sex...I was completely out of control and didn't care enough to try to get myself on the right track."

Brandon tried to reconcile that with the preppy, stuffy impression he had of Jordan when they first met. It was nearly impossible.

"But you, and this...it changed everything for me. Knowing that you were out here somewhere, that there was someone waiting for me to find them, knowing that I was going to have a Creator. Just knowing that was enough for me, at the time. It gave me something to work towards, to wait for, to anticipate. And then, once I found you, I didn't have just a Creator. I found more than that, a friend, a partner, a lover." Jordan's eyes, normally blue and radiant, were dark now, sweet unfathomable pools drawing Brandon in. Jordan's hand touched his face, a thumb drawing lightly over his bottom lip in a gentle erotic touch. When he spoke again, his voice was rough. "I didn't save your life baby. You saved mine."

"Say maybe you were right. Say maybe that Leia turned out okay and I hadn't ever come across Keith and never went to--to--"

"Charion," Jordan gently supplied.

"Yes. But if none of that happened, then I never would have met you. I would have lived my life with an emptiness inside me where you live right now. And I could never want to live any other way." Brandon grinned up at Jordan. "How about we just agree that we saved each other's life?"

"Deal," Jordan breathed, closing the small gap of space between them, kissing Brandon deeply. Brandon returned the kiss, feeling a surge of love and affection from his boyfriend along with a healthy amount of lust. Jordan's hands were already on his body, one still on his face, the other lingering near Brandon's belt, a silent question. Brandon answered it by unbuckling his own belt, felt the answering smile on Jordon’s lips.

* * *

They barely had finished their lovemaking when Brandon had to reluctantly climb out of bed, still warm and smelling sweetly of sex to pull on his clothes and get ready for his evening shift at the hospital. Jordan pulled on his boxers and got together a snack for Brandon, pressing it into his hands as Brandon was going for the door.

"Remember to eat," he gently chided, pressing up for another quick kiss.

"Come by at break?" Brandon asked. "You can have dinner with me."

"Sure thing," Jordan agreed.

Brandon kissed him again, and left, hurrying to the bus stop. Jordan flopped down on the mattress, then reluctantly got back up and made the bed. A nap sounded nice, but he didn't want to sleep while Brandon was working. When a tertiary partner was sleeping, the gentle delta waves coming from the other person had a calming, lulling effect. While that was good for Brandon when studying or drawing, Jordan thought it best for Brandon to be awake and alert when volunteering.

Jordan gathered his books and computer and walked to the library to clear his mind. He felt almost guilty, stealing Brandon's small window of time when he knew the other boy should have been studying, eating, or resting before his shift at the hospital. Instead Brandon had to comfort his boyfriend, who got entirely freaked out at the very thought of losing his partner.

Jordan knew that his insecurities were coming from him, not Brandon. He had grown up under the dark specter of grief and its accompanying misery, and had attempted to keep all his relationships after that as superficial and distant as possible. Empty sex replaced romantic relationships, and the inevitable distance that sprang up between him and his brother was more of a relief than anything else. Brandon--fierce, brave, emotional Brandon--had breached that distance, had broken that bitter shell, but even now Jordan couldn't help but feel like he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for life to snatch away yet another person who was important to him, to crush him once and for all.

The only slim comfort he had was that if Brandon died, he would join him. He wouldn't even have to work up the courage for suicide, just wait for the Creator/Enabler mechanism to do its work. He knew it was selfish of him, but it was one of the reasons he was glad that he was an Enabler instead of the other way around. He wanted Brandon to go on with life if he died, but he was insanely glad that he didn't have to make the same promise.

God, he was such a selfish asshole.

He felt a sudden surge of affection and smiled. Brandon couldn't tell what he was thinking, but some of his guilt must have seeped over and Brandon was responding with more comfort. He entered the library, picked up a coffee from the vending machine and settled down to study. They both had work to do; best to save all the confusing thoughts for a quieter time.

"--and she's over all the time. I swear, she spends more time in our dorm room than her own."

"Maybe she has an annoying roommate," Kalil suggested. Brandon glanced over at his tall, dark skinned classmate before turning his attention back to his own work. Brandon focused mostly on premed classes, but signed up for one or two art classes to help him keep his sanity. His therapist had often advised him to channel difficult to manage emotions into his work.

"Or maybe she just likes my roommate," Brandon pointed out.

"I hope not," Ivy said from Brandon's other side. "Trying to horn in on a guy who is with another guy is probably one of the most pathetic things in the world."

"The whore probably thinks she can turn him," Kalil decided, nodding his agreement.

"Un-fucking-likely," Ivy grunted. "If he's been with Brandon for this long, I think his preferences are pretty set."

"Brandon said his boyfriend might be bi," Kalil argued.

"Brandon is also fucking hot," Ivy said, giving the other boy a saucy wink and Brandon laughed. "She's going to have one hell of a competition."

Brandon smiled. He was anxious for Lisa to find her Creator so she would stop hanging around his Enabler so much, but a small part of him almost wished that it would be Kalil or Ivy. He had become friends with both of them early on in the year and liked them both. Kalil had a quiet, calm confidence about him, and an extraordinary artistic talent for capturing the human body in motion that Brandon envied. Ivy was more blunt, sometimes bordering on crass, but was brutally honest and reminded Brandon just enough of Alexis that he almost didn't miss her as much.

Brandon didn't admit it, but it would be nice to have another Creator to talk to. He had conversed with Nikki a few times once he got back home, but Dalaja was still so furious at what they had done that she refused to speak to either of them and Brandon didn't want to put Nikki in a difficult position. He was glad that Jordan found someone else to talk to, but he wanted that too, sometimes, someone to teach about Creating, but also to get advice and a new perspective. Jordan had told him that they could expect to find plenty once they went away to school...college was a natural draw to pull Enablers and Creators together. But Brandon was impatient as always.

* * *

Later that night, Brandon dreamt of Charion. Of poison and helplessness, of a hot mouth, apricot skin and soft, seductive whispers. Of blood and betrayal and an angry, resentful teenager, arrogant with too much power. Green eyes growing dead and distant, a baby staring back of him with Leia's quiet grey...

Brandon awoke with a jerk of limbs and stilled as soon as he recognized the dark shapes as his and Jordan’s dorm room. He lay there for a minute, trying to calm his breathing. He breathed in, then let it out slowly. He pictured diving into the ocean, swimming down and down and down until he was surrounded by deep indigo and the low moan of whale songs. It helped, like it always did, but still the room felt too hot, stifling and he was covered with sweat. Jordan was next to him with an arm around his waist like usual, but it felt too heavy and restricting now. Brandon, moving slowly and carefully, got out from underneath Jordan's arm and out of the bed, before sliding on his jeans, pulling on a shirt and grabbing his keys. He knew that if he stayed in bed, fretting over the dreams and feeling trapped, it would eventually disturb Jordan's sleeping mind to the point where he would wake up.

Jordan always wanted to help during those times, which was nice, but the wounds were often too fresh and raw to be dealt with and the added anguish of Jordan's emotions on top of that, no matter how much he tried to shield Brandon from them, was even worse. Brandon would much rather face these demons alone and focus on sharing the happy, daylight memories with Jordan, something to cherish and hold close when the darkness of the past threatened.

He opened the door, angling his body to block as much of the bright hallway fluorescents as he could, squinting as his pupils constricted against the change.

The night outside was dark and lovely, though, the cool air feeling good on his overheated skin and sweat-fringed hair. There were groups of students still gathered around at this late hour, mostly around the outdoor lamps, smoking, drinking, laughing.

He saw Ivy, sitting on a bench near the wall of his dorm, smoking and studying her phone. He briefly considered pretending that he hadn't seen her, and then decided that was silly and approached. She was an insomniac and a survivor just like he was; she would understand. She glanced up at his approach and gave him a small smile in greeting. Brandon tried to force a smile back in return but it felt stiff and wrong on his face, an obscenity.

Ivy reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shaking one free in an offering. Brandon hesitated for just a moment before accepting it, sliding it gratefully in between his lips. He was unspeakably thankful when she offered him a light as well, as he still didn't trust his fingers to hold steady yet. Jordan didn't approve of smoking very much but it was better than drinking, which Brandon was valiantly trying to avoid, no easy feat on a college campus. But he needed something, something to focus on, and the slight burn of smoke in his throat, the paper against his finger and the sweet glow of embers helped.

They smoked for a while in companionable silence. Brandon knew that nicotine was a stimulant, but found himself relaxing slightly none the less, sinking into the rhythm of pulling on the cigarette, inhaling and holding the smoke in his lungs, the slow exhale through his nostrils. He remembered when he was younger, how he would stand outside of school after classes or during recess, releasing his own breath into the air, watching it form little puffs of white vapor and pretending it was cigarette smoke.

He smiled a little at the childish memory, and saw Ivy in his peripheral vision, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it on the remains of her previous cigarette before tossing the butt and grinding it out with her heel. Looking down, Brandon could see several butts littering the ground, all marked with Ivy's signature magenta lipstick.

"Anything you feel like sharing with the group today?" he quipped. The remark, a kind of inside joke between them, was a phrase from the group therapy meetings that they found themselves sharing along with their art appreciation class. It was a half joke, half invitation to talk.

Ivy shrugged, taking a long drag on her cigarette. "Mi madre is asking if I'm coming home for Thanksgiving."

"Are you?"

"Not if the step-molester is still there." Ivy took another drag. "I said as much and got the same bullshit argument from her--you know, oh he doesn't mean to, it's just him being friendly, different culture, yadda yadda yadda, the same old shit. So I told her no and she goes off about how ungrateful I am and how I'm ruining the holidays for everybody and all that bullshit." Ivy laughed, a harsh bitter cackle that had very little humor in it. "So I guess I'm supposed to go home like the dutiful little daughter, let him grope and rape me just so mi madre can take pictures of the happy family to show off on Facebook."

"That sucks," Brandon declared as Ivy lit another cigarette. Brandon stubbed his out and shook his head when Ivy offered him another. He searched for words, something to tell her that would comfort her, because Ivy was an amazing person that didn't deserve all the shit she had to go through. Words didn't suit him though, not the way they did Jordan, who always could find the right words for just about anything. He would know what to say.

All Brandon wanted to do was gather her up and take her somewhere, somewhere safe, where her mother and stepfather couldn’t hurt her anymore. But such a place didn't really exist outside of daydreams and fairy tales and they both knew that, had faced the ugly truths.

"What about you?" Ivy asked, nudging Brandon's knee with her own. "How come you're out here wasting time with this bad influence instead of snuggled up to your hottie boyfriend?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Ivy glanced at him and the glow of the streetlight caught her face. Even at this hour, she still had a full face of makeup, complete with dramatic eyeliner and it made him think of Alexis again. A pull of nostalgia tugged at his chest, bittersweet as always. "Dreams again?"

Brandon started to regret not taking that second cigarette. "Yeah."

Ivy sighed in sympathy. "Which creep this time?"

"Both, actually."

"Damn." Ivy shook her head. "C'mere."

Brandon didn't resist as Ivy pulled his head down onto her shoulder, let it rest there as she brushed back his hair. Ivy didn't hug people and didn't like to be hugged in return, but this was the closest way to express sympathy and affection that she could muster.

Brandon was beginning to feel sleepy again as the earlier adrenaline drained completely away, but still wasn't ready to go back to a dark room and lay down and wonder if he would sleep or dream again. Lying in the dark and alone and awake, it was too easy to remember, to feel phantom hands on him, or an alien mouth on his and something he didn't want pressing against the entrance of his body.

Ivy talked to him, they laughed and joked and gossiped about classes, roommates, light stuff and let the dark heavy stuff sink away to the bottoms and backs of their minds to come out at some other time--group perhaps or sweat-slicked nightmares.

Brandon still missed alcohol at times like this, the sweetness of it on his tongue, the brief flush of heat that spread down his chest and through his stomach with that first sip, the way it hazed his memory and numbed his feelings.

He missed it, but he had made a promise, and Jordan's resolution helped--when his own faltered--to keep him strong and sane. This helped, too, companionship, understanding, humor and the simple distractions that kept the monsters at bay.

He stayed out for the better part of an hour, smoked one more cigarette, and finally rose to bid a sleepy goodnight to Ivy and return to his room. He quietly undressed and slipped back into the bed. Jordan stirred next to him.

"'Kay?" His voice was groggy, the word a sleepy blur of sound from his mouth.

"Yeah," Brandon reassured him, curling gratefully into the warmth of his boyfriend's body. It was the truth, though. He felt calm and content now, the weight of the arm that Jordan draped across him comforting instead of restrictive. He placed a hand on it, liking the feeling. Solid and real.

"Where'd you go?" Jordan murmured. His speech had cleared slightly, but he still sounded like he wasn’t all the way awake, which meant he hadn't been up worrying.

"Just for a walk." Brandon felt for and found his hand in the dark, bringing it up to his lips and pressing them against the palm. When Brandon released his hand, Jordan threaded it into his hair, much like Ivy had earlier. Brandon felt him shift, then the ghost of Jordan's breath against his mouth before he closed in, kissing him softly in the dark. Brandon responded, opening his mouth, let the kiss deepen and linger. It brought back memories of a time prior when they had kissed and made love in the dark, illuminated by occasional sheets of lightning as a storm raged around their treetop home.

There was no storm this night, nor the undercurrent of sexual energy, just a kiss, a shared affection and comfort before they both drifted off to sleep.

Brandon didn't dream again that night.

Brandon stifled a yawn behind his hand as he waited for the bus. Usually, his boyfriend would come and pick him up from the hospital, but Jordan had a test coming up and was meeting with a study group this evening. Jordan had offered, several times, to come and pick him up, but Brandon reminded him that it was silly for him to leave his study group, pick him up and take him home, then return to his study group when Brandon could catch a bus that came right to the hospital and would drop him off at campus. As it was, Brandon was glad to shed his boring volunteer uniform and change back into his jeans, boots and hoodie before heading back to campus. While the simple polo and khakis were comfortable and easy to move around in, they were more his boyfriend's style and as far from his favored attire as he could imagine.

As the bus pulled up, Brandon did a quick mental check-in. Jordan's mind was alert and focused, so he was probably still studying. Brandon didn't press any further, not wanting to break his boyfriend's concentration. He settled back into the seat, staring at his reflection in the darkened window. Maybe once he got back to campus, he would grab his things and go to the library too. Surprise Jordan with coffee from his favorite shop and sit next to him while he studied for his own upcoming exams.

He smiled at the thought, but his attention was broken as the bus passed a house. It wasn't much different from other houses scattered through the outskirts of campus, and judging from the lights strung outside, the volume of people milling about and the throbbing bass he could hear from inside the bus, someone was hosting a party.

Brandon had lost most of his enthusiasm for partying after high school. Being in large groups still bothered him some, especially when he was alone. It was at one of Alexis' parties where Keith had first seduced and raped him. It was still hard for him to think of it that way, but Brandon's therapist had used that word, explaining that if Brandon said no, even once, then consent was never given, even if his body had responded and even if he had been too afraid or unable to fight back. Jordan had told him something similar after Rajar assaulted him, but it still helped, to hear it from someone else.

The party was full of strangers and alcohol and possibly drugs, all things that usually had Brandon's stomach in an uneasy knot of nerves and anxiety. But he still raised his hand, feeling as if he was in some kind of dream, and pulled the cord to signal the bus to stop. He stepped off, glanced around briefly before approaching the house, and hesitated.

What was he doing? The dreamlike feeling still swirled around him, making him feel foggy and slow. He turned away from the front door, heading around the side of the house towards the back. It was more crowded than the front of the house, people sat in clusters on the grass, and the back patio that was a cluttered collection of beer bottles and Solo cups. Brandon tried not to think too much about what he was doing, instead let himself follow the strange pull that seemed to form inside him, in his chest to tug him forward.

Baby? That was Jordan. Brandon's deviation from his normal routes and routines must have been enough to make Jordan take notice, and Brandon felt absurdly grateful. He wasn't in full control of himself, and knew he wasn't, but it was hard to feel worried or scared. He felt serene, almost peaceful or as close as he could manage these days. Ironically, that ignited a deeper, darker fear that was rooted in the complicated tangle of his past. The poison that Keith had given him and the more potent venom that Rajar had employed had a similar effect, but this felt different. He could still think clearly, could move freely, but the anxiety and panic that he should be feeling were blunted, almost non-existent.

I don't know what's happening. The thought was gone from his head and into Jordan's almost before he finished creating it.

Are you okay? Jordan sounded concerned, but not as much as Brandon might have expected. Maybe it was due to the undeniable calm Brandon felt, traveling down their shared link.

I don't know yet.

"Don't know what yet?" a voice asked. Brandon, realizing that he had also spoken that thought aloud, spun around and almost collided with the man standing behind him.

"Whoa!" the guy said, grabbing onto his arm to stabilize him. His voice was warm and laced with friendly laugher. "You look like you've had a few too many."

"No." Brandon took an automatic step back, dislodging the hold that the stranger had on him. He looked to be about Brandon's age, tall, tan with dark hair, not as long as Brandon's, but long enough to curl around his ears and the nape of his neck. "I don't drink."

The man raised his eyebrows. "That's interesting, seeing as most people came here for that exact reason."

"I--I was looking for somebody," Brandon lied. It fumbled out of his mouth and he felt his face heat up. God, he was out of practice.

"Found someone you have," the guy replied with a grin, obviously trying to imitate Yoda but coming across more like Kermit the Frog.

Brandon took another step back, but didn't try to leave. The guy laughed self-consciously and rubbed at the back of his head. "Sorry. My girlfriend keeps on telling me that's a ridiculous way to introduce myself, but sticking out my hand and saying 'Hi, my name is Micah' feels really dumb."

Brandon stuck out his hand. "Hi Micah, I'm Brandon."

Micah grinned and clasped his hand, not shaking so much as giving it a brief, gentle squeeze and then releasing it again. Brandon felt that pull again, like a tug behind his navel and something unfurling in his mind.

"See, you have the introduction thing down like a pro. You'll have to teach me." Micah's smile was ever present and disarming. It was the smile of the charming charismatic, and Brandon felt like he should distrust it, somehow, but he didn't. He almost smiled back.

"You're at the university?" Micah asked.

Brandon nodded. "Yeah. I'm a biochem major."

Micah whistled. "Sounds impressive. You must like science."

Brandon shrugged. He wanted to cross his arms, but realized that was a defensive gesture, and settled for pushing his hands into his pockets instead. "I'm thinking of doing something in the medical field."

Micah nodded. "That's cool, that you know what you want to do. I'm still undeclared. I want to do something in the humanities field, though, you know like be an art teacher or maybe do fashion or even video game design. My girlfriend thinks it's impractical, and of course she's right, but I can't stand the thought of like sitting at a desk crunching numbers all day, you know?"

"You're an artist," Brandon said.

Micah nodded. "Oh yeah, I love art. I've been drawing and painting ever since I was old enough to hold a brush. I do a lot of watercolors. I have some of my best work up in my room, if you wanna see."

"You live here?" Brandon glanced up at the house.

"Yeah, my housemates are throwing this party. It's not really my thing, but if I don't show up for a least a couple hours, it would hurt their feelings. You're probably still looking for your friend though. I can help, if you want."

Brandon glanced back at the house. Rooms with doors. Privacy. Locks. He repressed a shudder. He didn't trust Micah, not yet, but he had a feeling that he knew what was drawing him to the other man now. Jordan had found Lisa. He had found Micah.

Brandon, are you okay? Jordan prodded. I can come and get you if you want me to. Where are you at?

I'm good for now, baby, thanks. Finish studying. I'll let you know if I need help.

Brandon could feel Jordan's worried unhappiness through the bond, but he might not be able to tell how undeniably right this felt. He realized that Micah was still waiting for an answer.

"My friend will be fine on their own," Brandon said. "I'm an artist too, so I'd love to see your work."

"Cool, c'mon."

The trip inside the house was nerve-wracking. Micah innocently grabbed his wrist to guide him through the crowded rooms and hallways and Brandon couldn't help but flinch a little. His heart gave a nervous flip inside his chest, and a tight band wound around his ribcage.

Okay, Bran, I'm coming to get you. He could feel Jordan's shared anxiety through their link. Brandon was determined to investigate Micah further, but he also didn't want to have to suffer a panic attack on his own in an unfamiliar place surrounded by strangers. He didn't respond in words or thoughts, but let his gratitude and relief flow through their bond.

The interior of the house was loud, smoky and dimly lit, and Brandon felt himself moving closer to Micah as he was jostled by other people and tried to keep his footing. They went up a flight of stairs and the noise from the music and crowd lessened slightly.

"This is my room," Micah invited, opening a door. He peeked inside, then stood aside and gestured Brandon inside. "Phew. It's actually empty for once. Usually there are people making out up here."

Brandon looked around. It didn't look too different from a typical college room, with a simple bed, desk and a television with a gaming console set up on a corner table with a comfortable looking leather chair in front of it. The walls themselves were covered with drawings, paintings and pictures.

"Are all of these yours?" Brandon asked, turning in a slow circle.

"Most of them," Micah said, swinging the door shut. Brandon felt his anxiety kick up another notch, the band around his chest tightening.

"Leave that open please," he said. It came out more of a bark than a request and Brandon flinched again as Micah gave him a startled look. "I'm...uh...claustrophobic."

"Oh, okay, no problem," Micah said, opening the door back open a bit. "I was just trying to cut down on the noise."

Brandon went back to studying the artwork. It was good. He wasn't much for watercolors, but he liked the vibrant colors and the dreamy look of them. He looked at a large framed print over his bed. It was a group of people, celebrities, some of them looked familiar but most of them didn't.

"That was my senior project," Micah said and there was a hint of pride in his voice.

"It's cool," Brandon said. "Who are all these people?"

"I took the Madonna song, Vogue, you know? And during the bridge, she does this weird little rap where she mentions a bunch of celebrities from like the 1950s, like Marilyn Monroe, Greta Garbo, Joe DiMaggio. There are 16 of them. So I took the order that they were mentioned in, and I did them as a huge portrait."

Brandon wanted to take a closer look, but it would entail taking off his shoes and climbing up on the bed, and he definitely wasn't ready to take such liberties. "Do you like portraits?"

"Yeah. This one here is more recent," Micah pointed at another one of a smiling girl with a cascading wave of auburn hair, brightly freckled face and a beaming smile.

"Your girlfriend?"

Micah nodded, grinning. Brandon couldn't help but grin back. Lisa was going to be so disappointed.

"I don't know, I guess when you told her she'd find her Creator, that she would bump into him on campus or something. Not through me," Brandon said followed by a shaky laugh. He had a cup of cocoa cradled in his hands and he couldn't help the brief, desperate wish for a shot of brandy, but just gripped the cup tighter and brought it to his lips, letting the heat and sweetness soothe him a little bit.

"I think we all thought it would happen that way," Jordan said. "But I guess it's different in college. In high school, it was easy. We were all packed together in the same buildings, it was easier to find and recognize your psychic signature. But if Lisa and Micah have different schedules and run in different circles, then it makes sense to have another Creator or Enabler to act as a link."

"Well, you found Lisa," Brandon pointed out. "And I found Micah. The same way I found Keith and how Dalaja found you. And I wasn't even looking. I was just following a feeling."

"I'm so proud of you baby," Jordan said with a smile. "I know how hard that was for you."

Brandon had held up fine at the party--it was only once he had gotten back in the car with Jordan that everything caught up with him and he started to shake, his breath constricting inside his lungs and his heart beating too fast. Now that he was back in their room, with a warm drink, his anti-anxiety medication and Jordan's steady presence he felt finally felt calm enough to talk about it. "I don't think I could have kept myself from going there, even if I wanted to. It was like I was drawn there. Compelled." Helpless.

"You're not helpless Brandon. Never," Jordan reassured him. "The pull between Creator and Enabler pairs, as well as between Creators themselves are powerful, but they don't control you. You control you."

Brandon sipped at the cocoa again. The compulsion, the dreamlike feeling that took him to Micah, and the sense of false calm detachment made him feel like he was anything but in control.

Jordan leaned forward from his perch on Brandon's desk chair and gave him a kiss, sliding a hand behind his neck and exploring his mouth with his tongue. "Never helpless. Only brave." Jordan whispered.

Brandon leaned his forehead against Jordan's shoulder.

He would believe him.