Charles gasped when the glass rained down on them, and beside him, Kit did too.

Yelping, the blond stumbled backwards out into the street, away from the falling shards. But the teenager didn't budge.

"That's not - " he said, pausing, before his face twisted again and he bent down, scooping a few small rocks up off the sidewalk.  

"That's - that guy - ah fuck it!" He swung his arm back.

"He doesn't want you!"

Kit threw his handful and the stones bounced off the bricks next to the broken window where Hunter was standing.

"Get that!!!"

"Kit, oh my God, please, he's calling the police!"

Hunter was holding up his phone in plain view, dialling, looking down on them.

The boy stood his ground. He didn't look afraid - only angry. Charles wished he could feel that way...

With a snarl, Kit swept up more rocks and hurled them, this time with better aim, so that they plinked against the window pane, one flying inside, just missing the man standing there. 

"He's not your thing so fuck off!!!"

Ducking to search for more rocks on the sidewalk, he found a small one and this time it hit the window, Hunter moving back as the glass cracked.

"Kit!"

"To hell with him, Charlie! He hurt you!"

"Come on, we have to go, the police, the neighbours - "

"That's not Amos, Charlie!"

"Amos? Why would it - "

"Never mind!!!"

He found another rock and hurled it.

"Kit! Stop, please, come on, we have to run!"

Grabbing his wrist, Charles turned, dragging the smaller man away, running.

"Damn it!" Kit growled. "Did you go with him before? Is that jerk really your boyfriend?!"

"No! I mean, I went with him, yes, but he'd not - we never dated! And I tried to leave, tonight, I did but he - I changed my mind but he wouldn't let me - "

"You said no and he didn't listen? Asshole."

Then they were running, limping, yet laughing somehow, giggling, giddy and breathless. The laughter was bubbling up inside Charles, and he let go of Kit's arm to clutch at his side. Exercise was not his strong suit on a good day.  

It was absurd, and they were both exhausted, but they were free, together, alive - and the morning was beautiful.

"That was my boss!!!" he yelled, still laughing.

"You boss? Damn, thought he was just a coworker?" Kit snorted. "Well, guess that's one way to quit..."

Something seemed to dawned on him. "You are sleeping with your boss! I asked, that one time, and you - !"

"I was. And it started a long time ago, in college. I..." He swallowed, his giddiness dying away, looking down. "It's so old, this thing with Hunter, it's so rooted in me and I...I just..."

"It's a big country," Kit said decisively, throwing out his hands. "We can move somewhere else. Away from him."

"We are in so much trouble," Charles muttered, out of breath. "Oh no - you threw a bottle at him! And rocks!"

"He can go to hell. What do you want to do now, Charlie?"

"I- I..."

Pale yellow rays lit up the pink and baby blue sky, reflecting off of the tops of buildings all around them, dispersing light into the still shadowed streets and surrounding the two young men in a warm, soft glow. 

They were a few blocks away from Hunter, still in a residential area, and Charles slowed to a walk, panting. 

I want to tell you everything. I don't want to lie anymore.

"...After my mother passed away..." he mumbled.

"When she was h-hit by that c-car... Hunter took me under his wing, and I trusted him. I never thought he'd hurt me, I thought if I could just be good enough...maybe he'd love me..."

Kit took his hand, squeezed it.

"Bastard," he said.

No-one had held his hand since he was a small child. Since - since Kitty, maybe. It felt...nice.

Kit's hand was small and strong, dried blood crusted underneath his fingernails, faint white scars on the knuckles.

Charles wrapped his own long, delicate fingers around it and squeezed back.

He'd reached out and taken Charlie's hand.

Why?

It was something Kitty had done - she had been physically affectionate, leading him by the hand, hugging him, leaning on him as he got older. Kissing his forehead, smoothing his hair, brushing at the dust on his clothes, and usually just spreading it around.

Even when her words were harsh and cutting, her touch was usually soft and comforting. Sometimes she'd get lose her temper and pinch him, hard, and Kit would get just as angry and pinch her back. Then she'd laugh, say,

"That's right. That's good - always hit back, your hear? No matter who it is. Even if it's your parents, you - you - " she'd wave a hand in the air and say,

"Don't you take it. Don't you take shit."

And Kit had liked her tight hugs, had liked the way she wanted him close, at least - until he got taken away, until she almost died of that overdose. He'd liked the grounding, familiar, unspoken warmth she put into her touches.

Now as he took his uncle's hand, held it gently in his, he tried to give him that connection, that strength, support, and comfort through this silent gesture.

"My mother..." Charlie started again, tentatively, his shoulders hunched, expression hesitant.

"She was frightened, I think. Of a lot of things. Of...of everything outside of her control, really. Like I am," he said, with a sad laugh. 

"She tried really hard to protect me, but - that meant she also tried to shield me from other people." 

He looked down, trying to hide his face.

"When she died, I felt so, so lost... That's when I met Hunter. He seemed like the answer to everything, to every question I'd ever asked myself. He was everything I wasn't... Perfect, I thought."

Charlie took a deep, shuddering breath.

"But he wasn't. I was wrong. He wasn't."

"I never..." Kit looked at him and felt, for the first time in his life, like he might understand his uncle's mother, the woman who had thrown Kitty out into the streets.

Like he might have something in common with her.

Because right then, he wished he could protect Charlie. He wanted to wrap him up in plastic wrap - or blankets or something - and keep him safe.

But he couldn't. No-one could. The world was everywhere around them, they were living in it, and life wasn't about hiding from people - it was about learning to deal with them, live with them, confront them.

"I never thought about how lonely you must have been when she died."

Without Charlie, Kit would have been just like that, stranded, alone. He had thought that he had no-one when Kitty died, but instead his uncle had taken him in. 

"You didn't have anybody - except that asshole, right?"

"I was older than you. I should have handled it better..."

"No-one can tell you how you're supposed to handle it. No-one knows - " He stopped, unclenched his tense jaw, went on.

"I mean, you're not alone now. I'm here and we have each other. It's not much...but you're with  family. You don't need him."

"Kit..."

"You won't be alone again." The boy set his jaw, grim and determined. "I said I'd take care of you. Feels like I failed," he muttered.

"I'm the one who's supposed to look after you - I'm your guardian! It's me who keeps failing..."

"Guess we make almost one functional human being between the two of us, huh? But if we help each other out... Then, I think we could make it work."

He glanced up at Charlie, gestured at his throat, the dark bruises.

"Maybe you should got to the cops about it... About what he did, I mean."

He said the word 'cops' as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, and looked sceptical. But he was serious about his suggestion. 

Kit yearned to get that guy back for hurting his uncle. But realistically, they were in a bad spot. He might have an army of sleek lawyers, drag it out, maybe hang Charlie out to dry for the things he's done at work.

No - he had to focus on his uncle right now. He was here, safe, okay. Not unharmed, but he could recover.

So - get him away. Keep him safe. Forget about Hunter.

It made his blood boil - he wanted to go back there and wreck that man - but he had to stay next to his Charlie. Support him emotionally, and support whatever he wanted to do next.

And Zach lied to me. I'll find out why, goddammit. But right now...

Right now, he was more worried about the blond beside him. 

"I don't want to go to the police... I just want to go home. I never thought - I never would have believed Hunter w-would..."

"You're too trusting. My mom used to say, 'Get out before they can screw you over" - 'Cause they will, you know."

"That's not true, I mean - I trust you. And you're here."

"I hurt you too, remember?"

"Not on purpose..."

"Yes on purpose! That's why I'm saying you should be more - "

Then he glanced around them, trying to orient himself.

"What now, Charlie? What do you want to do, go home? Ah - wait."

Then he shifted away and dug around in his pocket, pulled out a small, plastic USB. The one he had picked up from the floor, the one that could expose Charlie, and everything he had done, to the world.

Kit held it out to him.

"Here. Take it. Do whatever you want with it. I said I wouldn't hold it against you - and I meant it."

Charlie raised his hand, touched the flash drive. Paused.

"Keep it safe for me?" he said, dropping his hand.

"What? You want me to have it?"

"I - I trust you with it."

Slowly, Kit took the USB back, tucked it away. Charles watched him - and then something dawned on him.

"Hunter is going to show them my research on Monday. He - He'll likely go back today and look at it," he said, eyes going wide with horror. 

"Let's go then," Kit said without missing a beat. 

"What?"

"Let's go now! And get it."

Charles blinked. "You're right."

The realisation washed over him, and then the anxiety, suffocating, crushing.

"Hunter might go there. Gosh, you threw a bottle at him!"

"Still on about that? Screw 'im. I've got your back this time. Don't be scared. If he's there, we'll face him together."

It shouldn't have been comforting - his short, scrawny nephew, face glowing with a ferocious glint Charles was sure his own features had never carried, offering to face off against Hunter - but it was.

Kit looked like he believed he could win a fight. Even a blood-stained skirt, and smelling like smoke and stale booze.

This night with Hunter had finally proved something to Charles.

Hunter wasn't good for him any more.

Had he ever been?

Either way, he couldn't continue this way. Charles had to be able to face himself in the mirror without feeling ashamed of the person he saw there. Starting today. 

"All I want to do is go home," he said slowly,  "And, and curl up under a blanket and get drunk and sleep - but. But."

He made a decision. 

"But I think we should make sure the contents of this flash drive come to the media's attention instead. I think we should - I should expose...the company. What they're doing."

"You mean...like a whistleblower?"

Charlie nodded, watching him warily. Kit stared back at him, brow furrowed.

"I'm with you, Charlie," he said.

"You - you are?"

"Yep, completely."

"I thought you would say something along the lines of, 'Screw everyone else, and look out for yourself'."

"Yeah, probably would have, but - " He sighed. "Let's do the right thing, for once. I'm with you."

"Are you sure? I - it might be a breach of contract, publishing this..."

"I'm sure. And if they go after you, we'll press charges for this somehow. Against Hunter - you said it was his family's company? Wait, let me take a picture."

Charlie let him photograph the bruises on his neck, looking down.

"At least that's some kind of proof. Better than nothing. We could instal tracker apps on each others' phones, too, if you want. Then if something like this ever happens again, at least I can find you. Only if you want."

"That...that sounds smart, under the circumstances. But you know - w-we won't have any money, if I quit my job."

"I've never had any money - I can make do. As long as you find some other work and don't drink all your wages away, we'll manage. It's better than - than this money."

Kit gestured around them, at the air, in disgust.

"I can get a job too, outside of school, if we need it. I've got you back, Charlie. If you decide to quit, I'm with you."

He coughed, suddenly looking embarrassed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"Look, you - do you remember what you said to me once? 'Bout the family curse?"

Charles stared at him.

"You said we could try fighting it. Together."

"You called me a fool..."

"Yeah, I've said a lot of stupid shit. But what I want to say now, is... I think I'm ready to fight. If you are - if you still want to?"

His eyes burned into Charles's.

"I'm want to fight my addiction, Charlie. If you will, if you really believe what you said before...that we can get free. Get better."

"I - I do."

"Then I do too. I'm up for it."

He looked into Kit's eyes, his hazel ones so round and serious, and nodded. 

"I won't fail you, Kit. I...might fall off the wagon, but I'll get back up. You are worth becoming a better person for. And I am too. I'll be better for you, and for myself, if it takes a lifetime."

Kit swallowed, nudging the other man's shoulder with his elbow.

"Hey, I'll...help keep you on track. You're not alone in this. I know what you're going through... I won't enable you anymore, but I'll forgive you. If you slip up. No fear. No shame. Trust."

He coughed, breaking his serious gaze, embarrassed.

"That shit."

Hunter's apartment was 40 min walk from Charles's. It turned out to be 20 minutes at a half- run. 

So first, they hurried over there, grabbed his car (and a pair of pants for Kit), before driving over to the laboratory. 

They had decided to go fetch the car so that no cab driver would see what they were doing, or be able to tell anyone that he'd dropped them off outside. 

It was surprisingly easy to enter his workplace. No-one seemed to have been there since they left.

Well, it is the weekend, I suppose.

He was just glad Hunter wasn't there yet. 

When they entered his office, he heard Kit swallow, saw his gaze snagging on the shards on the floor, the mess, all the outward signs of their fight. 

But they had a job to do here, so in silent agreement, they got to work.

Charles swept his papers into two plastic shopping bags in complete disarray and deleted the files on his laptop, taking it with him. Then he chewed his bottom lip, turning towards the screen on his workbench, the stationary computer underneath it.

"Do you know what a memory card looks like in a computer...?"

"No."

Kit crouched down by the black cuboid underneath his desk and ripped the front away, exposing fans, wires, and components he didn't recognize mounted in different slots. 

"I thought you geeks were supposed to know this stuff."

"I'm not that kind of geek. And that's very prejudiced..."

"Just messing with you. Hang on, I recognize some of these."

Kit stuck his hand in and started ripping out components heedlessly, tossing the graphics card and processor aside before grabbing a few other pieces he was unsure about and throwing them into the bags with Charles's papers. 

"It's not stored somewhere else or backed up?"

"I took my backup disc, but the latest research isn't on it. And they use a closed system here, to protect the information. There's no internet connection on this computer, I have a different laptop for that."

"Okay then. Anything else?"

"We are in so much trouble - "

"You keep saying that."

" - But no. That's all of it, I think."

Kit smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, picking up one of the shopping bags and heading for the door.

"Let's get the hell out of here, then. And don't worry - we haven't seen trouble yet. Believe me, it can get way worse than this."

"Um...that's a relief?" Charles said as he hurried to grab the other bag, flick off the lights out of habit and guilt about wasting electricity, and hurry after the younger man. 

At the last moment, he grabbed a paper from a folder that had fallen out from behind the broken glass doors and pulled out a pen, scribbling on it frantically. 

He would need this whenever he saw Hunter again.

"Uh, Charlie? Maybe now's not the ti - "

"I'm done! Let's go!"

They half-ran out of the deserted building, feeling an eerie since of urgency, even though the office was empty.

"Charlie? There's something else I need to tell you about, now that we're being honest and all - " 

The parking lot was not empty. 

Because just as they came hurtling out through the front doors a sleek SUV pulled into it, coming to a halt with a screech.

Hunter got out, slamming the door behind him, and started walking menacingly towards the them.

He had changed his clothes and shaved but his face was blotchy, mouth twisted into an angry grimace. Charles flinched, freezing instinctively, dropping the bag he was holding with a rustle.

But then Kit's hand was there again, squeezing his like it had earlier, and he could spot his nephew standing beside him, shoulders squared, blazing eyes fixed on Hunter.

We'll face him together.

That's what Kit had told him. And now, it gave Charles strength.

He raised his chin and slapped the paper he has scribbled on in all haste just moments before into Hunter's chest with as much force as he could muster.

"Kindly accept my formal resignation."