— Chapter 51 —
Killjoy

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J A M E S
Earlier...

"Quite the choice of venue," a familiar voice greeted as I approached.

With my hands in my pockets, I saw my brother sitting alone in Crave, in an area that was separated by long, heavy ropes. On a large sofa, his figure was illuminated by neon blue lights, washing the pristine suit he was wearing with hues of blue color. Wearing a suit in a place like this—he looked ridiculous, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

A heavy beat hammered through the air as I stopped before my brother, passing a glance to the glass table. He'd laid out a chess set at the center of the table, adjusting the marble pieces into their correct places. Beside the game, a single bottle of liquor, complimented by two crystal-clear shot glasses.

I furrowed my brows. "When you asked to meet me somewhere, I didn't think it was so that we could play chess."

Jayden passed me a glance.

"It's been so long since we played last," he told me simply. "I think a game is long overdue. Take a seat."

I sunk myself down onto the sofa across from him. Under my breath, I mentioned, "I would have picked a different venue, at least." With the game of chess between us, I found myself closest to the black pieces. "You've never let me play black before."

Jayden shrugged, a humored gleam in his deep-brown eyes. "Perhaps a change of pieces will help you break your losing streak."

I pursed my lips at his teasing. While Jayden turned his attention to the board, I poured the clear alcohol into our shot glasses, sliding one towards him. He picked one of the marble pawns, moving e2 to e4. 

I answered with my black pawn at e7 moving to e5.

"How's the fiancé?" I said to him, as he moved his knight on the board. Taking a sip of the alcohol, I moved my own knight to f6, mimicking his play. "About time you two got married. Your mother must be overjoyed."

"Those two have been attached at the hip for the last two weeks. All the details for the wedding have them preoccupied... I'm sure they're driving the wedding planners crazy. But it's nice to see them happy," Jayden said, a softness to his words. He placed his bishop at c4, followed quickly by my knight at b8 moving to c6. "And she's your mother too, James."

I could feel the discomfort pinch my skin like a dozen needles, and my reply was bitter despite the sweet taste of saké on my tongue. "Nothing about her has ever been a mother."

He positioned his pawn from d2 to d3, opening it right up for my pawn at e5. Stupid mistake. Swapping his pawn with my own, I left the white piece sitting off to the side. It was a strange opening to the game—one that I hadn't seen before.

But Jayden didn't seem phased that I'd taken his pawn. Instead, a small smile pulled on his lips.

"Always so impetuous."

He sipped his liquor while I ignored the comment, ready to get to the point. "What did you want to see me for? I'm sure it wasn't just for the ego boost of winning against me."

Jayden castled his rook and king. "Why so confident you'll lose?"

"Come on," I scoffed lightly. "Chess has always been your strong suit. A lot's changed over the years... but not that."

My knight at f6 took Jayden's pawn at e4. But it was Jayden who was taking the offensive so far, which was unlike his usual playstyle. I rested his captured pawn beside its predecessor on the glass table.

Jayden moved his knight to c3. I took it with my pawn at d4.

There was a displeased frown on his lips, but not at himself. "You don't stop to think through your actions. Like just then, for instance. You've always been stubborn in that regard."

He picked up his white-marble bishop at c4 and removed the first of my chess pieces off the board, replacing one of my pawns at f7. I thought for sure he was messing with me, choosing to leave his bishop so open to an attack. But whatever his reasoning, I took it upon myself to erase his bishop from the board, taking it with my king.

Chess had always been a game that my brother and I had used to bond over.

I was the black sheep of the family—the illegitimate child. My mother had conceived me with another man during her marriage to my adoptive father, who hated me from the first moment he held me in his arms as a newborn. I grew up as the forgotten child, with a mother who couldn't bare to acknowledge my existence and a father who was... explosive. There was a point where he and I argued so often that people couldn't stomach entering a room if we were both in it.

Anger was something that had been fed to me on a silver spoon. Growing up, any attention from my family stemmed from a source of fury or disgust, so anger always had its tendency to unravel me from the inside out. But Jayden was always there. He took me into a separate room, sat me down on the floor over a chess set, and used the game to calm my anger. He taught me self-control... management of my temper. And it worked, for the most part. Chess was his pride—he always said that you could make the best judgment of someone's character by observing the way they played the game.

"If I wanted a psych evaluation, I would have gone to a therapist," I told him, glancing briefly at his three white pieces that were sitting uselessly at the side of the game. "And considering our shitshow of a family, that might even be on the cards."

Jayden paused, paying careful attention to the setup of the board. Tilting his head slightly, I watched him lick his lower lip, a noticeable breath leaving his nostrils.

"He knows, James," he uttered, picking up his queen. "Our father knows that you're back in Boston."

My mood soured at the mention of him.

I rolled my eyes, bringing a shot glass to my lips. "Great. Did he want me to send a gift basket?"

Jayden moved his queen to d5. "Check," he said briefly, continuing with the topic at hand. "He thinks you being here is an opportunity. You've heard that he's running for mayor, haven't you?"

I was forced to move my king back to e8.

"I have," I admitted, though I lacked any interest in the concept. "I'll stay out of his way if he stays out of mine. Tanjiro's campaign isn't the reason I'm back."

A clever gleam shone in his eyes. "But you're not just here for my wedding, either."

That's right, I thought. I'm here for Elliot.

Jayden placed his rook at e1, a clear line of attack to my knight in the middle of the board. He poured himself more saké. I bit my lower lip at moved my bishop to e7, deciding to sacrifice the knight to my brother. His rook took the knight as expected.

We played the game in silence for a little while. I took a pawn with a pawn, he took my bishop with a bishop. Annoyed at the loss, I took the same bishop with my knight, only for Jayden to finally bring his queen to use in the game. A few moves later, his queen had me in check. I moved my king to g7. He moved his knight from f2 to d4.

A frustrated sigh left my lips. Jayden's words echoed in my head, and I couldn't help but mention it between a sip of alcohol. "An opportunity, you say? Please. The only opportunities Tanjiro knows of are the manipulative kind."

"His image hasn't been the same since you were emancipated," Jayden confessed. "The public isn't willing to support a man who couldn't even keep together his own family... illegitimate child or not."

The combination of his words and being put in check by his queen again made me glare at the board. I moved my king to c7. "Good," I said, "fuck his image. I fail to see why this is any of my concern."

"He's hosting a charity gala at the end of the month. Art pieces are going to be auctioned off to help fund improvements in the city's schools and education—and being seen with the family would put him in the public's good graces. Letting people know you bear no ill-will should help him in the polls, James. He'd like for you to be there."

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Tell him to go fuck himself. Respectfully."

Jayden took my knight at e7 with his rook and shook his head. "You've made something of a name for yourself with this music thing that you're doing. Your presence would be good for the gala's publicity. Don't be so quick to pass up on the offer, brother. In return for your compliance... he'd be willing to offer you a favor."

He was backing me into a corner with the positioning of his pieces, as usual. But I could only feel vexed by his tone—it as if he'd lost all agency of himself, abiding simply with his father's orders.

Jayden, always the dutiful son.

"So I leave for a few years and you become his servant," I scoffed, carelessly moving my queen to e7 and taking his marble rook. "Come on. When did you start shoveling his shit? If that bastard wants something from me, he can ask for it himself. I have no interest in his favors."

Jayden met my gaze, clearly annoyed with my movements on the board.

"I don't expect you to understand the decisions I've made," he said. "But don't be stupid. You know there's plenty to be gained when our father puts a favor on the table. It's a trump card—and you'd be a fool not to take it. At least put more thought into it than you have in this game."

I curled my lip, my nostrils flaring.

There was sense to my brother's words, and I hated it. I hated it because it meant that once again, my father had found a way to take undermine my volition. So, whether I liked it or not, I'd be playing right into his hands... the only difference was that this time, it was with the promise of a favor in return.

Having my father indebted to me was an interesting notion. In all his wealth and power, Tanjiro had never been one to offer favors, especially not to his bastard son. His offer meant that he needed me—and how degraded he must have felt to require the help of the son he'd so cruelly cast aside.

Maybe there was something to be gained after all.

"A foolish decision," Jayden quietly muttered. I watched as he took my queen with his last rook. "You never stop to consider the consequences of your actions, and it puts you at a constant disadvantage. The queen is the most valuable piece on the board but you didn't even hesitate to forsake her. It seems that you fail to appreciate her value." With a sly glance, he added, "Check."

I shook my head, placing my king at d8 and opening up Jayden's rook to attack. He defended it by moving his queen on the diagonal at g5.

There was a soft pull at the side of my lips.

"You were too swept up by her sacrifice to notice the pawn I'd pushed through the gap in your offense," I said to him. I'd been pacing a pawn forwards throughout the game, and with it now at a1, I was free to promote it back to my queen. "I may have lost my queen, but don't underestimate how far I'd go to win her back."

He tutted. "It was not worth losing the game."

Jayden moved his rook to b7, a look of triumph passing his expression. I turned my focus to the board. He'd closed off my king completely—trapped between my rook and bishop, any move forward by my king was condemned by the white rook and queen in my way.

My own queen was too far at the other end of the board to be of service. I could take Jayden's rook, but any movement from there on would be futile with his queen in my way.

"Resign," I sighed, conceding to defeat.

Jayden leaned back into the white sofa, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk on his lips. "I recall you making more scintillating plays at half this age, brother. You seem to have lost your edge—or perhaps you didn't even try."

"Or perhaps I've accepted that you're just too good of a player."

He chuckled at the notion.

"How boring."

I poured myself more of the expensive saké and leaned back, trying to ignore my brother's observant gaze carving grooves into me. It seemed like he wished to say something... but whatever it was, it disappeared a purse of his lips.

"I know our father has wronged you in many ways," he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "But please come to the gala. If not for him, then at least to see the family. They miss you. Some of them haven't seen you in years."

"Your father," I corrected him. "And half of that family forgot I existed immediately after they turned their backs on me. There's a reason I want nothing to do with them."

"At least consider it. Please."

I scratched the back of my neck and sighed. My lips parted to answer, but I caught a familiar figure walking into the club from the corner of my eye. Pale-brown hair, silver earrings, big eyes...

Vacant, my gaze slowly returned to my brother.

I asked him coldly, "And if I say no?"

Jayden drew in a long inhale, followed by a longer, heavy exhale. The way he stared did nothing but instill a sense of graveness.

"You know what happened the last time you disobeyed him," he reminded me, a whisper above the music pounding through the club. Guilt paraded itself in his eyes. "If you don't play along... he'll force you. Don't forget that the only reason you've been gone for so long is because he allowed you to."

His words felt like a knife in the back. My entire body froze, disbelief and anger coming to a boil in my veins. This was Tanjiro's doing. He was manipulating his son as a means of forcing my hand. I could see the puppet strings hooked to Jayden already—his father had him dancing in the marionette's square.

From my brother's lips, the words were a warning, a desperate plea not to fight our father. But it was also a card that I'd never thought he'd pull.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

Jayden got to his feet, swallowing noticeably and resting his hands behind his back. I followed quickly after, standing across from him with a flat glare on my face.

"I have to take my leave," he told me. "But please think on it."

My voice was of a monotone quality. "I'll walk you out."

We left the roped-off section in silence, heading for the staircase to the lower level. I was more than ready to go find Elliot, who'd been sitting at the bar while James and I had been finishing our conversation.

He came. Elliot was here.

He chose to come and listen to what I had to say. He was here. And I couldn't help but feel nervous at the opportunity to speak to him again.

While my brother and I had been walking towards the exit, my attention caught on someone walking only a few feet across from me. His dark hair, shadowed eyelids and worn jacket were all too familiar, but not as familiar as the deep glare he had pointed in my direction.

Elliot's roommate—Edge.

What the fuck was he doing here?

Jayden noticed that I'd stopped in my place, turning a blank glance from the biker to me. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"Problem?" He asked.

I shook my head, collecting my thoughts.

"No," I said. "Have a good night."

Jayden hesitated but spoke no more. I watched as he buried his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and left down the staircase, eventually disappearing from view.

My attention turned back to the biker before me, and I couldn't help the scoff that left my lips. He was the first of us to speak.

"This is a surprise," he commented, annoyance in his gaze. Tilting his head, he taunted, "Didn't think someone so high-and-mighty as yourself wanted to be caught amongst the street rats."

His weak attempt at insulting me was almost humoring—but I had no reason to reply. The advantage was already in my hands.

Pressing my fingers to my lips, I spotted Elliot's figure sitting at the bar below and whistled to get his attention. The familiarity of the sound drew his eyes to me rather quickly.

Satisfaction graced my stance as I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jacket.

The look in Edge's eyes was gold.

===

Elliot was sitting on a shiny stool at the bar counter, having a light-hearted conversation with Riven who was serving drinks to customers.

The sight of Elliot's face was mesmerizing... surreal.

He looked as if he'd hardly aged despite the years. The only difference between then and now was that he'd grown slightly taller, his hair was brown, and had more piercings in his ears.

He still had those big eyes, shimmering with innocence and wonder. His lips were plush and the bubblegum pink, the same shade that gave a subtle warmth to his cheeks. Silver chain earrings dangled from his ears. His pale hair was slightly longer, shadowed by dark-brown roots and tied back in a half-up-half-down style. Soft curtains of a fringe framed his cheeks.

He was laughing at a comment that Riven had made. Between his fingers, a cold glass of vodka—the same vodka I paid Riven to give him earlier in the night.

"Elliot," I said as I approached, fiddling with my fingers in the pockets of my jacket.

His big eyes came to meet mine, and the smile on his lips evaporated.

A silence fell between us. For a small moment, it was as if the lively scene around us had faded away, like smoke in the wind. No music, no people, no distractions... just us two, drinking in each other's presence.

I couldn't decipher the expression on his face.

"You look constipated, Jay," Riven teased me, throwing a white rag over his shoulder. If only I could kick his ass through the nearest window.

I asked him, "Are you going to be standing there the whole time?"

"Boo," he pouted. "Killjoy."

Elliot gave Riven a small smile when he finally conceded, going to tend to another patron. I turned my back to the bar, leaning back with my arms on the countertop and passing a look to Elliot beside me.

Unwilling to look me in the face, he picked up his glass and forced down the rest of the vodka.

"This place looks different than it did back then, doesn't it?" I spoke. "Everything changed."

Elliot bit his cheek and loured.

"What did you want to talk about?" He inquired, cutting to the chase. "You made it sound important."

"Is it not important enough that I just wanted to see you?"

Elliot huffed, but for a moment, he seemed almost humored by the answer. 

"I'm too sober for this," he muttered.

I probably could have picked my next words better. "You know, when I invited you tonight, I didn't think you'd bring your boyfriend."

He passed a glance behind him to the glass balustrade at the second level, but Edge wasn't standing there anymore. His brows furrowed.

"I didn't know he'd be here," he said tersely. "And he's not my boyfriend."

"But you like him."

"And? Are you jealous?"

I shook my head, spotting Elliot's roommate in the crowd. "There's nothing to be jealous about."

He had a silver-haired biker behind him, and the two of them were heading in the direction of a private booth close to the stage.

Elliot regained my attention. "Somehow I don't believe you."

"I'm not jealous, Tiny," I repeated. "If you want to waste your time deluded by a fantasy, go for it."

"You have no right to lecture me about my life," he hissed, a glare marring those pretty eyes of his. "And for someone who's supposedly trying to find himself in my good graces again, you're doing a pretty shit job. So thank you for wasting my time."

"Wait," I sighed, catching his wrist before he could get up and leave.

"Why? So you can berate me some more?" He retorted, tearing his arm from my hold. "Because I'm tired, James. I'm tired of you looking down on—"

"I'm sorry."

Elliot hesitated.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "You were right about everything you said before. It was wrong of me to leave like I did back then. I'll never be able to take back what I put you through—but know that I'm sorry, Elliot. And I don't expect you to accept my apology... but if anything, please trust that I had a good reason."

He met my gaze with a look that was tainted by surprise and an overwhelming sense of uncertainty.

It was the first real apology he'd gotten from me since I came back to Boston, and I meant every word. Like everything else that had ever been good in my life, my influence had destroyed something I held dear to my heart. I made a mistake all those years ago, leaving him. But I was back now... he was here.

I had the opportunity to fix something I'd broken.

"All I'm asking for is a chance," I said softly, hoping that my sincerity was persuasive. "Please."

I held my breath while he pursed his lips, deliberating his decision with an appearance of doubt in his hazel irises. Then he sat back down, his focus trained on the empty glass in his hands. 

He uttered, "Don't take it for granted."

Relief lifted a heavy weight off my shoulders. His words were clemency. Hope. Hope that we could salvage our connection. That whatever we had between us all those years ago hadn't completely died—even if he could never fully forgive me.

There was an ever-so-slight pull on my lips.

I took the barstool beside him. For a little while, we sat in silence, listening to the bass-heavy music of the club and the happy chatter of the people around us. Intentionally or not, Elliot tapped his fingers on the counter to the rhythm, distracting himself with the song.

"You miss it, don't you?" I asked, breaking the silence between us.

Elliot passed me a confused glance.

"Music," I specified, remembering what he'd told me the night that his father came to Joe's Bar. "After the band broke up... did you do anything with your singing?"

A frown pulled on his lips. He turned away from me, resting his head on his hand. It was as if something was bothering him, but he wouldn't say it out loud.

"No, I didn't," he admitted, a coarseness to his tone. "I don't sing anymore."

It wasn't the answer I'd been expecting.

Elliot had always loved to sing to anybody willing to listen, and it was hard to find someone who didn't enjoy his voice. He had an incredible talent, so to hear that he wasn't using it at all left me perplexed.

My brows pressed together. "But I thought you wanted to be a musician. Why would you let a talent like that go to waste?"

"Being a musician was your dream," he corrected me. "It was never mine. I'm glad that one of us got to make a name for ourselves... but I'm fine with what I've got here."

I couldn't help but doubt his answer.

"Come on," I said, nodding to where the DJ was standing. "Look at that stage. You're trying to tell me you wouldn't sing up there if you had the chance?"

Elliot took a glimpse of the stage, biting the side of his cheek. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thought carefully for an answer.

A smile tugged my lips. "You know... it's not that busy of a night. I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to convince Riven to hand over the mic."

For a split second, I swore there was a curious sparkle in his eyes. But it disappeared in an instant. Elliot let out a slow exhale—it was like he was stopping himself from indulging in any kind of fun.

He murmured, "No."

"Not even for old time's sake?"

Elliot shook his head. "No," he repeated, firmer. "I told you I don't sing anymore."

"What if I went up there with you?"

He gave me a look. "You don't sing."

I shrugged. "I'm sure there's a guitar lying around here somewhere."

It started to look like he was beginning to entertain the idea, and I was more than eager to hear his voice again. Part of the reason I'd come back to Boston was to take a break from producing music back in California—and to find inspiration for my new music. Elliot was the first person I'd thought of, and I was dying to hear him sing like he did all those years ago.

But then he shook his head.

"Forget it," he sighed. "Music was a curse. And that part of my life is done."

I conceded, letting him have his way for now. Perhaps it was to be expected... things weren't the same as they were back then.

While Elliot took a sip of his ice-cold vodka, I found myself looking up at the rest of the club. People were dancing near the stage, their rowdy excitement just louder than the music. Riven was working the counter beside his employees, engaging in conversation while making drinks for exhilarated partygoers. But my gaze caught on a familiar biker not far from him.

"So," Elliot began, passing me an interested glance. "You've been gone for five years... I'm a little curious as to what you've been doing all this time."

Edge. He'd made his way to the other end of the bar, and his silver-haired friend was nowhere in sight. But the person he was talking to made me do a double-take.

Is that...?

My fears were confirmed when their evil eyes locked with mine, recognition blazing in them like a fire.

My stomach leaped into my throat.

"James?"

I pried my attention back to Elliot, whose confused expression stared up at me in expectance of an answer. I scratched the back of my neck and cleared my throat.

"Yeah," I said breathlessly, disoriented. "Sorry... what were you saying?"

But the face staring at me from the other end of the bar had already begun to smile.