Sometimes it's funny when Bryan touches him the way real people touch each other. He'll touch Kavinsky's waist when he's sidling through the gap between chair and wall, he'll put an arm on his hip on those occasions one of them stays over the night. It always makes Kavinsky feel like-- Bryan just doesn't know what he's dealing with. Derogatory thoughts are nothing new in Kavinsky's head.

But his mind is strangely silent now, as Bryan tugs his head down and looks into his eyes. He doesn't feel anything. Well, maybe that's not true.

He feels tired.

"Yeah, I'll sit." He accepts the invitation, and follows the other boy. And when there's a place to sit, he's on there, flinging a leg over the top of Bryan's knee next to him, scratching his fingers absently along the thigh of his jeans. "It's this shit with the shadow beings, man. This is just the fucking beginning. Nobody even knows, but there's-- there's some shit coming, man." His eyes look raw and distant in the warm light of the treehouse, even as he drifts his stare over at the bedroom where Emori and Murphy used to stay.