chapter twenty-six.

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The flush of the toilet echos in the bathroom, and as Kevin washes his hands, he feels a bad ache in the pit of his stomach.

The ache started to dull as he dried his hands, so he disregarded the painful pang.

Descending the stairs, he walked past couples swapping-spit and pushed through the crowd of people grinding on each other on the dance floor, stopping to chat with a group of girls that said hello to him. He waved away from the group after the feeling of guilt or fear hit his stomach again. He cringed at the slight pain in his core and wandered into the kitchen.

The feeling came back as he poured himself a drink, and intensified as he waited in the empty kitchen for Edd, who was seemingly gone.

Kevin checked his phone, the bright light stinging his eyes for a second in contrast to the dimmed house. He turns down his brightness and looks at the time.

I've been standing here for ten minutes, he thinks. Where the hell is he?

He squeezed his empty plastic cup and threw it in the recycling bin that was next to the trash can before leaving the kitchen.

Kevin, the scared feeling taking place in his stomach, runs through the crowd of dancers desperately for Double D. He'd stopped some people along his journey and asked them if they'd seen him.

To no avail, he went upstairs and checked into the game room. He scanned the room before sighing.

"Hey, Nat," he says. "I need you for a second."

"But, Kev, I'm in the middle of a game."

"This is important, Nat, and I don't have any freaking time to waste."

"How important?" Nat inquires.

"More important than your game of Spin the Bottle," Kevin deadpans impatiently.

"Wow, that important?" he asks. "Sorry, guys, I gotta go."

The group groans, and he salutes as he leaves the room, walking past Kevin.

"So, what's up, buttercup?"

"Edd's missing."

"What?" Nat asks, a confused look on his face. "What do you mean, 'Edd's missing'?"

"I left Edd alone for, like, ten minutes and when I came back to where I told him to stand, he was gone. It's been half an hour since then, Nat."

"Well, do you think he left?"

"Who would he leave with though?"

"I guess that's true; after all, we are the only people here that he knows."

Something clicks in Kevin's head when Nat says this, making him gasp quietly and look at Nat with scared eyes.

"Jared."

"What?"

"Nat, Jared is here!" Kevin yells, fear hiding behind his wide eyes.

"And?"

"How can you be so fucking dense? Nat, he's been screwing with Edd since the beginning of time! Dammit, and I just had to leave him alone... I'm such an idiot!"

"Okay, okay, okay," Nat says, grabbing Kevin's shoulders firmly and looking into his eyes. "We can talk about how dumb you are later. Right now, we gotta find Double D."

"How do you plan on doing that, Nat? He could be anywhere!"

"Then, let's get to looking!"

ו×

"He's tall," Kevin says, holding his hand side-ways a few inches above his head. "And he's wearing a black leather jacket, skinny jeans, and--"

"A shirt with a pi sign on it?" A guy Kevin was talking to asked him.

Coming downstairs again, he felt like he wasn't going to make any progress, but now, a tiny shred of relief shined a light in his stomach when the greasy-haired John Bender impersonator said that.

"You've seen him?!"

"Nope," he laughed obnoxiously, turning towards his friends and returning to a conversation with them.

Kevin growls and grabs the kid by his shoulder, turning him around forcefully. He grabs the collar of the high schooler's white shirt brought his face in close enough to grumble, "This ain't some joke, loser. I need to know where this kid is. Where'd ya see him?"

"I didn't see him anywhere, dick," the kid seethes, grabbing onto the wrist that Kevin had on his shirt. "Now let me go."

"Not until I get an answer," Kevin says, standing his ground.

"I dunno, man," the kid says. "He was being taken upstairs by some dudes--"

"What kinds of dudes?"

"Let me finish, jerkoff," he snarls. "They were big. Linebackers, or something. Obviously athletic. The dude you're lookin' for was slumped over and looked like he was sick."

"He looked drunk?"

"No, not really," the dude explains. "He wasn't slurring his words or anything, he just looked really tired and couldn't walk correctly."

Kevin looks at the floor in deep thought, then looks up at the teen. "Thanks for your help. Sorry for getting rough earlier, dude."

"Yeah, dude, no problem. Devin is the name, by the way."

Kevin nods. "Kevin."

As Kevin turns to find Nat, he hears Devin say, "Good luck, dude."

Kevin nods again slowly and runs away.

The party had gotten a bit calmer, he noticed as he ran through the dance floor. Couches and counters alike were covered with drunk teens, and there were less people dancing. It was easy to find Nat among the crowd.

"Hey," Kevin yells, grabbing Nat's shoulder and interrupting him. "I got him."

"Really?" Nat asks. "Where is he?"

"Upstairs," Kevin says. "No time to explain. Follow me."

Kevin turns and walks toward the staircase. Climbing the stairs, Kevin couldn't help but think of the negatives of the situation.

It's time to face it: Edd was taken by Jared and his shit-head buddies. And he probably was hurt. Or at least getting hurt.

The thought of himself not being able to help Edd when he needs him most made Kevin's fists clench and his teeth grind against each other.

He couldn't believe it. He let his boyfriend--to whom he swore to protect--slip through his fingers and into the grimy mitts of someone else. How could he? How was he supposed to maintain his role of a "good boyfriend" or "reliable boyfriend", even, if he couldn't protect the one he loved? God, he just wanted to stop thinking. So, in order to stop his thoughts, he opened and closed every single door on the second floor of the Vinewood residence.

Of course, this just made him more pissed; more anxious.

Nat, who followed behind him, let him know that there was only one bedroom left on that floor.

Kevin didn't stop to think of the consequences before he slammed that door open and stepped inside.

And what he saw scared the shit out of him.

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