Some Love was Made for the Lights

2: Read-through

A/N: Starting the new year with a new chapter and a new character! In case you were wondering why #freethelgbt was lurking quietly in the tags for this story.... Meet Owen :)

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Owen Lennox was choking on air. 

His numb fingers scrabbled for purchase on the rough bricks behind him, and he sank to the dirty pavement. The blazing lot in front of him blurred, and the scent of hot asphalt and city grime was overpowering. Owen couldn't shout, he couldn't move except to give in and slump further against the wall. Executives in golf carts buzzed by with no notice. Black encroached on his vision like a pinhole camera.

He dragged in quick, ragged breaths, but the painful band around his chest pulled tighter. In alarm, Owen thought of the fights he had with his older brother when they were kids: Elliot scowling over him as he pressed the pillow harder against Owen's face, the cotton pillowcase against his mouth, blind panic as he breathed in more fabric where there should have been air.

The world went black.

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"Hey. Hey, are you okay?" A tentative hand squeezed Owen's shoulder, and he blinked his eyes open against the sun. A backlit demigod stood before him like a mirage. A tall, thin mirage with tousled light brown hair and concerned eyes. "Hi. I saw you go down, just wanted to make sure... Are you okay?"

Owen blinked slowly, but the demigod was still there.

"Y—" Owen cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah. Yes. I—think I'm okay." His throat felt like it had been scraped over with a cheese grater. How much had this guy seen? Owen's cheeks burned and he stared at his scuffed sneakers. The rubber was peeling away from the canvas by his baby toe.

"Oh, here." The demigod ducked his head to dig through the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. "One sec, sorry, I swear I have a bottle of water in here somewhere. My sister is always bugging me to carry water around like I live in a dessert or something..." More digging, and then he pulled out a sweating bottle in triumph. "Aha! Here you go." 

It took Owen a couple of tries to get the bottle open, his hands were shaking so much. He hoped the demigod didn't notice. He wanted to make a joke to distract him but he wasn't much good at comedy on a regular, panic-free day. And right then, adrenaline was still blazing a war path through his body. He swallowed a gulp of water, and then a few more. "Thanks," Owen said. 

The demigod beamed, but a little concern still snuck in around the edges. "You're welcome. That looked pretty rough. Is there anything else I can...?"

"No. No, thank you. I'm okay," Owen said quickly. If this guy was saying he looked rough—and he already seemed like the polite type to begin with—Owen couldn't imagine how awful he truly looked. He drank some more water so he wouldn't have to make eye contact. "Just a little light-headed, you know. Heat wave, drought, all that. California, you know?" he babbled frantically. Go away, go away, go away, his brain chanted, but the demigod was still standing there. "I'm okay," Owen repeated. "Really."

"Sure," the demigod said. His face did a wobbly sympathetic thing, like he didn't believe Owen for a second, but was too nice to call him on it. "Are you here for Twentysomethings, too? The read-through?" 

Oh fuck. What a spectacular first impression. "Yeah," Owen said. He pushed a shaking hand through the mess of curls that had fallen forward onto his forehead and tried to shove his nerves aside, too. He strove for a little more enthusiasm. "Yeah, I am." He might have missed the mark a little, but at least air was flowing properly into his lungs now. Small victories. He wiped his sweating palms on his jeans and pushed himself up slowly. Demigod hovered like he wasn't sure Owen would be able to stand on his own. "I'm okay. Thanks." Owen took his hands off the wall to prove it and tried not to be annoyed. "I'm playing Noah."