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I See You, Part One (Revised)

Reply to AK-77

Sent to the Roswell Slash Archive June 24, 2001

Title: I SEE YOU
Author: AK-77
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Roswell
Pairing: Kyle Valenti/Max Evans
Disclaimer: the characters don't belong to me; no money for me by this
Note: not my native language + not beta'd = spelling- and grammar mistakes
Feedback: think I'd like that
Archive: fine with me as long as I get to know first

        Kyle Valenti was none of the smartest.

        But still he was smart enough to know that something had to be done.

        There were eyes in his head, and this eyes were able to see. And his brain was able to digest what his eyes saw.

        Yes, something had to be done.

        His (ex-)girlfriend exchanged schmaltzy glances with Max-pain-in-the-ass-Evans every time they ran into each other, and he was standing by watching, fuming. He knew Max Evans had the better cards, and it would be nothing more than a matter of time till Liz would be the aliens' girlfriend. Kyle's lousy position in this nerve-recking game was obvious to everyone.

        This was not about love anymore. Yes, he had cherished strong feelings for her, and he thought he still did.

        He did not want to remember the pain she had made him feel.

        He wanted to remember how his ego got hurt.

        Remembering his stepped-on, deeply hurt ego gave him strength. And he thought it could actually be enough to make Max Evans finally be the loser.

        Kyle could guess what made girls like Liz fall for guys like Fucking Evans. It was that ever present gentleness, and those soft puppy-dog eyes that promised understanding and love for you, only you, if you only treated him well and protected him from all the pains and horrors this world could bring.

        Kyle knew that those were the most underhanded.

        Evans' relations spoke for themselves. That aggressive Guerin-scum and that not less dubious sister. Being aliens did not explain half of their behaviour.

        Occasionally Kyle had felt sympathy for Max Evans. Had had mistaken the whole situation. What had seemed to be a fellow sufferer who sticked together with Kyle in Liz's web, became more and more a contender for the position they both longed for.

        While he himself had trouble getting in the pool of players at all.

        He had to give Liz what she liked in Max Evans, then he would have balanced out the disadvantage and still hold the plus of being a popular but normal boy every girl would kill for.

        Maybe he was smarter than his father thought.


        Max Evans sat in his room, brooding.

        Things were looking up with Liz, and he allowed himself for the first time to actually think about a relationship between the two of them. They just had to start anew and forget the things that had made it fail back then.

        He knew there were problems that stood in the way, but Max had long realized that the bond between them was too strong to be ignored. And instead of the weakness she had seemed to be to him then, he knew now that she was the one to make him what he needed to be: the leader the others saw in him.

        Liz was sweet. Liz was so sweet and normal, with her he could forget. With her he was able to feel normal himself, and that gave him the strength he had searched for.

        And of course he loved her.

        But one thing put a damper on things.

        That thing would be Kyle Valenti.

        When he had least spoken to Liz she had told him about a meeting Kyle had requested of her. In a way she felt responsible for Kyle's misery and had agreed. She hoped to get things straight between them.

        Liz always wanted everyone to be happy, that was something Max admired her for. But still he asked himself sometimes, if it was the right way to go. Doing everything not to hurt someone tended to hurt all the more in the end, sometimes you had just to be consistent and make your decisions, no matter the consequences.

        But that innocence that contradicted so much the precociousness that was so typical about Liz made her what she was.

        Max knew for sure that Liz was no longer in love with Kyle, but their meeting refused to go off his mind.

        They had planned to meet in the afternoon, and it was past eight now. They were probably finished by now, and he had a hard time trying not to think about it. He felt a deep urge to know how their conversation had worked out, but he didn't want to call her.

        They were not that close yet.

        He did not want to ruin what could be between him and Liz with silly curiosity and an unpleasant feeling that always emerged when Kyle Valenti was concerned.

        In some way he felt pity for Kyle. He had not only lost his girlfriend, but also to accept that he owed his life to Max, the one he had always despised.

        And Max had to admit that it had been no mistake risking his own security and that of his real family by safing the boy's life, at least not like he had often dreaded.

        He did not like Kyle.

        But if he had learned something about the 'boy to show off with' it was that Kyle was not like he behaved. There was more than one could see.

        Max had felt it the instant his hand had touched Kyle's chest. He had felt contempt and aversion, but also a surprising deepness of a mind that was stubbornly suppressing the burdens life forced it to wear.

        Max wondered if Kyle knew that himself. Liz had definitely known, why else would they have been together that long?

        But thinking about Kyle's problems only increased the unpleasant feeling, and Max was not going to feel sorry about being together with the girl he needed.


        It was over. Definitely.

        He had been surprised at his heart's painful contraction when she had finally rejected him for good.

        For a brief moment he had been near at begging, but managed to pull himself together in time. Thank god.

        Looking into the mirror was difficult enough like this.

        Max Evans was the one who had succeeded.

        He was out of the game.

        He did not want to think about why it hurt so much.

        He did not want to think at all.


        Max hadn't seen Liz the whole morning. He wondered if she was avoiding a conversation and started to feel a little sick.

        In the second break he caught Maria in the hall. He was about to ask her if she knew something about Liz's meeting with Kyle the day before, but remembered his intention to restrain himself and questioned her about Liz's whereabouts instead.

        Maria looked at him with that typical expression that said 'I know that you are going to hurt us like all men do', but answered nevertheless.

        "Went to the Crashdown a hour ago."

        That sounded strange.

        "At this time?"

        "Her dad is out of town this morning because of some order-thing, and Liz has to wait for some guys to fix the stove." Her voice sounded bored. "Is that enough?"

        "Yeah. Thanks, Maria." he said, feeling relieved at the explanation.

        He turned in time to spot Kyle at the lockers.

        For a short instant Kyle's eyes seemed to bore into him, little blue-burning stones.


        Then they were not there anymore, and Kyle frantically pulled a book out of his locker while Max could see his masticatory muscles tense.

        One thought came to his mind:

        I won.

        He did not feel as happy as he should, and that made him a bit angry.

        Max knew it was irrational to be mad at Kyle, but since when were emotions rational?

        Liz had settled things between her and Kyle. Now he had to settle things between him and Kyle.


        Before he could brake the gaze, Kyle discerned an unreadable look on Max Evans' face. It was no triumphant look.

        Kyle had nevertheless trouble not losing temper, not running right to Max Evans and start a fight, one of the hard dirty kind, and beating that look off his face.

        He closed his locker with everything but restrained force.

        What right had Max Evans got to look at him that way?

        When Kyle looked up again he saw Max Evans walking towards him.

        He stopped in front of Kyle and spoke with a quiet voice.

        "We have to talk."

        Kyle did not trust himself in that moment. He avoided desperately looking into the other's eyes. Kyle knew for sure he would lose it if he looked into them.

        There would be triumph in them and something worse:


        "Do we?" he managed, and his voice stumbled under the heaviness of the supressed rage it had to carry.

        "About Liz." Max said quietly like before, and that name finally caused Kyle to look at Max in an reflex, and there was pity, and there was sympathy, and there died his self-control.

        When he spoke his own voice sounded strange to him, dripping with meanness.

        "Don't worry, she is all yours now. Am I looking like I was interested in little hookers like her? I wonder that it took me so long to get it, but I'm sure you understand how..."

        He had wanted to say so much more, but got stopped in the middle of his sentence by Max's fist connecting with his face.

        It was a hard blow that split his lower lip, but Kyle did hardly register.

        Normally Kyle would return that punch without thinking. And in that special case with Max Evans as his opponent he would pay him back with a vengeance.

        But that totally new expression on Max-Triumphant-Evans face was enough.

        Max Evans stared at him with wide terrified eyes, mouth dropped open in surprise. Frozen.

        Max Evans had lost his temper.

        Kyle would be the last person to wipe that expression off Max Evans' face. It was almost amusing.

        Kyle's finger went to his splitted lip and felt warm wetness. Without breaking eye-contact he said slowly: "Today alien's bitch-day? Looks like it's a short way from healing to wounding."

        His voice lacked every emotion, but still he could see something flicker in those huge eyes. The self-contempt in them was obvious.

        So easy to hurt, Kyle thought and turned to go to his classes.

        Later he trained without thinking. He played without thinking. He knocked his opponents flying and got caution after caution, until his coach refused to stand by watching and took him off the field. By the time he was too exhausted to be annoyed.

        He sat down on the bench in the locker room, still not thinking.

        When the training was over the guys from his team came in, showered, changed.

        They asked him questions.

        They asked him if he was alright, and he did not answer. They asked him about Liz, and he growled at them.

        They left him alone.

        Finally he stood and padded to the shower. He acted automatically, doing what he felt like without considering.

        He turned off the lights and headed for one shower to his left.

        He turned the faucet on and sat down under the spray fully clothed.

        The water was lukewarm, just right.

        So he sat in the darkness with his arms around his legs, enjoying the water running down his scalp and making the only sound besides his own even breathing.


        Max was waiting outside the building for Kyle to finish his training.

        He felt bad, and it was a persistant feeling that would not go away with simple distraction.

        He felt like some stupid idiot because of his behaviour earlier on.

        His palms were wet, and while taking deep breaths he paced restlessly over the playground. His shirt sticked unpleasantly to his back.

        He did not know what to expect. That was the thing with Kyle.

        There was this odd tension between them, and Max had always the feeling being that close to a real fight that it would take one word or one gesture only to make it start.

        Maybe a fight was what they needed.

        Those thoughts scared him, for Max had always believed most of the aggression that hung in the air between them was coming from Kyle.

        But Max had been the one that had let fly.

        He had changed, since he had gone through experiences that had been too drastic to let him stay the boy he had been.

        But he was still Max Evans. A quiet boy who tried to solve his problems with calm circumspection rather than force, who thought twice before taking action. If he decided taking action at all.

        But was that still what he was?

        An inner voice said yes, it's only about Kyle. Kyle had a way of touching sore spots Max hadn't known he possessed. But he didn't think the boy did that intentionally.

        Still he could feel Kyle's dart-like eyes aimed at him.

        Max heard the door open and turned.

        Three boys carrying sports bags passed him, while he relaxed involuntarily.

        Every few minutes the door opened again, revealing little groups of boys of the team, but none of them was Kyle.

        When the door opened the next time, Max went up to the guy who stepped out of the building.

        "Is Kyle still in there?"

        The boy did not even stop walking. "Yeah, he has to come out any minute." With that he was away, and Max nodded his thanks.

        After waiting ten minutes longer he decided to go in.

        Cautiously he opened the door to the locker room and entered with an odd hesitation.

        He registered a shower running and paused unsurely.

        He listened a while to the even sound of the water coming from the dark shower room, feeling the uneasiness again.

        But when he stepped into the white tiled room he did it slowly and composed.

        When he first saw Kyle Max sensed his calmness right away.

        There was still that tension in the room, but it was somehow of an other kind than all the times before. It lay thick in the damp air and made breathing difficult, but it lacked real aggression.

        Kyle sat on the wall to Max's left, his face resting on drawn-up legs. Both arms lay relaxed by his sides.

        He was fully clothed in his sports wear: shorts, sleeveless shirt, sports shoes. It was a surreal picture that had somehow an attracting effect on Max who found himself reluctantly fascinated.

        He stepped a bit closer but stopped when he felt the legs of his trousers become wet, since he had absently walked into the conical spray of water.

        He opened his mouth a few times to speak, but did not know what to say or how.

        Finally he managed to speak out Kyle's name and startled a little when the other lifted his head immediately at the sound of his voice.

        The beaten boy radiated a strange peacefullness, and Max had to admit that Kyle was strong, stronger than he'd thought.

        Kyle's head rested against the tiles, and as he looked at Max through half-closed eyes his features nearly gave an impression of arrogance.

        Max was in no position to be annoyed.

        But those blue daggers were not that pointed anymore. They seemed darker than usually, as if made of a thick consistence that strangely enough made Max feel threatened all the more.

        "What's up, Evans? Here to savour your triumph?"

        Max's shoes were already wet, and he searched desperately for a good answer to finish this thing quickly.

        "I have to talk to you."

        A sentence spoken many times from many different people, a sentence that said so much and that little at the same time.

        "Yeah, you said that." was the drawled reply, and Max remembered the opening of their last encounter.

        He said what came to his mind: "But then I was wrong."

        Kyle looked at him, sizing up, waiting for Max to continue and leave.

        "It's not about Liz, it's about us. About you and me."

        Max had expected the other to get angry again, but his words gave no rise to any reaction.

        Although Kyle's face wore a bored expression there was something in his eyes that testified to some emotion Max was not able to categorize.

        "Go away, alien."

        Part of him felt offended, but Max was himself again.

        "Not until we have settled things for good."

        That caused a humorless laugh from Kyle. "Then make yourself at home." he said and lifted his right arm a few inches in the gesture of a host.

        They looked at each other some minutes, while different thoughts were racing through Max's brain. None of them presented the solution he was hoping to find soon.

        He looked at the water running steadily down Kyle's face. His eyes caught the splitted lower lip that had swollen a bit, and he felt himself be drawn to it.

        The little light coming in from the other room made the wet skin shine at some places while most of it was bathed in darkness, and he felt an odd urge to lay his finger on one smooth cheekbone not to hurt, but simply to touch.

        "Here." Kyle said finally, pulling a small ring from his pocket. "She gave it back but I don't want it."

        Max didn't know how to react.

        What was he supposed to do with it?

        But he realized that with this gesture Kyle had stepped over the unshiftable borders that meant to be Kyle Valenti.

        It did not make any difference anymore, so Max knelt down in front of the other boy who was still watching him, while his right hand held the ring.

        Max felt his pants getting wet were he knelt in the puddle but didn't care.

        He was now crouching under the spray, and the water started flowing down his head, soaking his shirt. It felt good.

        He sensed the heat of Kyle's presence, making up for the slightly cool temperature of the water.

        Never breaking the gaze he reached for the ring, and when his fingers touched Kyle's it was a moment of weird intimacy.

        There was nothing in Kyle's face that Max could read.

        He felt lost.

        There was a presence of danger in the air, but he realized that it was himself he was afraid of.


        Kyle knew it was weird.

        When he had stopped thinking a few hours ago, he had finally started to see.

        Kyle now knew about Max Evans.

        He knew that the things people saw when they looked at him were true. Max Evans really was that vulnerable boy with those heavy burdens, and he realized that this was what caused Max to need Liz.

        Max Evans was close to falling apart.

        That mad obsession with Liz was simply an attempt to gain something that kept him together.

        He had laughed at that, but had paused suddenly when some terrifying truth had exposed itself to him:

        Kyle Valenti liked Max Evans.

        And although the jolt running through his whole body when Max's fingers brushed his did scare the shit out of him, he was not really surprised.


        Max took his hand away, but found himself unable to rise.

        Kyle looked like about to say something but moved instead.

        In Max grew an feeling of alertness he did not know where it came from and decided to ignore it.

        He felt Kyle laying one heavy hand on the back of his neck in a loose grip that felt strangely comfortable. Then he was pulled down so softly that he hardly noticed himself moving.

        He saw Kyle's eyes coming close, blink once in slow motion, and when they opened again they were right in front of his face, and then there was a startling soft brush of the other's lips on his own.

        The sudden touch sent some kind of electricity through Max's body that seemed to call every single fiber to attention and settled directly in his groin.

        He tasted water, mixed with faint traces of salt, a memory of earlier exhautions.

        Max found the grip on his neck tighten and shuddered as his lips pressed more forcefully against Kyle's and a tounge was pushed inside his mouth.

        It was a slow kiss, sometimes so close his nose almost hurt and sometimes loose, light touch of lips, surrounded by the heat of their mingling breaths.

        It had never felt like that.

        That scared Max Evans a lot.

        But although it scared him a lot, he did not want to stop, did nothing to oppose when he was turned around awkwardly and pressed down, till he felt the coolness of the tiles against his back and Kyle's body on his own.

        Kyle broke the kiss and propped himself up on his hands that had been put on either side of Max's head.

        He looked at Max through narrowed eyes, wet strands hanging down and sticking to his face, dripping water on Max that mixed with the wetness already covering his skin.

        Insecureness accompanied every gaze, every action, but it was good this way, because it made it real.

        Max couldn't tell what his eyes were showing, but it made Kyle suddenly ground his crotch once into his, and he gasped at the intense sensation.

        The awareness of the other's hardness gave him a feeling of power that he hadn't known till then.

        Suddenly he had to laugh. He was here with Kyle, in the showers of his school, Kyle who had an erection because of him, who had hands that...

        Opening his mouth he enjoyed the way the water was pattering on his face, partially running down his throat.

        Kyle bent down to work on Max's lips some more, using his teeth, and trembled when Max let his hands wander over his bare forearms.

        The skin was smooth and firm, and as Max's hands traveled up and down Kyle's back he found himself excited by the play of muscles under his fingers.

        He was so hard now it actually hurt a little, and he had not nearly done everything he wanted to.

        Max used all of his strength he still had control over and turned them over.

        It seemed to be fine with Kyle having Max on top, going down on his face first then trailing a path of wet kisses down the side of Kyle's neck.

        Max pulled at Kyle's shirt till his chest lay free.

        He touched one nipple with the tip of his tounge and felt his cock stir at the throaty groan that came in response.

        Strong hands gripped his head, fingers sliding through his hair, and Max wondered where this steadily upwards spiraling need came from he apparently suffered from.

        His inexperience made him act on instinct.

        It was not really that difficult.

        Kyle's erection was clearly visible under the completely saturated fabric. Max put one hand on it, causing Kyle to let out a gasp.

        A little hesitantly he pulled down Kyle's trousers and looked at his cock. It looked nice, and he couln't help brushing it with his lips.

        Kyle groaned again, louder this time, his body twitching.

        Still nervous Max kissed the hard shaft and licked at it slowly, while Kyle's gasping sounds resounded to the bare walls.

        But he missed the former closeness.

        He straightened his back, now trembling, and took off his shirt under Kyle's gaze.

        Instead of being embarrassed Max felt good. Secure.

        Carefully he opened the fly of his jeans and freed his erection.

        His chest met Kyle's and strong arms pulled him tight.

        Max started rubbing their cocks together and soon lost himself in the intense sensation, images blurring before his inner eye, and no single thought on his mind that was not immediately shattered.

        The surounding patter of the water became distant.

        There was nothing that mattered anymore.

        Nothing but...

        ...Kyle's cheek on his, and the burning heat radiating from the other boy when the tension inside him started to build faster. Kyle's rapid panting giving away his closeness. The thought was enough.

        He cried out.

        He felt Kyle's teeth dig into his nape when he climaxed too, Max himself still clinging to Kyle's tense body in the aftershocks of his own orgasm.


        A few minutes passed until they finally separated.

        Max buttoned up his trousers and put his shirt back on, avoiding to look at Kyle.

        He seemed to be highly miserable, his head hanging, and his hands trying desperately to find something to do.

        Kyle felt a terrible uneasiness himself and said nothing. He looked at Max and was shocked by a strong feeling that ripped painfully through his guts, when Max's eyes finally met his.

        He didn't want do be here any longer.

        That was not the way it should be.

        But it was the only way it could ever be, wasn't it?

        It should be easy.

        He said: "Bye, alien."

        He'd intended to make it sound dismissive, but noticed that a warm smile played around his lips until he turned.

        Then the smile faded, and the tears started to flow, and he cursed, and he hurried to leave the building in time.

        No way would Max Evans get the chance to see that.

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