1964-06-24 - Happy Birthday
Summary: Vic is exploring his first day as a human being, and he runs into Kellan.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
kellan vic 


Another night in New York City. The sun has gone down, and it's cooling down from a warm summer day, and heat still radiates off the pavement. There's a hot dog stand on the street, still open, though the owner's starting to shut down shop for the night. Stopping him from this is a youth of eighteen, imploring, "If you're going to throw them away anyway, they're just going to waste. This way, I can be free advertising. I'll tell people what I think of them."

The owner of the stand looks dubious. "I don't make a habit of giving handouts. If I start doing that, you'll be here every night, but you won't come an hour earlier to buy."

*

"Does it make a huge difference if you're going to throw them out anyway? If he was there an hour earlier to buy one, you'd still be wasting the rest," comes the voice of a dark-haired teen, strolling up to the stand. He pulls out some cash and says, "Four. Two for him, two for me. And if he's still hungry, give him whatever else is left over. There's no need to be wasteful." The boy is slim, with large blue eyes and fair skin, dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with a dark green button-down over it. He glances over at Vic then and studies him for a moment or two, a friendly, easy smile following.

*

Vic glances back to the source of the voice, and he smiles, broad and neat. "See? My friend here is talking sense." He turns to look at the vendor, then at the hot dogs he prepares with a shake of his head. He's getting paid now, so what does he care? Vic practically salivates over the making of the dogs. "With everything," he prompts, just in case that part wasn't obvious, and his eyes brighten as the vendor starts piling on all the fixins. While the transaction is being made and hot dogs are handed over, Vic snaps out of his hunger enough to say, "Thank you, by the way. I'm Vic. Vic Delano."

*

"Just mustard and a tiny bit of ketchup on mine, please," Kellan asks after Vic has received his fully loaded dogs. The vendor prepares the dogs for each of them. There are still a few left, and after they each have their two, he makes up a couple more and puts them into a bag, setting them out for the boys to take before he goes about finishing his cleanup. Kellan drops a couple extra bills into his tip cup for the trouble, then he says to Vic, "Kellan. Kellan Miller." He offers the hand not holding hot dogs to share, "Nice to meet you."

*

Vic juggles the dogs in his hands until he's got both in one, freeing the other to shake Kellan's. "It's nice to meet you. I'm starving, and this guy was going to just let me die in the street." The vendor rolls his eyes, then looks at Vic's fit form and says, "Yeah, you're starving." Vic is quick to start eating, and me makes rather shameless mmm noises as he does. "Oh my God, these are so good," he says.

*

Kellan grins as he looks over Vic and says, "Somehow I think you would have made it through, but this way we all get what we want out of the bargain." He grins a little at the enthusiasm with which Vic eats though, and he wanders over to find a corner of a bench to sit on and make his way his first hot dog. He's quiet for a while, consumed by eating.

*

Vic follows after, and by the time he sits, he's well through his first dog. Once it's snapped down, he leans back and relaxes with a relieved sigh. Then he starts in on the other. The guy must have a hollow leg. He slows down when he's halfway through this one, and he takes the time to actually look around, including at Kellan. "I just got out of the hospital," he says.

*

Kellan sets the bag of the remaining hot dogs down between them, though a little closer to Vic, as though in suggestion that he really wouldn't mind if Vic ate all of them. He makes his way slowly through his first one, glancing over and asking, "Yeah?" He doesn't state the obvious — that it doesn't look like there's anything wrong with him. "Visiting someone?"

*

Vic shakes his head and says, "No one to visit. I was in there for, uh, some kind of head thing. I wasn't supposed to wake up." He shrugs. Obviously, he did what he wasn't supposed to. He finishes off the second dog and licks his fingers clean, not one to stand on ceremony or practice elegant manners. "But I'm fine now so they let me go."

*

Kellan studies Vic and both eyebrows go up a little bit. "You weren't supposed to wake up, but you're up and wandering around and they let you go? Damn. That's pretty impressive." Curiosity gets the better of him and he asks, "What kind of head thing? Some sort of disease? An injury?" It might not be particularly polite but he does seem kind of intensely interested. Upon finishing his first dog he begins to make his way through the second, a little more slowly.

*

"Injury," Vic says. He regards Kellan with wide-eyed earnestness as he speaks. "I got it in prison. On my last day, someone brained me with a half-brick, and that's the last thing I remember til this morning." HIs tone is perfectly conversational. "They did all sorts of tests, but they couldn't find anything wrong, and I did my time, so there was no reason to stay. Especially since I can't pay." He shrugs, and he helps himself to one of the dogs in the bag.

*

Kellan looks a little surprised, both by the fact that the youth who looks not much older than he is did time in prison, but that he took a brick to the noggin and is wandering around just fine. "Can I look?" he asks, all curiosity and no hesitation. "What were you in prison for?" On he knows it's not polite conversation. His mother would be appalled. He could picture her open-mouthed stare at him in the back of his mind and still he forged onward. "Well I guess yeah, if you were getting out anyway why would they keep you if you were fine? What are you going to do now that you're out?" The questions, so many questions.

*

Vic turns his head so that Kellan is presented with a thick crop of hair and the back of the youth's head. "Go ahead, feel it. There's no bump or anything." True enough, there's no sign of a traumatized skull, no scar even. "I stole a car," he admits between bites of the third dog he's fetched from the bag. It doesn't last long either, but at least he sees sated for now. "But I only took it for a joy ride, and it was my first offense as an adult, so gave me thirty days." Again, he remains conversational, like this is stuff people just talk about. Sitting up a bit, he says proudly, "I'm going to get my head on straight and be a model citizen."

*

Kellan reaches out and runs his fingers through Vic's hair, trying to feel around to see if he can feel a scar, bump, dent, anything that might allude to what had happened to him and finds none. And when he's done poking about in Vic's hair, he sits back down and says, "That's pretty amazing." The offense causes Kellan to nod and he says, "I mean, stealing a car.. but stealing a car and joyriding a bit.. seems like something you should do community service for or something, not go to prison." He runs over to the hot dog cart to steal a couple of napkins before they get put away and comes back, wiping off his fingers. He looks a little surprised though and grins, "Yeah? How are you going to do that? You got a job lined up or something?"

*

Vic grins as Kellan tries to find evidence of the injury. He turns around to face Kellan when he's done, and he says, "It was a cop car." He leans back, slinging an arm along the back of the bench. "I don't know what I'm going to do for work," he says, "but I know the shelter down on 52nd takes people til ten, and I've got dinner squared away. Tomorrow all I've got to do is not commit any more crimes."

*

"Yeah," Kellan says after a few moments of contemplation. "I guess that's the start of a plan." Then he considers a bit longer and says. "I bet I could help you to find a job." The thought seems to make him grin as he considers it. "What kind of stuff can you do? What kind of work do you want to do? I bet I could help. My family's got connections and stuff. I could probablyhelp you find someplace to take you without looking too much into your record."

*

Vic clasps his hands together, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. "Gosh, I can jimmy locks and hotwire cars." He grins a little. "I can break into places, and I know some guys who can move merchandise fast." He rubs the back of his neck. "I guess I'd better get used to the idea of slinging hash or washing dishes. How hard can that be?"

*

"You could look into becoming a mechanic, or you could be a locksmith," Kellan suggests, helpfully, shrugging his shoulders and smiling a bit. "I mean, if you want to go legit. Do you really?" That seems to be an honest question, not facetious in the least. "I mean, I won't judge either way. Just curious."

*

Vic watches Kellan as he considers. "Use my skill set to stop guys like me from breaking into stuff? Sure, I could try that." Then his gaze wanders off to the street aimlessly. "I don't want to go back to prison," he says. "It's different from juvie. They coddle you in juvie, but when you get to the big house…" He shakes his head. "Besides, I don't want to be a bad guy. I just never caught a break. Now I feel like maybe I could do good."

*

Vic says that he feels like maybe he could do good, and Kellan, Kellan really wants to believe him, because he wants to believe that people are inherently good and that sometimes bad shit just happens. And so he reaches out, just to lightly probe the surface of Vic's thoughts, to pick up on what might be loudest and most prevalent. He tips his head a little to the side and what he picks up seems to perplex and confuse him just a little bit. "Yeah, going back to prison is a bad thing." He pauses then, and looks both curious and thoughtful. "Come back to my place? I mean.. it's better than a shelter. My folks just got it for me since I graduated and they figured I could use my own place. There's not much there right now, but.. I can cook, mostly, and maybe I can help you figure things out?"

*

'Vic is me, I am Vic, I'm alive, this is life.' The youth just keeps marveling over this. 'A place to stay, he could be a serial killer.' Vic seems profoundly unworried as he says with a shy smile, "Okay. You had me at 'I can cook.'" Speaking off, he gathers up the bag of dogs for the trip home. "I'd like help," he says. I'm confused about a lot of stuff." 'I can move things with my mind. Vic couldn't do that.' "I won't make much of a mess. I mean all I've got on my resume lately is laying in one place, so…"

*

There are things one dosn't discuss in the street. Prison clearly isn't one of those things. However, whatever is going on in Vic-Not-Vic's head? That is something that Kellan isn't about to broach on the park bench in the middle of the street. The apartment isn't all that far and it's mostly empty, so if something goes horribly awry, well he'll just tell his parents.. well, it's a little early to be thinking about what he'd tell his parents, so he focuses on the present. "I can help, I think. I'd like to help." Then he nods for Vic to follow him. It's not too far to the building with its doorman outside that greets Kellan and his friend with a pleasant smile, holding the door for them. The elevator is nice, the lobby is nice. It's an upscale sort of place without being too extravagant. "So," he says, once they are alone in the elevator, "What are some things that you like to do?"

*

Vic follows after, and his surface thoughts contain more of the same. Astonishment that he's alive and that he's Vic only not, but he is. He greets the doorman amiably when they enter the place, and as he takes in the interior, he whistles lowly. "Wow, this place is nice," he says. After inspecting the shiny brass in the elevator, he turns his attention to Kellan. "I like to run," he says. "I like to fiddle with things, and reading is amazing." He smiles. "What do you like to do?"

*

"I like to read, too," Kellan says with a little grin. "Just about anything, really — fiction, science books about different things, how to books, history books.." He then pokes the button and the elevator ascends to about the sixth floor before it pauses to let them out. "I like to go bicycling. I don't think I've ever been running. I like to go to the theatre sometimes, or just go go to the park." He continues to read the thoughts, finding them interesting, and still trying to puzzle them out, but still he doesn't ask, not yet anyway.

*

Vic follows after Kellan like an amiable stray. "Ooh, I like movies," he says. "Running is great, though. It's so freeing. I think maybe because I-" 'this body' "-spent so much time locked up, you know? It feels nice to be able to just go." His thoughts continue to juggle with being Vic, not being Vic, things Vic remembers, questioning everything. "So what do you do to afford an place like this. 'That's not appropriate to ask, is it, but I want to know.'

*

There's a little flicker of a grin that touches Kellan's lips. It's hardly appropriate to be enjoying so much this person that is but isn't who they are and the interplay within their own mind. It's not polite to be eavesdropping that way either, but he keeps doing it, because it intrigues him. "Oh, my folks.. my parents. They own it. I just live in it. I just graduated high school. Thinking about college, but I'm taking a year off to just get out a little, see the world," explore his powers more fully without having to worry about making it to class on time.

*

"Wow, is that what having parents is like?" he asks, without a lick of sarcasm. He takes another dog out of the bag to munch on as he looks around the place, wandering around the mostly empty space. 'Dead parents, he didn't miss them. Do I have parents? Yes. I think I do. Are they rich? I hope so.' "What of the world do you want to see?" he asks, glancing to Kellan. "Don't you know there's nothing outside New York City?"

*

"Well, not for everyone, no. It's different for everybody since everybody's different," Kellan says. There's furniture, a couch along one wall with a window that looks out over the street and perhaps with the tiniest crack of a view o some small green space. It's not a spacious places, as space is at a premium, but it's a comfortable place, with polished floors and white walls taht are bereft of any adornment yet. No pictures, no paintings, nothing to decorate and indicate the space is lived in by anyone in particular. But there's a small table with a couple of chairs in a small dining nook by the small kitchen, and there's a bedroom with a comfortable bed, and a bathroom that might be considered downright luxurious by city standards. It's very.. spartan, however. There are boxes stacked up against one wall in the living room area, all his things that he intends to move in. His clothes are in the closet. He walks over toward the couch and plops down on it, putting his feet up on the small coffee table. "Some parents are nice, loving, spend time with their kids. Some parents, like mine, mostly ignore them but are happy to throw money at them." He doesn't seem particularly bitter either way. "There's a whole world outside of New York City. I want to see all of it at some point.. Tokyo to St. Petersburg, Paris to Rio de Janeiro."

*

Vic finishes his wandering and comes over to sit beside Kellan. "I was in foster care," he explains. 'I'm looking for my parents. Vic's parents are dead. They weren't mine, I have mine, I need to find them. I can't just be Vic, Vic's gone. Is he if he's me? I don't know!' Whatever distress the revelation may bring him, he buries it in another bite of hot dog. With a wry grin, he says, "I've never been any farther away than Yonkers, and that was only once when I was ten."

*

Kellan studies Vic for a few more moments and then he says, "I've got powers, too." He waits, watching Vic to see how he reacts before he goes any further. Those large blue eyes are curious, gauging, and yet not afraid or wary per se. "My parents don't know. Nobody really knows. My nanny growing up had her suspicions, but I haven't seen her in a long time."

*

Vic peers at Kellan, then he leans back and glances aside awkwardly. "Is it obvious?" he asks. He finishes off his hot dog, then licks his fingers clean. "It seems to be smart not letting people know." He smiles tentatively. "What can you do? Is it all right to ask that?" There's relief on the surface of his thoughts. He doesn't have to hold it in anymore. Worry, though. What did he do that gave it away?

*

Kellan shakes his head and says reassuringly. "It's not obvious, no. I can pick up on people's thoughts if I think about it, and I could hear you thinking.. about Vic, about you, about the fact that you have powers. Most people wouldn't be able to tell, but I was curious and I wanted to know." There's no apology in it. He doesn't seem to feel guilty for having listened in at all. "You seemed interesting, and then I wanted to help."

*

Vic brings a hand to his hair, tangling his fingers in his hair. "My thoughts?" he says. "Oh, gosh. They must be a jumble. I need to learn how to control that." He studies Kellan for awhile, anxiety flitting over those surface thoughts. What will Kellan do with the information? What consequences would there be? Does he seem like a murderer? A parasite? He's none of those things. He hopes. "Vic died," he says. "He was just a brain stem that remembered how to blink once in awhile, but his memories are still in here." He taps his temple. "I can think them all, but they're not really mine. But I'm him now. It's really confusing."

*

Kellan nods his head and says, "Yeah, your thoughts. I'm not.. a serial killer or anything, by the way. I'm just a guy. And I won't do anything with that information. That's why I wanted to talk to you here, where nobody could overhear. I wanted you to know that I knew, but that I wasn't going to tell anybody else." Then his brows go up, "A… parasite?" He seems a little surprised that that would be a concern and it's written on his features. But when Vic-Not-Vic goes on to explain taht Vic died, and that he was comatose, then suddenly it all seems to make sense, and he smiles a little bit, "That makes more sense." Poor Vic. "So you are in this body, and you can remember his memories in his head, but you're not him, you're… how did you get in his body? Who were you before? Do you have a name?"

*

Vic laughs a little. "A guy has to wonder," he says, "when he's going home with him and there's no one to miss him if he's gone." He holds his head in his hands and says, "Aaah, I can't stop thinking." Of course every thought he shouldn't be thinking comes to the surface, foremost 'he's cute.' Then, 'don't listen don't listen don't listen.' "I don't think there as a me before," he says. "I was in motion, then I was waking up in this body. I'm locked in. It's mine and I'm its. The memories are mine now, but they're not me. I just…" He sighs. "I was only born this morning. Finding a body to live in was lucky, so I call myself Serendipity. But also Vic."

*

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Kellan says, but then adds. "You could have been a serial killer, too, or in for murder, or a thief, or.. well I guess you are kind of a thief, or Vic was. But you know what I mean. It's kind of dangerous for me too." Then he waves all of that off for the time being, until he catches that thought and he blushes just slightly, the color touching his ears. "So are you." Then he says, "Sorry, I'll.. stop listening." He clears his throat a little bit, and does actually seem apologetic then, and he focuses his consciousness back to hearing only his own thoughts. "There.. no more.. I'm not listening anymore." Then he blinks slowly, "Today? You were born… today? How do you… oh. You know things bcause you got it all from Vic's memories… got it."

*

Vic groans as his thoughts are caught. Then he looks up and says helplessly, "Thank you." Then he smiles, and he's got such a broad smile, teeth all pearly white and straight. He nods then and says, "Yep, it's all in my head. I can think it just fine. It just feels weird. Like it didn't happen to me. I don't really feel anything about it, you know? I mean I'm sad his parents dumped him and he never had a real family, and I'm horrified he got beaten to death, but I don't feel like those things are my things. But I guess I need a cover story, and… ugh. I'm talking so much. So you can read minds?"

*

Kellan nods his head and says, "I can project my thoughts to others, too, and have conversations with them in our heads." Then he can hear Kellan's thoughts within his own head saying Like this. And if you thought something back, I could hear it. But you gotta think -at- me. I'm not scanning your thoughts anymore. Then he goes back to talking aloud, "And I can do any mix of both, really." He pauses and looks a little thoughtful, "Well I guess Vic is your cover story. I mean, you've got his body and everyone thinks you're him. You can just, be him, as a cover story, while you figure out what you want to do."

*

Like this? Vic stares at Kellan as he makes the attempt, but then eases up once it seems to take. This is so cool. Like speaking in code. He nods then as Kellan says Vic is his cover story. "They all think I'm him, and he feels comfortable. Familiar, I guess. I've never known any other physical form." His stomach growls then, but he's worked through the bag of hot dogs. Giving Kellan an apologetic look, he asks, "Would you like to go for ice cream? I know a place."

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