Chapter Text
Keith stepped off the bus and sighed, squinting his eyes at the dust and sun.
It really was the middle of bumfucking nowhere.
Another little town, another little house and another little headache.
Shit, he thought he was done with this.
He’d been through the song and dance of this before, so many times he’d lost count. But four years prior he’d finally gotten somewhere permanent, living with the mother he’d thought had abandoned him when he was a baby.
Then she got caught up in her past once again and disappeared off the map with just a knife and a coded notebook to say goodbye.
It was then that he got a call that since he was still just barely away from being eighteen, he needed to go to another family member. Turned out that he had an uncle he’d never even known about and was immediately told he was going to shitting ass nowhere Oklahoma.
He’d grown up in Texas before his dad died. Texans hated Oklahoma.
Keith hiked up his duffle bag that was filled with his few items that he actually owned and cared about, walking up to the bus station and wondered if he could maybe swing another ticket and get the hell out of dodge before his uncle showed up.
“Keith?”
Ah. No such luck it seemed.
Kolivan looked to be a huge hulking farm guy, with a long braid and a scar across his face. Keith paused in surprise at the sight, but nodded at him. He didn’t seem like the type to appreciate any funny business.
“It’s nice to meet you in person,” Kolivan said, his deep Southern drawl familiar to Keith from the two or so phone calls they had. “I’m here to take you home.”
Home.
Keith nearly scoffed out loud. The sentiment must have accidentally shown on his face, because Kolivan gave him a harsh look.
“I get that you’ve been through a lot. But here, we don’t disrespect those that are our authority. That’s for both your sake and mine. Personally, I don’t give a shit if you’re pissy about this. Finding out I had a nephew my sister never even told me about was just as much of a shock to me as I’m sure it was to you finding out that I was alive and well and perfectly able to take you in. Someone should have told me about you the first time you needed a caretaker, but unfortunately neither of us can change the past. So I suggest that you and I work to make this as easy as it can be. Alright?”
Keith clenched his jaw. He wondered again if it was too late to hop on some bus and never see this guy again. He’d always wanted to go to maybe California or New York.
Kolivan sighed. “Kid. I mean this. It’s going to be your senior year in high school. My sister would have wanted you to graduate and go to college. I wish to at least help you do that. You’re not going to be alone.”
Keith gripped his duffel bag, sent a glance to the sad looking prospects of bus schedules to other bumfucking nowhere towns across the South. He clicked his tongue and accepted his fate.
“Whatever. Let’s go.”
Drule, Oklahoma. That’s where he was.
“So I know you’ve been around a bunch, but you have been living in Boston for some years with Krolia, yes?”
Keith hummed. “Yeah. It was fine. No better or worse than anywhere else I’ve been.”
“Well I’ve got to warn you. Drule is a totally different place. It’s a really small town. If you get yourself in trouble, then everyone knows. So try to keep yourself fine and clean,” Kolivan said, an important look at him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Keith murmured.
Just because he had a few tattoos and piercings that his mother had let him get didn’t mean he was actually some delinquent. He just liked the look.
Although maybe the huge burn scar on his face was a little much for the ‘bad boy aesthetic’. But that one wasn’t his fault.
“I live on the edge of town. I own a car shop. I sell and fix. Do you know anything about that stuff?” Kolivan asked.
Keith inadvertently perked up. “Uh, yeah. I worked part-time at a mechanic’s with Mom. I even have my motorcycle license.”
“Good,” Kolivan said, lip quirking up. “Maybe I can get you working in the shop. I’ve been looking for some help for a while, but we don’t get a lot of new people coming in. And if you want, I could give you a little project to keep you busy.”
Keith’s interest was piqued, but fell silent. He didn’t want to let Kolivan know he was actually getting Keith on his side. He was still pissed the hell off that he had to come here.
The house Kolivan pulled up to was pretty small, with dirt and weeds spilling out of planters instead of actual plants. It was dusty brown and just across the street was the auto body shop. The Blades of Marmora, it was called.
Keith followed Kolivan into the house and took a quick look around.
It was surprisingly neat as hell. Not a single paper or pen out of place. He also noticed that there were no pets. No dog or cat.
“Uh, sorry to ask if this is too personal, but don’t you get lonely out here?” Keith asked, frowning.
Kolivan huffed. “My partner passed just a few years ago. I haven’t found anything that could fill that hole. So I make do with what I have left of him.”
Keith stalled, heart jumping at the terms.
“When you say…partner…?”
Kolivan took a deep breath, steeling himself.
“Yes, that kind of partner. No one else knew around here. Well, I say that but of course rumors and looks were sent our way. It’s not the most progressive place, so we just stayed quiet and out of the way for the most part. If that makes you uncomfortable-,”
“No!” Keith said, quickly. “No, actually…uh, I’m…I’m gay. Uh, too…I guess. I…I’ve been a little worried about telling you that so it’s sort of a relief.”
His uncle blinked at him, then relaxed his tense shoulders. He walked over to lay a hand on Keith’s head, like his father used to. It sent emotions through his whole chest that he didn’t know what to do with.
“I hope that you know I will always accept you no matter what. Even as I haven’t known you for long, kin is kin. You are my blood. I will support however you wish to be here. If you want to be open and out, I will have to tell you it might be difficult. But it is always your decision.”
Keith couldn’t help the sharp burn in his eyes and at the back of his throat. Shit, he didn’t expect to want to cry already.
“Your room is upstairs. First door on your right. You can go up and settle. I’m going to make some supper while you do so.”
He took the offer for solitude immediately and rushed upstairs with his head ducked and hidden behind his bangs.
The room was pretty standard. Some maroon sheets on a twin bed tucked into a corner, a desk with a rolling chair and a screen door closet. He sighed as he kicked off his boots and changed into some shorts and a cut off muscle shirt. It was too hot for September.
Within just an hour, he was unpacked.
The desk had his laptop, his mother’s knife and a framed picture that he’s kept his entire life of his parents holding him as a toddler. That’s probably the only picture that he has of himself smiling and definitely the only picture he has of his entire family.
It was worn and creased from folding it when he hid it when he was at the group homes and foster homes. His father’s face was almost completely worn away from where he would run a finger over it for comfort as a child.
He sighed as he opened his laptop and checked to see if anyone back in Boston hit him up.
Nope. Not a word.
Keith was automatically irritated that his so called friends never even tried to keep up with him after he was shipped off.
His therapist from a while back said that he had abandonment issues. Honestly he was wondering if that was an understatement at this point.
So Kolivan wasn’t that bad.
He couldn’t be if he really was willing for Keith to fix up his vintage BMW F650ST Strada motorcycle.
“How…dude, this is awesome…what’s this beauty doing just sitting in your garage?” Keith asked, admiring the machine.
Kolivan chuckled. “It was Antok’s. He had always wanted to fix it up. He said he bought it at an auction. It’s probably a ’98 or ’99. It’s good for these dirt roads around here. If you want, I’ve still got the parts he ordered. If you can fix her up and get her running, she’s yours.”
Yeah, alright. Maybe he was a sucker.
But, shit was he sold on this guy.
“Deal.”
This Antok must have been one hell of a guy because he seriously had some good wheels on his hands. Keith used the time that he had until he had to start at Galra High in that garage, fixing up the Strada.
The model had its original intended use for streets and had its design for fast freeway speeds, but obviously Antok had gotten more off-road unit specs from its twin: the F650GS. It felt like the best of both worlds.
Kolivan would come give him lunch and then call him in for dinner while he was busy working. They didn’t need to talk that much, since they were usually doing their own things with either the shop or the motorcycle. Keith was perfectly content with that, honestly it was a relief in more ways than one.
He was still trying to wrap his head around being an orphan again, having finally gotten used to living with his mother. And he was missing his brother that went off overseas like he was missing a limb.
But the distraction of a project to do with his hands, fixing up something that was wholly going to be his…it gave him a bit of a break from sitting and brooding over his shitty lot in life.
Within just a few weeks, he was finished putting the final details on the Strada. The fire engine red was his own personal touch, one which Kolivan huffed in amused approval.
“Antok was more of a purple kind of guy, but I think this suits you better. Good job, kid. Now why don’t you go ahead and give it a test run?”
Didn’t need to tell him twice.
The feeling of revving the four spoke, single cylinder engine was like finally breathing fresh air. His cloudy, grief-filled mind had cleared and the buzzing in his ears changed to let the rumbling take over.
Hell yeah. This is just what he needed.
He kicked off the stand and roared out the garage to just ride.
The town was just as Kolivan said. It was tiny.
Keith was able to ride through and his music playlist connected to the speakers he had added to the machine only played like three songs before he’d seen it all.
And he was definitely getting tons of looks from the locals he passed.
It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to them. He’d been the ‘new kid’, the ‘orphan kid’ or some combination of the two more times than not. Nothing fazed him anymore.
But he did seem to catch the attention of the sheriff almost immediately, because just as his music moved onto his fourth song, sirens blared behind him.
Keith gave the small-town cop a glance to make totally sure that it was him that he was after, then swore colorfully. He pulled over dutifully following the law, because the last thing he needed was another strike on his record the week before the start at his new high school. Although he knew he hadn’t done a thing wrong, since he hadn’t been speeding at all.
As the music switched off with the engine, some burly rotund sheriff came waddling over with his almost comically theatric getup.
“Can I help you, officer?” Keith asked, nearing a sarcastic lilt.
“Now I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” his heavy Oklahoma accent drawled.
Keith huffed. “Just moved here. I’m Kolivan’s nephew. The guy who owns the auto body shop?”
The cop’s face went through barely disguised disgust. Keith immediately knew that he hated this guy.
“Yeah, I know him. Well since you’re new to this town, you should know that playing your music that loud is disrupting the peace. I’m gonna have to write you up,” he said, with almost a sadistic gleam to his eyes.
Keith reeled back and felt his temper flare.
“Uh, I’m sorry, what? My music was too loud? What are you talking about? There’s no laws about that!” he argued, swinging his leg over the bike and standing.
The cop smirked as he brandished his ticket book. “In this town there is. New laws were passed about two years ago. Sent through the city council. No loud music, no lewd dance parties and all celebrations for those under 21 have to be church sanctioned.”
“Wha-?! Okay, that’s fucking insane. I’m just driving! Who am I disturbing exactly?! And what are you talking about no parties for kids underage?!” Keith yelled, letting his anger probably get the best of him.
The sheriff’s eyebrows shot up and then his chest popped as an intimidation tactic. Keith scoffed, derisively.
“And another for attempting to resist an officer of the law. I don’t know how things are in the place you come from, but here in this town, we don’t talk back to our elders like that. Especially ones with badges. You best get to learning your place here, boy. Or things will get real hard for you and your ‘uncle’.”
The cop was almost gleeful to hand his two tickets over. Keith glared hard at the guy as he snatched the tickets.
“Welcome to Drule, boy.”
And Keith was back to hating his life again.