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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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And just like that, they're on the road again, Bradley tucked away in the passenger's seat, slumped low, drowning in the Red Crown jacket that's too loose even on Hyde's shoulders. But despite that he seems tense until they finally leave the city behind them. Bright green eyes searching for any sign that they're being followed...or maybe that's just Kyle projecting his own worries onto him.

The fact remains that Bradley doesn't doze off until they're ways away from Spearfish and the only car within miles and miles of open road is Kyle's own. If Nile is looking for Bradley already, they haven't found enough of a lead to be on their heels from the get go. A small comfort. But Kyle will take what he can get.

With Bradley once again asleep beside him Kyle is left alone with his thoughts and the soft tunes of the radio whispering into the small space. Kyle recognizes the song that starts playing, but only because he used to hate it.

50 ways to leave your lover.

He later learned it was a popular song at the time, but he only heard it for the first time on the day Bradley disappeared. Kyle remembers sitting in his car, gun still warm from the bullet he fired at the man he used to call his partner. The man he— He clamps down on that thought like he always has. It didn't matter then, it doesn't matter now. Whatever the hell he thought he was feeling back then wasn't enough to have Bradley trust him with what happened to Mila, wasn't enough to have him ask Kyle for help. He still doesn't.

But Kyle is done waiting for Bradley to come to him, is done with letting him call all the shots and leave him lagging behind. But most of all Kyle is done with pretending that Bradley isn't important to him, he spent the better part of 5 years looking for him, looking for answers of course, but most of all for him, for his partner, best friend and—

His pager beeps in his coat pocket and Kyle doesn't have to check to know that it's Rachel trying to get a hold of him again. They're still an hour out from their next stop and Bradley is still sleeping so Kyle simply ignores the pager and keeps his eyes on the road.

He does turn off the radio, however...

It's around early afternoon when they stop at some gas station with a diner in the middle of nowhere. A place that only ever sees truck drivers and the odd lost soul passing through. Kyle considers waking Bradley and actually sitting down in there to get some grub, but paranoia — caution — has him reconsider. He wants to get more miles between them and Spearfish before sundown. So, instead he parks close to the entrance and leaves Bradley to his nap. Kyle is in equal parts relieved and concerned that Bradley is still sleeping soundly. Nile's goons really did a number on him.

Kyle takes as little time as he possibly can topping off the gas and then heads inside to order their food and drinks. Soon after, but not quite soon enough for his tastes he returns to the car with a big bag filled with fresh burgers and fries and two bottles of soda pop even though he isn't exactly sure Bradley likes the stuff or not. Well, he's about to find out.

When he shuts the door Bradley finally stirs, the commotion paired with the smell of food seemingly enough to rouse him and Kyle has trouble hiding a smile when he is met with Bradley blinking sleepily at him. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Let's get some food in you."

Of course I remembered.

It's the first thought that comes to mind, but Kyle doesn't voice it. Because it's not that obvious at all. His memory was always bad. There is a reason he carries a notebook anywhere he goes after all, but when it came to Bradley, Kyle never had any trouble recalling his coffee order, or the way he liked his food cooked. Kyle likes to pretend it's because Bradley specifically likes things in a way Kyle doesn't. And Kyle still bristles at the way Bradley drinks his coffee.

That's not coffee, that's coffee-flavored milk with sugar.

It's a debate they've had for as long as they've known eachother and Kyle still isn't convinced Bradley isn't doing all of this on purpose. Kyle would order his fries with mayo, Bradley wanted ketchup. Kyle drinks whiskey neat, Bradley would order a frilly drink just to piss him off. And of course the tiny umbrella from Bradley's drink always ended up in Kyle's glass somehow, because Bradley loved to mess with him and wouldn't ever led him brood in peace.

— I'm not brooding.

— Tell that to your face, pal.

Same old same old.

Kyle joins Bradley on the bed and together they make short work of the breakfast. Kyle wrinkles his nose at the sugary concoction he had to order for Bradley, but the smile on his partner's face does pacify him. Still, he can't let him get away with it. "Always with the excuses." Kyle retorts before turning back to his own food. "Just drink your milk." He says with a shake of his head, smiling into his own black coffee.

Reality comes knocking in the shape of the news. A murder investigation pulls them back to it. Nothing about it suggests Nile specifically, but he can practically feel the tension that's crept into Bradley from where he is sitting. Kyle glances at Bradley a few times throughout their shared meal, brows drawing together in worry when he keeps wincing and shifting in pain.

You don't need sugar and calcium, you need painkillers and preferably another 20 hours of sleep. He thinks, but then watches as Bradley stands with some difficulty.

We're headed to California?

Kyle nods. "Yeah, unless you have a better idea." But it's the only place they can go really. The only place Kyle can provide Bradley the quiet and safety he needs right now, or so he hopes. It's true that Nile has been making themselves scarce for about a year now, but Kyle just pulled a person of interest from their cluches, he doubts they'll let this one slide just like that. With some luck they may even be able to find some help in Ed. But after this stunt Kyle pulled with abandoning the assigned job and now days of radio silence he doubts it will be easy to get him on their side.

He really needs to call Rachel and Ed, but for now Bradley is still his highest priority.

Bradley, who seems to be a little to happy, too excited to come back with him to Los Angeles. It makes his gutt twist in a way that makes him wary. Despite the previous night he'll make sure to keep an eye on Bradley in case he plans on doing something stupid, like giving him the slip again.

But he keeps his suspicions to himself. "You might want to take this more seriously. It's not exactly just some roadtrip." They're on the run after all. But admittedly, in all ways except the reason for driving to L. A. it may as well be a roadtrip. "It'll take us about three days worth of driving and no, I'm not letting you drive while high on the painmeds I intent to get you."

Maybe Bradley will manage to sleep some more in the car, too. Not the most comfortable of places for it, but better than nothing.

Kyle gets to his feet now and finally collects his notebook off the beside table. He shoves it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. When he looks back up it seems his words have struck a chord, because the previous smile on Bradley's face has faded, the light in his eyes once again dimmed with something Kyle suspects to be guilt or something similar.

Kyle realizes he must have come across harsher than intended. It's still true, but maybe he shouldn't have said it, and instead let Bradley have a modicum of normalcy for now.

He takes a few steps towards Bradley, pulling the Red Crown jacket from the back of one of the chairs. He holds it up to help Bradley into it, a peace offering. An excuse to touch him. He smoothes the jacket out across Bradley's shoulders when he slips into it and then gives his one of them a light squeeze, because he doesn't know how to diffuse this odd tension otherwise.

Then, he lets up and collects the rest of his things. When he passes the bathroom he sees Bradley's clothes still hanging in there. "You sure you want to keep these? Maybe you should just toss them."

#brianbradley

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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If you wanna FIGHT I'll stand right beside you. The day that you FALL I'll be right behind you.

#(bradley).missing you comes in waves — tonight i'm drowning.#(kyle).i'm not a violent dog — i don't know why i bite.#(hyde & bradley).no other word makes my mouth as tender as your name

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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Of course I remembered.

That's not coffee, that's coffee-flavored milk with sugar.

— I'm not brooding.

— Tell that to your face, pal.

Same old same old.

You don't need sugar and calcium, you need painkillers and preferably another 20 hours of sleep. He thinks, but then watches as Bradley stands with some difficulty.

We're headed to California?

He really needs to call Rachel and Ed, but for now Bradley is still his highest priority.

Maybe Bradley will manage to sleep some more in the car, too. Not the most comfortable of places for it, but better than nothing.

Kyle realizes he must have come across harsher than intended. It's still true, but maybe he shouldn't have said it, and instead let Bradley have a modicum of normalcy for now.

Then, he lets up and collects the rest of his things. When he passes the bathroom he sees Bradley's clothes still hanging in there. "You sure you want to keep these? Maybe you should just toss them."

When Kyle wakes he does so to the gentle rhythm of a heartbeat beneath his ear and the slow rise and fall of Bradley's chest. It takes him a while to fully realize where he is and who is with, but only in terms of conscious thought. It seems his subconscious is very aware that he's with Bradley. He has his scent in his nose, the solid line of his body pressed against his and the small almost inaudible sound of relaxed breathing just above him.

Bradley's arms are wrapped around him, one of Kyle's arms slung over Bradley's middle, the other wedged between them. He feels warm and comfortable in a way he hasn't in years and it's unsettling how familiar this feels, even though he cannot recall a time where they'd been tangled like this.

Full consciousness comes to him all at once when Bradley moves beneath him, not so much to suggest that he is waking up, but enough that Kyle can feel his leg shifting between his own. He also feels his hand winding into his hair and his hold tightening somewhat on his form as if Kyle's nothing more than an overgrown stuffed toy to snuggle up to.

It would be endearing, if Kyle didn't feel the entirely inappropriate sparks of sensation travelling up and down his spine at Bradley's unconscious touch. He swallows thickly, angling his body away as best he can to not have this day start with more awkwardness than necessary. A part of him wants to just stay where he is, warm and comfortable and held in a way he hasn't been in well over a decade. His last relationship is well in the past at this point.

Kyle squeezes his eyes shut and bites down on the inside of his cheek when thinking of Bradley and a relationship within the same moment makes his gutt tighten and his heart flutter. That feeling is quickly replaced by a sense of guilt at taking advantage of his sleeping friend to combat his own touch starvation. He can't look too closely into this. Can't allow himself to even consider what this means.

It means nothing. He reminds himself. It's winter. Bradley was shivering like a leaf and Kyle isn't willing to blame their current situation on anything other than them migrating together to combat the cold.

But to avoid having to explain any of this to Bradley or himself, Kyle carefully extracts himself from Bradley's hold, making sure not to pause and marvel at the peaceful expression on his face.

Kyle manages to get out of the bed and to his feet without disturbing Bradley overly much. In fact, after the other man turns over after Kyle got up he doesn't make any indication at waking anytime soon. And this time Kyle does look at his face, chuckling quietly at the small furrow between his brows. His lips arepursed in a slight pout, too after being robbed of his source of warmth and Kyle almost feels bad for it, although it really couldn't be helped.

Kyle tucks the previously disturbed blanket closer around Bradley's form again and watches as the other man burries deeper into the covers again.

He tears his eyes away when his pager starts beeping faintly in the pocket of his suit jacket which he left over by the chairs. He hurries over to silence the little device, only glancing at the display. Rachel. Of course.

Shit... How is he going to explain all this to her? And Ed. Especially Ed. He'd basically just dropped everything on his previous job when some things about Bradley's whereabouts started to fall into place, and now he'd been ignoring the pager for almost three days. Ed would have his head for this. Or maybe he'd fire him again... who knows?

He glances at the bed again and with one look at Bradley's peaceful expression he decides that whatever tongue-lashing Ed's got in store for him, it can wait another few hours. And it will be worth it, too, because otherwise he'd not be here, he'd not be able to see Bradley peacefully sleeping in that bed.

He still goes to pick up the receiver of the phone, to dial the front desk. He figures he may as well order them the breakfast that's included in their stay. He paid good money for it after all.

The conversation is brief and quiet, but he gets confirmation that they'll be around with the food before long and Kyle can already hear his stomach grumbling in return.

Once that's done, he walks over to his suitcase, rummaging around in there for something Bradley can wear. It's still chilly, the winter air makes him shiver, despite the fact that he didn't even change from the clothes he was wearing the day before. He looks it, too, the shirt crumbled and pulled from his pants in some places. But nothing that can't be hid by his suit jacket or coat.

So, he decides to just keep wearing this set of clothes, which leaves Bradley to wear his spare shirt and pants. After having decided this, Kyle moves to the bathroom to splash some water in his face and brush his teeth. This hotel provides some of those disposable toothbrushes with toothpaste already on it, too, which comes in handy because he forgot his own is still tucked away in his suitcase and wandering back and forth too often would likely wake up Bradley and he'd rather let him sleep as long as possible.

But it seems Kyle is worrying too much, because by the time he gets back Bradley is still sleeping soundly. He really must have been exhausted. No wonder, considering, but it only supports Kyle's claim from the day before, Bradley would not have made it far if he ran from him. They may have to get him checked out at a doctor, maybe get something stronger for the pain those bruises likely cause him.

Bradley only stirs when Kyle eventually makes his way back to the bed to pick up his notebook, meaning to gather his things so they can leave swiftly after breakfast and be on the road as soon as possible. He stops by the side of the bed.

"Morning." Kyle says, the warm smile on Bradley's face enough to pull the corners of his lips upward as well. "A while." He answers honestly and with a shrug of his shoulders.

Kyle's smile widens when Bradley asks about breakfast. "Way ahead of you. Someone should be round with some grub soon." He leaves the notebook for now when he sees Bradley sit up in bed, upper body still bare, instead moving to hand him some clothes to put on.

"Here." He says. "Put these on before you catch your death." He puts the pants and shirt on the bed between them. "You sleep alright?"

#brianbradley

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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But to avoid having to explain any of this to Bradley or himself, Kyle carefully extracts himself from Bradley's hold, making sure not to pause and marvel at the peaceful expression on his face.

Kyle tucks the previously disturbed blanket closer around Bradley's form again and watches as the other man burries deeper into the covers again.

He still goes to pick up the receiver of the phone, to dial the front desk. He figures he may as well order them the breakfast that's included in their stay. He paid good money for it after all.

The conversation is brief and quiet, but he gets confirmation that they'll be around with the food before long and Kyle can already hear his stomach grumbling in return.

"Morning." Kyle says, the warm smile on Bradley's face enough to pull the corners of his lips upward as well. "A while." He answers honestly and with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Here." He says. "Put these on before you catch your death." He puts the pants and shirt on the bed between them. "You sleep alright?"

Kyle watches Bradley turn around, his words ringing in his ears. He can hear the strain in Bradley's voice, the emotion, and he isn't surprised by it one bit, nor by the fact he is trying to hide the way he is on the verge of breaking down, too tired to keep up appearances, too exhausted to do anything but turn over because he doesn't want Kyle to see. And Kyle has seen this before, too. In others hit by tragedy and violence, in people that aren't Bradley, and if it tugs on his heartstrings to see a stranger fall apart, then there are no words to describe what he feels when he sees his best friend do the same.

And Kyle does still consider him his best friend even after the betrayal, even after years of absence. It's so easy to see in their banter, to feel in their interactions. They may have changed and each in their own way over the time that's passed, but together they're still like them, like the two upstart cops from New York willing to take on the world. They're still Bradley and Hyde. They can be.

Or so he hopes.

Kyle doesn't reach for Bradley, even though he really wants to. What he does instead is turn unto his back, now looking up at the ceiling instead of at the back of his ex-partner's head. He also uses the motion to shift ever so much closer to Bradley, hoping to provide more of the warmth he needs so desperately that it is enough to invite Kyle into his bed, even though he's clearly uncomfortable with their proximity now.

Kyle's fingers twitch where they lie between them on the mattress, just a few inches from the skin of Bradley's lower back. He wants to touch him, wants to make certain he's really there.

But he doesn't. Doesn't move at all and just listens to Bradley's breathing slowly evening out. Kyle is still too awake to let sleep claim him, but he doesn't want to move from the bed until Bradley is properly warmed through.

Meanwhile, Kyle's thoughts are spinning, impressions from today swirling around in his mind, making him dizzy and his head feel too full. He needs to write bis thoughts down. He'll forget them otherwise. And so, roughly 10 minutes after he is certain Bradley has sunk into a deep enough slumber that he won't be waking up by Kyle moving around, Kyle shifts to a seated position, his back resting against the fancy headboard of the bed. His movements result in the blanket shifting lower from were Bradley was covered, a shoulder now exposed.

It's the one with the scar. Kyle thinks and hesitates briefly. He meant to pull the blanket up to cover Bradley's form again, but now he feels compelled to reach out and run his fingertips over the marred skin. He doesn't. But it is a close call.

He tucks Bradley in, careful not to disturb him and is pleased when Bradley only burries deeper into the pillow. Kyle turns attention away from him and towards his notebook instead. Still meaning to jot down some notes and thoughts from earlier to clear his head.

He isn't entirely sure how much time passes before he feels Bradley shift beside him and he's surprised when the other man turns around entirely, hugging the pillow close to his face, lips slightly parted, hair in disarray, his features relaxed and actually making him look that much younger.

Kyle stares.There is no other word for it.

He can count the times he has seen Bradley this unburdened on one hand and all of them were before. Seeing him like this now tightens his throat and makes his chest ache with something awfully close to longing and once again he has to fight the urge to reach for him.

Instead, he flips a page in his notebook, arriving on an empty one. Kyle's hand begins moving across the paper, not jotting down words, but sharp lines, lines with purpose. He's sketching, and this, too, feels familiar, even though he hasn't drawn Bradley in years. And the times he did (which were quite a few back in the day) he kept hidden as best he could. Not because he was ashamed of them, but people tended to talk and ask questions and some things just can't be explained away in a way that makes sense.

But he always liked drawing Bradley. There was a time just after he fell into the Hudson and disappeared when Kyle was afraid he'd forget how to, that he'd forget what he looks like. He spent nearly an entire night sketching him from memory back then, only to shove all of the sketches into his desk afterwards, the last one the impression of him at the docks, his back half turned and his face cast in shadow sitting atop all of the ones that came from good memories instead. But of course the last one is the one that burned itself into his mind. There was something in his eyes Kyle couldn't decipher in his rage back then. He should have tried, he should have known. Bradley's eyes were always so expressive, he should have known, but he'd been so angry that he couldn't see. It took him years to figure out what really happened and then he spent another year not looking for him at all, because Bradley told him to. He tried to move on. He tried. But he couldn't.

He brings a hand up to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Goddammit Hyde, keep it together." He whispers under his breath, but Bradley stirrs beside him anyway and Kyle jumps, caught up in his memory as he was the pen halted on the page a while ago and he just kept looking at the sleeping form of his partner now edged into the page. He shuts the notebook when open curiosity makes its way across Bradley's sleepy features and he shakes his head.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." He turns to set the notebook aside, then looks at Bradley who still seems to be more asleep than awake, but his features draw together in worry and Kyle can't have that. It's late. Kyle should get some shut eye as well. "Everything is fine. Just go back to sleep." He tells him and then chuckles quietly when he sees the other man struggle against sleep overtaking him again. Barely a sliver of green can be seen as Bradley fights to keep his eyes open.

Kyle reaches out then, thumb and index finger brushing against soft strands of hair as he shifts them behind Bradley's ear to see him better, then he can't help the urge to trace his cheekbone with his thumb, careful to not disturb any bruising as he does so. Bradley's expression softens and his lids flutter shut again and Kyle's foolish heart yearns.

He ignores it and pulls his hand away, then shifts to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, leaving them in darkness. He lies down again, once again on his back. He listens to Bradley's breathing and slowly but surely the familiar rhythm pulls him under as well.

He missed this, more than he has any right to.

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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Kyle Hyde

#.gallery #(kyle).i'm not a violent dog — i don't know why i bite.

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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Or so he hopes.

Kyle's fingers twitch where they lie between them on the mattress, just a few inches from the skin of Bradley's lower back. He wants to touch him, wants to make certain he's really there.

Kyle stares.There is no other word for it.

He missed this, more than he has any right to.

Bradley shrugging off his hand and heading for the bathroom without so much as another word or glance has Kyle feeling oddly bereft of warmth. He stares at the closed door for a long moment before he eventually moves to shrug out of his coat and toe off his shoes and socks. He takes his notebook out of his inner coat pocket, pulls out the pen, too to jot down a few things he doesn't want to forget about what he saw in the warehouse earlier. But overall he is just trying to busy himself while Bradley is in the other room.

He's here, he truly is. Kyle found him, after years of chasing shadows, of believing the worst for months at a time before another flicker of hope showed itself in the smallest of clues, the smallest of indications that Bradley was still out there, still breathing.

Kyle stops what he is doing a few times just to make sure the water is still running and Bradley is still there, that he didn't do something ridiculous like climb out the bathroom window. But there is always a small sound that tells him he is in fact still in there. A cough, the sound of water splashing, eventually his bare feet making noise on the tiles as Bradley moves around. It helps to put his mind at ease for now. Bradley isn't running, at least not right now.

When Bradley eventually emerges, Kyle has a hard time to not blatantly stare. He winces at the colorful mess of bruises painted across Bradley's body and still can't help the fact that his throat goes dry as he watches him bend over and rummage through his suitcase in search of something to wear. He watches his muscles shift and work, his wet hair leaving droplets of water running down the curve if his spine, but then his eyes are drawn to the scar and the images of that night come back to him in a flash as they always do. The gunshot rings in his ears as his mind matches the scar to the bullet burrying itself in Bradley's shoulder and going straight through.

He did that.

The guilt hits him like a punch to the face. He put that mark there. And it blends so perfectly with the rest of the abuse he can still see on Bradley's skin. Kyle's throat tightens, his breathing hitches. He is so out of it with conflicting emotions that he doesn't even comment on Bradley still having no respect for Kyle's belongings, simply going through them as if it is his suitcase rather than Kyle's. But he likely wouldn't have stopped him if his mind wasn't currently occupied either. Hell, during their time on the force most of Kyle's stationary ended up on Bradley's desk within the week of him getting new things.

Bradley straightens himself up and turns to face him, but Kyle looks away and clears his throat, fearing his voice would give his thoughts away otherwise. He makes a vague gesture towards the clean underwear Bradley means to put on. "Knock yourself out." He says, trying not too look too closely into the notion of gratification that overcomes him at seeing Bradley wear his things.

What the hell, Kyle?

It leaves him... feeling a bit lost when Bradley sinks into the bed and lets out a drawn out sound of relief as he burries beneath the covers. Kyle runs a hand over his face and takes a deeper breath, fighting the urge to pinch himself, because after nearly 5 years of separation, of looking for the man currently stretching himself out like a cat in a warm ray of sunlight, all of this... it just doesn't seem quite real.

And none of the things Bradley does and says right now quite serve to calm him or his accelerated heartbeat either. He isn't even quite sure what it is he is feeling, nor does he know what he is supposed to be feeling.

All of this is a whole lot more confusing than he thought it would be. During the first few months after Bradley vanished Kyle had been angry, he'd felt betrayed and like someone had pulled the ground from beneath his feet. Gone was the one person who knew him better than anyone else and every time he thought of him he ached.

He still does, but it's no longer anger that lodges itself inside his throat, it's there of course, but that anger is no longer directed at Bradley, it hasn't been for a long time. No, what he feels towards his ex-partner is far from what he is supposed to feel, for sure. The furthest from the hatred people always assume he is harbouring, too. But there is no room to address this. There never has been room to address this and where Kyle is concerned there never will be. Sitting down and dissecting his feelings has never done him any good and he doubts Bradley wants to hear it anyway.

Except, when he looks at him now, expression slack with exhaustion, looking no longer as tense after a hot shower and with his green eyes looking so pleading that Kyle bites down on the sarcastic comment that's on the tip of his tongue and instead just makes his way over to the bed.

For a moment he just stands beside it, reaching out to brush the back of his hand against Bradley's face and then moves it to his shoulder. He's still far colder than he should be and Kyle realizes that he's still shivering, too.

"That bad, huh?" He asks, although it is more of a statement than it is a question. Bradley does a decent enough job at hiding it, but Kyle knows what loneliness looks like. He has seen it staring back at him from the mirror for five years now.

So, he sets his notebook and pen down on the bedside table, and pushes at Bradley's shoulder to have him make room. "Come on, move over." He says when Bradley doesn't immediately react and rolls his eyes when he feels him purposely make himself heavy. Kyle is forced to use both hands to maneuver the other man aside, digging his fingers into his side to make him jump in retaliation. Eventually, he huffs out a breath when he gets him to act less like a starfish and more like a human being.

"Menace." Kyle grouches even as he pulls the blanket over both of them, ignoring the tightness in his throat born from their proximity. His brows are still furrowed as he turns to face Bradley fully, but that does little to hide his concern. "There. Better?" He asks as he feels the warmth sink into his own tired limbs beneath the shared cover.

#brianbradley

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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He did that.

What the hell, Kyle?

"Right." Kyle scoffs. "You might wanna stop acting like one then." But the statement lacks real heat and he knows that whatever Bradley says to him now he shouldn't let it get to him. He's completely out of it, hurt, malnourished and dehydrated, stressed out of his mind, too. But how can Kyle not? Bradley always had a way of getting under his skin like no one else could, pushed his buttons until it hurt, until he blew a fuse. And sometimes that was necessary, because Kyle is too closed off. And that's always been true, too. He let cases eat at him until there was hardly anything left and that was usually when Bradley swooped in, all cocky smiles and irritating jabs. Ticked Kyle off beyond believe when they were first assigned partners too,, but over time — far less than one would think — Bradley expertly worked his way into his mind, his heart, too, otherwise his betrayal wouldn't have hurt in the way it did.

But Kyle isn't the only one who needed balancing out. Bradley in all of his need for martyrdom and readiness to throw himself into danger needed Kyle to keep him grounded. And that clearly hasn't changed either.

So, it's to no one's surprise when the self-deprecating, self-sacrificing bullshit comes out, that Kyle's temper flares anew.

"Yeah, you sure as hell should have talked to me!" Kyle spats. "Instead of shouldering all of this shit on your own, you should have given me something, anything to go off of instead of making me think that my best friend betrayed me!" His voice climbs in volume and fills with emotion without him meaning to. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, to keep a level head, but he can't keep it from wavering as he exhales. He casts his eyes down to the floor. Years upon years of anger he thought managed and handled threatening to overtake him now. But rather than give into the kindling flame, he shakes his head and sighs.

"Could have spared both of us a lot of grief."

He moves closer to the bed, watching Bradley make himself small, far smaller than a man of his height should have any right to look. "I'm really tired of people telling me I should hate you." He says after and then it's quiet for a while. The tension heavy and thick between them.

Eventually, Bradley speaks up again and Kyle has a hard time not going back to yelling. He bites down on his tongue, keeps himself in check. "You're a moron." Kyle says quietly and it doesn't even begin to vent all the conflicting emotions trapped in his chest. He wrinkles his nose. "—And you definitely need a shower."

When Bradley doesn't react to his jab he sits down next to him. A beat, and then: "You really don't get it, even after all this time, do you? After what you did?" Bradley still doesn't look at him and Kyle is almost relieved that he doesn't. He looks straight ahead next, eyes glazing over with memories. "I don't exactly blame you. Took me a long time to realize, too."

He continues on. "But you wanna know what I think? You deliberately left clues for me to be able to follow you around, led me to a hotel in the middle of nowhere so I could figure out what the hell happened in New York because you — for some reason — weren't able to tell me yourself."

Hyde pulls something from the pocket of his coat, something small. A metallic rectangle reflects the few traces of sunlight peeking through the curtains. Bradley's lighter. He picked it up during his stay at Hotel Dusk and never let it go afterwards. Bradley never went anywhere without it. So, when Kyle found it he realized that he would have to give it back to him. It was a sign and one he wasn't silling to ignore.

"You left traces of yourself all over, like breadcrumbs in a dark forest I had to follow around to find you." He flicks the lid of the lighter, and clicks it shut again like he has seen Bradley do countless times back when they were still cops. The familiar sound rings loud and hollow into the silence that forms between them.

"For me it was never really about what I wanted." Kyle reaches out a hand, the one closest to Bradley, and gently places it against his trembling shoulder. "I knew you wanted me to find you, despite that letter, despite keeping me at arms length all this time." He gently squeezes Bradley's shoulder and shifts the other hand with the lighter into Bradley's field of view, offering it out to him.

"I knew you needed me, so here I am." He shrugs one shoulder. "Took me roughly five years, but hey, better late than never, right?"

#brianbradley

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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"Of course, you were always the crazy one."

#.gallery #(kyle).i'm not a violent dog — i don't know why i bite.

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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So, it's to no one's surprise when the self-deprecating, self-sacrificing bullshit comes out, that Kyle's temper flares anew.

"Could have spared both of us a lot of grief."

"I knew you needed me, so here I am." He shrugs one shoulder. "Took me roughly five years, but hey, better late than never, right?"

Kyle has seen enough victims of abuse in his day and was assigned watch over quite a few individuals after they escaped their kidnappers to know the signs of someone teetering on the edge of a breakdown. The thousand yard stare, the tension, the jumping at noises others would consider an everyday occurrence. Kyle just didn't think he'd ever have to see these symptoms on his partner. Well, ex-partner. Lets not get carried away here.

It's why he locked the door and kept the keys on himself. Yes, to keep the world and any potential threats out, but also to keep Bradley from attempting to give him the slip. He's good at that. Good at running, always at least two paces ahead of him, and not only in the figurative sense, even during his prime Kyle rarely was able to keep up with him when Bradley put his mind to chasing something or someone. It's not that Kyle is particularly slow or unfit, but Bradley was always an entirely different beast.

A cornered one, now. There is a wild look to his startling green eyes, hair falling into his face and Kyle watches as the snarl that contorts Bradley's features causes the split in his lip to start bleeding again.

You'll wind up dead, too.

"Been five years and I'm still standing, aren't I?" He shoots back, and he knows it's not that easy. He knows that if Nile wanted him dead he likely would be, but right now that's not important, because Bradley isn't being rational either. He's breaking down, and the only thing Kyle can do is wait for him to shatter and then make to pick up the pieces.

Kyle raises his hands, showing no ill intent or weaponry as he slowly advances towards his partner. I'm not a dog. Bradley told him just now, but he definitely looks like one now, like one beaten by his former master, hackles raised, body wound tight like a bowstring about to snap and absolutely ready to bite the hand that is trying to feed him.

"Calm down, Bradley." Hyde soothes, trying to keep any emotion from his words, trying to sound firm and certain even though it hurts and agitates him to see him like this. Kyle even has to put in some extra effort to not have his voice waver on Bradley's name. "Even if they're already looking for you they won't come barging in here just like that. We'd hear them coming."

He takes another step, but stops again when Bradley flinches away and his back hits the door. The door handle rattles as Bradley turns it a few more times, his eyes never leaving Kyle's.

Kyle's expression softens. "Door is locked, buddy." He takes a deeper breath. "Come on. You're panicking over nothing and you know it."

It's not that Kyle doesn't take this seriously, but he knows that even though it may seem that way at times, Nile's people aren't omniscient. It would take them time to find them. They can spare a few hours. Hell, they might even have as much as a day or two, although Kyle isn't willing to risk it.

Still, he plants himself firmly infront of Bradley, ready to get him to comply by force, although he's mostly just making ready to catch him should his strength begin to leave him again and judging by the trembling of his body it wouldn't take long for him to lose the battle against his exhaustion.

"Want me to wrestle you back to the bed? Because I will. You wouldn't stand a chance right now and we both know it." The lack of proper force in the shoves Bradley subjected him to just now are proof enough. But Bradley doesn't let up, doesn't let his guard down and Kyle can feel the agitation rise within him. "Look at you, you'd not make it two steps out of this building before collapsing, and then what? Wait for Nile to scoop you off the pavement?"

This time Kyle does take the last few steps that seperate them and catches Bradley's wrist as he tries to wind himself out of his reach.

"Fuck's sake, Bradley. Just let me help you!"

The words fall between them like a brick through glass. Sharp, loud and the latter part of the sentence is maybe a tad more desperate than Kyle intends it to be. But five years of frustration and helplessness and not knowing where to look next, afraid that one day he'd find Bradley and it would be too late, that he'd find him in a puddle of his own blood, eyes empty and devoid of life... it gets to a man. It definitely has gotten to Kyle. Hell, he's had nightmares about that day at the docks more times than he can count and that is only the tip of the iceberg of crap he's been pushing down for years at this point.

But fuck if this right here isn't all he could have hoped for. Half a decade of chasing shadows and he will not let him slip through his fingers now that he has finally found him. Nile be damned. The danger he puts himself in be damned. He is not letting him go again.

#brianbradley

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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Send ❂ for a like headcanon.

Send ✄ for a favorite movie of my muse’s.

Send ✚ for one of my muse’s prized possessions.

Send ✿ for a happy memory.

Send ♡ for a friendship headcanon.

Send ♬ for a childhood headcanon.

Send ☼ for a dream headcanon.

Send ♧ for a cooking headcanon.

Send ❧ for a food headcanon.

Send ★ for a talent headcanon.

Send ❀ for a crush my muse has had.

Send △ for a sex headcanon.

Send ➷ for a sports headcanon.

Send ♤ for a ‘dislike’ headcanon.

Send ♆ for something my muse hates.

Send ⊗ for a phobia headcanon.

Send ☾ for a sleep headcanon.

Send ✜ for a fear headcanon.

Send ☠ for a death headcanon.

Send ◊ for a headcanon of the mun’s choice.

#.rpmemes #//might be slow to answer but lets get to know kyle a bit better shall we?

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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OOC: all that happens in the games is canon, right? Well, I just sketched Brian Bradley into Hyde's notebook. In game. It's canon. Well, for me at least.

#hotel dusk #hotel dusk: room 215 #brian bradley #kyle hyde #//they're gay your honor #(ooc).it's a good name isn't it?

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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You'll wind up dead, too.

He takes another step, but stops again when Bradley flinches away and his back hits the door. The door handle rattles as Bradley turns it a few more times, his eyes never leaving Kyle's.

Kyle's expression softens. "Door is locked, buddy." He takes a deeper breath. "Come on. You're panicking over nothing and you know it."

This time Kyle does take the last few steps that seperate them and catches Bradley's wrist as he tries to wind himself out of his reach.

"Fuck's sake, Bradley. Just let me help you!"

"Oh, shut up." Hyde says in the middle of Bradley's tirade. Tone flat but eyes sharp as he looks at him. There is sympathy in him for the state Bradley is in, guilt, too for not being quicker about finding him in the end, but with all this bullshit and idiotic defiancy oozing out of Bradley it's hard to not become irritated and snap at him.

Five years. It's been five years and he's still a goddamn self-sacrificing moron.

"You want to go back inside? Be my guest." He barks and watches as Bradley clicks his mouth shut in turn. He does glare at Kyle for a moment, but eventually just goes back to shivering in the passenger's seat. Hyde nods and huffs out a breath. "That's what I thought."

Kyle turns where he is sitting and fishes something from the back seat. A baseball cap and a jacket, the old Red Crown one. It's worn and definitely has seen better days. But it's warm. "Put these on, don't need people jumping to conclusions if they see your colorful mug." The cap wouldn't do much to hide the bruises, but it would still do its part in obscuring Bradley's face to a point where people wouldn't immediately recognize him when they see him passing in a car, or so he hopes.

He starts the engine and maneuvers the car out of the tiny hidden parking spot one street over, he didn't have much time to find a inconspicuous spot to leave the car. He just hopes it was enough to keep it from being spotted.

Bradley's right in part. Kyle didn't exactly concern himself with anonymity this time, barging into there with nothing but his fists and righteous anger. It was just pure dumb luck the goons inside were stupid enough to split up and turn their backs to him. He picked up a random bottle standing around and wacked them with it hard. It wouldn't surprise him if the guys were concussed either. Well, dumb luck or no, it worked out in the end, didn't it?

He turns the heating up to max and they're on the road. He doesn't know where to go, but he figures anywhere is better than here. Every mile he brings between Bradley and that warehouse can only be a good thing.

Kyle avoids looking at him. Doesn't talk either. He doesn't know what to say and the longer he thinks about it the more he feels the need to yell. Years of pent up anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He grips the steering wheel tighter, takes a turn, glances at Bradley.

He still looks rough, more so now that the evening sun is casting it's light on all the bruising. He's still shivering, too. Not good. Kyle needs to find them a place to lay low. There is a motel on the outskirts, cheap, anonymous, but once those guys realize Bradley is gone that's the first place they'll look for sure.

So, Kyle takes a wholly different approach and instead of heading out of the city he heads further in. Chooses the first higher class inn that has vacancies and looks like it might still accept two roughed up looking men as long as the cash is right.

"4 stars." Kyle says when the sign of the place comes into view. He isn't sure how verified that rating is, but at this point anything from his usual M. O. seems like a good idea. "Today's your lucky day." When Bradley looks at him like he's lost his mind he just shrugs.

Check in goes by without a hitch, the girl at the front desk seems unimpressed with their appearance, but ultimately doesn't seem to care. Kyle wonders if she isn't a bit young to man the desk. A family business maybe? She might be stepping in for someone. It doesn't matter. She informs them that the only room available for two is one with a bed they'd have to share, but she doesn't ask any more questions when Kyle slides her an extra bill. He puts down an alias and his old address. He doubts anyone in Spearfish ever heard of Cape West anyway, let alone knows the place has been demolished some time ago. The girl certainly doesn't, she doesn't even glance at the name or the address in the book and then just hands him the key.

He has an eye on Bradley for the time it takes them to make their way over to the room, he sways on his feet a bit, but Kyle doesn't have to step in to steady him until they're inside the room and the door is locked.

It seems like all tension leaves Bradley then, and Kyle realizes that the idiot was putting on a brave face until now. Kyle all but catches him when he looks like his kegs might give out before leading him over to the bed. The room ate up just about all of the cash he had on him, but there is no time to appreciate just how nice the room is. It smells clean, the sheets are stark white and tucked in nicely around the corners. It's even decorated with some flowers and nothing like the run down dumps he usually frequents.

The mattress dips softly under Bradley's weight when Kyle has him sit, soft noises of linen and cotton the only thing breaking the silence of the room for a while. "Stay." Kyle commands gruffly and walks back to the door where he dropped his stuff when Bradley looked ready to keel over.

His old worn down suitcase with the broken lock looks utterly out of place where he put it down and it doesn't look much better when he moves it next to the bed to pull out the first aid kit from the car he shoved in there earlier. He pulls it out again. It's not as much a first aid kit as it is a few bandages, scissors and disinfectant thrown in a box, but he'll make due.

He walks to the bathroom and gets one of the fluffy towels, feeling mildly bad about what is about to happen to it. He wets it with some warm water and returns to Bradley, ready to clean him up.

"Let me take a look." It's said a lot softer than he means to, but his tone still brokers no argument.

#brianbradley

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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Five years. It's been five years and he's still a goddamn self-sacrificing moron.

It seems like all tension leaves Bradley then, and Kyle realizes that the idiot was putting on a brave face until now. Kyle all but catches him when he looks like his legs might give out before leading him over to the bed.

The room ate up just about all of the cash he had on him, but there is no time to appreciate just how nice it is. It smells clean, the sheets are stark white and tucked in nicely around the corners. It's even decorated with some flowers and nothing like the run down dumps he usually frequents.

He walks to the bathroom and gets one of the fluffy towels, feeling mildly bad about what is about to happen to it. He wets it with some warm water and returns to Bradley, ready to clean him up.

"Let me take a look." It's said a lot softer than he means to, but his tone still brokers no argument.

Five years.

Five years since that day on the docks. Five years since that phone call and the subsequent events that haunt his nightmares, his waking thoughts every goddamn second of his life. Five years since he shot his partner, his best friend.

Five years of hunting a ghost.

Except, this is no ghost. Kyle always knew he wasn't chasing a ghost. But during the three initial years of next to nothing — hell, less than nothing — in terms of evidence that Bradley was even still alive he'd been worn down in his convictions, his anger and frustration. All of it ground down to little else but a sarcastic, aimless ex-cop that kept jumping at shadows, grasping at straws, almost convincing himself time and time again that he made up the evidence that pointed to Bradley's being alive in the first place.

But the disbelieving, helpless laughter that reaches Kyle's ears as he steps closer is not his imagination. The words that fall between them are quiet and breathless, spoken with an edge initially, even though it's softened by the palpable relief that colors them.

And Kyle knows that voice.

He knows the features of that face, too, even obscured by blood and a blindfold. There is familiarity in the color of that hair, even if it is a lot longer than he remembers. The line of his nose, the angle of his cheekbones, the curve of his exasperated smile painted dark red by the split on his lip. It's all so eerily familiar it nearly doesn't feel real after all this time. And nothing could have prepared him for the moment he steps closer and undoes the blindfold pulled tight around his ex-partner's head. Finding his eyes, meeting his gaze, Kyle couldn't have anticipated the amalgamation of feelings rushing to fight in his chest.

It's really him.

Kyle was so certain he'd never forget the color of his eyes. They always were too striking by half, bright in a way it made people unable to look anywhere else. Bradley was always the one people noticed first, too. Tall and broadshouldered, with green eyes unlike any other and a smile only outdone in its brightness by his wit.

Kyle never had any delusions about being able to compete, with his grey eyes and mousy brown hair. Sure he was tall and fit enough for the job but nothing to write home about. He liked to think that his deduction skills and nose for calling people out on their bullshit made him a decent cop at least, but he never thought that it all would eventually lead him here.

He pulls himself away from Bradley's gaze, biting the inside of his cheeks as he walks around the chair to loosen the ropes around his ex-partner's wrists and ankles with the pocket knife he brought along.

His heart is beating painfully in his throat, has been for the entire time it took him to get here today. 5 years led up to this moment. Three initial years of nothing, then two more years of barely anything. Crumbs of hints Bradley left for him to find and chase and then, within the last few months evidence that — compared to what came before— could be equated to a brightly colored neon sign leading him here. He knows Bradley wanted him to find him in this town, otherwise he'd still be lagging a few paces behind.

The rope falls away with a soft sound and Kyle doesn't waste any time to hoist Bradley up to his feet, an arm dragged across his shoulders.

"We don't have much time." He hisses. Only God knows how long the two Nile goons that kept watch before Kyle knocked them out would stay that way.

Worry tightens his throat when he finds Bradley barely able to hold his own weight. His hands are cold, too. His entire body feels cold and stiff. How long was he kept here? Fuck, Kyle should have found him earlier, should have been quicker about reading the signs. He knew something was off the moment things started to fall into place fast.

They stumble and Kyle bites back another curse as he pulls Bradley closer against his side. "Always told you you're too damn tall for your own good." He grouches, his stomach in knots at the familiarity of their banter. No time for this now.

They have to get out of here.

#brianbradley

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limitsofdoubt · 9 months ago

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#.gallery #(kyle).i'm not a violent dog — i don't know why i bite.

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limitsofdoubt · 10 months ago

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Five years.

Five years of hunting a ghost.

And Kyle knows that voice.

It's really him.

The rope falls away with a soft sound and Kyle doesn't waste any time to hoist Bradley up to his feet, an arm dragged across his shoulders.

"We don't have much time." He hisses. Only God knows how long the two Nile goons that kept watch before Kyle knocked them out would stay that way.

They have to get out of here.

CLOSED STARTER.ㅤㅤ@limitsofdoubt.ㅤㅤKYLE HYDE.

NILE IS EVERYWHERE. From New York City, New York and Los Angeles, California, to the smallest of towns in the state of South Dakota. Deadwood, South Dakota. Fifteen miles and twenty minutes from Spearfish. It's a small town, but it isn't a noticeably small town. Bradley could blend into the crowd. Bradley had blended into the crowd for two months. He stayed at an older couple's bed and breakfast (the older man reminded him of Dunning — couldn't talk to him, though, how he'd talk to Dunning) and worked at one of the casinos in town. He hadn't stayed anywhere for longer than a month. He'd become complaisant. He'd become careless. And Nile is every-fucking-where. From New York City, New York and Los Angeles, California, all the way out in Deadwood, South Dakota. Two hundred and thirty five residents and eight 'tourists' in the dead of the South Dakota winter: one of the 'tourists' is Bradley, and the seven other 'tourists' are, evidently, Nile operatives. (Who knew South Dakota was a popular hideout spot?) The one who pistol whips him in the parking lot is familiar. Twelve hours tied to a chair in a warehouse, Bradley'd had the time to remember who that pistol-whipping Nile operative is: Ethan Riley. Nothing more than a small time criminal, committing white-collar crimes before committing even whiter-crimes with Nile, who thought he was everything. "You haven't changed much," earned Bradley an open-palm slap that cracked through the warehouse, and Bradley earned another, after being blindfolded, for saying, "Did I embarrass you?" It was worth it, then; two days tied to a chair in a warehouse, with bruises, with a busted mouth, with hair matted with dried blood — it wasn't. Two and a half days tied to a chair in a warehouse, time's becoming blurred. It could be three days, three and a half days. The light that spills into the room through the opening door says to Bradley, even through the blindfold, that it's sunset, that it's six in the evening and is becoming colder and colder. (It's been three days.) But the man who walks into the room is different: the leather soles of loafer shoes, the scent of shampoo and conditioner with cologne that's so familiar that the breath seizes in Bradley's throat before the coughing laughter that follows. The sound of those leather soles, the scent of that soap and that cologne — it could be a delusion born of blood loss and dehydration. "... you stubborn son of a bitch." But, knowing Hyde, it really is that stubborn son of a bitch, that bulldog.

#brianbradley

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