Best Kase Scenario

Best Kase Scenario

"This is complete horseshit," Kasey mused, tossing the complaint over one shoulder like a discarded wrapper. The hike was Kayden's idea, after all, like it always was, so it was his responsibility to take the abuse for her acceptance. She didn't even bother to look back and gauge his reaction.

She didn't have to.

He was her twin and she'd memorized the glint of long-suffering humor in his eyes eons ago. It had always seemed to her that Kayden had been born with the foreknowledge of his place in the world and carried an inner peace as if it were nothing but loose change in the pocket of his soul.

Reaching behind her, she snagged the stainless steel water bottle emblazoned with a sticker Kayden had bought her which read, "Hard Kase," one of his many nicknames. Where he floated along in the currents of life, she thrashed against them. He'd told her more than once in exasperation that she seemed bound and determined to do everything the hard way, thus the name.

At the kiss of icy water to her parched throat, she thought about what that feeling would be if it were translated into color. "Cobalt," she decided aloud. "Mixed with ocean blue and mountain-top snow." Kayden didn't reply to this; he was used to the way she talked about her experiences as though they were one of her watercolors.

Relishing the moment, she drew in a deep breath of forest green and a dash of earthen brown before starting back up the path. It was a fairly difficult one, but they were nearing the summit and the view always made it worth it, even if it did wring her heart every time.

"I'll never be able to match this kind of majesty," she had whispered to Kayden once, after they'd stood sweating and awed by the sheer drop before them, the valley dozing below in a peaceful sprawl. Her brother had slanted a disbelieving look her way before settling a hand on her shoulder to gently squeeze.

"You already have, Kase. This view?" He swept his free hand out in a careless flap that encompassed the whole valley. "Hundreds of them in the world. Thousands. TENS of thousands." A slight shrug. "And only one of you. You live out loud Kase, do you not truly not understand how rare that is? All those people down there parsing out morsels of their lives on social media to frame them in a certain light, going to jobs they hate, self-medicating to escape the realities that never quite matched up to their dreams? You've always refused to have anything less than happiness. That is the truest form of bravery there is, to wake up in this world of rape and murder, of theft and abandonment, of homophobia and child abuse and cruelty and FIGHT BACK."

Two squeezes of her shoulder to those last words.

One corner of his mouth had quirked up a little as he read between the lines of their hearts. "I'm not saying with fists. You fight back by bringing joy. You do watercolors of homeless people as superheroes and gift them." She'd had no idea that he followed the Instagram account that she used specifically for her art. She had only posted those with consent. Everyone had a story, and even those living in public were granted the utmost privacy. He'd always encouraged her pursuit of it like she did his love of the outdoors and nature, but she'd have never guessed that he was quietly watching from the sidelines.

Honestly, in retrospect, she should have known. There was one point when she'd tried online dating and had naively trusted her date, who'd said they were going to a party and he was the DD. There were Interesting People there and she'd drifted off and gotten caught up in a discussion over shots of Poe and Shakespeare, two of her favorites. When the joint had been passed her way, she'd taken it without thinking, knowing her date had her back.

Instead, she'd found him on his.

The date who'd promised to get her home safely was passed out on the porch. She'd drunkenly tried to order an Uber and wake her date, who immediately vomited and passed back out. She'd managed to get him inside and make her way to the restroom, trying to get her wits about her and clinging to the wall when her savior appeared; the married homeowner.

He'd casually reached out and groped her boobs, laughed, and went on his way.

Stunned, she'd locked the bathroom door and called Kayden, crying and apologizing. "Not your fault, Kase, I'm on my way," he'd clipped out to her, and in her state, it sounded as though he were upset with her and it'd made her more upset. When he arrived, however, he'd made sure she was strapped in to the Jeep, then said he'd be right back, which was weird since he didn't know anyone there. She sat there quietly, coming back into herself until Kayden *slammed* back into the car, which startled her. He didn't say anything, but his grip on the steering wheel said everything for him; that and his torn knuckles. Just as she'd started to ask what happened, he answered her in a grim tone. "Now and then, the only language some people know is violence."

"Anyways," he continued, dropping his hand and using it to gesture towards the cloud-wrapped valley. "This is pretty too, I guess."

She'd surprised herself with a soul-deep belly laugh, her heart full to bursting and had given him a gross, sweaty hug. He'd allowed it for a moment, then had gently shoved her away, towards their usual spot under The Moonshine Tree. Early in their (what turned out to be ritual) hikes she'd wanted to carve her initials in the trunk and Kayden had flatly refused to allow it to be harmed. Since *she* had refused to hike with him without alcohol to "make all this stupid effort worth something," he'd stopped at a liquor store and bought them each a shooter of moonshine in a miniature thing that resembled a canning jar.

She'd loved it so much that it was not just a part of The Hike and she strung them on a low-hanging branch each time they came (once emptied, of course, and always in a shady part because Kayden worried that the sun would magnify through the glass and start a forest fire).

"Golden Hour," he reminded her, nodding towards where the sun was raging against the dying of its own light and glutting glorious color across the sky as if hoping the show would convince the world an encore was needed. She had no idea, then or now where he'd learned the term 'golden hour,' which was used by photographers and artists in reference to the specific quality and hour of sunset.

It was impossible to plumb the depths of Lake Kayden.

"Which try will this be?," he asked off-handedly as they settled, he with a contemplative and quiet air, water bottle in hand as he gazed at the show being performed by nature.

"Two thousand eight hundred and twenty-tree," she'd replied sourly, though it didn't stop her from pulling out her sketch pad and supplies. There was an amused snort at this figure and then the now-familiar reply.

"Best Kase scenario?"

Ugh.

He always did this.

Made her assume success even after she just repeatedly kept falling on her face. Huffing a sigh through her nose, she gave him what he wanted.

"This one will be the one."

He'd only nodded and sank back into his own quiet thoughts as she worked.

That hadn't been The One, but six months later it had happened. She'd come out of a trance-like state to find herself breathless at what she'd done. It had sold for a ridiculous price at a local collectibles shop and they wanted more of her work. Even though she complained at Kayden excessively about the hikes, she secretly loved them and had chose this one to break the news to him.

Blowing a breath out, she settled with her back against the rough bark, being careful lest she exacerbate her recent wounds, and pulled out a bulky vase that was heavier than it looked.

An urn. Call it what it is.

Her mind skittered away from the thought as she sat Kayden's shot next to it.

"I couldn't have done this without you," she started haltingly, her throat trying to close up and choke the words back down. She resolutely took the shot in one go, roughly cleared her throat and continued on. "Not just the art. All of it."

A pause, and then the culmination of heartbreak in one word.

"Life."

She scanned the view that they had so often enjoyed together in companionable silence, and pulled the urn into her lap. She was supposed to be spreading his ashes here, but she just...couldn't let go. "It was my fault," she admitted quietly to him, ignoring the look that she knew he'd be giving her. "I was the one driving."

She kicked her feet out aimlessly and the dying of the light snagged on the anklet she wore, the one single word flashing in gold: LIVE.

As the last rays gave in, she stood and curled her toes over the edge of the drop, desperately trying to find The Best Kase Scenario.