Mistakes and Regrets

"It's nice to see you decided to turn up," Kennedy said with an edge in his voice that I was not fond of in the least bit.

I cringed and finished shutting the door behind me. No need to be quiet anymore; there was no slipping in unseen. I felt like a teenager being caught sneaking home after a night of partying. I leaned up against the door, wrapping an arm around myself as I faced him.

He was sitting at the dining room table with an untouched plate of eggs in front of him, sipping at a cup of coffee, and despite his calm demeanor, I could tell he was not happy. His eyes were a dead giveaway. I could always read him, just like he could probably read my dread.

I could practically feel the annoyance and rage bubbling off his skin. I knew that he was trying not to freak out after our last fight, and I appreciated the effort on his part. I wasn't quite sure whether I preferred this or the yelling though.

"It's not even past noon yet," I pointed out softly.

I summoned up some courage and kicked my heels off by the door before padding over softly to where the coffee maker was. The silence was killing me as I poured myself a cup. I held the maroon ceramic mug in my hands, but couldn't bring myself to take a sip of the dark liquid. The look Kennedy was giving me was making my stomach churn with guilt.

He didn't say a word as I stood awkwardly in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. I felt like I was going insane. I could literally feel his disappointment. I hung my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

Oh god, Shay, get a hold of yourself.

I was a grown woman, dammit, and I didn't need to feel guilty about anything. I hadn't murdered anyone last night, or done anything deceitful. I didn't mug some old lady, steal a child's candy, or blow through a red light. I had no reason to feel so bad, right?

"We need to talk," I announced finally, slamming the mug down onto the table. Kennedy never flinched, but turned to me with an unreadable look on his face. He cocked an eyebrow and I finally stared right back at him.

"About what?" he deadpanned, and I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and pressed my fingers to my temples in an attempt to soothe my pulse and nerves. It did not work.

"Don't kill John," I breathed out weakly, with not nearly as much force as I had intended. Kennedy's eyes glinted as he leaned back in the chair. I watched his fists clench as his arms crossed, and his jaw tightened, but other than that, he was completely still.

"You're like my little sister, Shay. How is it supposed to make me feel when you're having 'sleepovers' at John's apartment? John, who is one of my best friends... And has an awful history with women... And he's the guy who you've been in love with forever? I mean, I know John, and I know you, and I just can't even... I'm going to strangle him," he rambled angrily.

My eyes widened. It was a good thing I hadn't been drinking the coffee, or it would have been all over the place. I opened and closed my mouth a few times and ran my fingers through my unruly red curls. In those few moments, I managed to get a grip and find my composure.

"No, you most certainly will not," I said, leaving no room for arguments, my face absolutely horrified. "Kennedy Brock, you will not under any circumstances lay a hand on him."

"Why the hell not?" he shot back.

"Because he's your band mate and as you just said one of your best friends," I pointed out and paused to gather my thoughts and just breathe.

"But you are too. I mean, he's like my brother and you're like my sister, but he was forewarned a very, very long time ago about what would happen if he tried anything with you! We had an agreement!"

"Oh my god," I groaned, running my hands over my face before placing them on my hips as something he said sparked a memory. "I forbid you from hurting him. You can't. You and I have an agreement, too."

Confusion flashed across his face as my words sunk in. I finally felt like I was slowly regaining control of the situation, and my confidence was rising. Kennedy blinked a few times and stared at me like I was growing another head. I almost laughed; it reminded me of the face he used to make when we were kids and he tried to read my mind.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he sputtered out finally, his eyebrows furrowed together. My lips twitched into a grin at his expression.

"The one we made back in the eighth grade after you decked Robby Blaine in the face at the Halloween dance," I said without skipping a beat. The crease in the middle of his forehead deepened.

"After the slow dance when he kissed you?" he asked slowly.

"Yes. You were dancing with Melanie Parker, and may I remind you that your hands were totally on her ass before you start to lecture me on how inappropriate my and Robby's innocent kiss was," I reminded him.

"Oh, whatever," he muttered before scratching the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed.

"And you waltzed right over as soon as you saw it, tapped him on the shoulder, and before he even got to ask a question or say hello, your fist was crunching against his eye socket..." I trailed off, waiting for Kennedy to remember the rest.

"And you said that if I ever hit another one of your boyfriends again, you would kick me in the balls so hard I'd pass out and wake up with a voice higher than Britney Spears," he recalled. "But that only applied to boyfriends."

I cocked my eyebrow and waited patiently for the concept to cross through his thick skull. I held my breath as his face transformed slowly to enlightenment. His eyes widened so much I thought his eyeballs should surely be rolling around the kitchen table, and his lips formed a perfect little 'o' as they parted in shock. I tried to bite my lip in an attempt to stop the nervous laughter from escaping.

"Wait just a fucking second," Kennedy choked out, holding up one of his hands. "You mean to tell me..."

His eyes shot to my face and I nodded, anxiously twirling the ends of my curls. I couldn't quite tell whether or not this would make him happy or enrage him completely, and it was making me scared.

"You and John. Together. For real?" he clarified, and his voice higher than normal.

"Yeah," I whispered, leaning back against the wall opposite from him.

"What?" he exclaimed, sitting forward in his chair.

"John and I are dating," I said just for his sake. "Boyfriend-girlfriend. Labels and all."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he sputtered, and I shrugged a bit.

"It's a recent thing. Kenny, please don't freak out. I'm happy. John's happy. Please, be happy for us," I begged, one of my arms wrapping around my torso as I watched him.

"You and John," he mumbled to himself with a shake of his head; I jumped as his hands slammed against the table. "I want to talk to John."

"Kenny-"

"No, seriously. I won't hurt him, I just want to talk to him."

I narrowed my eyes at him, as if that would help me tell if he was being honest. It didn't, if you were wondering. Kennedy just put his hands up and slowly stood.

"Kennedy-"

"No hurting, killing, maiming, et cetera et cetera," he said innocently, inching his way towards the door.

"I don't know about this-" I started, but he had already grabbed his shoes and sprinted out the door. "Dammit, Kennedy!"

My yells were lost in the slamming of the door. I rubbed my hands over my face and groaned before banging my head loudly against the wall.

"Shay?" I heard Jared ask, and I peeked out from between my fingers to see his head sticking out from around the corner. "I heard yelling. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is awesome," I mumbled sarcastically before sliding to the floor. "Just fan-fucking-tastic."