Kyle would only learn later that Darren wasn't just Megan's friend.
Their paths were already intertwined — in business, in expectation, in things decided long before either of them had a choice.
The McAllister name carried weight, far beyond the Faulkners' reach.
But none of that was visible at first. At least not to Kyle.
Darren was easy to like — which, for Kyle, should have been a reason to keep his distance.
He was open, natural in conversation — the kind of person people warmed to without trying.
That was what worried Megan — not Darren himself, but how easily he seemed to slip past Kyle's usual defenses.
She hadn't been sure how Kyle would react. He rarely let anyone cross the threshold of his room — or his routine.
In the weeks that followed, Darren began coming over more often.
At first, it was always the three of them.
Kyle eventually let him into movie nights, a quiet decision Megan noticed but chose not to comment on.
Evenings stretched easily, with board games scattered across the table, half-watched movies in the background, conversations drifting without direction.
Somewhere along the way, the balance shifted. Darren started coming not for them, but for Kyle.
Sometimes Megan stayed. Sometimes she didn't. Either way, Darren kept showing up.
Then there were evenings that didn't need an excuse anymore.
One night, he came over without any plan at all. No games. No movies. They sat on the floor by Kyle's desk, backs against the bed, laptops open but forgotten.
Conversation drifted — uneven at first, then easier.
Kyle found himself talking without thinking, without rehearsing, without trying to shape the words before they left him.
Darren didn't interrupt, didn't rush to fill the pauses, didn't turn away when Kyle lost the thread.
At some point, Kyle realized he was leaning closer — not consciously, just enough to feel the warmth through fabric.
He didn't pull away.
That, more than anything, felt new.
Being around Darren felt different. Not exciting. Not overwhelming. Just… uncomplicated.
Kyle noticed it in small things.
He stopped checking the time, stopped bracing himself before speaking.
Time passed more easily when Darren was there. Silence, too.
Darren came whenever he could — sometimes late, sometimes only for an hour, sometimes looking like he should have been somewhere else.
But he stayed.
It unsettled Kyle slightly — not enough to pull away, but enough to keep quiet about it.
Megan noticed.
The way Darren kept finding time. The way Kyle lingered in the doorway when he left. The way his eyes followed him, unfocused, like part of him hadn't caught up yet.
It didn't stay between them for long. The house noticed too.
Darren McAllister wasn't an unfamiliar name there. People recognized him — his face, his surname, the quiet authority that came with it.
Doors paused. Glances lingered.
No one had ever visited Kyle before.
No one asked him anything. They never did.
But Darren didn't stop in the halls. Didn't look for Megan.
He went straight to Kyle's room. Every time.
And Kyle never asked why.