A/N : *skip if you want to* (read A/N at the end of this chapter to know more)
10 | FIRST KISS
The day I kissed a boy was the last time I saw him. (Thanks a lot, Dad.)
Ivan's POV
I try not to think about my father. I try a lot.
But sometimes, I can't help it. Like right now. I'm sitting in one of the bathroom stalls of my school with my back pressed to the door, willing myself to stop remembering. Stop thinking.
It's not working. At all.
Pressing my eyes shut, I brace myself for whatever it is my mind wants to throw at me. I'm reliving something I don't want to...
xxx
My first crush was a guy. Obviously. That was probably when I knew for a fact I was gay. I was thirteen - both us were, actually. And, like every other guy in the grade, shorter than almost every girl in class.
My first crush was my best friend. I liked him. A lot. How couldn't I? He shared Kellin Quinn's first name and Gerard Way's surname. I liked him more than the two of them put together. I liked him more than I liked brownies with vanilla ice cream. I liked him more than my only pair of basketball shoes.
My first crush was Kellin Christopher Way. I'd just finished playing a game of Around The World with Tyler and Kellin. The three of us were sweaty and carefree - we didn't give two shits about college and prom and how we'd survive if our dad becomes a jobless alcoholic. We didn't think about it. We didn't have to.
My first crush looked as good as first crushes get. He had soft brown eyes and golden blonde hair that didn't have to be styled to look good. He was strong yet kind. Confident yet modest. Popular yet humble.
My first crush was beautiful on the inside out. The kind of person you'd be proud to call your best friend. We were on our way home. Tyler's house came first. We bid him goodbye as the two of us kept walking towards Kellin's house.
Something was in the air - I couldn't pinpoint what. I'd just done my first successful slam dunk that day and I couldn't stop bouncing on my heels. No other thirteen year old had managed to dunk yet. I was stoked.
Kellin had his hand around my neck. "You're the best player in the grade now, aren't you?"
"The whole town, Kellin. I'm the first one to dunk, aren't I?" I beamed. Kellin always made people happy. This time was no different.
He grinned. "Then I must be lucky. I'm best friends with a future NBA MVP."
I chuckle. His grip on my shoulder tightens. I feel a blush rising up my cheeks. We continue walking, talking as we do. Kellin kept throwing compliments at me, and I kept blushing, hoping he thought the scarlet in my cheeks was because of the heat of the midday sun.
When we reached Kellin's house, I almost felt sad. I completely enjoyed my time with him - my time alone with him. We did what normal friends did, but with him, things felt different. Special.
Kellin walked towards the locked door of his house and fiddled with the window next to it, where the house keys were usually hidden. Frowning, he checked his pockets and then turned back to me.
"What happened?" I asked, concerned.
He shook his head. "Mom forgot to leave the keys here. I can't get in."
"You can come over, if you want," I said, trying to hide my excitement with concern. I had more time with him. What more could I ask for?
He smiled. "Of course I'll come. Are you sure your parents won't mind?"
"My parents love you." I link my hand with Kellin's, taking him away from his house. "And they're not home anyway."
"So Kat's home?" he asks, raising his eyebrow.
I groan. "Please don't tell me you like her too."
Kat's my elder sister. She's five years older than me and five times hotter than the second-hottest girl in town. Bonus: she's also a raging nerd.
"Like her too?" Kellin asks, incredulously. "Who else likes her?"
I roll my eyes. "The entire male teenage population in town? Tyler has a big crush on her, though."
Kellin laughs, filling the world with joy. "Ziegler's gonna get his heart broken. Haven't you warned him?"
"I did," I mutter. "But he's... Hopefully he'll get over it."
"He should." Kellin responds. He unfastens his hand from our link and trails his fingers down my arm. I stare at him as he interlocks his fingers with mine. He locks his eyes with mine. His gaze is steady. "You know I'd never like your sister, right?"
Not knowing what to say, I nodded. He smiles warily and continues walking. I let myself be dragged by him. I tried to be as subtle as possible, but my blood was behaving like fireworks against my skin. He squeezed my hand in assurance, as if he knew what was happening.
My heart was racing. A million beats per minute. Kellin was holding my hand. Kellin. Was. Hold-
Oh God.
We reached my house soon after, hands still intertwined. I knocked on the door with my free hand. Kat opened it. She gave our linked fingers a wary look and then shrugged. She went back to watching some show on the TV.
Kellin and I jogged up the stairs without letting go of our hands. I slid open the door of my room. It looked different. Nothing had changed, of course. A good difference.
Inhaling, I walked forward, my hands slipping out of Kellin's grip. He followed me. I could feel his breath against my nape. My hair was short then.
I turned around, facing Kellin. He was half an inch taller than me. Perfect.
He takes a step forward. His brown eyes are tentative, asking me if this is okay.
I nod. We're inches apart. Our lips are inches apart. He's so close. So close. Kellin leans forward, bridging the gap between our lips. I freeze for a second before pressing my lips against his.
It takes us some time, but we pull apart. I stare at him. "That just...."
Before I can continue, Kellin grabs my waist and crashes his lips against mine. The first kiss was just a precursor to this. Kellin deepened the kiss this time. I didn't hesitate either. His hands slip beneath my shirt. My hands are tangled in his flowy hair. He's beautiful. God, he really is.
We pull apart again, this time to pull my shirt off. He throws the shirt away and continues kissing me, slower this time. Less urgent. The first kiss was tentative. The second was fast - like the world was going to end if we didn't kiss. This one, this one was perfect. We had our time, our space. We were us. No shame.
Somehow, we end up on the bed, shirtless. Our heads resting on the same pillow. We stopped kissing a while ago. We were just staring at each other, silence meaning more than words ever will.
"You like me?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.
He looks at me incredulously, like he can't believe what I'm saying. His fingers trail the side of my back. "Of course I do," he whispers. "How couldn't I?"
I shrug, averting my gaze. "I don't know. You're perfect, Kellin. And I'm..."
"Shh," he whispers, placing a finger against my lips. I watch him closely. He did everything with grace. "You're everything I've ever wanted, Ivan."
"But I- how long... since when did you like me?"
He smiles. His hand has reached my neck now. His fingers are playing with the ends of my hair. "Maybe a year after I met you. It takes me some time to like somebody, y'know? I don't get crushes very easily."
I nod, leaning into him.
"What about you?" He never stops looking at me. Both his hands are touching my skin now - one hand on each of my shoulders, as if to say 'I'm here for you'.
"I think I've liked you forever," I admit. This is the only time I can be completely honest with him - and myself.
He shakes his head. "That can't be."
"You're perfect, Kellin. How could I not?"
"Kellin," he whispers, and wraps his arms around me. "Don't call me that."
My eyebrows scrunch up. "But that's your name. And you don't like nicknames."
Kellin has hated nicknames ever since he knew about them. We once called him Kelly when we were younger, and he got so mad, his ears were pink. That was probably when I got my pink-ear fetish. Thank God none of the Wildcats get pink ears after they play. It's always red for most of them.
"It's not that I don't like nicknames... I just don't allow people to call me by them. They're special, you know? I can't have every stranger call me what they want me to. It's my name," he explains.
His left hand is on my cheekbone now, cupping my face and urging me to look up to him.
"Call me what my favorite people call me," he says. "Kit."
"Kit?" I exhale.
"Ivan," he responds. "You're beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you."
He gives me a wry smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I didn't know you liked me back."
"I'm good at covering up, I guess," I mutter, averting my gaze.
He holds my chin and urges me to look up at him. In his eyes. "But you don't have to," he says. "From now on, no more hiding."
"I can't..." His eyes were promising, but I knew if I came out then, my world would change forever. And that was the last thing I wanted. At this moment, the future looked better than it ever had. A future with Kellin - Kit, who liked me as much as I liked him. Who liked me the way I liked him. "I don't want to come out."
"That's not what I meant." His eyes are so clear, I can see my reflection in them. I can see my hopes, my fears, my dreams - everything. He feels them too.
He clears his throat. "I meant no more hiding when we are together. We can be truly ourselves when we are together. No more hiding, no more secrets when we are together. For as long as we're together."
I nod. He wants what I want. This isn't friendship at all. It's so much greater. I don't want anything else.
"We'll be together forever," I whisper.
There's a look of doubt in his eyes - it lasts only a second, but I catch it. And then there's a flash of hope. "Yes," he says, believing me. Believing himself. "Forever. But forever's a long time, Ivan. You'll get bored of me." There's humor in his voice. He's done with being serious and sincere and promising. He's being jovial now. Having fun. I can't tell which Kit I like better.
"I'll never get bored of you," I mutter. "Eternity's too short."
He chuckles. "Then you'll have to start praying, Ivan. Ask God to give us more than an eternity together."
I smile warmly and then lean forward to kiss him again. He smiles against my lips. Paradise isn't a place. It's a feeling.
He kisses me on my neck, and then in the middle of my chest. His lips trail further down on my skin, pecking me on my stomach.
"Kit," I warn. "We're fourteen."
He looks up at me and then drags himself upward, so that we're at the same level. "I didn't mean - You're not -I'm not..." He sighs, still not meeting my eyes. "I just... Your - I wasn't going to..."
I raise my brows. Flustered. He was flustered around me. Stuttering and starting too many sentences to complete any of them. I'd made him do that. I'd got him flustered. I. Got him. Flustered.
He stops himself and exhales. "I really like it," he says finally. "Your stomach. Or-or your torso, if that sounds better."
I smile again. I wasn't the only boy with a crush in this room. I wasn't the only one overthinking every second, hoping not to ruin it. I wasn't the only one enjoying this moment more than I'd like to admit.
I look at my torso, at the spot he'd just kissed. It was pale like the rest of my stomach. I didn't know why he liked it so much. There was nothing in it - just skin and more skin and maybe a hint of bone if you pressed slightly. But otherwise... there wasn't even a scar there. Or a birthmark. It was bare and, until the kiss, untouched by anyone but me. I liked it.
We spoke for hours. Still shirtless, still naive. We didn't do anything more than just talk. But it felt like so much more. Even when he asked me to describe my day - something I'd been asked everyday at the dinner table - I felt like I had to think and answer something worth listening to. Not just my usual 'good's and 'okay's. Something deeper, something that would belong only to us.
After a while, it was time to say goodbye. It was already past Kit's curfew. His parents were going to be worried.
We slipped back into our shirts and went downstairs. My parents were back home. My dad was lively, his tired eyes twinkling as he spoke to my mom. He always smiled when he spoke to my mother. Everyone did, honestly.
After Kit greeted my parents, I walked him out. Before I let him off, I grab his wrist and lean forward, hoping he'd plant another kiss on my lips.
He gives me an amused expression and then decides to kiss me on the cheek. I pout, dissatisfied. He laughs. "We've got time, Ivan. We'll continue tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" I asked. I didn't know if I was eager or disappointed. But somehow, he knew.
"Eternity is going to be a long time if you can't even wait for tomorrow," he says in a laughing tone. Smiling, he walks away. I watch him till I can't see him anymore. I stare ahead for some more time, recollecting what happened that evening. It wasn't a dream, of course it wasn't. I could still feel the spot on my torso ignite from his kiss there. I don't think I'm ever going to take a bath again.
When I turn towards the front of my house, I see my father standing against the doorframe, hands crossed. His eyes are full of rage and his mouth is curved in a disapproving frown.
Our eyes meet for a moment - just for a second, I know that this is when he started hating me. I only hoped I was wrong.
My dad walks inside the house, and I follow him. Everything's normal inside. Kat, my sister, is watching some show on the television. My mom's in the kitchen, making some blini for dinner. My dad is sitting on the head of the table, rereading the morning news.
My mom enters the dining room and starts talking to my dad in Russian. I can understand most of it. This is how it's always been. And for a moment, I think everything's back to normal. My Dad probably didn't see Kellin and I sharing that brief moment we did. Maybe I was just overthinking. Or he saw us but he didn't suspect a thing? No, my father isn't that clueless. Maybe he accepts me as who I am. Maybe he doesn't oppose it. Maybe he's OK with me liking guys.
The problem with getting your hopes up high is that everything becomes much harder when they don't go your way.
Halfway into his conversation with my mother, he stands up and pierces his eyes through mine.
"Did you do your math homework?" he asks me. His voice is cold, stern and no matter what my answer is, he'll still do what he plans to do.
His question takes me aback. My father's the kind of guy who cared if I could throw punches, run around and swing a baseball bat more than if I could count to hundred without making a mistake. He hasn't cared about my marks. Has never cared if I submit my assignments on time or not. And now he was asking me for my math homework.
"No," I mumble. I can barely hear myself. I don't think he heard me but he walks into his bedroom nonetheless.
He returns with a belt, clutched firmly in his right hand, hanging down like a whip. My sister stops the TV, staring at my dad. My mom yelps, grabbing his elbow so that he'll stop whatever he plans to do.
My father doesn't listen. His eyes are determined. "Snimi svoyu rubashku" he tells me. Remove your shirt.
My fingers tremble as I pull my shirt over my head. I look at my body. The Spot Kellin kissed me. I close my eyes as my father takes a step forward, slashing the belt against my trunk. Against the Spot.
"Papa!" my sister calls when my knees give away. My mother mutters something, again in Russian. But this time, I don't understand what it.
A few more breaths. I stand up.
"I don't want you doing anything else," he seethes. My eyes are trained downwards. He goes on."Get one thing straight: if I find you messing around or doing something wrong and utterly disgraceful, you won't be having a roof above your head."
I nod and raise up the stairs and lock myself in my bathroom. Shirt still off, I look at the Spot. My once bare stomach now has a bruise slashing against it. I know it'll fade away, but my memories won't. Memories of the first time my father belted me - I knew it wouldn't be the only time - and then memories of the evening I spent alone with Kit. No, Kellin. We can't go on like this.
My first scar and my first kiss. My first scar overshadowing my first kiss. I hate that when I ever speak about my first kiss, I'll think about my father belting me. The once sweet, joyous and innocent kiss is stained by the thoughts of my father. Bittersweet. I hate that word.
xxx
Now, still sitting with my back against the school bathroom wall, I undo my shirt. I look at my once bare torso - it's filled with multiple scars and scabs and wounds - some of them still fresh. Not all of them were given to me by my father.
The first scar my father gave me is now a faded mark. Gray and ugly. The complete opposite of the kiss Kellin gave me - vivid and beautiful.
xxx
We moved away from that town soon after the incident. Father gave us no reason, but I knew why. Kellin wasn't with me anymore. My father had thrown me out of the house. My sister was in another state, attending college. And my mother was dying.
Slipping back into my shirt, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever be loved again. Ever be accepted for who I am - with all my flaws and imperfections.
But how can I expect someone to accept me if I don't love myself in the first place?
xxx
A/N
This is a weird icky flashback chapter, I know. My editor (sister) didn't enjoy this very much but I thought Ivan's past was really important for his development in the story.
I made this chapter skippable simply because it isn't very important for the current timeline of the story. It doesn't play a big part in the later chapters and in Ivan's relationship with Hope.
Obviously, you don't have to read it, but it would be great if you did!
Thanks for reading this chapter! Also, we officially reached 10 chapters!!!