02 | FINDING PETROV
I have to disagree with everything my rival does (So when he runs away from my house, I bring him right back.)
Lex's POV
"You're kidding, right?"
My father's in front of me, tired as usual, sitting on the couch with his legs stretched beneath the coffee table. I'm standing with my arms crossed in front of him, trying not to erupt like the angry volcano I now am.
His forehead creases. "We're still talking about that?"
"What do you mean still? We've barely started! You just got Ivan Petrov home, Dad. Ivan Petrov!"
He sighs. "I don't see the problem."
"He's the captain of the fucking Wild-"
"Lex," he warns.
"Captain of the flipping Wildcats," I correct myself. "And the basketball season's just around the corner."
"So?" he asks, unconcerned.
"You're insane, Dad," I mutter. "What if someone gets to know? We'll be lynched. And it's not just his team I'm talking about."
A red German shepherd runs between my legs. That's Fred, I think. Or George. We have twin German shepherds and they are so hard to distinguish. In fact, we've got almost a dozen dogs and a cat, all of them rescued or adopted from a pet-shelter. My family adopts every homeless animal it sees. I like pets, don't get me wrong. But life would be better without some furry creature licking my feet every two seconds.
"I know you guys can be pretty... aggressive. But nothing will happen to both of you. Besides, in this house, you guys aren't Falcons or Wildcats. Ivan's just another guy who needs a roof over his head."
"You don't know that," I revoke. I can't believe my father is dismissing the fact that he's my biggest rival. The only time Petrov and I ever see eye to eye is during jump balls, and even then we're glaring at each other. "What if he's here to spy on us or something?"
His eyes grow so wide, I wonder if I told him there's life on the moon. "Have you seen that kid? He needs a place to stay and I've offered him one. You're paranoid, Lex."
"The Wildcats are quite petty, Dad. They beat Sebastian up this morning!" The Wildcats beating people up isn't new, we do it too when we have to (i.e. only when we're prompted). But they laid a finger on my brother, someone who isn't even on the team. That's simply unacceptable.
"I'm sure Ivan wasn't involved."
"You don't know that. Not for sure."
"You can't prove your point, either. Ivan's a boy, he's helpless on his own. And we're helping him." He gets off the couch and stands beside me, sizing me up. I'm an entire inch taller than him but I feel small in his presence. "Ivan is a guest and you haven't spoken a word to him. All you've done is glare at him. I haven't raised you to be this disrespectful."
My dad is the kindest person I've ever met. He's soft and hardworking and nice. But right now, he's cold. He's angry at me, how I behaved in Ivan's presence. But he won't raise his voice. He'll do his best to reason with me and he'll do it all with a flat voice. At this point, I just wish he'd scream at me with all his rage. I'd feel so much better.
"Dad," I say, my voice resembling his. Cold and unflinchingly rational. "Your guest is my enemy."
"On the court, yes. He is. But you aren't basketball players outside the court. You are students, boys, strangers. You can befriend him, it's not a crime. The greatest rivals on court are best-friends outside. I've seen you with your team, you're a good player and a better leader than anyone else your age. I'm not telling you to become Ivan's best friend, but you have no reason to hate him beyond the lines of the stadium. You've always been an advocate of sportsmanship; I don't know why you're hesitating to show some kindness to the boy upstairs."
He has a look of determination on his face. He probably looks at Ivan the way he looks at all the animals he adopted from the pet-shelter: alone and nowhere to go. "I also want you to apologize for the way you treated him earlier."
"I'm sorry, Dad," I say immediately, hoping it'll soften his mood.
"Not to me, Alexander." My father only calls me by my first name when he's unhappy with me. I can't argue anymore, the conversation is over. His words are final, I'm going to have to face my rival outside the court.
xxx
When I slide open the door of the guest bedroom, Petrov's room, I find my rival crouching on the ground with his ear pressed on the floor. He falls on his side when he hears the door click and I can't help but laugh.
He gets up on his feet, his cheeks flushed. "You should learn to knock, Hope."
"And you should learn not to eavesdrop," I respond. "How much did you hear?"
He shrugs. "Enough to know you don't want to apologize."
"I'm not going to," I scowl. "Besides, you're supposed to be the one apologizing."
"What for? Attempting to cross the road while your father almost ran over me?"
His presence is enough to make my blood boil. But now that he's talking, my veins are on the verge of exploding.
"Don't pretend you don't know," I scoff. "I'm not going to buy any of your innocence."
"What happened?" he asks. His forehead is furrowed and his voice is as sincere as I've ever heard it.
"Some Wildcats ambushed Bas earlier today when he was walking back home. You and your fellow nincompoops you should man up," I seethe. "Or at least pick a worthy guy to beat up. You're too chicken to face one of us so you'll target my brother?"
He raises his eyebrows, bewildered. "How badly is your brother injured?"
"Didn't you see him? For Christ's sake, Petrov, just look around you! Your team beats somebody up and you know nothing about it. And then Bas walks down right in front of you, with a fractured hand, and you're oblivious!"
Petrov shakes his head and mumbles something to himself. Then he faces me. "Where's your brother? I need to see him immediately."
He skips towards the door but I block him. "Not now. He's asleep and I don't trust you anywhere near him." Even if his hands weren't dirty, he was still a Wildcat. I'll always doubt him.
Petrov rips a page from his notebook. "Can I have a moment, please?"
"What are you doing?"
"Writing an apology note. Something you'll never do, I suppose."
Here's something about Petrov : despite his smugness, he actually sounds earnest. "You have a minute," I say as I step out of the room and close the door behind me. I don't know why I'm giving him a time limit. I have an awful urge to go up to him and apologize for the way I behaved when he first entered the house. My father's words run in my head: I haven't raised you to be this disrespectful. I've disappointed him and I know I was wrong.
Nobody talks about the courage it takes to say the words "I'm sorry". They're two simple words but I'm far too much of a coward to say them to Petrov. Hopefully a minute will be enough for me to muster the courage to tell those words to him.
With my back pressed against the door, I think of all the words that might express how I'm feeling without overdoing it. Â 'I'd like to apologize for the way I treated you earlier tonight. I was wrong and disrespectful and' - Yuck. That sounds like a page right out of my father's book. I shake my head and decide to go check on Petrov, only this time I knock.
I get no response. I knock again, more furiously this time. Losing my patience, I push the door open.
There's no trace of Petrov. Both his duffel bag and backpack are missing and the piece of paper he was going to write Bas's apology note on is on the empty bed. I pick it up: Runaways run away. I'll see you at the game next month.
He ran away. Jesus Christ. Dad's gonna kill me, I think. I also think: Here goes my opportunity to apologize. Livid, I race downstairs and grab my car keys from the keychain hanger.
When I reach my convertible, I find a sheet of paper on my seat, words scribbled in Petrov's handwriting: 'Your tires need some serious amount of air. You might wanna check on that.' I shove it in the dashboard and start driving. I don't really know where to go, I'm trying to look for someone without a trail. The roads are deserted so when I spot a black cab with a single passenger, I don't miss the opportunity. Hoping Petrov's in there, I follow it.
The cab stops in front of the only place in the street that's still got its lights on: a bar. The passenger (I don't know if it's Petrov, all I can see is a blurry silhouette ) pays the cabbie and enters the bar.
I park my convertible and follow suit. There aren't a lot of people inside and no one's sober. I grab a plate of chicken wings and take a seat on the table.
I look around for Petrov, he seems to have vanished again. I'm more than halfway through my plate of food when I hear a familiar voice. I can't recognize who it's coming from, but I know I've heard it before. It's coming from a guy, wearing a black t-shirt and loose blue jeans, talking to a bartender. His physique is similar to Petrov's, but I haven't seen his face yet so I can't be sure.
Him: How long will this bar stay open?
Bartender: Last call is at two. Not much longer.
Him: What happens to these guys? If they're too drunk?
Bartender: They get an Uber ride home. And if some people are too stubborn to vacate, we just throw them out.
Him: Right.
He turns away to leave but the bartender grabs his wrist and pulls him towards him. He mutters something I can't hear which causes the boy to smirk. The bartender leans forward, closing the gap between them, and kisses the boy. The boy responds. I want to look away but I can't. These guys are two strangers - two male strangers kissing in a bar. I've never seen two guys kiss so openly before.
They pull apart. The bartender whispers something else. The boy opens his mouth to reply but his eyes meet mine. Ivan Petrov, confirmed. I couldn't recognize him until I saw his brown eyes - they're hard to forget.
He pushes the bartender away and glares at me. He knows who I am despite the fact that half my face is covered by a hood. There's fear behind those wild eyes of his. I'm his worst enemy and I know his deepest secret.
The bartender grabs his wrist. Petrov pulls his hand away. "No one knows, okay? Whatever just happened didn't happen." He says it loud enough for me to hear it. His words are directed to me as much as they're directed to the horny bartender. Pushing the bartender away, Petrov leaves the bar. I finish my snack and go after him.
I drive slowly, scanning my surroundings. Even though Petrov was walking, he's far ahead of me. I come to a stop next to a sidewalk bench. Someone's sleeping on it. It's hard not to recognize him - same faded black t-shirt, same loose jeans. Ivan Petrov is sleeping on a sidewalk.
I pull the brakes and walk up to him. He's wide awake. When he sees me he says, "I think we've had enough encounters for one day, Hope."
"What are you doing here?"
A small backpack's lying on his chest. His hands are behind his head. "Stargazing."
Yeah right. "Why did you run away?" I go straight to the point.
He turns to face me. "My father kicked me out of the house."
"Why?" I ask. He looks at me like I'm the stupidest person on the planet. I remember what happened in the bar. He's gay and his father's homophobic.
"Leave, Hope." He's trying to sound angry but all I hear is desperateness.
"I'm not leaving, Petrov. Why did you run away from my place? Why run away again?"
He gives me another condescending stare. "Take a wild guess. Maybe because, I don't know, I happen to play for the very team you've spent years trying to beat?"
I sigh. "Really, Petrov? My house isn't the basketball court."
"Touché," he says, sitting up now. "Exactly why we can't be seen together. Also, the bed's broken."
"What?!"
"And you say I'm oblivious to my surroundings! Your goddamn house, Hope. The wood is cracked in the middle, on the verge of collapsing. And the room's really dusty. I'm not really this picky, Hope, but I also happen to be allergic to dust."
"That used to be the storage room," I mutter. "We'll work that out," I speak, louder this time. "Besides, look at the options you have. You have nowhere to go, your father's homophobic and your mom - she's sick, right?"
He looks at me with scrutiny. "How do you know that?"
"My Dad works in the same wing. The doctor looking after her is on maternity leave, so he's covering her shifts. Come home, Petrov. Just one night, at least. And then we'll find you a place to stay. We'll see each other only at games after that, just like your note said."
He has a hard look on his face. "I don't need you doing favors for me. You're a Falcon."
"I am," I agree. "But I saw you at the bar, and I know your team's going to react the same way your father did if they saw what I saw."
"Well, they don't need to know, do they?" He pauses and his eyes go wide with realization. "You're blackmailing me?"
"I'm only giving you a roof over your head. And a ride. Come back."
He looks at me for a long time. He's thinking about it, that's progress.
"Please," I say.
"Even your father was more convincing," he mutters and walks up to my car, taking a seat in the passenger seat. I get into the car, buckle up my seat belt and start the engine. "Thanks," I say.
"I didn't have much of a choice." He hears the music that's playing on my music system and turns on the radio. I switch it back to rap music. I increase the volume, it gets on his nerves. He turns on the radio. We do this half a million times. Finally, I say "Driver's choice," and play the music of my choice.
He snorts. "How do you listen to this bullshit? The lyrics have no connection to the music. The radio's better than this."
"Rap's way more energetic," I say. "More positive than rock lyrics. It's like a double-bladed weapon. Rap's like a pair of scissors, you know. Itâ"
"That's why it always loses to rock."
I sigh. "On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate rap music?" I ask. "One being you love it as much as rock and ten being you'd ban it from the world if you could."
"Six," he says after a thought.
"And how much do you hate me?"
He doesn't miss a beat. "Eleven."
xxx
"Stop the car."
I just took a sharp curve around a coffee shop and the car practically skidded. I got it back in control, of course, but Petrov is looking at me like I committed a crime.
"I said stop. The. Car."
I do as he tells me. Petrov gets out of the car and crouches in front of the tire. He squeezes it with his fingers and looks up at me. "I told you to fill some air in them."
"You wrote a note! A bloody note! How was I supposed to do anything in the middle of the night?"
"There's a 24/7 gas station just down your lane. You could've filled your tires before chasing me like a wild goose."
I roll my eyes. "What happened?"
"Your tires are under-inflated. They need air," he says. "But this one, it's practically flat. You'll have to change it."
I check my phone. "The closest gas station is a couple of miles from here. But I don't know if it'll be open at two in the morning."
Sighing, Ivan opens the trunk of my car. He gets the spare tire out along with the car kit. I turn on the flashlight of my phone and direct it towards him as he replaces the flat tire. He uses the tools like an expert and replaces my tire in, like, fifteen minutes. Even the local car mechanic takes more time to do that.
I help him put the tools and the flat tire back in my car.
"Your car will last this journey, but fill all your tires with air. And fix the flat one. Don't delay it," he warns me.
"Right." I know better than to take his warnings lightly. "That was pretty fast, though." I can't believe I'm complimenting a Wildcat. "Thanks."
He shrugs. "I work in an auto-repair store." He dusts his pants. "I'm driving," he says. "That passenger seat smells like perfume, the kind only women wear." He flicks the car-keys from my hand. "And so do you."
Grinning stupidly, I sit on the passenger seat. As soon as he starts driving, he changes the music from soft rap to a radio station that only plays rock music. I'm about to protest but he looks at me smugly and says, "Driver's choice."
xxx
A/N
MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE just released a song after 8 years of silence, how can I not release a chapter!!
That was one long chapter... What are your thoughts about it? And where do you think Ivan's going to continue living, now that the guest room has a broken bed?
Sleep tight, you guys! (If you don't have a broken bed to be worried about LOL)
I'll be busy streaming the new single...
Ahh I love Tumblr!
Also, there's a rumor that MCR might release an album in the next couple of day?! I honestly can't-
Also, Important Announcement:
You guys will be getting DAILY UPDATES of Living With Hope, starting TODAY. So stay tuned for tomorrow:))