mitsubishievo | O, daĭ mi lyubovta [for Jack]

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O, daĭ mi lyubovta [for Jack]

Kavinsky gave himself a week. He gave himself a week of distance and focusing on other things, and he was going to get over this stupid infatuation. The knowledge that Jack liked someone else was almost settling, really. It helped to keep the onus of his behavior on himself. Jack was a good kid, and he deserved to have some comfort, and if that meant he explored himself a little bit, then more power to him.

And, well, Kavinsky knew that rough sort of liking someone and being unsure how they felt. At least Poison seemed a relatively safe sort to have a crush on, as far as first queer crashes went. Kavinsky couldn't blame Jack for that, at least.

So, he gave it a week. A week, and then he'd be over this stupid infatuation.

God, he hoped so.

He texted Jack in anticipation of harassing him at his apartment--deliberately not thinking about Chelsea Cloisters, his history with the building, with people who had lived here once, with things he had done here--a simple im coming over and u cant stop me approximately five minutes before he arrived at Jack's door and knocked, sharp and succinct.

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Kavinsky shrugged, trying to pinpoint what it was about porn that just didn't do it for him. He liked watching it with someone--as long as there were no girls in the scene--and he didn't mind watching it to laugh at because, frankly, porn was fucking ridiculous. But he didn't seek it out. He had dreamt himself skin magazines, time and again, hoping for something. But nothing there, either.

"I'm defective," he settled on after a moment's thought, and then laughed and shrugged. "I don't really...anything, left to my own devices. Like, I think about that shit all the time, I have since I hit puberty. I just...need a hell of some motivation to jumpstart."

"Don't say that," says Jack, his nose wrinkling it distaste at the term that Kavinsky uses. "I...watch porn? A reasonable amount I guess? Nothing misogynistic and shit." He shakes his head. "Motivation? Like...being with someone?" He shrugs. "Poison was my first so I've figured a lot of shit out on my own, I guess."

"Newt watches porn. I have watched porn. I've got nothing against it." He shrugged vaguely. Explaining things was strange, when it came to this. He didn't know quite how to articulate it, like there was something his mind was purposefully avoiding thinking about. But he wasn't entirely sure what. He knew, entirely, all his past and all his mess about sex. "And yeah. I mean, being with someone. It used to not be, I could do it with whoever. I did. It was always a secret, but I've been fucking around since I was barely fourteen. Handjobs and blowjobs and getting fucked. But I don't get turned on by myself. Practical, rather than theoretical."

Jack's pretty sure that he's never had a conversation with anyone quite like this one. Just Jillie, maybe. They'd occasionally talked about these things. He wishes that he could visit Jillie, tell her about Poison.

"Part of me wishes I had more context, you know? Like, it's so difficult to separate what I'm feeling from the fact that it's him."

"Yeah, I know what that's like." Not just with Newt and Al, but Kavinsky had felt miserably overwhelmed by Prokopenko, and by the businessman in DC, and by Connor Walsh. Sometimes, so many times, sex was just sex and it was easy to remove himself from anything else there. But he shrugged just a little bit. "There's nothing wrong with a lack of context, dude. It's probably healthier for you or something. The shrink I went to, years ago, said it was weird that I started fucking at fourteen."

"Yeah, but feeling this about someone else would have been helpful," says Jack, rolling his eyes. "I had the start of it was Bex, but it wasn't driving me crazy yet, not like this. Sienna was just..." He shrugs. "That was a mistake. A fun mistake. But."

"Maybe you're just gay," Kavinsky said with a casual, sort of bored shrug. He looked at Jack, and then down, then back to Jack again. "I tried fooling around with girls. Lots of gays manage it a while. Lots of gays manage it forever. But maybe, ya know. Sexual awakening and shit. Maybe you're not bi--maybe you're just gay."

"Yeah, I don't think so?" says Jack, shrugging. It's not that the thought bothers him - far from it. It just doesn't feel like a truth. "Don't feel that about myself. Bi, yeah, I could see that. Not gay."

Kavinsky smiled a little bit. It was a vague, wishful thing. As much as he and Peter joked about they didn't know straight people, what Kavinsky was finding more and more was that he didn't know gay people, either. A small, single-handed count, a knot of people that Kavinsky could hardly speak to, because none of them had gone through things he had, or he didn't trust, or didn't like him enough for him to be open hearted.

What a curious thing. He'd always been terrified of being out, of what it would mean. Now he lived in a place where it seemed like it was more rare to be straight than queer of some variety, but he still felt like an outlier, because he couldn't get it up for women.

Kavinsky smiles but Jack still feels, inexplicably, like he's done something wrong. He drowns a little, fussing with his hair.

"What?"

"Nothing, man," Kavinsky said, his smile still in place and a laugh chasing after his words. How would he even have explained that? There was no explaining that. So he didn't even try. He smiled a little bit. "Some day, I'm gonna get one of you bisexuals to explain what's so great about ladies, because I don't get it. And I've been one now. Thanks Darrow."

"I mean, maybe it's just a person by person thing," says Jack with a shrug. "I'm just into...people? Like Bex was like...lighting or something. I don't even know how I'd describe Poison. But I'm not entirely sure it's down to biology."

"Okay but there is still definitely a biology thing going on there, man," Kavinsky objected gently. He tapped his fingers lightly on his knee, in time with the music on the television, and he smiled softly. "Like, I've gotten better about being cool about ladies and whatever, but I still am not into...vaginas."

"I mean, my experience with...that...is pretty strictly theoretical, if I'm honest?" says Jack, eyebrows raised. "But, like, I'm not complaining about loving close-ups in porn or whatever." He flushes, one again questioning why the hell he's talking about this. "But, like...his..." He stumbles. "Body? Way more into that than I anticipated?"

Kavinsky laughed, managing to keep any bitterness out of the noise. It was just expressive and loud and boyish. He smiled, rolled his eyes. "No, man, I know why I'm into dudes. Like, on the purely physical, biological level. Dicks might be kinda funny looking, but they're great. But I have tried the lady train. Guess who's never getting on that again?" He jerked a thumb at himself.

"Yeah, but..." He shrugs. "I'd, you know. Never thought about it before. Until he was in my apartment and then..." He pushes one hand back through his hair. "All I can think about."

"It took you all the way back to your place before you decided if you were into him or not?" Kavinsky grinned at that. He didn't think he'd ever taken that long to settle on if he was into a dick or not. Then again, he had a bit of distance from the first time he'd figured out he was into one.

"I mean, there are worse things to think about, dude." He shrugged, looking at the space between his and Jack's knees. "But I think space'd be good for you."

"Yeah," says Jack, nodding. He glances at his phone. There's two texts from Poison. His jaw clenches slightly. "I'm...yeah. I think I need to not see him for a few days."

Kavinsky wanted noted, but didn't say, that he was not encouraging full radio silence. Just a respectful, healthy distance to think about what had happened the night before. But if he was honest--and he rather liked to be, despite what everyone thought--it was exactly what he'd done with Newt. Minus instantly diving into a bottle of alcohol and as many pills as he could stand.

"Watch my dumb European singing show," Kavinsky said, snatching up Jack's phone and holding onto it himself so that Jack couldn't sneak a glance at it. "Do you have--fuck, I dunno. Questions or shit? I am mostly a good field of that shit, I have a lot of experience. Like. A lot."

"I mean, not that I can think of?" says Jack, watching the show idly for a moment. He leans forward to pour himself a little more tea. He thinks about it. "I think I'm going to need way, way more practice if I'm ever going to be able to suck dick in a way that's...in any way approaching proficient."

"I mean, I didn't mean necessarily now. Just, like. In general. If it comes up and shit." Kavinsky shrugged. He hadn't had someone more sexually experienced than him--except some of the older guys he'd fooled around with--who could answer his fumbling questions. It probably would have helped.

"Shit takes practice," Kavinsky said with a nod. "I...have had a lot of practice."

"I appreciate that," says Jack, and he means that genuinely. He smiles a little, ducking his head. "I mean, I didn't completely screw it up or anything, but yeah. More practice needed if I'm going to make it a regular thing." He blushes. "Feels...kind of weird."

Kavinsky laughed, and wondered, firstly, what Jack supposed having a dick in your mouth was supposed to feel like, and secondly, what completely screwing up a blowjob would have even entailed in the first place. Kavinsky had been sucking dick since he was fourteen and he didn't even know what completely screwing up a blowjob would entail.

"Someone once told me to practice on bananas but, man? Do not practice on bananas." Kavinsky sort of giggled about it, though, shaking his head.

"Jesus," says Jack, momentarily completely and utterly mortified. "Yeah, I am absolutely and completely not practicing on a banana." He sighs. "I miss my sister."

Kavinsky laughed again, his smile soft and slow. He nodded after a moment. "Yeah, me too. But--I never would have been talking to her about this shit. The fact I had a boyfriend--boyfriends--sure. But none of this. She's way younger than me and shit."

He leaned his head back. "You haven't told me much about your sister. Like. You don't need to, or whatever. But..."

He'd like to know. Selfishly. Even knowing he probably wouldn't be the only one to know those things about Jack, he'd like to know them.

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