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 made a face at Jack's half voiced concern, munching a cracker noisily between sips of tea. He let Jack stew for a second, not sure if there was an actual call for advice there, or if Jack just needed to get the words out into the universe.

Finally, he leaned back. He let out a gusty sigh. "I mean. Take some time to think about it? Fucking around for the first time can be kind of intense for some people, so--and if he's your first person, let alone your first guy? My man, just. Just let yourself chill for a second. Breathe and whatever."

"Yeah. I need to not see him for a few days." He huffs a laugh, shakes his head. "Part of me is terrified it's going to end up a one time thing."

"So, if it does, then you got to have some apparently awesome sex--based on how you're acting--with a pretty cool guy. That doesn't seem too awful, man." Kavinsky reached over and knocked Jack gently in the shoulder, offering him a consolatory smile.

Then, chest tight with terror to say it, he laughed and said, "I have the stupidest--the absolutely stupidest crush on you, dude. Okay? That is going to go absolutely negative places so there was no point in telling you that. Just. It is entirely possible to like someone and do jack all about it."

He looked down at his tea. "Hopefully shit works out for you and Poison. Watch the dumb singing show."

Jack blinks.

"You..." He frowns. "On me?" He blushes a little. "I mean, that's cool, man? That's fine. You and your boys you...live together, right? It's a thing?" He takes a sip of his tea. "Maybe I want to do something about it? But like...it's like trying to predict a freaking firework."

"Yeah, we live together," Kavinsky said, feeling safer about that then about talking about his sexual history or about his emotional confusion. He set the box of crackers aside before he ate the whole thing. "Newt and Al were sort of a package deal, but still had their own places, and I was living in my warehouse in late November and early December after the landlord at Candlewood kicked me out."

He was quiet a moment, then laughed softly. "Fireworks are pretty predictable, man."

"Not if you don't know what direction they're going to go in," he points out. "I'm. It's so hard to predict what he's going to do." He sighs. "I thought I was being really subtle, too, and then he called me on it last night."

"Sometimes it's hard to be subtle," he said, shrugging. He fidgeted a moment, then smiled, leaning back in the sofa. "I came back from hanging out with you last week and Newt called me on my crush like. Bam. But he's been around me since early November, except for a couple weeks in there. He's starting to learn me pretty well."

"I was doing really, really okay," protests Jack, laughing at himself for a moment. "But then he like, draped himself all over me while we dancing, said he was running interference and..." He shrugs.

Kavinsky tilted back his head and laughed. He was pretty sure he'd played that exact same ploy on at least a half dozen guys himself, and they were ones that weren't likely to reciprocate anything in the first place.

"Yeah, it's a little hard to be subtle when you're shoulders to hip with someone you wanna know biblically, ain't it?"

"Super hard," he says and then the phrasing made him blush and he scrubs his cheek with the back of his head. "And then, yeah. Club bathroom." He frowns. "Is talking to you about this super shitty, given context?"

"You mean the context of we're not talking about it because it's never gonna happen because you're not into me like that and I'm trying to be a better person than I have previously been?" Kavinsky kept his eyes trained carefully on the television, fixated by performances that reminded him of something like home.

Candidly, he said, "I cheated on my boys, back in December. The same guy. Three times, but they only found out about once. They only know about once, at New Years. So, like. The whole crush thing is sorta messing me up, actually? Listening to you talk about sex is definitely not the problem here."

"Wow, okay," says Jack, leaning back in his chair. "So what's that like? Having them know but not all of it?"

"It sucks?" Kavinsky carded his fingers back through his hair. Then, he huffed a noise that might have thought about being laughter for a moment. "They get bits and pieces of a lot of things I've done, but I don't think--like, for all that they had pretty messed up times growing up, it was a different sort of thing?"

He was quiet a moment and then shrugged. "I've never actually really told anyone about the kid that held my head in the sink while I was high. Like, I sorta did, one time with Newt? I was washing dishes in his kitchen and he got handsy and I asked if he was gonna stick my head in the sink, because I'm not into that, and he just--didn't ask about it. They don't ask about a lot of stuff, and I don't really volunteer it."

"Do you ever want them to?" asks Jack, finishing his tea and leaning in to pour a little more. He draws his legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch. "You ever want them to ask just so you can get it all out in the air?"

This had become about him. He looked over at Jack, finished his tea, and poured himself some more. It would be better with whiskey or tequila or vodka or something in it. Or if it was just whiskey or tequila or something.

"Maybe," he said and shrugged. "I mean, there's just some shit that--it's not really dinner conversation, I guess? It's easier to bring up with someone you're not fucking? I dunno."

"You can tell me," says Jack, grateful, honestly, for something else to focus on. "And I'll tell you about how fucked up I am about enjoying last night as much as I did?"

Kavinsky huffed out a breath, tilting his head back and looking up at the ceiling. He was still and quiet a moment. He wanted to force Jack to go first, to tell him what it was about last night that had him all fucked up.

Instead, he said to the ceiling, "The guy I cheated with lived in this building. I didn't know until the second time we hooked up. He was locked out of his place and I was coming over to see Al--he lived here too--and I unlocked his door, and he paid me in beer and dick."

"He sounds like a really nice guy," says Jack, eyebrows raised as he looks at Kavinsky over the rim of his tea-cup. Once again, he feels a little bit grateful that Poison isn't an asshole. "So that was number two? And the third time was New Year's Eve?"

Kavinsky nodded. He turned the fidget on his ring absentmindedly, as much to deal with his constant nervous energy as it was a reminder that it was there.

"I was so freaked out about being in love with them. With Newt, I didn't realize about Al at that point. I was--everything goes to shit with me anyway. I'd never dated anyone before. And here I was, living with someone. Madly in love with him. Having spectacular sex."

He was quiet a second. "So, first time, I sucked this guy's dick at a club. And second time was after I got him back into his apartment. And third time, I...wandered off on New Years Eve and went home with him, and then came home the next day."

"But it clearly worked out. Because you live with them now." Jack thinks about it for a moment. "Having a crush on me must be terrifying." He flashes a vague smile. "Especially when I told you I was starting to think I might be bi."

"Yeah, I mean. I lived in my warehouse and on people's couches for like a week." Kavinsky shrugged. "But, uh. We figured it out. I apologized. A lot. We don't really talk about it. Me coming home from seeing you at the Zen Center and Newt pointing out that I had a crush, that was like, probably the first time the whole fiasco really got brought up since it happened."

He looked at Jack quietly a second, trying to gauge the worth of honesty in this situation.

"It's rough, man. But, I mean, it's not more or less rough because of your sexuality. I've slept with loads of straight guys." He snorted. "Heh, loads."

Jack huffs a laugh, flustered by that for some reason. "Not so straight apparently, huh?" he says, rubbing the pad of his thumb between his eyebrows for a moment. "Pretty thorough and categorically debunked that."

Kavinsky shrugged. "I mean, tell that to most of the guys I went to school with? The amount of queer shit going on, and they were all straight as hell, or at least said they were. I don't think it really matters most times? So, you caught queer in Darrow. Big whoop, join the fuckin' club, I guess. It's probably in the water."

He smirked a little, leaning over to smack Jack's knee briefly, before he retreated back to his corner.

That makes Jack laugh, which feels good, actually - the way it releases all of the tension that he's been holding in his chest. He shakes his head a little.

"I mean, I blame him?" he says. "You've met him."

"Oh, you should definitely blame him too, man. Totally his fault." Kavinsky grinned at that, shrugging nonchalantly. He hummed a little. "So, here's the timeline of your night that I'm getting. Show up for totally-not-a-date-at-a-club, dancing, dancing too close, blowjob in a bathroom apparently, then back here? Was there more blowjobs? Was there only blowjobs? My first three sexual encounters were exclusively handjobs, man, but I was like fourteen."

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