limitless.

chapter fifteen

"Is it a terrible idea?" Van Gogh mumbles, his cheek against JFK's chest as the taller boy plays with his orange hair. "For us to fall in love?" 

Kennedy stops stroking the boy's hair. "Maybe for us, it is." 

"But is that going to stop us?" 

JFK runs his fingers through Vincent's hair once again, careful around the bandage. "Not necessarily." 

A couple of seconds go by before John adds, "Let's fall in love." 

Van Gogh sighs, feeling the soft fabric of JFK's t-shirt against his cheek. He closes his eyes, feeling the sun drip through the tree branches and warm up his face. He exhales. "I think that would be okay." 

***

JFK and Vincent are walking through the forest, their picnic cleaned up. Kennedy has his arm slipped through the basket handle, and Van Gogh has the blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. They walk slowly, the babbling river water shimmering in the sunlight next to them. 

"This is really nice," JFK comments, giving Vincent a soft wash-over with his gaze. 

"It is," Van Gogh agrees, slipping his hand into John's. 

"You know what it reminds me of?" 

Vincent shakes his head. "No." 

Kennedy smiles to himself. "It reminds me of when we were in grade school, and I was super into nature habitats and stuff." 

Van Gogh giggles. "God, I totally forgot about that phase. You had, like, three terrariums in your bedroom at any given time." 

JFK laughs. "Yeah. And remember I had that pet salamander named Gertrude? But she only lasted for about a week because I didn't know how to take care of her?" 

Vincent's elbow knocks John's arm. "God, yeah, I do remember that. You gave her a heart attack or something, right?" 

"Yeah. Ponce and I kept trying to pick her up-"

"Oh. I didn't know Ponce was there." 

JFK squints down at the shorter boy, trying to assess his emotions. "Yeah... we used to hang out a lot more, remember? We were neighbours, until he got transferred to a different foster family..." 

"Oh, yeah, I think I remember you talking about him a couple times before we started middle school... But how come you never hung out with both of us together?" 

Kennedy shrugs. "I don't know. I just didn't think you would... mesh well." 

Vincent glares at the river and drops the boy's hand. "You didn't think we would mesh well? Why not? Because I'm mentally ill, and he's not?" 

"That's not what I said!" John protests, stopping and turning to Van Gogh. 

Van Gogh doesn't return the taller boy's gaze. "Because I'm a social reject, and he's popular?" 

"You're being ridiculous. You're putting words into my mouth, Van Gogh-"

Vincent's head snaps in JFK's direction. His chocolate brown eyes cut through his chest like lasers. Van Gogh? That's what he's been downgraded to? 

He rolls his eyes and puts his hand up. "You know what? Forget it. I'm sorry I ruin all your nice things, all your nice memories. I'm sorry I deplete your social status." 

"That's not true..." JFK grumbles. 

Van Gogh shakes his head. "You don't need to spare me. Isn't this what it's all about? What dating is all about? Finding our true selves, together? I know that's why you don't hang out with me at school. Because I'm like the plague for your social status. It's okay, I guess. I just don't like being your charity work. I'm sorry I took away your time with Cleopatra-"