November stretched onward like an undotted question mark once October came to an abrupt end. They didn't attend any Halloween parties, and nor did they dress up as a group. Nessa didn't leave the house at all that night, because the limitlessness of the masked people on the streets made his skin crawl. He wasn't ready for that sort of thing just yet.
He knew that Kiwi dressed up with his little sisters, but he couldn't remember exactly what costume he chose. And since Kiwi hadn't sent any photos to their group chat that Ilya had created, Nessa was too nervous to ask again. He thought that it would make him sound insensitive.
Regardless, he didn't mind the lack of eventfulness. Everything finally seemed to be reaching a plateau, and he had enough time to himself and his thoughts to try to heal from the past. It occurred to him that his old wounds had never actually become old, and that they had been fresh and bleeding for months.
It seemed that he hadn't been the only one with bleeding scars. He often found Venice in his bedroom, sometimes saying nothing at all, while other days he would talk aimlessly for hours if it meant that Nessa felt at ease. And there were still those talks that led to tears and suppressed memories resurfacing. But for every story Nessa finally spoke of, Venice had one of his own to match the tempo. It made Nessa feel like he wasn't as crazy as he had always believed. Like someone out there could find the method to his unrelenting madness.
Everyday felt more unreal than the last. Or possibly it was the complete opposite. Ilya could not seem to decide on his own, since all he could think about were two incredibly different things. On one hand, Kiwi returned his feelings and they were always spending time together. On the other, he was running on three weeks without sex.
As much as he acknowledged his love for the activity in the past, it seemed that he never fully processed just how frequently he relied on it to get by. Something that he used to indulge upon almost a nightly basis with complete strangers, had become something that he hadn't experienced at all in weeks. It was partially a liberating experience, because living without it for that long meant that it was entirely possible. However, it was also eating him alive.
Ilya did not want to have sex with Kiwi. Well... sort of.
The reality was that he did want to have sex with him more than anything, but he also knew that it was an awful idea for so many reasons.
One, Kiwi simply wasn't ready to lose his virginity yet, which Ilya could respect and understand. Two, they had only confessed their feelings a few weeks prior, which meant that there wasn't much time for either of them to fully adapt to the new relationship. And three, Ilya did not want to make Kiwi feel as though sex was something he had an obligation to participate in.
But holy fuck, Ilya could not deny the pure beauty radiating off of Kiwi as he sat on Ilya's bed with his cropped blood-red sweatshirt on. He had been skipping out on what his mom asked of him so that he could visit Ilya instead, and it was pissing her off more than anything. Ilya was beyond elated at that fact.
When Kiwi came over on that particular day, he asked if he could borrow one of Ilya's shirts. The problem was that Ilya didn't have any normal shirts, so the only option was a cropped one.
On Kiwi, it wasn't nearly as short as it would have otherwise been. That didn't stop Ilya from still drooling over the slightest hint of his midriff whenever he moved the right way. God, he had never wanted to run his hand over his warm skin as much as he did in that moment.
"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind." Kiwi said as he looked down at the shirt, tugging on it uncomfortably. "I thought it'd be longer on me than it is."
"This is even better than what I had in mind." Ilya replied, a sly smirk on his face.
Rolling his eyes, Kiwi took one of the blankets laying atop Ilya's unmade bed and draped it over his shoulders. "I should take it off."
"You should glue it to your skin. That way no one can ever take it off again." Ilya kept going, in a bit of a horny daze as he spoke.
"It makes me look..." Kiwi's face twisted into more discomfort as he tried to decide how to word it. Then he lifted his gaze to Ilya's and wrapped the blanket around himself so that he could hide way beneath it forever.
"You look so fucking handsome." Realizing just how anxious Kiwi was, Ilya sat down on the bed beside him and nudged him with his shoulder. "What's the matter?"
He didn't say anything right away, instead allowing for his gaze to wander around the bedroom. Recently adding a few new pictures to his collection — Bretman Rock in his playboy bunny costume, and seemingly all of Lizzo's modeling portfolio — it filled up his wall space even more than it already did. They were literally surrounded by porn, and Ilya couldn't have been more content with that fact. Besides, naked bodies were beautiful. He didn't keep those pictures up because they were sexual, but rather to prove the fact that no one should ever feel ashamed, or be shamed, due to their body.
"Where do you buy your shirts?" Kiwi asked, which was not what Ilya had been expecting to hear.
He furrowed his brow as he thought about it. "It depends. Women's cropped shirts barely even make it to my nipple if I'm lucky since I'm so damn tall. So I usually just buy men's shirts and crop them myself."
"Oh..." He nodded.
"If you don't feel comfortable in it, then you don't have to wear it. Don't feel obligated just because I'm right here." He told him gently, watching closely to see Kiwi's reaction.
What he didn't predict was a sniffle. Kiwi seemed to wilt in front of him, suddenly losing any hint of playfulness. "I'm sorry, it's not the shirt, it's me."
"There nothing wrong with you." Ilya pulled him in for a hug, holding him tight to his chest. He had no idea just how bad something like that would make him feel, and the guilt at the fact that he hadn't even noticed at first was buzzing around him like a fly.
"I haven't... wore something like this in so long." He mumbled, sniffling again, and Ilya knew that he was crying softly. "It feels weird."
"Shit, Craig. I didn't want to make you feel dysphoric or anything." He tightened his grip, wanting nothing more than to make him understand just how perfect he was. "Sometimes I forget that you're even trans."
"Like as if it isn't obvious." He snapped, wriggling out of Ilya's arms and pulling up the sweatshirt's hood so that he could hide his face in his knees.
"Who told you that?" Ilya quirked a brow, studying the boy he had been crushing on for what felt like forever.
"I don't need anyone to tell me for it to be true."
Ilya's simmering anger died back down once he realized that it wasn't an outside person that had convinced Kiwi he wasn't good enough, but rather his own self. At least he didn't have anyone that he needed to destroy. Instead, he got off of the bed so that he could crouch in front of him and place his hands on Kiwi's knees.
"It's not obvious, since there is no such thing." Ilya spoke slowly, waiting for Kiwi to finally lift his gaze. He didn't. "It doesn't fucking matter what point in your transition you're at, because no matter what you're still a boy. From before until after and even in the middle. There's not a single point where you're not a boy, except for maybe when you're a man. And I don't know why you think that people know you're trans, because I never would have even known had you not told me."
"You're just saying that."
"I have no reason to lie. You just naturally have a very masculine face and body. You're fairly tall, you've got that inverted triangle shape that trans masc people would kill for, and your voice isn't even high-pitched." All that he listed was true, and he couldn't understand how it was possible that Kiwi didn't see all of those things too. It seemed so blatant to him, and Ilya had never experienced something at the same caliber as dysphoria.
The closest he could compare it to was before he started to express himself through his fashion. Even though he began experimenting with his sexuality in middle school, he had yet to do the same with clothing until his freshmen year. And after that first day he put on a women's shirt and skinny jeans, he was never able to go back again. He had never felt so comfortable or confident until that moment. Unfortunately, his body never seemed to stop growing after that, and he could no longer fit into almost any women's clothes. But it was worth it for the time being. Especially when he saw the horrified looks on his parents' faces.
However, that was not the same as dysphoria. He simply enjoyed the way that feminine clothing fit his body, and the confidence that it made him feel. But it was not a necessity. Kiwi, on the other hand, had to dress a certain way or else he would spiral. Ilya had heard stories about trans people who committed suicide due to how society wanted them to look and feel. The mere notion that Kiwi could become one of them made his breath hitch and his palms start to sweat.
It didn't matter that Ilya knew that clothing had no true gender, and that a person was beautiful regardless of pronouns or identity. Society still had people wrapped in its palm, and unfortunately, all Kiwi wanted was to be seen a certain way by it.
"But my waist is small and my hips are wide and I talk with my hands and—"
"Kiwi." Ilya planted his hands on each side of Kiwi's face, forcing him to lift his eyes until they met his. He took the hood off. "Venice has a small waist and Nessa has wide hips and I talk with my hands, and I'm sure that no matter what else you have to say, there are plenty of other boys that have those same traits. None of that makes you look like a girl."
"But you spend so much time with me, so how can I be sure that you don't just—"
That was when Ilya kissed him. The kiss burned both of their lips, but Ilya refused to let go until he had conveyed the love he felt for Kiwi and his body. Kiwi didn't fight him, instead melting against him with his tears drying to his dimpled cheeks. Their lips parted, and Kiwi's irises were wide with hope and longing.
"Do you remember when you came out to me?" Ilya rested his forehead against Kiwi's, and his eyes were closed serenely.
He didn't see it, but Kiwi's face became a home for pure embarrassment. "Unfortunately."
Ilya smiled. They had known each for almost a year before Ilya even found out that Kiwi was trans. He was crying one day at school, and Ilya asked what was wrong. At first, Kiwi had avoided his questions and tried to pretend that it didn't really matter. But then he admitted the truth. He had started his period, and Emi wasn't at school to give him a tampon. So Ilya went on a mission, asking almost every girl he had slept with in the past if she had a tampon to spare. All of them were equally confused as to why he needed one, but he didn't tell them anything. Eventually, he returned with one, and Kiwi had hugged him so tight that Ilya thought his ribs broke.
"I was so baffled that I honestly didn't think you were being serious at first. There is no right way to be trans, but if your goal is to pass, then you're fucking passing." Ilya told him, finally opening his eyes and running his thumb over Kiwi's cheek.
"Thank you, Ilya." Kiwi offered a weak smile, but his tone held hope. He thought that maybe things would be okay after all.
Ilya returned with a much more confident smile. Then he quirked his brow. "And talking with your hands? Is that even a feminine thing?"
"Yes." Kiwi nodded.
"Have you seen Ian? That motherfucker only talks with his hands. Sometimes I think he might hit me with them while he's trying to formulate a thought." Ilya added, and Kiwi giggled softly. "Also, Emi and Keely almost never talk with their hands and they're both the only girls we consistently hang out with. That's a weird thing to be fixated on."
"I fixate on everything." He admitted.
"We're going to have to work on that." Ilya sighed.
"Good luck." Kiwi then stood up with the blanket still held to his body. He walked over to where he left his own sweatshirt, and then asked for Ilya to turn around while he changed back into it. Ilya complied. "Thank you for letting me try it on. I thought I could handle it, but I don't think I'm ready. Maybe one day."
"Whenever you're ready. I just want you to be happy."
Instead of letting Ilya know that he was done verbally, Kiwi walked up to him tapped his shoulder. Since Ilya had been crouching next to the bed earlier, he was now sitting on the floor. They looked at each other — Kiwi in a bright green sweatshirt with a tiny kiwi printed over his heart, which was a birthday gift from Emi a few years ago — and he sat down beside him.
"What are we?" He asked quietly, his gentle ringlets laying a bit unruly due to pulling his shirt over his head.
That was when Ilya realized that he had been thinking about something entirely different than what had been ailing himself. While he was stuck on his sex addiction, Kiwi wasn't even sure that their relationship had become official.
He grabbed both of Kiwi's hands and held them in his lap. "Do you want to be my boyfriend?"
In that moment, Kiwi was a flower with its petals open towards the light. He was a sunflower towering high as to absorb the most sunshine. "Do you really want to be my boyfriend?"
"Are you fucking serious?" Ilya laughed. "There's nothing in this world I want more."
"Really?" Kiwi's smile stretched from ear to ear, and his dimples both greeted Ilya warmly.
"Yes!" And they kissed and the moment was perfect.
Ilya had been wholeheartedly terrified of kissing Kiwi the first time. When he did it, he thought he was going to throw up all over Kiwi's stoop. But then he did it, and everything turned out just fine. He never thought that Kiwi would feel the same, but once he knew that he did, he was never going to let go of him.
They both had a long way to go, but he was prepared to make that trek together. Ilya still had to sort out his sex problem, and Kiwi had to learn some self-confidence. But he was going to be damned if he didn't figure that shit out with Kiwi at his side. That late afternoon, Kiwi stayed over for hours, and both of them had never felt so calm.