Chapter 4 - Figure You Out
“I hate to break it to you, Vic, but I think he might just be playing with you.”
It’s late, and Mike and I are sitting out on the couch in the living room, neither of us tired yet. I’ve just finished telling him everything—minus the part about jerking off—in the hopes that he could help me figure things out, and this is the conclusion that he seems to have drawn about Kellin.
"What makes you say he’s playing with me?" I ask, acting dumb. I know what evidence he has, but I don’t really want to believe it.
"Come on," he says. "At school he completely ignores you, but outside of school, he’s your best friend? And Tony told me about the way he flirted with that guy at the party. I know they didn’t actually have sex, but do you really think it hasn’t led to that a hundred times before? I mean, even if he has boyfriends, how do you think he keeps a guy around for longer than a week with the things he does? The other people he’s fucking?"
"Maybe he doesn’t do that when he’s in a relationship," I reply. "Have a lot of sex, I mean. Maybe that’s just something he likes to do while he’s single."
Mike raises an eyebrow. “And you’re going to accept that having sex with someone new almost every night is just something he likes to do?”
I shrug, biting my lip. I’ll admit that it makes me a bit uncomfortable, how much time he devotes to sex. Is there even room for anything else with people, or is that the only thing he cares about?
Mike sighs. “I’m sorry, really I am, but I think Kellin’s a slut, and it looks like he’s taking you as a challenge.” He shakes his head. “Fuck. This is my fault, isn’t it?”
"No, it’s not," I say, the word slut still ringing in the back of my mind. “Something would’ve happened eventually. I would’ve found out somehow.”
"Yeah, but now he’s interested in you."
Suddenly, I remember something that Frank said earlier. “Strippers hardly ever date their clients,” I blurt.
Mike narrows his eyes. “What?”
"Strippers. They hardly ever date their clients," I say. "The people that they meet while they’re doing their job, the people they’ve danced for. Which means that if he’s interested in me, it’s not because of what happened on Friday. It means he was interested in me before that."
He nods slowly. “How long will that interest last, though? I’m not trying to be the devil’s advocate or anything like that, I swear. I’m just worried, I guess. About…y’know.”
I stand up from the couch, pushing away the thoughts of what he’s worried about. “Well, let’s just see what happens,” I say dismissively. “I’m gonna try not to think too much about it.”
I mean, we both know that I’m going to end up thinking too much about it anyway, but at least we can believe that I’m trying not to.
—
Again, Kellin is completely silent at school the next day. I notice a couple of kids pointing at him and whispering before first period, but he just ducks his head and rushes away. I don’t know if he’s trying to ignore me or if he just doesn’t see me when I’m motioning for him to come over, but it’s getting frustrating, because I kind of want to talk to him. I kind of want to ask him where we stand, where he wants us to stand, because I’m not really sure of either of those things myself.
I can’t seem to find him when the dismissal bell rings, though. He’s somewhere in the sea of people, but he always tends to be one of the very last people out of the building, so I guess I’m just going to have to wait if I want to talk to him.
As I’m waiting, though, I start to think that maybe I don’t want to talk to him. Or maybe I do. I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about any of this, and Mike’s suspicions are just making it even harder to come to a conclusion. Jesus Christ, it all seems so tedious. It feels like I should be able to just say with absolute certainty whether I’m into him or not, whether I approve of him or not, whether I’m willing to take a risk with him or not. I kind of want to just grab myself by the shoulders and shake myself, screaming, “Make up your fucking mind, Vic!”
Just as I’m starting to walk away from the school and its mostly empty parking lot, Kellin’s voice calls out, “Hey, Vic, hold up!”
I turn around, and there he is, quickly walking toward me. I step back to the spot where I was waiting, against the side of the building. That’s the moment that Kellin catches up to me, staring at me for a long moment before smiling lazily. “You’re really pretty,” he says slowly. “You know that?”
I narrow my eyes. Something about him seems a bit off. “I, um…”
Kellin takes a step toward me, giggling a little. “Your lips,” he says, eyes half-closed. “I’m going to kiss them.”
I don’t have the time to process what he’s just said, because then he leans forward, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against mine. For a few moments, I’m stunned, but then I find myself kissing back, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him closer to me. He wraps his own arms around my neck, threading his fingers into my hair as we kiss, surprisingly gently. His lips are so soft, but there’s a hint of a strange taste in his mouth, a taste I know all too well.
Letting go of him, I pull away slightly, looking him over before meeting his bloodshot eyes. “Are you high?”
Kellin pulls away, shrugging and leaning against the wall. “Maybe a little. But it’s no big deal.” He laughs a little, even though there’s nothing funny. “It’s whatever.”
That hits me hard, the sight of him like this. It hits me hard enough for me to make a decision: I don’t want to be with someone like this. He’s the type of person I’ve been trying to avoid.
"Kellin…" I start, but I don’t know where to go from there. What do I say? How do I say it?
"Well, I should be getting home," Kellin says, standing and nudging me as he walks past me. "See ya."
I can’t help but stare after him, still trying to process the feeling of his lips moving against mine. It feels weird, because this is what I’ve wanted for so long, but now that I have it, I don’t even want it anymore. I mean, I kind of do, in a way, but I’m deluding myself. I’ve wanted a kiss from the quiet Kellin, the innocent one, but it seems that he doesn’t really exist, so it looks like I have to let him go. I don’t want the Kellin who takes his clothes off for a living, who likes to give me something he knows I want and then leave me hanging. I don’t want the Kellin who toys with people like that.
But I’ll admit that he’s a pretty damn good kisser, even when he’s high.
—
I don’t tell Mike the details of what happened, instead offering a simple “I think it’s all over between Kellin and I.” Mike raises his eyebrows at that, asking for elaboration, but when I don’t give it to him, he just shrugs and walks away. He knows when I don’t want to talk too much about something.
At around dinnertime, he and I agree on ordering pizza. I call the place—which, by the way, doesn’t deliver—and after hanging up, I tell him, “You’re gonna be picking up this bitch.”
Mike snorts. “Ha! No.”
I roll my eyes, holding my hand out in a fist. Without question, Mike does, too—nothing like settling debates with some good, old-fashioned Rock, Paper, Scissors. I choose scissors, which Mike beats with his rock. Damn him.
"I believe you’re picking the pizza up," he states, smirking.
I roll my eyes again. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
After about twenty minutes or so, I hop in the car and drive into the city, where everything is. I pick up the pizza with no problem, but as I’m driving back down the city streets, I happen to look over to my side, which is when I see something. Well, someone.
Kellin is sitting down with his back against the wall, wiping at his eyes. It’s dark out, but I can still see how flushed and worked up he is, the way his chest quickly rises and falls as he covers his face with his hands. He’s completely alone, and if there are any other people who see him crying, it looks like they don’t really care.
Before I know it, I’m pulling the car over, and Kellin glances up, surprised. Leaning over and opening up the passenger side door, I call out, “It’s okay, it’s me.”
After a few moments, Kellin reluctantly stands up, heading over to me. I grab the pizza and put it in the back so that he can climb in and sit down, and once he does that, he closes the door and turns to me. “Why…” His voice is cracked and watery. “Why a-are you…?”
I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt to see him like this. In fact, it hurts like hell, and I can’t help but reach my hand out to brush a few of the tears away. Right now, nothing else matters except for the fact that he’s upset. I can deny it all I want, but the reality is that I want to kill the person who made him cry.
"Because," I say softly, in response to his question. "It looked like you needed it."
Kellin just nods. “Where are we going?”
"I’m taking you home," I tell him. "Where’s your house?"
He wipes at his eyes some more. “It’s not very far,” he says, then proceeds to give me some fairly simple directions. I nod, and then I’m back on the road.
After a few moments of neither of us saying anything, the only noise being the sounds of the city and Kellin’s soft sniffling, I can’t help but ask, “So what happened?”
Kellin doesn’t say anything for a while, but just when I think that he’s not going to answer, he sniffles a little bit more and says, “Dad’s leaving. My fault.”
I take a quick glance at him, noting the sadness in his expression. “How is it your fault?”
"He doesn’t approve of…me." His voice cracks, and for the first time, I notice his words slurring. "He says he doesn’t care what happens; either I stop doing what I’m doing, or he leaves me and my mom. I didn’t stop, and Mom didn’t make me stop, a-and he tried to make me stop, but I snuck out and Mom let me, and when he found out he said he refuses to support a fuck-up like me or a ‘stupid bitch’ like my mom—that’s what he called her—and now he’s leaving."
I reach over and grab his shaking hand, holding onto it tightly and comfortingly. I hate seeing him so worked up. “Hey,” I say softly. “It’s not your fault, okay?”
"How is it not my fault?" he says. "It is. If it weren’t for me, my parents would still be happily married. God, I ruined their fucking marriage.”
"You didn’t." There’s a pain in my chest from hearing him talk about himself this way. "It’s your dad’s fault if he can’t accept you the way you are." I can’t help but think that I’m talking about myself, too.
"He shouldn’t have to deal with someone like me," Kellin says. "He didn’t sign up for this."
At that, I pull the car over again, suddenly angry. Tilting his face toward me and looking right into his eyes, I say, “Yes, he did. When you decide to be a parent, you’ve gotta be ready for anything. As long as it’s not hurting someone, your parents are supposed to accept what you do, and they’re supposed to love you and respect you and take care of you. They’re supposed to not abandon you. They’re supposed to be ready to accept their kid if that kid turns out to be gay or trans or an atheist or God knows what else. So it’s not the kid’s fault if they were raised by people who weren’t ready for that.”
I’m just as surprised as Kellin is by my outburst, and honestly, I’m not quite sure where it came from. Most of it isn’t even about me—my parents have never really disapproved of me or Mike. It’s just that I’m angry, angry at Kellin’s father for making him feel this way.
Kellin just nods again, and for a few moments, we’re both silent. Then I ask, “What were you doing out anyways?”
Kellin bites his lip. “Trying to get drunk.”
Now that he says it, I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before. I guess I just thought the signs had more to do with the fact that he was crying. But with the disorientation, the slurring words, the bloodshot eyes, the honest way he talks…it’s clear now that he’s at least somewhat drunk.
I don’t know what to say, but Kellin doesn’t seem to, either, so for the rest of the short ride, we just sit in a tense silence punctuated by the leftovers of his little breakdown. Then I find myself nearing a small, unfamiliar house, which Kellin states is his.
"Thank you," he says softly as he climbs out of the car. "Really."
"No problem," I reply, watching him as he makes his way slightly unsteadily up to the front door and stumbles a little on his way in. Even after he disappears, I can’t bring myself to leave until I know for sure that he’s okay. So, with my natural curiosity getting the best of me yet again, I shut the car off and hop out, hiding in the shadows of the outer wall on the right side of the house. I feel weird doing this—Vic the Stalker strikes again—but if his parents are disagreeing, or even arguing, then I want to be around to make sure things don’t get bad or something. To be honest, I have no idea what his family is like. All I know is what he just told me, and considering that his dad doesn’t exactly seem like the kindest person, I think I have the right to be mildly concerned.
Or maybe I’m just paranoid that something bad is going to happen.
It’s only a few moments before the yelling starts up with a man’s loud, thunderous “Kellin!”
Not everything else is as clear, but I can hear Kellin’s voice, shortly followed by a woman’s. His dad is obviously pissed, and Kellin seems to be arguing right back, while his mom sounds…I don’t know, defensive? Yeah, that’s it.
Whatever it is that they’re saying, it doesn’t sound pretty, and after only a few minutes, angry footsteps pound down the hallway of the one-story house. I can still hear Kellin’s parents talking, a bit quieter now, so it must’ve been Kellin who abandoned the conversation.
Sure enough, a light flicks on in the window right next to me, and when I turn around, I see a figure through the window. Now I can see that, yes, it is Kellin, pacing back and forth in what looks like a small bedroom, all flushed and upset as he wipes a few more tears away. I knock on the window to get his attention.
He jumps a little and looks my way, then heads over and opens the window up. He narrows his eyes. “Vic?”
I do a little wave, suddenly realizing just how weird this is. “Um…yeah. Hi.”
He quirks his lips up a little, pushing aside the tension of what just happened. “Are you stalking me?”
"Um…" I can’t exactly claim that this isn’t what it looks like because, yeah, it’s pretty much exactly what it looks like. "I wanted to check to make sure you were okay," I say truthfully. "I mean, I don’t know what I thought would happen, but…I don’t know." I shrug awkwardly.
Kellin’s smile gets a bit wider. “Some people might take that as creepy,” he says. “But believe me, I’ve dealt with way creepier. You’re sweet. I like you.”
I smile back at him, relieved both that he’s feeling good enough to make jokes and that he doesn’t think I’m some creepy stalker. I definitely believe it, though—that he’s dealt with creepier.
"So…um…are you okay?" I ask worriedly, thinking of his father’s harsh-sounding voice. Instinctively, I reach through the window and lightly touch his hand, which is resting on the windowsill, as if to comfort him.
He nods quickly, glancing down at the contact and smiling a little. “Yeah, I’m okay now. I just kind of lost it for a little while there.” He lets out a deep breath, looking a bit worn out, but also relieved. “Sorry you had to deal with that. I can usually control myself better.”
I can’t help but think that it’s a little strange, the way he says that: I can usually control myself better. As if he has to keep himself on a leash.
"No, it’s fine," I assure him. "I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, then?"
He nods, taking my hand in his for a brief moment and squeezing it. “Tomorrow.”
Once I get back into the car and start to drive home, I remember that only a few hours earlier, I decided that I didn’t want anything to do with Kellin. Now, though…now I’m not so sure. He showed me something real tonight, a deeper side that I didn’t expect. Maybe I’m judging him too quickly. Maybe there’s a lot more to him than what meets the eye.
When I get back, Mike asks me, “Hey, why’s this pizza cold? What took you so long?”
"I ran into someone," I reply. "It was kind of an emergency." And that’s all the detail I give.