He kissed me. Davy's mind repeated in stupefaction. Last night, Kris kissed me.
It was mid-morning and Davy was seated in a padded plastic chair in the airport terminal. He was dressed in his best suit and was trying unsuccessfully to drown his thoughts in a copy of the new Blender magazine that he'd purchased from one of the airport kiosks. But no matter how hard he forced his eyes upon the magazine article, his brain would not cooperate and function correctly. Since the night before, since that conversation with Kris, since Kris had kissed him, Davy's mind had remained naught but a jumble of thoughts, a melting pot of emotions.
What was he supposed to think? How was he supposed to feel? Kris had been his best friend since freshman year of high school. They'd graduated together, spent three years of college together as roommates, and never once had Kris' feelings for Davy seemed anything more than platonic—and yet…last night Kris had kissed him, damn it! After all those years of secretly yearning for his best friend's touch, of dreaming of Kris' kiss, of finally giving up on Kris altogether and moving on with his life, why now did Kris have to kiss him? What was Davy supposed to be doing at this moment?
"Flight numbers 804, 523, 479 now boarding," the toneless voice of the PA echoed impassively throughout the bustling airport terminal.
Hearing the PA voice, reminded Davy of his own reason for being in the airport, and Davy found himself raising a weary eye to the digital read out displaying the flight schedule. Flight 708, Davy's own plane, was on time. Boarding for the trans-Atlantic flight would begin in less than an hour.
Less than an hour, and then he'd be separated from Kris for the next three months. And lord, after the night before, Kris would probably never talk to him again.
Everything was so strange, so awkward all of a sudden. Hell, Kris hadn't even appeared this morning to wish Davy goodbye. It was as if something, some impassable barrier had been erected between the two, and there was no way that Davy could breach the chasm.
But this was right, wasn't it? Leaving for the summer internship in Paris. Ignoring Kris and the kiss, this was what he wanted, right? This was his future, wasn't it? This was the summer internship that would get his foot in the door, so to speak. The beginning of his career in the business world. Davy had worked damn hard to win this spot; the internship was one of the most competitive in the entire business college.
Davy remembered the day he had received the phone call, the call where he'd learned that he'd been selected as one of the ten summer interns at Paris branch of Payton Enterprises. As soon as Davy had clicked the receiver down, he'd gone to find Kris, so excited to tell his best friend the good news. Kris, as usual, was locked in the engineering library (apparently their apartment was too distracting a place for Kris to study). Davy had a raced through the library and found his way into back room study area that was Kris' second home.
As usual, his tall, gangly friend was hunched over a fat textbook, his blue sleep-deprived eyes methodically lapping up the information. As Davy approached his friend, Kris didn't even raise his well-groomed chestnut head to look up as he said, "Hey Davy, what's up?"
And barely containing his excitement, Davy had divulged his good news. An entire summer semester in Paris! And although Kris was just as excited about the internship as Davy was, something unnamable seemed to settle into Kris' blue eyes.
And remain there over the course of the next few weeks. Davy tried to ask Kris what was wrong, but Kris just kept shrugging off the concern with half-hearted excuses.
Until last night.
Davy had his bags packed, suitcases all prepared for the next morning. The airport taxi was going to be there bright and early the following morning. Kris, as usual was seated at the kitchen table, his nose plunged deeply into an engineering textbook. Kris was brilliant, the smartest person that Davy knew. Kris was always "two steps ahead of everyone else" as Davy would often note.
As Davy tossed his last suitcase into the luggage pile by the door to their apartment, he flashed Kris a relieved grin. "Well that's the last of 'em." He declared. "I'm all done packing."
Kris didn't look up from his book.
"Now while I'm gone don't mess this place up too much," Davy teased. Kris was the neatest person in the world. Davy was the sloppy one.
The orderly brown locks of Kris' head remained level with his book, and his blue eyes never once strayed in Davy's direction.
"And keep all your girlfriends out of my room," Davy joked. Kris wasn't the dating type; in fact Davy couldn't ever remember Kris having a girlfriend.
Kris didn't even grin, his features remained impassive and his eyes remained glued to the text.
" And stay away from my comic books," Davy went on, hoping to get a rise out of Kris, or at least to get his best friend to look at him. "I'll know if you've touched them."
And still, Kris was studiously ignoring him. Davy was starting to get a little annoyed. He'd be gone for three months and his best friend of seven years couldn't seem to care less.
As Davy watched, Kris hefted the textbook up until his entire face had been hidden. And then Davy got angry.
"Damn it Kris!" Davy suddenly snapped. "I'm trying to talk to you! I'm going to be gone for the next three months, and—"
"I know," the strangled sob escaped from behind the textbook.
And without quite knowing how he'd done it, Davy was standing in front of Kris. Gently, Davy removed the textbook from in front of Kris' face. The blue eyes were tear stained, shining with such grief that Davy felt as if he'd been punched in the gut.
"I don't want you to go," Kris stated quietly, his blue eyes so bright and oh so sad. "I know how important this internship is for you. I know how hard that you've worked for it," Kris was saying quietly. "And I'm so… so happy for you…but I don't want you to go."
And Davy could only stare slack-jawed at the emotions contained in his best friend's eyes.
Surely not! Davy's mind screamed. The doleful expression that Kris was giving him—it couldn't mean? After all those years of hoping? It couldn't!
"I don't understand," Davy's voice came out flat, heavy. "Why don't you want me to go?"
But Kris' baleful blue eyes fell down cast, and he couldn't answer.
"Why don't you want me to go, Kris?" Davy repeated. And he couldn't understand why for the life of him that he was shouting. He couldn't remember when he'd grasped Kris' boney shoulders or when he'd forced the face upwards so that he could peer into his best friend's eyes.
"I…I…"Kris stuttered, falling into the comfort of his familiar shy, timid shell. Kris was reserved around everyone; everyone except for Davy that was.
"Kris." Davy demanded.
And then those blue eyes had hardened with a sudden, desperate resolve. And then Kris was kissing him. On the lips. And Davy could only stand there, in shock as he felt his lips part and the tip of Kris' tongue slipped into his mouth.
And for a moment Davy lost himself in that kiss, in that moment, in that dreamlike countenance his mind seemed to have descended into. As Kris pushed his mouth harder against Davy's, a slight moan escaped from Davy's throat. This, this was what he'd always wanted. What he'd always needed. What he'd given up hope on. This was Kris.
But then something inside of Davy suddenly snapped! And he was pushing Kris away from him, as if the other boy's very touch had burned him.
And then he was running for the door, ignoring the frantic protests that emitted from the form behind him. His best friend, who he had trusted more than any other person in the world. Kris, who he'd loved for years.
"Davy! Wait! Please!" And Davy had never heard that degree of terror in his friend's voice.
But Davy was out the door, running. Running where he didn't know. At some point, a little past mid-night he'd found his way back to the apartment. All his luggage was there, after all.
Kris was waiting for him in kitchen, his blue eyes reddened and tear streaked.
"Davy," Kris whispered Davy entered the commons. "Davy…I… please…I'm sorry…" and the hurt, the remorse, the regret were all too tangible in Kris' voice.
But Davy shook his head wearily. He was too tired to think. Too tired to talk. Without a word to Kris, Davy headed for his room, locked the door, and promptly fell into his bed.
He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Kris the following morning. His friend—where they even still friends after that kiss? —was nowhere to be found in the apartment. Kris hadn't even stuck around to say goodbye. The airport taxi had arrived promptly at seven o'clock, and Davy had taken the ride to the airport.
Now, staring dismally at the glossy magazine resting in his hands, he wondered what he could do. What should he do? In a night he'd lost his best friend. Because of a stupid kiss…because of everything… he'd the most important person in his life.
If he were honest with himself, he'd admit that he'd enjoyed that kiss. It had stirred—something—deep inside of himself that he'd long since given up on ever having, and for a moment he'd felt whole. He'd felt tall and strong and brave, like he was a part of something larger, something more important that himself.
So why had he pushed Kris away? And why had he run from Kris?
Davy didn't know. He couldn't explain it.
And it didn't matter, he thought stubbornly. In less than a day he'd be in Paris, beginning his future. He'd put the feelings he'd harbored for Kris back into their neat little box. Tape the box shut. He'd done it before. He'd do it again.
But it was different this time. He argued. Because this time Kris returned his feelings.
"Flight 708, nonstop to Paris this is your first boarding call." The toneless PA voice alerted him.
Davy reached into his suit jacket pocket, to pull out his crumpled ticket. As he did so, something else fell out of the pocket with it. A rumpled up ball of paper. Davy had this suit for a few years, so there was no telling what the paper could be. Intrigued, he found himself frantically unfolding the paper, smoothing out the creases, wondering what in the world it could be.
A receipt from the dry cleaners.
Davy found himself scowling at the receipt. He'd half expected the paper to be a note from Kris confessing his undying love for Davy and begging Davy not to leave. And for some reason learning that the rumpled paper was just that: a rumpled piece of paper was disappointing. No, it was downright depressing.
And soon the rumpled receipt was no more than a couple of piece of shredded paper that Davy had almost angrily ripped apart. And as he stared at the mess in his hands, he could almost hear Kris' chocolaty voice, deep and rich, chiding him about how "where ever Davy went, disorder was soon to follow."
And Davy sighed, as he thought of that voice. That deep, sensual voice. How often had he awoken during his high school years, disoriented and confused, from those dreams? When his body had ached, and his heart had hammered at a million beats a minute, and the name Kris had been so close from issuing from his dry throat. How many times had he awoken like that, trying to understand what his heart was wanting to tell him, but then quickly subdued those feelings? Because Kris could never have felt that way for Davy. Kris could never have seen Davy as anything other than his best friend.
And after years of subduing his thoughts, of pruning his mind of its wild fantasies of himself and Kris, finally Davy's heart had yielded, and the thoughts, the dreams, those feelings he'd harbored in secret silence for his best friend, finally they had been put to rest.
Only to resurrect their claim upon Davy's mind. That damned kiss!
How? After all these years of lusting, of wanting, of feeling so hopeless, so stupid, and finally giving up Kris, why now had Davy finally found Kris? Now when it seemed too late! Davy was in the airport, at the threshold of his new future, ready to leave Kris and his feelings for his best friend behind.
If Davy got onto that plane without apologizing to Kris and without admitting his feelings to his best friend, the man that he'd loved for so many years, Davy was going to loose Kris forever.
But this was a once in a lifetime internship! And he'd worked so hard to get it! This was the beginning of his future.
"Flight 708 nonstop to Paris, this is your final boarding call."
The apartment was dark when Davy unlocked the door, the blinds were drawn over the windows, and the lights were off, casting the already dim apartment into a dreary darkness. Kris was slumped miserably into the couch cushions of the living room couch, garbed in a pair of red flannel pajamas. Usually pristine, Kris was rumpled: his smooth brown hair greasy and tousled, his large blue eyes were reddened from crying.
At the sound of Davy's entrance, Kris whirled about, and Davy could read his best friend's shock clearly.
"Dav...Davy?" Kris stuttered confusedly, straightening his rumpled red pajamas and quickly smoothing a hand through his wild hair.
"Hey," Davy offered. When Kris didn't move, Davy flicked on the overhead light, illuminating the room. Then with a coaxing stance, as if he was afraid of frightening Kris off, Davy slowly made his way to the couch and seated himself on the opposite arm of the couch. He turned to Kris, barely daring to meet his best friend's tear stained eyes.
"What…what are you doing here?" Kris' voice asked in a strangled hush. "You're supposed to be halfway to Paris by now."
"I know," Davy conceded.
"Then…then why aren't you?" Kris asked quietly.
"I couldn't go." Davy replied shortly.
But Davy found himself unable to answer. "Kris, why did you kiss me?" He found himself asking instead.
Kris sighed miserably, and his shoulder slumped. He could not meet Davy's eyes.
"Kris?" Davy's voice was hesitant, pleading almost.
And then Kris felt, as much as heard, as Davy took a deep breath of air, preparing himself almost, before he plunged headfirst into the foreign waters the two were treading.
"Kris," Davy twittered. "Kris, do you love me?"
Kris' head jolted, his eyes locked on his best friend's. He crumpled like a cornered animal.
"Kris?" Davy coaxed gently.
But now Kris couldn't answer. Wasn't it obvious? He'd already kissed Davy, hadn't he? "Davy, do you love me?" Kris choked, reversing the question.
And was Kris hallucinating or had Davy just nodded his affirmation?
"I do." Davy's voice slipped as nervously as Kris' pulse, but somehow Davy's tone remained firm. "I love you Kris. I have for a long time."
"You…you… love me?" Kris struggled, trying frantically to come to terms with the situation. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real. But it was. And there was Davy, watching Kris tentatively, fearfully. Davy's very soul lay before Kris, waiting for the other's input.
"If you love me, then why did you run away last night, when I…we…"and here Kris tumbled off, as his face heated in embarrassment.
"Because I create disorder where ever I go," Davy sighed ruefully, using one of Kris' favorite sayings. But then Davy's voice became deadly serious. "Kris… I love you…I've loved you for so long…"
"How long?" Kris' voice hitched. He needed to know.
Davy took a deep breath. After years of keeping this secret from his best friend he felt both wary and lifted divulging it. "Six years. Since sophomore year of high school."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"I didn't think you'd understand." Was Davy's candid reply.
"I wouldn't understand?" Kris mused sadly, slightly amused. "I guess we were both good at hiding things. I've always…loved you Davy…since I first met you in freshman English class, way back in high school."
Davy smiled brilliantly, suddenly euphoric, and Kris found himself returning the smile. And then slowly Davy reached out to gently grasp Kris's hand. With a tenderness that Kris had never seen before, Davy began to slowly caress the back of Kris' hand in long, lazy circles.
"But that still doesn't explain why you ran away when I kissed you last night," Kris pointed out, trying not to lose himself in Davy's touch. It wasn't easy; the tender light illuminating from Davy's eyes was melting Kris into a puddle of goo.
Davy paused mid-caress, and he frowned thoughtfully.
"Because I was scared, I guess." Davy finally whispered. "Because something I'd wanted for so long, that I never thought I could have was finally mine, and I didn't know what to do with it." He admitted weakly. "I had finally given up on you, Kris; I'd finally come to terms with not having you. And I was going to Paris for the internship, to start off my career, to start off my new life without you."
Kris shuddered. "And to think we'd both felt the same way for each other." He said quietly. "If you hadn't have come back for me… then I'd have lost you," and Kris suddenly blushed. "You did come back for me?" He darted nervously.
And if Davy's warm smile didn't reassured Kris, then the sudden feel of Davy's lips pressed softly across Kris' own did. And Kris lost all sense of reality as his vision blurred and Davy deepened the kiss.
They stayed together like that for a long time; Kris in his rumpled red pajamas clinging to Davy's lean form like nothing else in the world mattered. And at that moment, nothing else did.
But then Kris suddenly broke the kiss. "You know you don't have to give up your future for me, Davy. You can always take me with you to Paris this summer while you intern at Payton. It's not like you have to choose between your dream and me. You can have us both," and then Kris blushed, realizing his choice of words.
But Davy just smiled lovingly at his best friend, and a stray hand found its way to fondle that beloved cheek. How many times had he wanted to stroke this face? "Kris, I'm not giving up my future. Love, you are my future."
Kris smiled even brighter.
wow, that was a bit…erm… too sickeningly sweet. I think I've been reading too many romance novels. Anywho, this one shot was to help me get out a crummy writer's block that has seemed to inhibit my ability to write lately. Of Truth and Correspondence has been outlined chapter by chapter since last summer, but after the Christmas break ( I was gone for a lot of it, and hence no computer time) the writing is not going so well. So I wanted to break from it for a bit and just write—something. The result is this little dab of overly sugared cotton candy. (A little sweet, now that I'm reading it. Ugh). I don't know if this story even makes sense, honestly. I didn't really even think about it, just wrote everything in one sitting with no clear-cut idea about what was happening. (Boy that really makes me sound creditable to my readers…) Maybe I should shut up now, eh?
Review if you'd like. Fall into a diabetic coma from too much sweetness if you want to too…