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Chapter twenty-six

First Kiss

Rusty

That week, Rusty went to Gem’s every day after work, except Wednesday when Gem had dinner with Toni and Jude.

At first, Rusty had been nervous because this shift in their dynamic—while a long time coming—had him feeling unbalanced.

He didn’t know the first thing about romantic relationships or being a good partner.

Not that he and Gem were partners. Gem had seemed averse to labeling anything, which was probably for the best. This was new and uncharted territory for them both, and Rusty didn’t want to rush anything and risk losing Gem before he’d even had a chance to truly have him.

Monday evening, Rusty arrived at Gem’s flat with food he’d picked up from the Pyclese takeaway, and they ate dinner while they watched the last episode of Chainsaw Man . After some begging—and yes, some cajoling kisses—Gem convinced Rusty to watch Desperate Desires with him.

It was streaming, so they started at the beginning as Gem painted Rusty’s claws. As they dried, Rusty leaned back against Gem’s chest, purring as several hands sifted through the fur on his arms and belly. He ended up falling asleep for half an hour, which Gem took as a personal offense.

Demanding kisses as reparation, Gem cradled Rusty in his lap as they made out.

Rusty wasn’t horny, but the kisses were nice.

Gem didn’t try to deepen them, perfectly content to simply kiss.

Then they cuddled on the couch as Gem read more of Rusty’s novel and Rusty replied to comments from his readers.

Tuesday, Rusty painted Gem’s nails before he built up a pillow nest on Gem’s bed with the pillows Gem had ordered, especially for him.

Lying on his belly inside the nest, he drew the next scene in his novel as Gem lay with him, head propped on Rusty’s back above his tail as he talked.

Not about anything in particular, just a stream of consciousness that Rusty loved listening to.

About how he was considering painting the walls of his bedroom, but that would mean he’d need to get new curtains and possibly a new bedspread to match.

And did he really want to invest that much time and money when it was a rental, and he’d have to paint the walls back to white if he ever moved out?

Not that he’d move out anytime soon since it was rent-controlled and he couldn’t afford anything else, not with his credit card debt.

And it wasn’t like he needed to move out.

It was plenty big enough for him, though if Rusty wanted to move in eventually, maybe they’d have to find a new place.

Unless Rusty didn’t mind a studio flat situation?

But he’d need an office, right? So he could have a quiet place to draw.

So really, they’d definitely need to find a new flat.

Maybe somewhere closer to midtown? If they were splitting the bills, it’d be easier to afford, after all. But nothing too fancy, of course. Definitely two-bedroom and at least one walk-in closet so Gem could keep his cow collection hidden.

Except, he’d been thinking of bringing some of his figurines out and displaying them on a shelf because maybe Toni hadn’t been right about keeping them secret.

Rusty didn’t mind them, right? So who cared if it was silly and a little weird?

Silly and weird was kind of Gem’s aesthetic anyway, so why not just commit?

Honestly, Gem was going to order some shelves right now. He could figure out how to install them on the wall. Just a hammer and some nails, right? Couldn’t be that hard. But that did mean he should paint first, so before he ordered shelves, he needed to choose a color.

“I was thinking mint green,” Gem finally finished his rambling, angling his phone so Rusty could see the color swatch he’d found. “What do you think?”

To be honest, Rusty was reeling from the whole if-he-wanted-to-move-in-eventually comment, but he was pretty sure Gem hadn’t even clocked the words he’d spoken aloud. Instead of addressing it, Rusty cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know if I’m the person to ask about color.”

“Oh right. Well, mint green is really pretty,” Gem said expectantly, like he was awaiting validation or agreement.

“Cool,” Rusty said, and Gem wriggled in excitement.

“Awesome! Thanks for your advice, babe. I really appreciate your input.” He rolled over and pecked Rusty’s cheek, then squealed down at the page Rusty’s was shading. “Oh, that looks amazing. Jewyl is so badass. She’s, like, my kindred spirit.”

Later, when they were snuggled under the covers, sharing a pillow, noses almost touching, Gem whispered secrets into the night, letting the dark keep them safe.

He said, “I was seven when I got my first crush, but he made fun of my feet. He called them ugly. I was self-conscious about them for a long time. I still am, I guess.”

He said, “I fucked married guys, and I knew they were married. Like, they had kids and everything. I feel guilty about that sometimes. Does that make me a bad person?”

He said, “I had a boyfriend once, when I was twenty-one. We dated for six months. He was older. Made me feel mature or whatever. Looking back, I think he just liked younger boys because they were easier to control. He… wasn’t a kind man.”

Wanting to give something in return, Rusty offered his own secrets, knowing Gem would care for them.

He said, “I don’t think I had crushes, not really, but there was a girl in my class when I was twelve. Her name was Cheri, and her fur was black and white, like a painting I could actually see. I let her borrow a pencil, and she smiled at me, and I thought she was just lovely.”

He said, “I traded my virginity for a week at a shitty motel. He wasn’t rough with me, but he wasn’t exactly kind either. I cried in the shower afterwards, but I told myself it was worth it because at least I wouldn’t have to sleep outside in the rain.”

He said, “You scared me. When I started at the cafe and you looked at me instead of through me, like I was a real person. You were kind and warm, and I’d been so cold for so long that your warmth felt like burning. I talked shit about you. Behind your back. I’m really sorry about that.”

And Gem smiled sadly and said, “I forgive you. ”

Later still, as the night settled around them, Gem cautiously asked, “Were all your firsts like that?”

It took a moment for Rusty to understand what Gem meant, and he shifted uncomfortably. “My first kiss wasn’t under the bleachers with the cool guy on a moped, if that’s what you mean.”

Gem nodded sadly. “I was afraid of that.”

“We don’t have to talk about that stuff,” Rusty said dismissively. “It’s not—”

“I want you to talk to me about everything,” he interrupted, taking Rusty’s hands and kissing his knuckles. “I can’t promise that it won’t make me sad or angry, but I’m here to listen if you want to tell me. Talking about things, even hard things, is important.”

Rusty worked his jaw as he fought the instinctual defensiveness clawing at his throat. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Some things aren’t,” Gem countered, and Rusty chittered in frustration.

“You really wanna know my first kiss?” he bit out, and Gem jutted his jaw stubbornly, like a challenge. “It preceded my first blow job, which I exchanged for a hot meal. Those are the kind of firsts I have.”

A tear escaped the corner of one small eye, but Gem refused to wipe it away. He nodded, swallowing thickly as Rusty glared at him. Then he sniffed and fortified himself.

“Maybe that was the first time your mouth touched someone else’s in a non-platonic way, but that doesn’t make it your first kiss,” he said slowly, gently. “ You assign significance to something. You decide what holds power.”

Rusty scoffed. “That’s not how life works.”

“Why not?” Gem demanded .

“You can’t just erase history because it’s inconvenient or painful,” Rusty snapped.

“And just because something happened doesn’t make it important,” Gem retorted. “We can reclaim anything, even firsts. Because we decide what matters.

“The first time my mouth touched someone else’s who wasn’t family, it was a girl. Her name was Tissy. We were eight years old, and we were playing make-believe at school. She said we had to kiss because I was the daddy and she was the mommy, and daddies and mommies kissed.

“I told her I didn’t want to, and she said we had to.

Then she kissed me, and I started to cry, so she called me a baby and pushed me down, and the other kids laughed at me.

” Gem’s eyes watered, but his expression was fierce.

“But that wasn’t my first kiss. My first kiss was Bikki Mirr under the bleachers, and it was sweet and innocent and lovely. Because I decide what matters.”

Rusty’s eyes burned too, but he shook his head stubbornly. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“It can,” Gem insisted, and gods, Rusty wanted to believe him. “Your first kiss can be like that too.”

Shaking his head again, Rusty blinked away the tears threatening to gather. “I don’t have many firsts left.”

“Then we’ll reclaim as many as you want,” Gem said as he cradled Rusty’s face in his hands. “Close your eyes.” At first, he fought it, and Gem pressed their foreheads together. “Close your eyes, ashari.”

And because Rusty trusted him implicitly, he obeyed.

When Gem’s lips brushed over his, the barest hint of kiss, Rusty imagined himself at fifteen.

Not the fifteen he’d known and lived, but a different one, a kinder one.

He was still shy and awkward, but no one looked down on him for his Pyclese accent or his worn clothes.

His mom was happy and healthy, scolding him for sneaking out the night before to do typical teenage shenanigans.

Sometimes, he skipped class to smoke under the bleachers behind the school.

But he was never alone. Because a boy sat across from him.

A beautiful boy with an infectious laugh and a kind smile.

A boy with dark curls and swirls of color Rusty couldn’t decipher painting his skin.

A boy who looked at Rusty like he was something special and wonderful.

A boy who took Rusty’s hand and squeezed, like he was something worth holding onto.

And under those bleachers, as the rain pinged against the metal above, the boy cradled Rusty’s face in his hands and leaned in.

He was so close. Their breath mingled and shook, and gods, Rusty was nervous.

Because he’d never done this before, and he didn’t want to mess it up.

His palms were sweaty, and his fingers trembled, and his stomach swooped like it had somehow taken flight. And he was nervous .

But he wasn’t afraid. Because he knew, even if he did mess this up, the boy wouldn’t care. He’d laugh, and sure, he’d give Rusty a little shit. But then he’d smile and say, “It’s okay. We can try again.”

And they would, and the next time, maybe it would be damn near perfect.

And it would feel like love. Maybe not real love, but love all the same.

A wondrous, innocent love that filled up his chest until he feared he’d shatter.

A love that would end in young heartbreak, because love like that never lasted.

But in that moment, their love was infinite.

The images flashed through Rusty’s mind like a memory he’d never lived, like an alternate version of himself that could have been. If things had been different. If fate had been kinder. He could have been that boy, kissing a teenage Gem under the bleachers as they learned how to smoke .

But then Gem broke the kiss, and Rusty opened his eyes, and the fairytale faded. Those boys were gone, an echo of a life that had never existed, and they were just Rusty and Gem, the way they’d always been.

Like Gem had seen the same vision Rusty had, he smiled, almost shyly, and said, “Like that. Your first kiss can be like that, if you want.”

And gods, Rusty did want. He wanted that more than anything.

“It’s you,” he whispered, voice shaky. “My first kiss was you because you’re the first person I’ve ever truly wanted.”

With a wet laugh, Gem beamed at him. “And was it a good first kiss?”

Rusty nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

“Good.” Their foreheads met again, and they breathed each other’s air for several long moments.

“I wish I’d known you back then,” Rusty said so quietly, like saying it louder would make it untrue. “Maybe it could have been us under those bleachers.”

Tracing Rusty’s jaw, Gem hummed. “Maybe. But then things would have been different.”

“Maybe different would have been better,” Rusty admitted.

“But then we’d be different,” Gem said, framing Rusty’s face in his top hands as he smiled so fondly at him. “And I happen to like you exactly as you are.”

It was Rusty who leaned in this time, closing the minuscule distance between them, and when he kissed Gem, they weren’t those boys—they never had been those boys.

They were just men, flawed and a little broken.

But as Gem had told him all those months ago, there was nothing wrong with broken things.