[X]

Kevin takes a deep breath. Today's the day. It's a Tuesday evening, and no one really has anything going on. His palms are sweaty, his stomach is queasy, and the 12 pink roses he stole from the neighbor's yard are beginning to wilt. This is his last chance to turn back. He looks at Damon's door, anxiously fiddling with his freshly combed hair with his free hand. He takes another breath, and knocks on the door.

The few seconds of waiting are unbearable, and, after a bit, Damon opens the door wearing an old soccer jersey and a pair of blue jeans. "Hey, Kev. Oooh, flowers. Who's the lucky lady?" Damon's eyes burn with curiosity.

"T-they, uh..." Kevin's voice fades uncertainly.

"What?" Damon looks at him curiously. "You okay?"

" 'M fine. The flowers. They- They're for, um, for you," Kevin finishes in a whisper, thrusting the bouquet into Damon's hands. Kevin stares at his shoes, afraid to look at Damon's face. He nearly loses the will to go through with it, nearly pulls the flowers back and says that he's joking, but something in the air tells him that it's now or never. He steels himself. "You know the other day, when I said that I love you, and you were all 'yeah, I know, we're friends,' about it? I meant that I love you like love you, love you, like I want to date you, love you." Damon begins to say something, but Kevin rushes ahead, trying to finish his speech before it goes any worse than it already is. "You, you are just... Amazing. M-more than I could ever put into words, and I really like you, like in a boyfriend way, as opposed to a boy-space-friend way, and... You wanna g-go out for coffee some time?" Kevin winces. That was much rougher than it was when he had rehearsed it. But, there it is, sitting on the heavy silence in the air. It's too late to take it back.

He risks a glance up at Damon, whose hazel eyes are carefully blank. "Like a date?"

Kevin clears his throat. "Yes. Like a date."

At this, Damon shakes his head, looking disappointed. "I- you like me? Like like me? Since when?"

Kevin shifts his weight, not liking how the conversation is going. "Uh, I think my sophomore year of high school. So about four years." It sounds pathetic, Kevin knows it must, because they've really only been friends for four years.

Damon looks at Kevin with a mixture of discomfort and pity. "I- Kev. You know I'm straight, right? And even if I wasn't, I couldn't, like, date you. It's just weird to think about. And you know how my friends would react if they knew you were a gay. Hell, I don't know how I'm going to act since you're a gay."

Kevin stares at his shoelaces. "I was afraid you'd say something like that."

Damon looks at the floor too. "And I really hate pink roses."

Kevin hopes he's making a joke, but seeing Damon's frown, he swallows hard, holding back tears. "Okay. Sorry. I can go."

"Yeah, I think you should," Damon mumbles, handing the flowers back to Kevin. "I'll text you. Or something."

"Okay." Kevin's voice is barely a whisper, and he walks out of the door that he hadn't bothered to close when he entered without another word. Damon lets him go.

Kevin cries on the way home. He walks in the front door with red rimmed eyes, a heavy heart, and a runny nose. His mother doesn't notice; she's busy making dinner. His father is at work. Kevin slams the door of his room, throwing the roses onto the floor. He catapults himself onto his bed.

I should've gotten white roses.

Kevin sighs into his pillow and tells himself to stop crying. It isn't as though he'd expected that to go well, but he hadn't been thinking it'd go that badly.

At that moment, Kevin's phone starts to ring. He picks it up, hoping it's Damon, but, much to Kevin's disappointment, it's Abel. He answers the phone, not wanting to be rude, but wanting the conversation to be short. "Hello?"

There's a pause. "Why are you crying, Blue?" Abel's soft voice inquires.

Kevin sniffs. "It's kinda personal. I don't wanna talk about him."

"I'll rephrase. Who is making you cry?" Abel's voice now carries something a bit darker, closer to anger, but not quite.

Kevin winces, realizing that he said him instead of it. "Uh. Just a guy. It's really my fault. Damn pink roses," Kevin mutters, a few fresh tears leaking out of his eyes. "Anyway. You called me. Did you need something?"

"I had been calling to ask if you wanted to get a hot cocoa or something with me and Cal, but it seems that you aren't in the mood. I'm going to bring you some ice cream, okay?"

Kevin blinks, surprised. "I-I'm not really feeling up for company... If that's okay."

"Yup. It's fine. I'll just drop it off with someone else at your house. Other people are there, correct?" Abel replies.

Kevin realizes that Abel won't be so easily dissuaded. "Yeah, my family's here."

"Good. Pick your poison. Mint chocolate chip? Rocky road? You seem like a cookie dough kind of guy to me."

Kevin smiles slightly. "I do love cookie dough..."

Kevin can hear Abel's smile through the phone. "That's the spirit, Blue. I'm on my way?"

Kevin makes sure he knows the address and goes to wash his face. He cries a bit more, washes his face again and brushes his teeth. When Abel rings the doorbell, Kevin tries to hurry downstairs, but his mother beats him there. "Hello," she says welcomingly. "May I help you?"

He's wearing a black and yellow plaid shirt, a backpack, and black skinny jeans. He holds his car keys in one hand and the ice cream in the other, two silver spoons balanced on top. "Hi. Is Kevin home?" he asks politely.

Kevin's mother nods. "Are you a friend of his?" She smiles at him.

"Yeah, I came to visit." Abel pokes his head around her shoulder, looking at Kevin. "Hey, Blue."

"Hi, bumblebee. Wanna come upstairs? I have sodas." Kevin offers.

Abel nods. "Yes, please." He turns to Kevin's mom. "Lovely meeting you." As he and Kevin walk upstairs, he smirks and murmurs, "Bumblebee, huh?"

Kevin looks down, embarrassed. "Just... Your shirt. I-I don't know."

Abel puts a hand on Kevin's chin, bringing his face up. "Don't be embarrassed. I like nicknames."

Kevin nods, still a light pink. His eyes land on the roses laying crumpled on the floor, and his eyes start watering. I really hate pink roses.

Abel notices this. "Oh, Blue." He hugs Kevin gently, and Kevin tries harder not to cry. He's not sure he can handle much more physical contact. "He really must've been something special."

"That's just it. I'm not sure he was anything special. I don't know how much of his personality was real and how much I made up."

After a bit, Abel releases Kevin, who sits down on his bed. Abel puts the pint of ice cream on his lap. "Eat this. It'll help." He removes the lid, sticks a spoon in the middle of the cream, and turns away. "I also brought my sketchbook. If you don't mind, may I draw you?"

Kevin hesitates. "Abel. I look a hot mess. You don't want to draw me like this."

"No, I do. This is very emotional, perfect for a sketch. Plus, it's for my personal collection. No one but me will see you 'looking a hot mess' as you put it." Abel smiles. "Besides, you look pretty, even when you cry." Kevin blushes hard at this.

"Well, alright. If you insist." He doesn't know what to do with his hands, if he should pose or just relax. He sits in a awkward looking position, his head tilted to aspire for an aesthetically pleasing angle.

Abel notices this and laughs quietly. "Just act natural, Blue. Don't overthink it. Eat some ice cream and act like I'm not even drawing."

Kevin sighs, nodding, and scoops some of the ice cream onto the spoon, sticking it into his mouth upside down. Abel smiles at his sketchbook, drawing some basic outlines with a pencil he's pulled from his pocket. "So," he says after a time, "Whose ass do I need to kick?"

Kevin looks up in surprise. Abel's voice had been light enough, but there was a darkness hidden behind his eyes. "Erm, you don't really need to--"

"Blue."

"Um," Kevin tries to stall for time, unsure of why he's even protecting Damon. However, upon seeing Abel's somber expression, Kevin relents. "Alright. It was Damon. That guy I brought to the coffee shop." A strange expression flickers across Abel's face, quickly replaced with attentive indifference.

"I see. Was he your boyfriend?" Abel resumes drawing, looking troubled and hiding it behind his sketchbook.

Kevin continues, oblivious to Abel's distress. "No. Not a boyfriend." He sighs and gets more ice cream. "I would've liked him to be. But he apparently hates the idea of going out with me more than he hates pink roses. I'm not sure if we're even friends anymore." Abel stops drawing for half a second, watching Kevin stare at the ceiling mournfully, a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough dangling from his lips.

"No, you wouldn't have wanted to date him." Abel pushes himself off of the floor, away from his nearly finished sketch, and sits next to Kevin, who blinks, surprised. "He's not right for you; he's made your eyes go all grey and rainy." Abel wipes a stray tear from Kevin's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You look better in periwinkle."

Kevin lets out a small, sad, shaky laugh, dropping his spoon, swiping away the droplets of saltwater wandering his cheeks slowly, as if he's trying not to draw attention to them. He turns away from Abel, not wanting him to see him cry, hiding his face in his forearms. He isn't sure if his cheeks are red because he's embarrassed from crying or because Abel touched his face. "This is pathetic. I'm sorry you have to see this," his muffled voice mumbles.

Abel laughs softly, wrapping a hand around Kevin's shoulders. "It's okay to cry, Blue." He leans in closer, whispering conspiratorially. "Just keep in mind that the longer you cry, the more time I'm gonna take cutting out Damon's eyeballs out and shoving them down his throat." He leans away and steals a bit more of Kevin's ice cream.

Kevin blinks, because Abel hadn't sounded nearly enough like he was joking. Kevin waits for an explanation. Abel licks the spoon and takes another bite.

"Abel."

"Yes, Blue?" The voice claims innocence; the face behind it does not.

"You're joking, right?"

"Of course," Abel lies. He smiles, but a dark shadow still lurks behind his eyes.

"Promise me you won't kill him."

"I promise, cross my heart," Abel gestures. To himself, he mumbles, "He'll live without his eyeballs. Who needs eyes? Seeing's overrated anyhow."

Kevin shakes his head, but doesn't argue further. Instead, he lays back on his bed. "I think I'm gonna take a nap."

Abel nods. "You should. You've had a long day. I should probably get going anyways," he stands. He takes the ice cream and tells Kevin that he'll store it in the freezer, then wishes him a good nap.

Kevin snuggles into his pillow and lays awake until the front door closes.

Moments later, his father pokes his head into the room. "Just so you know, I've been home since fifteen minutes ago, and I wanted to say something very important to you." Kevin waits patiently for whatever piece of advice his father is going to instill, hoping that it will help with the current situation. His father clears his throat.

"Damn, son! I have to say, the boy is fine. Did he hit it, or no?"

Kevin gasps. His mind entertains the thought without his permission, and he hides his face in the pillow. "Oh my God, Dad, no!" His ears are pink. "Just. Agh! Go away!"

Kevin hears a laugh. "It were only a jest. In all seriousness, though, Damon's a tool. At least for now. Don't let him get you down, okay, kiddo?" Kevin's face reappears. He hesitates, then nods. "Now, as for the Abel situation, you can always come to me if you need anything. You know what they say-- don't be silly, wrap your willy!" Kevin blinks. He isn't sure whether he wants to laugh or cry. "Get it? Because, you know, condoms?"

Kevin puts his head back in the pillow. "Oh, God, no. It got worse. Dad I'm not... Seeing him." Despite his protest, he smiles.

His father can tell, and he grins. "I know. But you want to, and that's why it's funny. Get some rest, Kev." He closes the door behind him when he leaves.