Being forced to move so many states away from all that he once knew, Nessa was nervous to tackle his new life. Fortunately, it didn't take long for Nessa to meet a plethora of unique individuals who welcomed him into their lives:
The optimist, the k...
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.
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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.
