Ivan Petrov
Hope is relentless. No, actually.
He's ditched school for an entire week now. He thinks I'll feel alone, apparently. Doesn't he know how much Prince time I'm giving up for him?
Besides, I can read Hope like a book these days. An open book and the pages aren't torn and frayed.
Ever since he slept with Jamie Smith's girlfriend, things have been rocky between the two of them. It's been months and Jamie's still not over it. I can't entirely blame him, though. They were together for more than three years.
Smith was ignoring Hope in the beginning. But now, he's throwing insults at him. Unprintable words and terrible correlations to his past.
How do I know this? I saw some of his notifications as they kept appearing on his screen. He'd left his phone on the bedside table and all I could was stare at it. I intend to ask Hope about it, but it never seems right. He's always talking about avocados and vitamins and other things I cannot comprehend.
Like right now.
I have a bowl of kale salad in front of me and Hope behind me to finish it. "It's got Calcium, good for your bones."
"I swear, Hope. I've had this all week. Give me a break!"
"I gave you a break only yesterday! Ivan, I'm only doing this for your speedy recovery."
I glare at him. "You gave me a break by replacing kale with spinach! And please stop sounding like some fifty year old greeting card."
He laughs. Then he scoops a small portion of the salad into the spoon. "Alright, finish up." He brings the spoon next to my mouth.
I stare at him. He's been feeding me throughout the week because my left hand is in a sling. With my dominant hand gone, I can do practically nothing. I can barely shoot, not that I've tried recently.
"Look, I don't know if you like feeding me or something, but I can't have more of this idiot salad."
He feigns offense. "Is my cooking that bad?"
"It's a goddamn salad, Hope. You can't cook it. I just hate kale."
"And tomatoes and cauliflower and brussel sprouts," Hope finishes for me. "Did you just eat potatoes before you came here?"
"I ate everything. I didn't really have a choice then."
"Well, I'm not giving you a choice now either."
'Hope," I whine. "Please, I'll eat them later."
He eyes me suspiciously. "Don't move." He takes my bowl of kale salad to the kitchen. He returns some time later, same bowl in hand. "Close your eyes."
"I know what kale tastes like. Closing my eyes won't make it taste any better."
"Just do it."
Sighing, I shut my eyes. I hear his spoon scrape against the bowl and I open my mouth instinctively. I feel the spoon slip through my mouth and try to bring my lips together as Hope slides the empty spoon out.
"Taste better?"
I chew on the salad and it does taste different. Better, even. "What did you do?" I'm sure simply closing my eyes didn't do the trick.
He laughs. "I just added some honey to it." '
My eyes open immediately. "You what?"
"Honey," he repeats.
"Honey on kale?" I look at the salad bowl weirdly.
"Have you never tried these weird food combinations? Jamie and I did it all the time when we were kids."
His face falls when he mentions Jamie's name. He actually winces when he says his name. His eyes go from bright green to dull gray. His ears lose the tinge of pink they usually have.
"Hope?"
He musters a smile. "See? It tastes better now, so eat it up."
"Hope," I repeat. He won't meet my eyes. "Is everything alright? With you and Jamie?"
He shakes his head. "That's not important. Let's eat this salad, Iv--"
"I saw some of those texts he's been sending you. It's not not important, Hope."
He keeps the bowl aside. "Do you really want me to tell you?"
"Yes."
He nods. He inhales and extends his hand and holds my right hand. "Do you remember that day Jamie came over? He was mad because I slept with Violet."
"His girlfriend?"
Hope nods. "They're exes now. And he wasn't lying. I did -" he gulps. "- did sleep with her. But it's not what you think."
"I'm still listening, Hope."
He shoots me a grateful smile but his eyes are still glum. "It was at a party. And I was drunk. Like, completely wasted. I didn't know it was her who I was..."
I squeeze his hand. He squeezes it back.
"I didn't know it was her. Violet is the last person I'd take to bed. And Jamie doesn't believe that. He still thinks I did it because I was jealous of their relationship. Their consistency. But I swear Ivan, I didn't know. And now he blames me for their break up."
I nod. "Have you tried telling Smith that you weren't aware it was her?"
"I have, but he doesn't believe me. Violet and Jamie were together for three whole years. That's shit long for a highschool couple. And now..."
He shakes his head. "And I'm not like that anymore. I'm not casual about stuff like that these days. And..." His voice trails off again. He intertwines fingers with mine. "Do you remember that day, in the hospital, you asked me why I wanted you to stay?"
I nod.
"I'm not reckless with girls anymore because of you. That whole speech you gave me? I now regret the way I was treating them before. Sometimes I feel like apologizing to all of them. You make me wanna do that, Ivan. You make me a better person."
I stare at him. His face is sincere and soft at the same time. I want to tell him something. Anything that's as genuine and beautiful as the words he's telling me.
"But we're rivals." Sometimes my tongue works against me.
His face inches closer to mine. "Are we?"
His eyes are a mix of gray and green, but they don't change. The colors are steady. His eyes aren't fluid like they usually are. They're immobile, giving me enough time to memorize the way they mix up together. All of a sudden, we're having a moment I never thought we'd be having.
"The salad," I quickly say. "I've got to finish it, right?"
Is he sighing? "Of course. I'm still feeding you though."
"It's not like you're giving me a choice," I mutter. He smirks as he feeds me the honey-laced Kale salad.
"I think you should talk to him," I say in between bites.
"Don't talk with food in your mouth, Ivan," he scolds. I swallow my food. "Now repeat."
"I think you should talk to Jamie," I tell him. "Sort it out. You guys have been friends since childhood."
"I know, I just... Can we talk later? About Jamie?"
I nod. "Do you, like, want a hug or something?" I'm hesitant, I've never asked someone for a hug before. Do you ask people or do people just directly hug you?
He grins at my offer. "Later."
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," I randomly add, trying to cut off the awkwardness.
"I know that. And I like talking to you, is that okay?"
I smile. "You can talk to me about anything you want. Rant if you wish. I'll listen. We're friends, Hope. You don't need permi--"
"So we're friends now?" he teases.
I can't stand it. Is he aware of what he's doing to my system? The back of my neck is sweating, my heartbeat is erratic. My eyes have to choose between staring at him and staring at the ground. They always choose the former and cause my blood to behave like it's on fire.
"I'm leaving. I have to shower." I stand up and take a step forward. That's when I realise my hand is still holding on to his.
He smirks when he realises I can't move unless he disjoins his hand from mine, and stands up. "I guess you'll have to take me along."
This is unbelievable. "Are you flirting with me?" It comes out as an accusation.
"Only a bit."
I look at him with more disbelief and roll my eyes.
Our fingers untangle. "Are you rolling my eyes at me?" he accuses.
I grin as I walk away from him. "Only a bit."
***
I can't find my shirt. It's not like I have too many of them. I had only three and after the Vinions bashed me up, tearing my shirt in the process, I'm left with two.
So I keep alternating between the two but today, none of them are here. Hope enters his room and shuts the door behind him. "What's wrong?"
"My shirt's missing."
"Which one?"
"I have only two, Hope."
"Ah, well. We didn't do the laundry yesterday so it's probably still wet right now."
"Shit," I mutter. "Guess I'll have to wear the same clothes again." I hate doing that, rewearing the same clothes.
"Ew, Ivan. Don't do that. Wear one of my shirts instead."
If I said I was surprised it would be an understatement. "Really?"
He opens his cupboard and looks at the shirts inside. "We're friends, remember?"
He's never going to let me live that down. "You don't have to do this."
"I want to, Ivan. Choose your shirt. I don't know your size because you're growing so fast. Look, you've even got a beard to shave off."
I touch my beard. It's still short and hence pricks my skin. I'll have to shave it soon.
"Do you want a razor or something? I have a lot of spares."
I shake my head. "I'm not shaving today." Then I stand beside him in front of the cupboard, eying his shirts. "Give me any. I prefer black though."
He looks into the shelves and brings out a black shirt that's been tie-and-dyed in pink and blue.
"I said black," I say, looking at the shirt.
"It was black before. Add some color to your life, Ivan."
Sighing, I pick up the not-so-black shirt along with all my other clothes and head to the bathroom.
Add some color to your life, Ivan.
***
After an entire day of being fed kale salad (Hope worries too much), video-calling my sister, Kat (even she worries too much) and sharing my feelings with Emelia and Rchard in order to 'calm myself' (why does everyone worry so much?) later, I could finally go to bed.
I was still wearing Hope's not-black tie-and-dye shirt and everyone noticed. On a group call Hope was attending with his friends, he was asked why he wasn't coming to school. He said he was sick and that it was nothing serious but didn't want to risk spreading the infection.
After brushing my teeth, I lay on his bed. My ribs are healing quicker than I expected. Even Richard was surprised. Hope wasn't. He thinks it's all because of his kale.
Hope follows me to bed. Prince comes in next and takes his place right above my shoulder. A bunch of other dogs enter the room as well, finding every snug place they can to fall asleep.
"They're going to sleep with us for a month or so," Hope gestures at the dogs. "The whole family takes turns keeping them."
"I don't think I know all of their names," I mutter, watching one of the dogs sleep on Hope's legs.
"I thought Sebastian taught you their names."
"He did, but not all of theirs. That or I genuinely forgot."
Hope chuckles. He's shirtless as he usually is when he sleeps. Navy pajama shorts with black drawstrings fall on his bare torso. We're sharing the same blanket, our shoulders brushing.
For some reason, I cannot sleep. The dogs have started snoring softly and Prince is fast asleep, cuddled next to my hair. I can feel Hope breathing next to me. I look at his eyes, they're wide open, staring at the ceiling.
"You're awake?" he whispers. I can barely hear him. I know what he's saying because of the movement of his lips.
I hum a reply.
He shifts beneath the sheets and turns to his side, facing me. "We have a game coming soon, and my team's kinda worried. I haven't played much this week so do you wanna go down tomorrow morning?"
"So we can train together?"
"You'll obviously have to play with only your right hand. And don't strain yourself too much."
"I'll come. But we're going early in the morning, though."
"Yeah, sure." Then he runs his hand over my (his?) shirt. "It looks good on you."
"You're only saying that."
He expels some air through his mouth. It reaches my neck. "The two of us are going shopping tomorrow. We need to get you new clothes."
"What?" I'm completely taken aback by the idea. "Why?"
"I mean, if you're fine wearing my clothes more often, sure. We don't have to go."
"All right," I cave, partially groaning. "We'll go. Anything else I need to know?"
"Actually, yes," he says. His eyes are luminous. They're the only thing I can see without straining my eyes. "Earlier today you offered me a hug, didn't you?"
"Yes?"
"I was wondering if I could have it now," he says playfully.
"You want me to hug you?"
He nods, eyes glinting mischievously. Sighing, I flip to my side and wrap my arms around him, my shirt against his bare stomach. He squeezes me in, both his hands on my back.
I rest my chin on his shoulder. "Are we done now? Can we go back?"
"Shh," he whispers. "I like hearing your heartbeat against mine."
Uh, what?
"Hope?"
"About that," he says like he just remembered something. "I'd like you to call me something else. Hope seems rather impersonal."
"Impersonal?"
"Yeah, even the postman doesn't call me by that name. Everyone just calls me Lex."
I breathe into his neck. "That makes Hope rather personal, doesn't it?"
"I... I'd prefer another name."
I can feel his heart against mine. It's pleasant, actually. And weirdly... pleasing?
I sigh as I rest my head on the crevice of his neck. "Go to sleep, Mr Loverman. We'll talk later."
He presses my back closer to his torso. I can feel his muscles through my shirt. Does he feel mine too? "Mr Loverman? Is that my new nickname?"
"It's a song actually," I explain. "By Ricky Montgomery."
"But I thought you only listen to emo bands who scream."
I roll my eyes, not that he can see it. "You have a lot to know about me."
I know he's smiling even though my face is buried in his neck. "Good. I have the time."
Then he starts shifting again. He brings his body away from mine, depriving me of his pine scent that I've now started to crave, and places his legs in between mine. He takes a pillow and places it between me and the mattress.
"Is this okay?"
I bring him closer to me, his skin everywhere. "Goodnight Mr Loverman."