The Way it Happened (Ivan, ch.5)

I see a head of green hair and push myself to go faster; the more tired I am, the less likely I am to act out in front of him. I slow down just as I approach him, not wanting to ram into him without control, and barely gasp out a greeting as I pant. When I look up, I can see that he is giving me this warm, quiet smile.

"Miss me?" he asks, taking a step closer. "I didn't expect you to come running at me like that."

I shake my head, still trying to catch my breath. "No, I just needed to take a run. I don't really like science so I had to wake myself up somehow." I give him a lopsided smile. "But your face is definitely better on the eyes than my biology professors. Why we're you even teaching? Shouldn't a professional be doing that?"

He gives me a look as he starts leading me to his car. Not a mean look, just a sarcastic one. "I am a professional. Did you not see my degree hanging on the wall in my living room? Or we're you too busy sucking on my face to pay attention?"

I glare at him, although that doesn't hide the blush in my cheeks. "Don't bring that up in public!"

"Why? That one chick figured it out right away. Who knows: the world may already know that we're together." 

"Theo!" Right now, my face is entirely red. There is no way I saw that coming. He wasn't a teacher or some adult I had managed to get stuck with; he was just a guy trying to tease his boyfriend, and I know I shouldn't take him seriously, but everything he does makes me want to lock him up and keep him to myself so that nobody ever gets to hear the crazy things he says.

His laugh fills the air, a sound that's higher in pitch than his usual voice, and those butterflies stir again. "I'm kidding. I haven't told anybody yet, so it's our little secret. Is that alright?" He pushes a button on his keys, and I can hear a beep coming from a black SUV a few yards ahead of us. 

"No, that's fine I guess...I'm just nervous about what people might think of us." I climb into the passengers' seat and buckle up while he puts some stuff behind us. He then joins me up in the front, giving me a little kiss on the cheek before focusing on getting the car started.

He looks over at me for a second. "Don't worry about that right now. Don't worry at all, actually. Just be yourself and come see me as often as you possibly can so that we can work on being in love. When the time is right, we can tell others, but for now I just want to learn how to love you."

I'm blushing profusely, but it's not as if I don't like it; being around him felt comfortable now, but the words coming out of his mouth were making me feel this strange warmth as if somebody had suddenly thrown a blanket over me and told me to take a nap. And just that thought made me want to pull him closer and make him take the nap with me. "I don't think I'd be very difficult to love," I say after a minute. "The only problem is that I turn into an asshole when I'm trying to be defensive."

"No need," he says, staring at the road but still smiling. "But even when you act like a total ass I still like you. That's how I fell for you, remember? You were being a stuck up little rich boy and I though, 'Maybe I can make something out of him. Then his pride will be justified.' And I swear to you that I will. But somewhere I figured out that I wanted to hold you close too. What can I do? You've got me tied up here."

"And you're making me feel like I'm going to explode." I stare out my window, face still red.

He chuckles and replies with, "If that's a good thing, I think I'll keep doing that." He's bringing the car to a halt, and that's when I realize that we had made it back to the apartment complex that he keeps his home in. I call it a home because when we walk in, the smell of chocolate chip cookies hung in the air and there was a pair of tennis shoes laying around sloppily and everything seems to be organized rather than random the way I had originally thought it to be. 

"Cookies?" I ask, talking off my sneakers and placing them by the other shoes. 

"Ah, yeah," he says, and when I sneak a look I think his cheeks look red. "I woke up way earlier than I wanted to and I couldn't just go back to sleep so I made some cookies and went to take a shower while they baked and they wound up burning a little. I thought the smell would filter out by now..." I can hear him walking around in the kitchen, moving stuff around, and the cookies were now hidden from sight.

I walk up to him, pouting. "But I wanted cookies"

He ruffles my hair. "Later. I still have to give you a lesson you know."

My face pales. "Shit!" I had completely forgotten about my violin up until now. I can't even remember the last time I had thought about it; probably back this morning when I was packing my bag for the day ahead. It was probably still back in the dorm. "I'm sorry, I totally forgot to bring my—"

"Idiot," he interjected, moving into the living room. "You're talking to a music grad. You don't think I would have my own violin?"

I look into the neat corner where three instrument cases sat: a violin case, a viola case, and one for a cello as well. "Well, I know you do, I just don't want to impose or anything...Besides, I'll probably just make it sound ugly and you might not like it very much..."

Picking up the violin case, he motions me closer. "C'mon, it's not going to sound bad. I think that would be impossible, since this instrument is pretty fucking amazing and so are you."

"Hey!"

"What? You don't like compliments?" He's set the case on the sofa and is unlocking it.

"No, I just don't really think you should be complimenting me right now. You haven't even taught me anything." I rub the back of my neck, looking anywhere but at him. "You're probably way better than me."

"Oh, I am." The case opens to reveal what is probably a masterpiece; the wood is a rich, dark golden-brown color, the scroll similar in color, with pegs that are inlaid with gold leaf and a delicate looking chin-rest. "But I prefer playing cello. That's the first instrument I've ever touched, so I expect myself to be better at it, after all." He holds the violin up for me to take, but I can't push myself to.

"Dude, there's no way I'm touching that! I'm way too afraid I'll break it!"

"There's this thing called trust, and I trust you not to break it. And if you do, you're going to owe me a lot of money." He smirks. "But that won't be a problem for you, right, rich boy?"

I scowl at him and take the instrument out of his hand. "Maybe I'll break it just to make you hate me."

"Well then I'll lock you up and torture you with my love, because I'd never hate you."

"Ugh, that sounds really cheesy...Can't we just start playing or something? I don't really want to deal with those sorts of feelings right now. Save it for later."

He waves a hand at me. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up and tune; I'm going to get some music for you."

He comes back a few minutes later with a pile of music books, most of which look like they could be single violin solos; others, collections of solos. My mood rose as I saw them: I was finally going to be able to learn music instead if spending two hours at a time working on technique and posture (Theo had said something about it lessening the pain I feel in my back when playing for long periods). The cover of the top book on the pile read "The Four Seasons" by Vivaldi, and I felt a little dejected.

"Dude, that's baby music," I complain when I pick it up. "I played Spring in the eighth grade. Do I have to play it again?"

After setting down the music, he had gone back to the other two cases and started unpacking the cello. "Yes. Because it's been forever in your eyes, it's going to be brand new music for you. And because Vivaldi has so many little details that you have to make perfect when you play it. And because I want to play with you, and it's going to take us a while to play all twelve movements. Are those good enough reasons?"

I exhale in a huff. "I still think this is stupid."

"Then find yourself another teacher," Theo says. "Oh wait, you're not going to find anyone better than me besides a professor, and he'll tell you the exact same things I do for a higher fee." 

"That's not what I mean..."

"Then what do you mean?" He isn't looking at me; he's paying attention to tuning his cello, so I wait for him to finish.

"I mean...It's not you that I have a problem with," I say, "and I don't have a problem at all! I've just been so excited to learn new music that this came as a bit of a surprise."

Theo goes to the kitchen and grabs a chair for him to sit on, placing it in front of the stand next to mine. "And I'm telling you that it's going to be harder than you expect it will be. And just imagine how hard it is for me to play Spring and Summer on the cello. Give me the respect I deserve after spending a year working on them."

I sigh. "Fine. I'm sorry for being a brat."

"Hey, it was cute~" he teased, smiling up at me. "But to make up for it you have to help me make dinner for tonight."

I smile and nod, opening the thick book to a page that read "Spring, mvt 1" and saw him doing the same. He hummed the first few measures to give me an idea of the tempo, and off we went playing overly-performed music for the next few hours.

---

"So what's for dinner?" I ask as he hands me an apron to use. 

"I was thinking lasagna. Unless you have some sort of freakish gluten intolerance problem or something." Theo was digging through the fridge, trying to find all the ingredients he needed for the recipe. 

"Not that I know of, so I think that sounds fine." I go over to him and lean against the side of the fridge. "What do you want me to do?"

Holding up an onion, he instructs me to dice it, so after a minute of rummaging for a knife and cutting board, I get going.

At one point he comes over and wraps his arms around me from behind, probably standing on his toes so that he could rest his chin on my shoulder. "If I had known you were a lefty, I wouldn't have let you do that."

"I'm fine," I say, trying as hard as possible to make slices that were small enough to look like it was "diced".

He kisses my cheek and I blush in response. "I'll just keep it in mind next time we cook together."

"It's not a big deal," I mutter. "Does this look good?" I ask, hoping I don't mess this up.

"It looks great," he reponds as he leans against me a little more, nuzzling into my neck. "Sorry, I should be paying more attention to the food right now..."

"It's fine," I whisper, but he's settling back down on his feet and letting go of me, and I miss his warmth. I'm not sure when I became attached to him like this, but knowing that he's just as attached is making me want to get even closer and closer to the point where I might not be able to function without him. I sneak a glance at him and find him smiling warmly, which makes the butterflies stir in my stomach and cause me to shift a little to get them to settle down. It'll take me a while to get used to this feeling.

"Ivan."

"Huh? What?" I must have been spacing out a little, because the next thing I know is that he's standing by the stove with a little pot on the fire and a wooden spoon-looking thing in his hand. "Something wrong?"

"No, just enjoying the view." He smirks a bit. "Mind handing me those onions? You can go mix that bowl over there now."

I look where he's pointing and nod. "Yeah, no problem. Here..." I awkwardly hold out the cutting board with the onion on it, trying not to make eye contact because my cheeks are most definitely flushed. "Should I wash these or—Ow!" Some of the hot oil sprayed on me as he dumped the onion into the pot. 

He took the arm I was nursing into his hands and looked it over. "Sorry. It doesn't bother me much anymore when I cook but I guess you've never had to deal with this pain..." He kissed my hand and smiled a bit. "You can wash it if you want. It'll keep this place less messy, so I can't exactly be angry at you if you do."

Flustered, I go over to the sink and wash the knife and cutting board and run my arm under cool water to soothe the dull pain from the burn. I think how it's a Thursday night and I'll probably be locked out of the dorms so I would probably have to sleep here and then I have a class at 10:30 tomorrow morning so I would have to get up a little earlier to head back to the dorms and get my stuff and then I'm not sure exactly what might happen tonight, but that idea just sends a jolt of nervous excitement up my spine, a feeling that tells me exactly what my body hopes might happen. 

I go over to the bowl and start mixing together a slop of cheeses and eggs and some herbs that I don't exactly recognize. It had hurt. That's one of those details I remember from Saturday. It hurt. And I'm more than a little worried that it'll hurt again, but it felt so good that I almost want to put up with that pain again. There was that one time when my youngest sister Beth had her boyfriend come over one night, and all I could hear from her room for a long while was her screams and begging for him to stop because it hurt so much (our rooms were right next to each other, so I could hear everything going on in there). I don't think I screamed nearly that much, so maybe it will hurt less now? Maybe, because I'm falling for him, I'll be able to relax more? Maybe I should stop thinking about this and just let what happens happen? I look over at him and ask if this looks good enough, and when he comes over and stands close to my side to inspect the mush, I'm restless and make an excuse to run to the bathroom.

I sigh. This had to be the most awkward situation I've ever had to deal with. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway; am I expected to go out there and pretend I'm fine and deal with him, or should I fake a reason to head back, or...? Sighing again, I try to fix my hair in an attempt to distract myself from the situation. There's a random curl right where my part should be, and it keeps messing up my bangs, so I guess I should go get my hair cut soon before more start showing up. And there's a zit on my forehead...If I could just...pop it before it gets worse...

"Ivan?" a voice sounds on the other side of the door. "You okay in there?" Theo's supposed concern wrecked my concentration, and I'm back to square one.

I open the door to come out, and he's standing there, biting his lip with a shy, sort of worried expression. "Yeah, I'm...I'm fine." I look down so as not to see that look on his face, the look of a child who didn't know what to do next. 

"I'm helping out the professor for grad school credits," he says after a minute.

I look up, confused. "What?"

"Earlier you, um, asked why I had been teaching the class this morning," he explains. "I never gave you an answer."

"Oh..." I really don't know how to respond to this, especially not with this tension in the air. What's going to happen now? Is he going to just walk back to the kitchen with me trailing behind so that we can finish preparing dinner, or are we going to keep talking here? 

Through my bangs I can see him come closer, and I let him. His hands gingerly come to rest on my hips; his forehead presses against mine so that we can look into each other's eyes through a green haze, and our noses bump against each other for a moment before we finally find a position where we feel comfortable. Somehow my hands had moved so that they were resting on his shoulders, and I can feel his heartbeat, racing and pounding through his body, beneath my hands. Just as I open my mouth to say something, his lips gently brush against mine for a moment, and the butterflies escape the cage that was my stomach and flitter throughout my body, and even though the kiss lasted for only a second and was as light as a feather, I feel as if I had been hit by a truck. 

"We're almost done with the lasagna, so can we do this a little later? As soon as it goes in the oven?" he asks quietly, not pulling away at all.

"That's fine," I say, brushing my lips against his to see how he would react and getting him to linger a little as they came apart. "Do you need my help?"

He rubs his nose against mine, and I can already tell that if we don't separate soon we won't be eating tonight. "I don't need much help. It'll take five minutes...You can go sit around or something if you want, okay?"

"Yeah," I whisper, humming a bit. "Don't take too long."

He chuckles and pulls away to kiss my nose before moving away and heading to the kitchen. I follow him back down the hallway, only I turned into the living room rather than the kitchen. It was a little hard for me to keep still as he worked in the kitchen; I just want him to come over here and calm me down as soon as possible. My cheeks are still flush, so I try to bury my face in my knees as I pull my legs up to my chest. The butterflies were refusing to settle down in my stomach, and they got worse when he sat down next to me and draped an arm over my shoulder.

"We have an hour to ourselves," Theo sighs, leaning against me. "It takes a while to cook."

I nod a little bit. "That's fine..." I lean against him as well, and this causes him to shift slightly. 

"So...Did you get really shy all of a sudden or are you just as jittery about this as I am?" he asks quietly, nibbling on my ear and causing me to shiver.

"I'm a little nervous," I respond quietly. "I don't want to rush stuff like this and make a mistake or something..."

He chuckles quietly and kisses my cheek. "Well then I guess we can take this at a lento. Or do you think music jokes are corny? Because I don't want you leaving me over some tempo joke I make in bed..."

I pull away so that I can look him in the face. "That sounds more embarrassing than farting during an orgasm."

"Yeah, now that I think about it..." He grins and kisses my nose. "But if you think it's cute I might do it once in a while."

"You're so weird," I say, unwrapping my limbs before putting my head down on his lap. "What the hell do you expect me to do with you?"

He tangles his fingers in my hair as he begins speaking. "Honestly? I pretty much want a friend out of you. The kind that comforts you and lets you snuggle up against him when you wake up in the morning and gives me all his love and sometimes has sex with me."

"That's way more than just friendship," I point out, rolling onto my back so that I can stare up at him. 

"Is it?" he asks, tracing a finger down the arc of my nose. "Aren't most married couples friends with each other just with less restraints?"

"We're not married."

He chuckles. "You really are an asshole. What happened to the cutie that cuddled with me while we fell asleep on Saturday? Huh? Or the guy from the hallway just now that wanted just one last kiss?"

I'm blushing, and I turn my head away from his face in an attempt to escape without being caught in the act. "He's somewhere..."

There's a kiss on my cheek and a quiet whisper of, "Found him," before his arms gather me up in an awkward embrace. 

"Theo!" I struggle to make it out of his arms so as to get into a more comfortable position, but he doesn't let go.

"Yeah?" he responds with a laugh. He lets go of me just long enough to let me sit down next to him, but after that he's hugging me tightly once again. 

I let out a huff. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three," he answers. "Why? Are you one of those freaks with an age limit?"

"Noo. But you're five years older than me and you're acting as if you were five years younger than me!"

"Why the hell am I dating you?" he teases, kissing the corner of my lips. "You've always got your panties in a bunch."

"I don't wear panties!" 

He opens his mouth to respond, but then after a second all I could hear out of him was laughter. Loud, hearty laughter that was causing me to shake in his arms and wonder what I had said that had been so strange. I really don't wear girls underwear. A few minutes later his ability to speak returns and he says, "I'll buy you some if you want." 

That was it. This guy was annoying me to no end, and it would be stupid to put myself through this endless teasing. "Let me go," I say with all seriousness, forcing my way out of his grip. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, standing up as I do with a look of confusion. 

"I'm going back." I start making my way to the door. "I hope the lasagna's good." Don't look him in the face, don't look him in the face, don't look him in the--I ended up looking him in the face after he grabbed my shoulders and maneuvered me into a kiss. 

"It will be good. Everything will be good," he whispers, moving his hands from my shoulders to a point where he could connect the behind my back. "I'm sorry about that comment. I'm not really gonna buy you panties or anything; I was just trying to lighten the mood or get you to laugh. You're always so serious."

"And you're always really not...serious..." That statement had completely fallen apart. 

He gives me another kiss. "I've spent too much of my life afraid and depressed and worrying about what's going to happen next. I'm still just trying to recover from that whole thing with my dad."

"What does that have to do with this?" I ask, looking at him with a bit of concern.

"I don't want to be like him. I don't want to be angry and serious and violent and abusive, and I really don't want to hurt you. And I don't want you to leave either, even if we've only known each other for over a week. And you're the first person I've ever told about my dad aside from a few teachers I had in school."

I wrap my arms around his neck slowly, and his head rests on my shoulder. "You're not any of those things. You're the complete opposite. Except for when you were teaching, and I didn't really like that much so I would choose this you over that you. But you should tease me less for now. I have issues with teasing."

"Don't tell me you were bullied." His voice sounds serious, but the squeeze he gives me tells me that he's not frustrated with me.

"Nah, I just can't stand it when people make fun of me is all. I'm way better than all of them after all." We both laugh at this, and I can feel him pulling away a little. "I might get used to it from you."

"I'm special?" he asks, bumping our foreheads together.

"I wouldn't say "special," but maybe just different." I kiss his nose softly before kissing his lips, which was a mistake. If it wasn't for my cellphone ringing loudly, we probably wouldn't have separated. The caller-I.D. tells me that it's my father, and it takes all my strength not to throw the damned thing at the wall. "Why does he always have to bother me...?" I step away from Theo and answer. "Hello?"

"Ivan. Why have you been ignoring my calls?" my father nearly yells into the phone.

"Oh, I don't know, because you usually call when I'm asleep or when I'm in the middle of a class?" I can see Theo out of the corner of my eye cheering me on, and I try not to laugh for the sake of keeping the conversation off of who I'm with and more on why the hell he keeps calling me. 

"Don't you use that tone on me, son. What would your mother do if she heard you treating me like this?"

I shrug even though he can't see me. "I dunno, probably bake me a cake or something because she loves me way more than you do." Once again, Theo is joking around behind me, and I have to force myself to concentrate.

"Look at what this school is doing to your attitude! I told you not to go there."

"You tell everyone lots of things. I just choose not to listen a good part of the time."

"Oh! You told him!" Theo exclaims loudly before covering his mouth and giving me an apologetic look with those emerald eyes. He makes his way down the hall to his room.

"Who was that?" my father asks. "Don't tell me you're slacking off."

"I'm not slacking off; it's called having friends. But I guess you wouldn't know."

"Where on Earth are you getting this attitude from? I certainly did not raise you to behave in this manner!"

I laugh a little as I think of what Theo would have said in reaction to that. "No, you raised me to be a spoiled brat, and that's exactly what my bo—" 

"Exactly what your what?"

I clear my throat. "That's exactly what my best friends call me." I have to keep myself away from the B-word; either way I can't really call Theo my boyfriend after only a few days, can I? 

The sound of a cello concerto resounds through the apartment.

"I'm hanging up. Don't want to keep me slacking off, do you?" I end the call before he can say another word. Stupid old man, trying to seem like he cares...

It takes a second for my brain to realize that Theo is kissing me, but before I can react, he pulls away with a smile. "Good. You're my cliché, cheesy little boyfriend. And I'm hungry." As if to punctuate his statement, his stomach growls.

I sigh. "Okay, okay. But this isn't a date!"

Theo lets out a laugh before kissing my forehead. "Whatever helps you sleep at night!" He proceeds to drag me into the kitchen and deeper into his heart.