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. “Youassign significance to something.Youdecide 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 downon 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 wasnervous.
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 thenwe’dbe 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.”
