The Kids are Fine | Kellic (boyxboy)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN | I Studied Your Face, The Fear Goes Away

KELLIN'S P.O.V

I choke on my water as the constant, fucking loud, ringing of my doorbell scares the absolute shit out of me. I was home alone and it was silent in my house. My heart is suddenly in my throat and it's not because of the doorbell. It's because I knew exactly who was ringing it. I haven't seen Vic since we got drunk, obviously. I've been avoiding him. Which, I apologized for. He said he wasn't mad, I shouldn't be this nervous. I swallow hard. Why am I so nervous? I walk to the front door, slowly. He keeps ringing the doorbell, like a maniac. I swear to god, Vic. Okay, open the door.

1...

2..

3.

"Can you not-" My words freeze in my throat as I swing the door open.

I see Vic standing there wearing dark jeans, littered with holes, a worn band t-shirt that was maybe a large when he was a medium, a red flannel that also seemed to be a size too big, and a black beanie. I swallowed hard. This wasn't that different to his usual style, if anything, this was more of a careless look. Why was I noticing that I liked it? I looked him up and down. Kellin. Stop. Twice. And I know he fucking noticed because he smirked at me and crossed his arms, cocking his head to the side, just waiting for my bullshit explanation as to why I was still looking at him and not saying anything. Great way to start. Just great.

My mind is racing.

What do boys do when they like something? They make fun of it. Fuck, what w

as I supposed to be saying about my doorbell?

"Nice outfit, 90's boy." I scoff, saying the first real sentence that comes to my head.

"Hey! I happen to look great." He says, his face scrunching up in a playful glare. "Plus, there's nothing more 90's than wearing a flannel and offending people."

"And how are you offending people today?" I cross my arms, leaning against the door frame.

"I'm a flaming homosexual, duh." He shrugs as if it were obvious.

I laughed, lifting my head up, because that was actually funny. He's funny.

"A flaming homosexual who looks great," He reiterates. "Just by the way."

He's right. Fuck, he's right.

"Whatever you say." I shake my head. Vic makes a noise, mocking my tone.

"Are you ready?" He steps, back, giving room for me to step outside and close the door behind me.

"Ready for what, exactly?" I cock my head to the side as we walk the short distance to his car.

"You'll see when we get there." He sang, his lips twitching into a mischievous smile. He opened the passenger side door for me. Why do I feel like he does this for me too often? I climbed in and he shuts the door. When he was in front of his car, making his way to the driver's side, I frown and pull on the door handle. It didn't open. It didn't even budge. He still had the child lock on. The frown stays on my face as he opens his own door. My uncomfortable gaze shifts from my door, to him, still frowning, he notices.

"What's wrong?" He asks, carefully once he's in the car.

My mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out. I wanted to ask why he hasn't taken the child lock off of the door. I want to ask him, but i didn't. I didn't want to remind him why he even had to put the child lock on the door to begin with. I didn't want to remind him of that night. I looked down, feeling tears well up in my throat, I swallowed them down as hard as I could. I wouldn't let them make their way to my eyes. Not right now. He tilts his head downward, an action meaning it's okay to tell him whats wrong. I didn't want to. I didn't want to make this a serious day. Not after feeling the shame I had been feeling from what we did in my lounge a week ago. There was too much of it. I didn't want to feel anymore shame about anything else. Not right now at least. Maybe when I had room to think about it. But I didn't have room to think about this when I was with Vic. I don't really have room to think about anything when i'm with Vic. Anything except him, at least. He never stopped talking. He was a good distraction. Something tells me he tries to distract me on purpose. This was a nice thought. A thought that shoved the tears back down my throat all the way to my stomach.