FIC: And So It Began.... Part Five (Kyle/Oliver, PG-13)
Fandom: One Life to Live
Pairing: Kyle Lewis/Oliver Fish, the college years
Rating: PG-13 for language--for now; will be R by Part 10.
Summary: Oliver Fish met Kyle Lewis in college. It will change his life forever.
A/N: I've been gone because my computer's been unpredictable and broken-downy, and I had limited writing/posting capabilities on the only usable device in my house, so I will be catching up on comments and speeding things along on this story. Thanks so much for reading and commenting. These boys are way too much fun to write! Oh, and if anyone remembers what Barbara Fish does for a living, let me know if I got that wrong. I've looked everywhere to see if I missed something....
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
High and Dry
Radiohead
“So, you knew when you were younger? Like, when you were a kid?”
Kyle Lewis rolled his eyes as he squeezed through a group of freshmen lingering in the hallway of the Nixon Building, where LU’s science department was located. “You know, you can ask me the same question fifty times, and the answer won’t change, Fish. Yes, I knew when I was a kid. And yes,” he said, shooting the other boy a sharp glance, “I didn’t tell anyone else until I was older. But they already knew.”
Oliver nodded. A couple of weeks had passed since Kyle confided to him that he was gay. After a day of awkwardness and avoidance, Oliver approached him and reopened the lines of communication. From that point on, their conversations meandered inevitably to Kyle’s sexual orientation, with Oliver steering them toward that topic.
“Okay,” he replied, keeping his voice as low as possible. “But how did you know you were gay if you’ve never… you know…”
“What? ‘If I never…’ played poker? Trivial Pursuit?”
“Kyle, you know what I mean.”
They stopped walking and stood nearby the classroom for their freshman Zoology seminar. Kyle jabbed his finger into Oliver’s chest. “When did you first start noticing girls?”
The question caught Oliver off guard. He quickly thought of the most logical answer to the inquiry - although thinking about it made him realize he had noticed girls, he just hadn’t noticed girls, and not the way boys should. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You were like, what? 12? 13? Maybe 14?” Kyle smiled. “Well, that’s when it started happening for me. But with boys.”
“Just like that?” Oliver snapped his fingers.
“Not just like that. There was this feeling, even when I was 7, that I was different from the other kids. I couldn’t define it then or anything, but the older I got, I started to piece it together. And it started out with small things; I didn’t want to be Justin Timberlake, I wanted to date him. I saw pretty girls, even beautiful girls, but they did nothing for me. However, if I saw a really hot guy, all I could think about was, you know…”
Oliver swallowed; he felt something catch in his throat. “I know what?”
Kyle stared at him incredulously. He leaned in and winked. “I wanted to do stuff with him. Or ask him out. Whatever.”
A shudder passed through him at his friend’s confession; hearing it described in such stark, frank terms struck Oliver with its familiarity. “But you haven’t been with anyone yet.”
Kyle chuckled. “Do you have to have sex with a girl to know that you’re straight?”
“I-I guess not.”
“Well, there you go. I’ve kissed and made out. Have I gone all the way?”
Oliver felt his stomach curdle as an unwanted image of Kyle with another man floated into his head.
“I haven’t,” Kyle continued. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to some day. I just haven’t found the right guy.”
Oliver shut his eyes and shook his head. “But… but what if you did meet a girl, and you found yourself attracted to her and… and….”
Kyle’s face darkened. He spoke low enough so only they could hear their conversation, but his whispered voice took on a harsher, angrier tone. “Why are you so fixated on this?”
“I’m not fixated.”
“Yeah, you are.” Kyle was standing very close to him, and despite the anger in his tone Oliver could smell his soap, possibly his shampoo, and the spicy scent of his aftershave. He tried to push away the thoughts that the scents seemed to bring with them, focusing instead on their ensuing argument.
“You’ve been asking me about it for the past two weeks. You’ve talked about it more than I have. And you seem obsessed with thinking that this is a choice. That I can decide to be something one day and then be something else on another.”
“But you can, Kyle.”
“No, I can’t! You need to understand that. Until you do, don’t talk to me.” He turned to go into the lecture hall.
“Hey. Kyle, don’t-”
He looked back at him. “Fish, I’ve got better things to do with my time than to keep explaining this to you.” He waved resignedly at Oliver. “I’ll catch you later man.”
Oliver let the stream of students dissipate, Kyle at the front of the queue. One minute before the lectures began, he slipped into the hall and found a seat in the back. He was impressed he was able to take fairly good notes, even while he kept staring at the back of Kyle’s head.
****
If anyone asked Oliver Fish whether alcohol helped his situation, Oliver would grunt and attempt to hold his thumb up. However, as he was already on his fifth shot of Jack Daniels, followed by a beer chaser, holding up his thumb was a bit of a struggle.
“Dude,” Jason Greenley, his roommate, said, “you going to be all right?” He was putting on a jacket and heading out for a hall party at his own fraternity.
Oliver snorted and managed to grin. “ ‘M fine, dude. ‘M tryin’ to relax, ‘s’all.”
Jason shot him a dubious expression. “Okay. Well, just in case.” He brought over the metal wastebasket, which was lined with a plastic bag. “This is here, if you can’t make it to the toilet.”
“A-ok, buddy! Gotcha!” He pointed his fingers like a gun at Jason and made a cocking sound with his mouth. Jason merely shook his head.
“Don’t wait up.” With a wave, his roommate walked out and left him sitting at his computer, the screensaver flicking through pictures of vacations with his mother and father, George and Barbara Fish.
Oliver took another drink. He loved his parents. They were good people, church-going and generous. All throughout his life, he watched as his parents gave their time and money to help the less fortunate, practically giving the clothes off their backs to the homeless, to feed those families who couldn’t feed themselves.
But when he started entering his teenage years, he noticed his parents’ reactions to certain things. The little looks they gave each other when the newspaper announced a marriage between men and women who were from different races. Teenaged girls who became mothers. Anything that upset the carefully structured community where he had grown up and gone to church and went to school was frowned upon.
The worst sin, though, was homosexuality. When a teenager came out, their church would encourage their family to go to their sermons and bring the child to the church’s group, to help them find the path toward righteousness. The looks his parents had when they saw someone who was openly gay - he couldn’t face that. He couldn’t face his parents thinking he was some freak who didn’t deserve their love.
They were his mom and dad. They showed up for his little league games. They taught him to help others, to be a good man and a good citizen. No one could deny that his mother was one of the most gentle-hearted people on the planet, a schoolteacher and a model of the community. And, of course, he admired the hell out of his father. A cop. A good one at that. The man devoted his life to public service, and all Oliver had ever wanted was to be a cop just like him.
He loved them a lot.
But he also couldn’t deny these other feelings, things that contradicted everything he had ever been taught was good and right. If he acted on them, all he would see would be his parents’ eyes, hardened and cold and filled with… nothing.
He’d lose them forever.
And yet, here he was, drinking alone and thinking about his parents, and finally managing to take a break from Kyle. Except that Kyle seemed to be mixed and mingled with everything else in his head. Everything seemed to go back to his friend and whatever it was he was feeling toward him.
Oliver downed another shot and checked the clock. 11:15 p.m. Stretching out, he could feel his head spin. He needed air, and quick. Maybe he could find a nice spot outside to vomit if necessary. He stumbled out the door, haphazardly checking his pocket to make sure he had his keys. He had just shut his door when he noticed a figure down the hall, getting ready to enter his own room. Oliver looked up and met Kyle Lewis’ eyes.
“You comin’ or goin’?”
“I’m in for the night, Fish.” Kyle’s eyes scanned him from head to toe. “You look like you’ve had a few too many.”
Oliver stumbled a little as he walked toward him. “Didja meet anyone?” he asked, his words slurring together.
Kyle snorted. “Man, you don’t miss a beat, do you? I’m turning in. See you later.”
Despite his drunken state, Oliver slapped his hand on the door, sliding into the room just behind Kyle. Kyle rolled his eyes.
“Come in. Not like you were invited or anything.”
Oliver let the door shut behind him, clumsily locking it. “Rooney’s gone?”
“Well, for the night,” Kyle replied dispassionately. “Benefit of having a roommate being attached to the hip to his older, apartment-renting girlfriend.” He shed his jacket off and tossed his keys onto his desk. “So spill it, Fish. What do you want?”
Oliver took a breath before he spoke again. “Didja go out and meet your friend? Y’ aren’t carrying any books, so I don’t think you were studying.”
“It’s none of your business where I was. You haven’t spoken to me in a week.”
“I was tryin’ to give you some space.” He wobbled a bit, stumbling against the closet next to the door.
“Whatever. You didn’t want anything to do with me after I called you out. And I wouldn’t be surprised if you were here to try to convince me to date girls.”
Oliver lowered his head, shaking it slowly. “No. I’m not.”
Kyle strode toward the door. “Go back to your room.” He started to unlatch the locks. “When you’re ready to start talking to me like I’m a normal person, then you can come back and we can hang out again.”
“No. I want to talk to you.” Oliver reached out, his hand stopping Kyle’s. He shocked himself, his voice coming out more clearly and smoothly than before, despite his intoxication. For the second time that night, he met Kyle’s eyes, determined to make his friend see reason.
But before he could say anything, Oliver’s eyes traveled down Kyle’s face and rested on his lips.
“Damn. You reek, Fish. What’ve you been drinking?”
“A little Jack Daniels. Some beer. Nothing much.” Oliver realized his hand was still on Kyle’s.
“You're stopping me from making you go back to your room?”
Oliver nodded weakly. “I don’t want to go back.” Somewhere in the middle of his thoughts, as he stared intently at Kyle Lewis’ lips, Oliver forgot all the reasons for being in here. He knew he wanted to see Kyle and maybe try to convince him he wasn’t gay.
“Oliver, look-”
But those lips. Nothing else mattered except those lips.
“Please don’t talk,” Oliver muttered. “Don’t talk. Don’t say anything.” Before he knew it, he was bringing his other hand around the back of Kyle’s head. The gap between them narrowed-
And suddenly, there was nothing between them, only the feeling of his mouth on Kyle’s, kissing him, the fine fuzz of nighttime stubble rubbing against his face. Alcohol or not, it was good. The contact made him tingle, and the sensation spread through his body and pooled in his chest. Oliver felt warm, wanted. He chanced tilting his head to the right, and opening his mouth, needing to explore more-
There was a muffled sound of surprise, a gasp that didn’t come from him, and then two hands pushing on his chest, breaking them apart.
“What’re you doing?"
Oliver grasped Kyle again, touching his forehead with his own. He breathed in hard and fast, but he was aware enough to know he needed to make Kyle understand. “Please don’t say anything. I was just…”
“Just what?” Kyle said, glaring at him. “Are you mocking me? Is this some kind of joke?”
“What? N-no. I don’t think anything’s funny.”
Kyle tore himself away from the clinch. “So, what is it? Are you working through something yourself?”
Even though he knew that was the reason, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Not yet, at least. He cast his eyes down to the floor, unable to look at Kyle. “I… I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Shit.” There was silence for a few moments, until Oliver heard the door unlocking and the squeak from the rusty hinges as it opened.
“You need to leave, Fish. Now.”
Oliver shuffled slowly toward the hallway. He paused for a moment and turned to face his friend. “Kyle-”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The sharp stare from Kyle managed to quiet Oliver. With a meek nod, he walked back to his room. Only when he got his keys out and opened the door did he hear Kyle’s shut in the distance.
Pairing: Kyle Lewis/Oliver Fish, the college years
Rating: PG-13 for language--for now; will be R by Part 10.
Summary: Oliver Fish met Kyle Lewis in college. It will change his life forever.
A/N: I've been gone because my computer's been unpredictable and broken-downy, and I had limited writing/posting capabilities on the only usable device in my house, so I will be catching up on comments and speeding things along on this story. Thanks so much for reading and commenting. These boys are way too much fun to write! Oh, and if anyone remembers what Barbara Fish does for a living, let me know if I got that wrong. I've looked everywhere to see if I missed something....
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
High and Dry
Radiohead
“So, you knew when you were younger? Like, when you were a kid?”
Kyle Lewis rolled his eyes as he squeezed through a group of freshmen lingering in the hallway of the Nixon Building, where LU’s science department was located. “You know, you can ask me the same question fifty times, and the answer won’t change, Fish. Yes, I knew when I was a kid. And yes,” he said, shooting the other boy a sharp glance, “I didn’t tell anyone else until I was older. But they already knew.”
Oliver nodded. A couple of weeks had passed since Kyle confided to him that he was gay. After a day of awkwardness and avoidance, Oliver approached him and reopened the lines of communication. From that point on, their conversations meandered inevitably to Kyle’s sexual orientation, with Oliver steering them toward that topic.
“Okay,” he replied, keeping his voice as low as possible. “But how did you know you were gay if you’ve never… you know…”
“What? ‘If I never…’ played poker? Trivial Pursuit?”
“Kyle, you know what I mean.”
They stopped walking and stood nearby the classroom for their freshman Zoology seminar. Kyle jabbed his finger into Oliver’s chest. “When did you first start noticing girls?”
The question caught Oliver off guard. He quickly thought of the most logical answer to the inquiry - although thinking about it made him realize he had noticed girls, he just hadn’t noticed girls, and not the way boys should. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You were like, what? 12? 13? Maybe 14?” Kyle smiled. “Well, that’s when it started happening for me. But with boys.”
“Just like that?” Oliver snapped his fingers.
“Not just like that. There was this feeling, even when I was 7, that I was different from the other kids. I couldn’t define it then or anything, but the older I got, I started to piece it together. And it started out with small things; I didn’t want to be Justin Timberlake, I wanted to date him. I saw pretty girls, even beautiful girls, but they did nothing for me. However, if I saw a really hot guy, all I could think about was, you know…”
Oliver swallowed; he felt something catch in his throat. “I know what?”
Kyle stared at him incredulously. He leaned in and winked. “I wanted to do stuff with him. Or ask him out. Whatever.”
A shudder passed through him at his friend’s confession; hearing it described in such stark, frank terms struck Oliver with its familiarity. “But you haven’t been with anyone yet.”
Kyle chuckled. “Do you have to have sex with a girl to know that you’re straight?”
“I-I guess not.”
“Well, there you go. I’ve kissed and made out. Have I gone all the way?”
Oliver felt his stomach curdle as an unwanted image of Kyle with another man floated into his head.
“I haven’t,” Kyle continued. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to some day. I just haven’t found the right guy.”
Oliver shut his eyes and shook his head. “But… but what if you did meet a girl, and you found yourself attracted to her and… and….”
Kyle’s face darkened. He spoke low enough so only they could hear their conversation, but his whispered voice took on a harsher, angrier tone. “Why are you so fixated on this?”
“I’m not fixated.”
“Yeah, you are.” Kyle was standing very close to him, and despite the anger in his tone Oliver could smell his soap, possibly his shampoo, and the spicy scent of his aftershave. He tried to push away the thoughts that the scents seemed to bring with them, focusing instead on their ensuing argument.
“You’ve been asking me about it for the past two weeks. You’ve talked about it more than I have. And you seem obsessed with thinking that this is a choice. That I can decide to be something one day and then be something else on another.”
“But you can, Kyle.”
“No, I can’t! You need to understand that. Until you do, don’t talk to me.” He turned to go into the lecture hall.
“Hey. Kyle, don’t-”
He looked back at him. “Fish, I’ve got better things to do with my time than to keep explaining this to you.” He waved resignedly at Oliver. “I’ll catch you later man.”
Oliver let the stream of students dissipate, Kyle at the front of the queue. One minute before the lectures began, he slipped into the hall and found a seat in the back. He was impressed he was able to take fairly good notes, even while he kept staring at the back of Kyle’s head.
****
If anyone asked Oliver Fish whether alcohol helped his situation, Oliver would grunt and attempt to hold his thumb up. However, as he was already on his fifth shot of Jack Daniels, followed by a beer chaser, holding up his thumb was a bit of a struggle.
“Dude,” Jason Greenley, his roommate, said, “you going to be all right?” He was putting on a jacket and heading out for a hall party at his own fraternity.
Oliver snorted and managed to grin. “ ‘M fine, dude. ‘M tryin’ to relax, ‘s’all.”
Jason shot him a dubious expression. “Okay. Well, just in case.” He brought over the metal wastebasket, which was lined with a plastic bag. “This is here, if you can’t make it to the toilet.”
“A-ok, buddy! Gotcha!” He pointed his fingers like a gun at Jason and made a cocking sound with his mouth. Jason merely shook his head.
“Don’t wait up.” With a wave, his roommate walked out and left him sitting at his computer, the screensaver flicking through pictures of vacations with his mother and father, George and Barbara Fish.
Oliver took another drink. He loved his parents. They were good people, church-going and generous. All throughout his life, he watched as his parents gave their time and money to help the less fortunate, practically giving the clothes off their backs to the homeless, to feed those families who couldn’t feed themselves.
But when he started entering his teenage years, he noticed his parents’ reactions to certain things. The little looks they gave each other when the newspaper announced a marriage between men and women who were from different races. Teenaged girls who became mothers. Anything that upset the carefully structured community where he had grown up and gone to church and went to school was frowned upon.
The worst sin, though, was homosexuality. When a teenager came out, their church would encourage their family to go to their sermons and bring the child to the church’s group, to help them find the path toward righteousness. The looks his parents had when they saw someone who was openly gay - he couldn’t face that. He couldn’t face his parents thinking he was some freak who didn’t deserve their love.
They were his mom and dad. They showed up for his little league games. They taught him to help others, to be a good man and a good citizen. No one could deny that his mother was one of the most gentle-hearted people on the planet, a schoolteacher and a model of the community. And, of course, he admired the hell out of his father. A cop. A good one at that. The man devoted his life to public service, and all Oliver had ever wanted was to be a cop just like him.
He loved them a lot.
But he also couldn’t deny these other feelings, things that contradicted everything he had ever been taught was good and right. If he acted on them, all he would see would be his parents’ eyes, hardened and cold and filled with… nothing.
He’d lose them forever.
And yet, here he was, drinking alone and thinking about his parents, and finally managing to take a break from Kyle. Except that Kyle seemed to be mixed and mingled with everything else in his head. Everything seemed to go back to his friend and whatever it was he was feeling toward him.
Oliver downed another shot and checked the clock. 11:15 p.m. Stretching out, he could feel his head spin. He needed air, and quick. Maybe he could find a nice spot outside to vomit if necessary. He stumbled out the door, haphazardly checking his pocket to make sure he had his keys. He had just shut his door when he noticed a figure down the hall, getting ready to enter his own room. Oliver looked up and met Kyle Lewis’ eyes.
“You comin’ or goin’?”
“I’m in for the night, Fish.” Kyle’s eyes scanned him from head to toe. “You look like you’ve had a few too many.”
Oliver stumbled a little as he walked toward him. “Didja meet anyone?” he asked, his words slurring together.
Kyle snorted. “Man, you don’t miss a beat, do you? I’m turning in. See you later.”
Despite his drunken state, Oliver slapped his hand on the door, sliding into the room just behind Kyle. Kyle rolled his eyes.
“Come in. Not like you were invited or anything.”
Oliver let the door shut behind him, clumsily locking it. “Rooney’s gone?”
“Well, for the night,” Kyle replied dispassionately. “Benefit of having a roommate being attached to the hip to his older, apartment-renting girlfriend.” He shed his jacket off and tossed his keys onto his desk. “So spill it, Fish. What do you want?”
Oliver took a breath before he spoke again. “Didja go out and meet your friend? Y’ aren’t carrying any books, so I don’t think you were studying.”
“It’s none of your business where I was. You haven’t spoken to me in a week.”
“I was tryin’ to give you some space.” He wobbled a bit, stumbling against the closet next to the door.
“Whatever. You didn’t want anything to do with me after I called you out. And I wouldn’t be surprised if you were here to try to convince me to date girls.”
Oliver lowered his head, shaking it slowly. “No. I’m not.”
Kyle strode toward the door. “Go back to your room.” He started to unlatch the locks. “When you’re ready to start talking to me like I’m a normal person, then you can come back and we can hang out again.”
“No. I want to talk to you.” Oliver reached out, his hand stopping Kyle’s. He shocked himself, his voice coming out more clearly and smoothly than before, despite his intoxication. For the second time that night, he met Kyle’s eyes, determined to make his friend see reason.
But before he could say anything, Oliver’s eyes traveled down Kyle’s face and rested on his lips.
“Damn. You reek, Fish. What’ve you been drinking?”
“A little Jack Daniels. Some beer. Nothing much.” Oliver realized his hand was still on Kyle’s.
“You're stopping me from making you go back to your room?”
Oliver nodded weakly. “I don’t want to go back.” Somewhere in the middle of his thoughts, as he stared intently at Kyle Lewis’ lips, Oliver forgot all the reasons for being in here. He knew he wanted to see Kyle and maybe try to convince him he wasn’t gay.
“Oliver, look-”
But those lips. Nothing else mattered except those lips.
“Please don’t talk,” Oliver muttered. “Don’t talk. Don’t say anything.” Before he knew it, he was bringing his other hand around the back of Kyle’s head. The gap between them narrowed-
And suddenly, there was nothing between them, only the feeling of his mouth on Kyle’s, kissing him, the fine fuzz of nighttime stubble rubbing against his face. Alcohol or not, it was good. The contact made him tingle, and the sensation spread through his body and pooled in his chest. Oliver felt warm, wanted. He chanced tilting his head to the right, and opening his mouth, needing to explore more-
There was a muffled sound of surprise, a gasp that didn’t come from him, and then two hands pushing on his chest, breaking them apart.
“What’re you doing?"
Oliver grasped Kyle again, touching his forehead with his own. He breathed in hard and fast, but he was aware enough to know he needed to make Kyle understand. “Please don’t say anything. I was just…”
“Just what?” Kyle said, glaring at him. “Are you mocking me? Is this some kind of joke?”
“What? N-no. I don’t think anything’s funny.”
Kyle tore himself away from the clinch. “So, what is it? Are you working through something yourself?”
Even though he knew that was the reason, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Not yet, at least. He cast his eyes down to the floor, unable to look at Kyle. “I… I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Shit.” There was silence for a few moments, until Oliver heard the door unlocking and the squeak from the rusty hinges as it opened.
“You need to leave, Fish. Now.”
Oliver shuffled slowly toward the hallway. He paused for a moment and turned to face his friend. “Kyle-”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The sharp stare from Kyle managed to quiet Oliver. With a meek nod, he walked back to his room. Only when he got his keys out and opened the door did he hear Kyle’s shut in the distance.