I'm the Only One Who Knows

The secret places that the light don't show.

“Could you possibly get any gayer?” I raised my eyebrows, eying the layers of gray fabric draped and knotted snugly around Kellin’s neck.

Unfazed, he carefully readjusted the garment, keeping his chin up and his eyes on the whiteboard at the front of the room where today’s assignments were being scrawled by the teacher. “Honestly, Victor, you are the straightest gay guy I have ever met.” He reached into his bag and started digging for a pen as he continued, “News flash: We’re not living in the sixties. Scarves are no longer limited to the females and the flamboyant; they’re obviously well within the range of tasteful accessorizing regardless of sexual orientation, and assigning such human qualities to scraps of cloth is barbaric.”

He finally looked up and met my eyes, and I was relieved to see the usual hint of mischief sparking in his deep blues rather than any degree of actual irritation. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t have put it past you, considering your pitiful excuse for an outfit.”

I grinned, and, after glancing around the room to make sure that none of the few students who’d arrived as early as us were paying attention, I leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Kellin’s cheek.

“Don’t call me Victor,” I said, settling back into my seat. “And I was just kidding about the scarf. It’s actually . . . well . . .”

I swallowed, feeling the heat rise to me face as I struggled to spit it out. Even after months of dating Kellin, instinctive alarm bells still went off in my head whenever I was on the verge of saying something especially gay. “You look really cute in it.”

I ran my hand through my hair uneasily, internally smacking myself for the cheesy compliment, however unquestionably true it was.

He just rolled his eyes and looked down at the paper on his desk, though I could tell he was fighting hard to keep a pleased smile off his face. He was just as crappy at taking compliments as I was at giving them—an ongoing barrier in the relationship, but one that I refused to stop attempting to overcome. I was gonna learn how to be sweet to him whether he liked it or not.

A minute later the morning bell rang and the announcements began over the intercom. I forced myself to focus my attention on the teacher at the front of the room rather than the perfect boy, the one I was lucky enough to call mine, sitting a few feet away from me.

Still, something about those small rustling movements, the readjustments of the scarf made every few minutes, I just couldn’t ignore.

-

Kellin’s car was still being repaired, and I’d given his parents a great show of just how busy I was and how inconvenient it would be for me to give him rides to and from school every day, but I supposed I could somehow make it work if they really needed me to. Something told me they’d seen through the act—maybe it was the curt tone his mother had used to express her appreciation—but the suggestion had been approved nonetheless. So, just as I’d done all week, I took my boyfriend home after school that day.

I knew Kellin’s parents’ and siblings’ schedules had them home later than the eldest son, so it was a common occurrence for him and me to linger for at least a few minutes outside his house when I brought him home, and the way today’s cloudy skies painted the street gray made the whole scene look more still, deserted. It felt safe to have this moment now, when nothing could move but us.

His lips felt as soft as ever on mine, his breath coming short and quivery from his nose; it was strange how hyperaware I was of those tiny things, the delicate puffs of air on my cheek, the light tickling of his insanely long eyelashes brushing against my skin. The silence of the car had that effect. I placed a palm, warm from resting on the steering wheel near the car’s air vent, along his jawline as our lips moved together. Even though I’d kissed him countless times by now, somehow it always managed to send butterflies into my stomach, accompanied by a steady warmth trickling through me. He was a home to me now. I belonged with him, like this.

I moved my hand down to his thigh and shifted the focus of my kisses to his cheek, then his jaw, and finally down to his neck. I distinctly heard him gasp and a rush of excitement flooded through me; I was happy to know that he was still as reactive to me as ever, that I hadn’t gotten old to him, either. My tongue darted out to flick against his skin as I imitated what I’d read about on the internet—the source of any and all of my knowledge regarding how to be intimate with someone, and hey, it had served me well thus far. I was just beginning to nuzzle my face into his scarf in an effort to get access to as much of his skin as possible when suddenly his posture changed, and he cried, “Stop!”

I pulled back, my heart dropping in surprise. “I’m sorry,” I said immediately, reflexively. “Did I—?” But I didn’t know what I could have possibly done—I was just doing what we always did, what had worked in the past. My head was reeling as I tried to figure it out.

Kellin had recoiled from me. That that had never happened before.

“I’m sorry,” I said again in earnest.

He was looking at me with wide eyes now. He had clapped a hand over his neck where I’d been mouthing at just second ago.

“N-No, it’s okay, it’s me, I just . . .” he stuttered quickly, glancing at the windshield, visibly nervous all of a sudden. When did Kellin Quinn ever get self-conscious? “I have, like, um . . . I’m sorry, I just . . .”

“It’s alright, just spit it out,” I said, incredulous and perplexed by this sudden change in behavior.

He avoided my gaze, eyes quickly flickering from the windows to his own lap. “I have this, um . . .”

With shaking fingers—really shaking, when just a few moments ago he’d been as secure and level as ever—he loosened his scarf, pulling it down to reveal a large, angry red patch of skin stretching along his collarbone.

“Oh,” I said softly. “A skin rash?”

He nodded, lip between his teeth. “It’s not contagious or anything,” he said quickly. “It just flares up, like, when I’m stressed or something, it’ll be gone in a few days—”

He cut off as I reached over and lightly touched the irritated skin, delicately, with just the tips of my fingers. I stared fascinatedly at the rash even as Kellin struggled to keep his breathing steady, exploring the feeling of roughness and heat in the place of Kellin’s normally smooth complexion. Even I didn’t understand why I was doing this, why what would normally repel and disgust me seemed inexplicably beautiful on Kellin, but something about it was drawing me in.

“Is it itchy?” I asked, my voice unexpectedly husky.

He nodded wordlessly, and then gasped as I raked my fingernails lightly over the redness.

I wondered what any given passerby would think if they were to walk by the car right at that moment. I was almost more thankful now than I was before that the street was so empty, no spectators to watch from outside as Kellin closed his eyes to better experience the sensation of me scratching the rash. Hell, I barely felt comfortable sharing this private moment with him, as much of a participant as I was—I watched him anxiously, afraid at any second that I would do something wrong and we’d both end up uncomfortable.

When he opened his eyes a second later I could see the pure panic in them, and I leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips before he had a chance to speak out. I didn’t want to face reality right now, not when we were pushed by our feelings and thinking only of each passing moment.

Mimicking my exact pattern from earlier, though perhaps at a quicker pace from nervousness, I kissed a line down to his neck, but this time there was no scarf to hinder my progress, nor did Kellin make a move to stop me. When my lips reached the edge of the rash I stopped scratching, earning a disappointed whine from him, but I quickly replaced my fingers with my mouth, pressing kiss after kiss to the blotchy skin.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Kel,” I breathed into his neck between kisses. He actually moaned as I swept my tongue across the scratchy area. “You know I’d never judge you—” My teeth grazed against his skin and I could feel his hands clawing at my shoulders. “—for something as stupid as a rash.”

The moment wasn’t as heated as it was before, but heavy, weighted down by Kellin’s labored breathing and my ever-careful movements. I went on for a minute, suppressing the electricity tingling up and down my spine whenever I heard his breath hitch, but when he began to writhe slightly and try to pull me closer, pull me on top, that was when I knew it was time to stop.

“Vic,” he whispered, eyes cloudy as I pulled away, his hands still lingering on my shoulders, my arms, running down to my chest. I took them in mine.

“Sorry, Kel. Not today,” I replied hoarsely. I gazed into his eyes and tried to convey my thoughts as much as I could. I want to, god, I do. But this isn’t the right time.

He looked away. “I’m sorry,” I said again, squeezing his hands, and then adding, “I feel the same way.”

“No, you’re right,” he agreed, bringing his hands away, back down to his lap to clench each other tightly.

A silence fell over the car as we each took a moment to recover, to gather our thoughts. I closed my eyes, willing myself to cool down, for the arousal that burned in my stomach and my spine and in between my legs to recede, at least for now. I wouldn’t be able to safely drive with those thoughts still swirling in my head, distracting me and putting a film of red over the world in front of me. I could hear Kellin’s breathing slow to a calm pace, and I imagined that he was going through a similar process. His family would be home not too long from now, after all.

When I opened my eyes and looked at him he was staring down at his hands once again, mouth parted slightly and the pink blush in his cheeks faded almost entirely.

“I guess I’d better go,” he sighed after another brief moment, and bent down to gather his things from the floor in front of his seat.

I gnawed on my lip. “Okay.”

He opened my car door, letting in a rush of cool air, swinging his bag onto his shoulder as he climbed out of the vehicle. “Bye,” he stated without looking at me.

“Bye.”

I watched as he made his way to the house without looking back. Before he’d gotten halfway up the driveway I slapped the steering wheel with both palms in frustration, muttered, “Dammit,” and leapt out of the car after him.

He didn’t even have time to express his surprise before I’d thrown my arms around him, wrapping him up as tightly as I could, breathing into his ear, “There’s nothing wrong with it, Kells.” I pressed a kiss into his hair. “Not one bit. I still think you’re beautiful.”

He hugged me back for a second before pulling away, a hint of his old playfulness dancing in his eyes. “Well, yeah, I could fuckin’ tell,” he smirked. “What the hell am I supposed to tell my mom when she asks to see my rash later and sees hickeys all over it?”

I rolled my eyes. “I dunno, maybe reenact the noises you were making when I was giving them to you. It’s not my fault you’re a kinky fuck.”

I am?!”

“Fuck yeah.” I touched his cheek one last time, smiling bashfully at him. “See you tomorrow, Kel.”

“See ya.”

This time, as I watched him walk away from me, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. God, he was something else. He waved goodbye one last time through the window in his front door before disappearing completely, leaving me to stare at the unmoving front of the house, its windows dim like the eyes of a dead man.

When, finally, a light was snapped on somewhere inside, brightening one of the windows, I turned and climbed back into the car, pulling away at last to begin my journey home.
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not really my best work, done hastily and without a lot of revisions. also probably the weirdest fic I've written haha. there's just something so alluring to me about skin rashes. sorry if it weirded you out haha

feel free to leave feedback! I'd love to see what people have to say about this rash-themed fic. love ya! :)