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Kevin can hear Avi snorting for what seems to be the seventieth time, and every time he tries to hold on to his patience.
He doesn’t want to be sharp or petulant—like Avi, for example—but he’s really tired and really trying to sleep, and Avi really isn't making things any easier.
Resting in airports sucks.
Anyway, even though Avi’s mouth is near his neck, drooling on his hoodie, Kevin isn’t sure he has the kind of bravery to tell him to just stop without starting an argument.
“So, we still have to wait for a long time; how about we go get something from the vending machines?” he suggests, unsure, but Avi gets up—fast enough for a zombie ready to die for the second time—and shrugs.
This time Kevin sighs, and he’s loud, but he takes some money and his phone. Avi is staring at him, probably because he’s hungry, and Kevin is so fast taking the picture that Avi can’t even pretend to be awake, or so happy.
“What—”
Kevin grins. “You’re ready for the green mile,” he says and walks away, leaving Avi alone.
“Don’t you dare post that picture!” Avi yells.
Kevin raises his thumb without looking at him. He can’t wait to post it.
In general, Kevin doesn’t like traveling much.
The problem isn’t the flying or the places he visits, but the fact that he always has long-ass flights that last eight hours or more, and the lack of something to do in the meantime that doesn’t make him feel like he's wasting his time.
One of the things he appreciates the most is talking with Avi. Not a specific topic—the line between Shakespearean talks and trying to remember all the names of the Seven Dwarfs is quite thin—but time always flies quicker when he’s with Avi. Now he’s sleeping, though—wearing Kevin’s headphones—and Kevin doesn’t want to bother him.
In the end, spending his time on social networks seems the best thing to do, so he looks at his Facebook home, trying not to laugh when he finds stupid videos or memes. It’s so boring without Avi.
Kevin turns to his left to look at him, and he can’t help but smile; Avi has his mouth open, and Kev’s really tempted to pull a prank on him, but then he has a better idea.
He tries to find his phone camera, and Mitch snorts, shaking his head. “If he catches you, you’re gonna die,” he comments, but Kevin ignores him and takes the picture.
Suddenly, a jolt shakes the airplane, and Avi opens his eyes with a wince—and as fast as Kevin is, he isn’t fast enough.
“Kevin,” he starts, using the threatening voice, the deep one that should intimidate.
“What?” Kevin asks, trying to seem as innocent as possible and typing a caption without looking away from him.
Then, he notices something. “Is that my hoodie?” he asks, confused.
Avi ignores him, and Mitch smiles with a sort of “I-know-something-you-don’t-know” smile.
“If you post that picture anywhere, you'll die.”
When Kevin decides to invite Avi out for lunch, he’s not sure Avi’s gonna say yes.
Actually, Kevin is pretty sure he’s going to say no and that he’s gonna feel so bad about it, but he can’t help but be masochistic, so he asks Avi anyway.
Oddly, Avi says yes—and suddenly, for no apparent reason, Kevin regrets everything.
It's weird to think that in all those years he’s never invited him—Avi has never had the opportunity to say yes, then—because Kevin has dined alone with Kirstie and Scott a lot of times—sometimes even with Mitch, who's the one who scares him the most, and everything has always been alright.
But maybe the problem is just that—when Kevin thinks about Avi, he doesn’t feel scared, but nervous, and what annoys him the most is that Avi does nothing to make him feel that way. Avi exists, and that's enough.
“I hope you like Mexican,” he warns when they enter the restaurant. Avi nods, taking a seat at the table reserved for them, and looking around carefully.
Kevin knows that even though Avi loves fans, meals are sacred. Kev only hopes that nobody will die.
"Order the Chipotle," Kevin suggests when the waitress arrives. Avi doesn't seem so convinced, but then he looks at Kevin with a little smile.
When the food arrives, Kevin isn’t sure that it looks particularly inviting, but Avi sniffs and blinks. “Is that chili?” he asks, uncertain.
Kevin laughs, impressed. “Wow, very good!” he says, but Avi is already eating like there's no tomorrow and isn't listening to him anymore. Kevin is quite happy, but he doesn’t say so.
Instead, he can’t help but look at Avi the way kids look at superheroes in movies; Avi eats like a baby, and the stain on his shirt is probably salsa, and Kevin knows what to do.
When the camera clicks, Avi groans, trying to swallow a big bite.
“Oh, please, not when I’m eating!” he mumbles, trying not to spit anything out. “And don’t post it, Kev,” he adds, but he’s talking to the plate again, looking at it as if it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
Kevin hopes not to have the same look in his eyes.
There’s a habit Avi’s fans have developed on Instagram: asking Kevin every day to take pictures of Avi while he’s sleeping.
It's not like Kevin doesn’t enjoy complying; the only thing he doesn’t get is why they don’t ask the others, too. When he goes to his friends to ask for an explanation, though, he isn’t surprised to see that they know about it as much as he does. Or so they say.
“It's because you take beautiful pictures, Kev,” Kirstie says. She even sounds convinced—then she purses her lips, and Kevin knows it's not truly that. Not for her, at least.
He looks at Scott, waiting, and Scott opens and closes his mouth like he’s at a loss for words. “I think it's because you always take them anyway,” he says finally, and this seems to be a more valid excuse. “They ask me to take pictures of Mitch. Not while sleeping, but anyway—”
“It's because they know you have a kink for Avi while asleep and you don’t yet.”
Mitch says it while carefully painting his nails as if he’s just commenting on the weather. Then Kevin repeats it in his head.
“What? No!”
Mitch doesn’t seem to care, probably too focused on drying his nail polish well. “Yeah, that’s what I'm saying. Go to your room, by the way—there's a little surprise.” He has a devilish smile on his face, and Kevin doesn't really want to go, but his legs move on their own.
When he opens the door, it takes a couple of seconds to realize what's inside, then he startles and looks out. “Why is Avi sleeping in my bed?” Kevin hisses.
Mitch looks up at the ceiling. “Because he said he likes your smell. And now stop asking questions and let me get ready,” he answers, annoyed.
Kevin desperately wants to know whether what Mitch has said is true or not—about his smell, not the one where he should have kinks, because he doesn’t have kinks—but then decides he doesn’t give a damn and he goes in anyway, because that’s his room and he has every right to do so.
Avi hasn't moved from how he was before; he has the sheets covering his nose, and Kevin smirks unintentionally. His heart becomes so big that it threatens to burst out of his chest.
Kevin gets closer and touches his hair softly, but Avi doesn’t wake up, and Kevin thinks he’ll never have the chance to see him like that again—so fragile, so close, so his.
So he snaps a picture and stares at it for a while, then kisses him on his forehead and decides to let him rest. But that’s when Avi wakes up. “I miss home,” he murmurs tiredly.
Kevin doesn’t answer. Instead, he lies on the bed and hugs him, placing Avi’s head on his chest.
“Do not put that picture on Instagram,” Avi grunts.
“How can you—”
“I have my radar. Don’t post it.”
“Uh-uh.”
When Kevin closes the door behind him, everything is different.
It's not about the house itself—he doesn’t remember that mess before leaving, though—but suddenly it feels too big, and he really can’t help but look around, trying to understand what's missing.
He thinks he's too tired to clean up and not enough to sleep—he's not sure he can, anyway—so he decides to pick the best pictures to upload on Instagram from his phone gallery. He finds some pics of the tour, others of Kirstie with a purple wig on, holding a Star Wars sword, Scott too drunk to be photogenic, and Mitch, who's in good shape as always.
Then, there’s Avi.
Kevin doesn’t remember when he took that picture, maybe before or after a show. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t posted it yet; maybe because Avi doesn’t seem very happy with those shots—lately, Avi doesn’t seem happy about anything. He seems to be very distant, and they’d parted with just a “hello,” lost in the air between them.
So, Kevin decides that maybe if Avi sees another picture of him, it’ll make him angry, but it’ll be better than nothing.
“Tell me, do you think it's a decent picture to show to thousands of people?”
Kevin doesn’t answer immediately, too busy being satisfied and surprised at the same time. Avi doesn’t seem angry—not really, at least—but Kevin realizes how hard it is to hold a conversation with him after knowing all the things that haven’t been said. It's almost certain that even Avi knows, but now there’s a phone that separates them, and it doesn’t seem so important.
“You're cuter when you're asleep,” Kevin says, and it's almost true. Avi snorts but doesn’t reply, and Kevin smiles again since it’s about him. “So, how are you? How are the Kaplans?”
“They are... fine, I guess. They missed me.” There’s indecision in his voice. Kevin ignores it.
“And you?”
“I’d go back to a few days ago, actually.”
“Oh, Avi,” Kevin sighs, incredulous, “you're so moody. A few days ago, you couldn’t wait to go home!”
“I know, right?” He laughs, but he’s nervous. “I should probably stop. But as they say, we always notice good things only after we don’t have them anymore.”
“There will be other tours, Avi. And our band is the most united ever.”
“I wasn’t... talking about the tour, or the band.”
Kevin opens his mouth to say something—anything—but on the other side of the phone, he can hear a lot of noise.
“I have to go now. Speak to you soon,” Avi says hastily, and Kevin tries to interrupt him, but the call’s already ended.
Kev is aware that he can’t afford to want certain things, but his brain seems to do what it wants.
“I think I’m gonna go to bed.”
Well, he expected their reactions—Mitch is smirking like he’s discovered the world’s biggest secret, Scott looks scandalized, and Kirstie seems confused—but he doesn’t think he cares that much.
However, he definitely didn’t expect Avi’s face—although he doesn’t really understand if he’s either surprised or happy, or whatever. They’re barely talking to each other these days, so it doesn’t really matter.
“If you don’t stay with us, you could at least promote our album and make your Instagram a little bit prettier,” Mitch says drily. “Even though your Instagram seems more Avi’s than the real Avi’s...”
Mitch can’t keep talking because Scott elbows him in the side, but the damage is already done.
Avi frowns as usual, moving his eyes from Mitch and Scott to Kevin like he's watching a tennis match.
“What?” he asks, but nobody bothers to answer him.
Kevin nods and greets all the people in the room with a shake of his hand, hoping it’ll be enough—there are at least forty people, and they’re all definitely too busy to properly look at him. He doesn’t even think that they consider him a real part of the band, because the fact that he is a beatboxer is cool for everyone—but in the end, it's not.
At least, on Instagram, Kevin seems to be liked by several people, so he scrolls through his pics, looking for a good one as he gets closer to the balcony railing. Everything sounds better there.
He comes across a picture from a few months ago, and he doesn’t even remember how it ended up in his phone, because he has the original at home, but this one is a picture of that, all crooked and with flash reflection. It makes no sense at all.
“Where does that come from?” Avi is suddenly next to him. He takes Kev's phone out of his hands, looking at it carefully.
“It's one from SiriusXM,” Kevin explains. “We took tons of them, so they've made a collage and sent it to me.”
“Why to you and not to me?” Avi pouts, and he really looks like a child.
“Why, are you interested?” Kevin snorts, taking his phone back.
Avi looks at him, astonished, and shrugs. “Everything that’s about us interests me.”
Kevin feels suddenly hot, but says nothing.
“You can post that,” Avi says, pointing at the picture.
“It has nothing to do with the new album.”
“And I have nothing to do with your Instagram,” Avi replies, “and yet—”
“Everything about you has to do with me.”
It's a confession, but now that Kevin has said it aloud, it doesn’t sound so new. Avi’s not even surprised—he gets closer, and Kevin doesn’t know whether he’s dreamt of the kiss or it's happened for real.
“Post that picture,” Avi repeats, smiling, “and give me a copy of the original. We’re cute together.”
“I have the impression that Kevin often photographs me just to photograph Avi,” Scott suddenly declares.
It’s an idea that has been stuck in his head for a while, but Scott doesn't like to accuse people without evidence. That’s why he’d decided that during his free time, the most important thing was to examine Kev’s Instagram and solve the mystery once and for all.
And there he is, finally—being able to reveal it to everyone is liberating.
“Guys, listen to me,” Scott says one day, sitting on the back of the couch between Mitch and Kirstie. “I think Kevin is in love with Avi.”
Both of his best friends turn to look at him, but they’re not surprised. “That seemed pretty obvious to me,” Mitch replies.
Kirstie nods. “Yes, one would hope so—they’ve been kissing basically everywhere while they believe they’re not seen...”
Scott’s mouth is open. “Have they kissed? When?”
Mitch thinks about it. “Well, it's not a matter of when, but how much. Seriously, all the time. Don’t you dare get in their rooms without knocking anymore, Scotty.”
Scott stutters something incoherent, and Mitch looks at him pitifully. “You really don’t know shit, baby. But I love you anyway.”