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Kevin almost gets eaten by a fucking lion.
– okay, more dramatic than what actually happens, instead being mid-jog (Mafala, Gotswana and Mutumbo insist on dragging him at sunrise out of the village, out in the open, and it’s prettier than he could have ever imagined, right up until the fucking lion) they spot a lion cub drinking from a pool of water. Kevin is curious, Gotswana calls him an idiot white boy who’s going to lose his dick via lion-bite and Kevin ignores him because what’s the worst that could happen? Then the worst happens – the lion having a mother and the mother being furious – and then Kevin gets a stitch and almost genuinely honest-to-Gosh dies. It’s only because Gotswana yanks him on his shoulders and runs like there’s a pack after them rather than a mangy lioness and a whiny cub that Kevin is alive. Maybe.
Maybe the lion might have been half a mile away but it had felt like it was on his heels and maybe he wasn’t at all that close to death but – once again, it had felt like it –
Kevin almost gets eaten by a fucking lion and it puts a whole lot of things in perspective.
For one, he’s never drank an energy drink before, which seems like something he’d like. He’s never broken curfew at home, or snuck out through a window, or indulged in heinous acts of ungodly teenage rebellion like not wearing garments or drinking beer and he’s never even gone on a date and he’s never been kissed.
It’s not like he’s going to drop dead at any second, he’s not stupid, but also – he could do. Anything could happen. Bad things do happen to him, he knows that, and one of those things could kill him someday. Hence: perspective.
He gets back from his run (read: Gotswana, Mafala and Mutumbo walking him home, Gotswana laughing his ass off and clapping him on the back in equal measure, Mafala shaking his head disapprovingly, Mutumbo looking like he couldn’t decide if he was allowed to laugh or not) and goes straight inside to shower. When he’s clean and in new clothes, he walks slowly into his room, in a daze. It feels an awful lot like Africa is nothing like the Lion King but without the blood and the shaking.
Arnold’s awake, thank God, and he raises a brow when Kevin walks in and closes the door straight behind him.
“What’s up?” asks Arnold, “How was your run?”
“I,” says Kevin, long dramatic pause, deep intake of air, “Almost died.”
Arnold sits up straight. “Whaaaaaaaa–”
“Arnold, a lion almost ate me. A lion.”
Arnold starts laughing.
“This isn’t funny,” huffs Kevin, crossing his arms, looking unamused, “I almost died.”
Arnold sombers. “Sorry,” he says, “It was just kinda the way you said it. Also, I started thinking about when Naba told everyone a lion ate me because that was funnyyyy.” He pauses. “What happened?”
Kevin sits down on his bed. He pulls the thin sheets over his body, like that could protect him from the knowledge that his existence on earth is only ever going to be fleeting and impermanent, that there are so so many more things he has left to do. “I got too close to a cub,” says Kevin, “The mother tried to eat me.”
“Did it decide you weren’t tasty?” asks Arnold.
“No,” says Kevin.
“Oh,” Arnold tilts his head to the side, “How’d you get away?”
“I, uh, ran.” Kevin mumbles.
“Away from a lion?”
“I might, uh, have needed some help.” He thinks about Gotswana hefting him up onto his back and knows he’s never admitting that to Arnold or anyone. Though, he imagines, by now, half the village must know. Nabulungi and Kimbay are going to bully him into next Tuesday.
“That’s okay,” says Arnold, “I mean, I don’t think I could outrun a lion. Oooo, that could be a cool best-friend bonding activity? We could find a lion, and see who’s faster running away from it.”
“Arnold,” Kevin says slowly, “I’ve tempted fate once. I’m not doing that again.”
“Fine, I’ll do it myself. You’ll have to start the stopwatch, though–”
“Neither of us are outrunning a lion. I don’t want you to get eaten.”
He doesn’t want any harm to come to Arnold. Especially not as a result of his own stupidity.
“Okay, fineeeeeee,” Arnold sighs, “You’re so boring.”
“Forgive me for not wanting to get eaten.” Kevin huffs, rolling his eyes.
“But if you weren’t, would that be a story?” Arnold grins at him. “Huh? Think about it.”
“Yeah, but if I got eaten, I’d be dead.” Kevin points out.
“I’d tell your story,” Arnold informs him solemnly, and Kevin can’t help but laugh. A knot in his chest unwinds, and the adrenaline racing through his body starts to slowly subside. Things seem less scary, here in this room, or maybe it’s just Arnold — he makes everything so much easier.
“Write a book?” Kevin teases.
“You betcha,” says Arnold.
“I don’t want to think of the name,” remarks Kevin.
“I’ll brainstorm, I’ll brainstorm,” Arnold says and glances at him, “You are okay, though, right?”
“Yeah,” says Kevin, “Just shaken. I did almost die.”
“Almost,” agrees Arnold with a half-smile.
“Almost,” Kevin says, playing along, “It just made me think, I guess, about how much I haven’t done if the lion did eat me.”
“Like actually outrun a lion?” Arnold jokes. Kevin glares at him. “Sorry.”
“No, like—“ Kevin waves his hands. It’s hard to explain, he supposes. “I haven’t ever seen an R-rated movie or anything that wasn’t approved first by my parents, I haven’t drank coffee with those sugary syrups, I haven’t had an energy drink — I haven’t ever kissed anyone, there’s just a lot.”
Arnold cranes his head to look at him. Clearly, that doesn’t get him close enough — he stands up, crosses the gap between their beds, and goes to sit next to Kevin. Kevin shuffles over to allow him space and Arnold completely disregards the personal bubble and puts one hand on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin frowns at him. “You’re really beat up over this, aren’t ya, buddy.” Arnold murmurs.
“No,” says Kevin, then, “Yes.” Because he is. He’s come close to death before, or at least he’s felt like it – dragged away by the General, a gun at his side, breathing in and out in and out way way too fast – but this had felt real and whilst it had been slightly ridiculous and funny to look back on, he’d been scared. Plus, before, he’d had the thought in the back of his mind that there would be something to come After – his own planet, a side seat at the table with Heavenly Father – now, he doesn’t know that for sure. All he has are the days in front of him, and those days in front of him could have been violently cut short.
“Welllll…” Arnold shrugs, “We could make a checklist. A bucket list. Things Kevin Price wants to do before he gets eaten by a lion.”
“Just before I die, Arnold, not specifically a lion…”
“Okay, so —“ Arnold keeps talking like he hasn’t even heard, “R-rated movie, that’s easy enough, we can just use my iPad or Nabulungi’s — what do you wanna watch? Saw? Scream? Something else?”
“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” says Kevin, having absolutely no idea what Arnold has just listed off. He has a vague recollection of his mom complaining about Saw, about how ungodly and satanic it was, but no idea what the movie could possibly actually be about.
“Mmmhmm, like the Golden Gate of inappropriate movie choices,” Arnold nods, “Okay, next — Kimbay told me she has those syrups, so the only thing stopping you there is your own noggin.”
“Right…” says Kevin.
“And we can get an energy drink for you when we’re next at the market,” says Arnold, “So that leaves — kissing. Now, that’s also easy. We just gotta find a willing volunteer.”
“How’s that easy?” asks Kevin. Because – how? What?
Arnold looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Because there are sooo many people who want to kiss you.”
“What? Like? Here?” It comes out high-pitched and scandalised. Because – seriously? How? What?
“Yes?” Arnold says. “Didn’t you realise?”
“No?” Kevin shrugs. He’s not stupid, he knows he’s attractive but he also knows that he’s annoying and whiny and conceited and nobody’s idea of a good time. There are no people lining up around the mission hut, raring to kiss him. That, he knows for sure.
“Oh my goshhhh. You’re like the most perfect human being ever, of course people want to kiss you.” Which is – which is –
Arnold saying it, Arnold saying it and looking at him like that, like, yeahhh, duh, obviously – Kevin doesn’t know why, but he feels butterflies in his stomach. He bites his lip and wills them to disperse.
Distracted, he shakes his head. “You told me that I was a mistake yesterday—“
Arnold rolls his eyes. “Because you said your favourite Star Wars character was Jar Jar Binks.”
“Yeah,” says Kevin, “I only said that to annoy you.”
Arnold tackles him.
Kevin’s head hits his pillow with a soft ooof noise, and he tries to sit up again, laughing despite himself, whilst Arnold wheezes, head tipped back. Arnold starfishes over him for a minute, Kevin still laughing beneath him, before rolling over and sitting up. Kevin stares up at the ceiling and thinks, God, if you're out there, thanks for sending me him.
After a few minutes, once Arnold has composed himself and Kevin is sitting up properly, Arnold goes, “Okay, so who do you want to kiss?”
Kevin frowns at him. “Nobody?”
“You can’t want to kiss nobody.”
“I mean it,” Kevin says, “I wouldn’t want to — it would have to be someone I like and trust and — I find… attractive, and I can’t think of anyone.”
“Uhhh,” Arnold looks from side to side, “I mean, I fit two of those things.”
“...what,” is all Kevin manages, because sincerely, what the fuck. He thinks – somehow – that Arnold is suggesting – or at least joking – about kissing him. “What. Two things.” He manages to get out. The butterflies return with a vengeance.
“I mean, you like me,” says Arnold, “ As a best friend, obvi. And – you trust me. At least, I hope you trust me.”
“I do trust you,” says Kevin, and his mouth feels dry and his head feels stupid because he mumbles, “You fit all three, I mean.”
Arnold blinks at him. “What?”
“I think–” Kevin swallows, “I think you’re attractive. Like. Objectively.”
Because he does – from an objective standpoint, Arnold is good-looking. He’s handsome, not in a rugged way, but he smiles nice and bright, and his eyes are – pretty, brown with little goldish green flecks, and he takes care of himself. His hair is always soft to the touch, neat little twisty curls, smelling faintly of mango and coconut. And he’s built strong, wide shoulders, not broad with muscle like Kevin but big, protective. He gets why Nabulungi likes him. Kevin isn’t gay, doesn’t have gay feelings, doesn’t have gay thoughts, but – yes, Arnold is attractive.
Arnold stares at him, like Kevin’s sprouted two heads.
“You do?”
“Yeah?” it comes out like a question, “You are.”
“Oh, oh. Okay.” Arnold goes red. Kevin assumes he’s embarrassed him by making a big deal out of this. “Ermmm. That’s three things, then. So – if. If you wanted to make a start on that bucket list, you could kiss me.”
Kevin stares at him, like Arnold’s sprouted two heads.
“Kiss – you?”
Arnold nods frantically. “I mean, obviouslyyyy it doesn’t have to mean anything. But you’d be able to tick something off your list, like, right now. So if you left the mission hut later and got eaten by a lion at least you’ve kissed someone. I mean, I’m not – one of the girls you’ll definitely be able to kiss back home, and you don’t even have to kiss me properly, but – if you want to… then. I’m offering.”
Kevin honestly doesn’t know what to say. Because it’s a stupid idea, a foolish idea, he isn’t gay , but – but also, he wants to. Badly. He wants to say yes please , wants to say I can’t imagine having my first kiss with anyone else because truly, he can’t. Arnold is the only person he completely trusts without any reservations. Despite his ‘lying problem’, Kevin knows that Arnold would never twist the truth to hurt Kevin, knows he always, always has his back. And Kevin is scared shitless of physical contact, of physical touch – ever since the General, it almost hurts, a pinprick crawl against his skin – but not with Arnold, never with Arnold.
Kevin doesn’t know what to say, but he finds himself nodding. “Sure,” he says, and his voice comes out low and throaty, fake, “If you don’t mind, I mean. It’s for the bucket list.”
Arnold grins at him. “Right! Exactly. For the bucket list.” He pauses. “I just wanna help you out.”
“I know,” says Kevin, “Then we can move on to a horror movie, right?”
“Then coffee syrup,” agrees Arnold, “But this first.”
Kevin feels jittery, gooseflesh up and down his arms, his heart all the way up in his throat when he turns slightly to the side. “Well,” he says, “Do I just sit here, and you… do whatever.”
“Do whatever,” repeats Arnold, “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re getting some practice before you kiss someone else.”
I don’t want there to be someone else, thinks Kevin. “Maybe it is,” he says instead, and leans a little closer, “So…?” his voice pitches upwards like a question and Arnold leans closer still, and Kevin feels like this should be when he closes his eyes – he does, and the last thing he sees before it’s just the black backs of his eyelids is a nervous, twitchy smile on his best friend’s lips.
Arnold kisses him simple and sweet, a quick press of his lips and the ghost of his fingers against Kevin’s jaw before he’s moving away again, leaving Kevin’s stomach an anxious tumbling mess. Kevin swallows and before Arnold turns away, he leans forward and catches Arnold’s lips with his again, a proper kiss, a longer kiss. Arnold makes a surprised mmmm ? noise against him, and Kevin opens one eye to make sure he’s okay with this because Kevin just – Arnold had moved and all Kevin had been able to think is I don’t want this to end.
Arnold sighs gently and his hand goes back to Kevin’s jaw, push-pulling them closer together, and Kevin feels like he should do something with his useless, slack hands – he settles for one against Arnold’s knee, the other holding loosely to his shirt. Kissing, Kevin thinks, is scary and easy and terrible and wonderful all at once. He thinks it would have been horrible to die without kissing. He amends that to: it would have been horrible to die without kissing Arnold Cunningham first.
Kevin pulls away, just to breathe, and his forehead presses lightly against Arnold’s – Arnold’s eyes are closed, fluttered shut, and he’s breathing heavily, in-out, in-out. Kevin swallows. “I guess I can mark that off the bucket list,” he says.
“Mmm-hmm,” says Arnold, and neither of them move.
“Though,” says Kevin, and his stomach tumbles with butterflies all over again because this, this feels like he’s risking everything – risking their friendship, which to him is beyond everything. “I don’t know. I feel like we – I – might have to do that like, one more time. Just to make sure it’s enough for the bucket list.”
Arnold opens his eyes. “Oh,” he says, “You think so?”
“Uh-huh,” says Kevin, “Only if you think so.”
“I think you’re probably right,” says Arnold, “You know. For the bucket list.”
Somehow, as Kevin leans in again, he knows neither of them thinks it’s for the bucket list anymore.
This time, it’s different. Good-different, because Kevin sorta knows what he’s doing now – knows that if he tilts his head slightly then the angle is better, knows he likes the soft noises his best friend is making, knows he likes that it’s him drawing those noises out of him. Dimly in the back of his mind Kevin knows this maybe makes him gay and also maybe makes him gay for Arnold. Though with Arnold’s hands in his hair and him just utterly enclosing and consuming Kevin, he can’t bring himself to bother thinking about that right now.
Kevin whines when Arnold bites his lip and Arnold pulls away. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he says, “Oh my goodness, I didn’t – are you okay?”
Kevin kisses him back as a reply. Arnold draws away again. “I mean it – Kevin, are you – I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I wasn’t, uh, hurt,” mumbles Kevin, and then Arnold finally kisses him back again.
Time doesn’t exist, not really. They could have been doing this for three minutes or three hours when Arnold says, “I think you can mark this off your bucket list now.”
Kevin nods, and absentmindedly kisses Arnold’s cheek, the tip of his nose, his neck. His neck again. Arnold mumbles something Kevin doesn’t catch and Kevin pulls away. “What was that?”
“Did… was there anything else? I could help with? On your bucket list?”
There are like twenty-five different things Kevin hasn’t ever even considered doing in his life, being added to his internal bucket list. He doesn’t say any of those things, though. Instead, he swallows and tries to bundle together his courage before mumbling, “Yeah, there’s one thing.”
Arnold raises an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“I’ve never–” Kevin feels so horrendously awkward, so painfully shy. It’s just Arnold, he tells himself. That, though, he supposes, is half the issue. “I’ve never been on a date before.”
Arnold goes still. “Right,” he says.
“Do you think you could–”
“Yes,” says Arnold, “I mean, for the list. Of course.”
Kevin shakes his head, kisses Arnold swift and fierce, and says, “Arnold, I don’t care about the fucking list.”
Arnold’s eyebrows draw up. “Oh.”
“Is that –” Maybe he’s misread things. Maybe he’s – Kevin Price, at it again, impulsive, stupid, foolish Kevin Price, messing things up, ruining things, thinking–
Arnold reaches for his hand and holds it tight. “Kevin,” he says, “Neither do I.”
Kevin grins, and leans in for one more kiss. Almost getting eaten by a lion might just be the greatest thing to ever happen to him – right after meeting Arnold.