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Kip wasn’t trying to snoop, honest. He’d just been in a cleaning mood, ignoring his research work to dust drawers that had not been opened since before he’d even moved in. Most of them had been filled with boring stuff: a mountain of bills already paid for, but kept ‘just in case’, a pile of batteries they never seemed to need, instruction manuals for objects Scott had probably thrown out long ago or not used in years. Feeling the insurmountable itch to sort everything out, Kip had thrown it all on the bed before moving on to the very last drawer. Unlike the others which were filled with clutter, a single leather-bound book had been laid down almost reverently perfectly in the middle, its edges parallel to the drawer’s walls. And unlike everything else, it was completely free of dust, which only aroused Kip’s curiosity more. It must have been taken out often, and without him ever noticing. Which meant Scott probably didn’t want him to find it.
A better man than Kip probably would have closed the drawer, maybe brought it up to his boyfriend later, if he really wanted to know. But Kip was nothing but nosy, so he delicately grabbed the book and traced its fingers on the cover. There were no inscriptions, no clues to whatever he was about to find. Maybe it was nothing of importance. Maybe Kip was exaggerating its value for the sake of his own entertainment.
He opened it.
The front page only read three simple words: ‘Hunter family’s pictures’. Just under it had been added, in a smaller font, ‘1983 – 2000’. Kip was fairly certain that the writing was overall way too neat to be Scott’s. However, the final date had been scribbled by a shaky hand, like a messier version of his boyfriend’s writing. His heart squeezing in on itself, he realized suddenly that the date corresponded to the year his parents had died. That a 12 year-old Scott Hunter had put an end to his family’s photo album, when his family had no longer been here to be in pictures anymore.
Fuck.
It was easy to forget how much Scott had lost, how young he’d been then. He didn’t like to talk about it, rarely let anyone but Kip know when he had bad days. To the world — even to him, sometimes — he seemed fine. And yet, deep down, he was still just a boy who’d lost his parents.
Hand trembling, Kip turned to the next page. A violation of Scott’s privacy, maybe, but he could not help it. He needed to not only know, but see.
As expected from the date, five years prior to Scott’s birth, the first photograph did not feature him. It was a candid shot of a woman, focused on the taping of her hockey stick. Just under it, the same woman was smiling, not at the camera, but at the person holding it. A loving smile, eyes twinkling with adoration, an expression he knew intimately because he saw it on Scott’s face, everyday.
Skimming through pages, he found more Scott’s parents, and the rest of their family. He witnessed them fall into love more and more in every pictures, their milestones, eventually a wedding. A beautiful white dress, a tux which looks so similar to what Scott would have worn to an event that he wondered if he actually did.
And finally, after a few more photos featuring the woman’s belly visibly growing more and more, Scott Hunter was born.
He’d never seen many photos of Scott when he was a kid. Of course, he’d found a few online, but he didn’t make it a habit to look up his boyfriend on the internet — putting aside those nefarious months when they’d been no contact, and Kip might have remained slightly obsessed. Scott didn’t have pictures of himself laying around, and Kip never asked.
But seeing such an abundance of them, he knew he'd been missing out. There was something so deeply intimate about finally seeing the man he loved, not only as who he was, but as who he’d been before they’d met.
He wished Scott’s parents were here. They’d narrate each pictures, Kip would laugh at the silly stories they’d tell, and Scott would shake his head fondly, would pretend to get embarrassed. And Kip would think ‘why should anyone be ashamed of such a love’.
The front door opened and slammed loudly, shaking Kip out of his trance. He closed the book a little too strongly, wincing. So much for discretion.
“Kip?” He heared Scott call from the other side of the apartment.
Kip brushed away the few tears he hadn’t realized had started falling down his face. “In the bedroom,” he replied, voice not as clear and steady as he would have wished.
Scott crossed the apartment noisily, as he always did, footsteps echoing through the hallway “You won’t believe what Carter fucking asked me today—” he spoke out, stopping dead in his track as he pushed open the bedroom door.
Kip smiled sheepishly, not daring to say a word. He didn’t know how Scott was going to react. Years of dating, and this suddenly was a whole new territory.
He watched Scott's face close off, saw him take a step back, instinctively putting distance between his physical self and this part of himself stripped bare. Even if Scott was always discreet with his feelings, it was rare, and had been so long, since Kip had seen that expression directed at him.
Finally, he let out a sigh and sat down heavily next to Kip, dropping his full weight like his legs couldn’t support him anymore.
“I’m not mad, Kip.”
“I’m sorry I went through your stuff,” he still replied, just in case.
“It’s really okay. It’s your dresser, too, and I never told you this drawer was off limit.”
Silence crawled up between them, heavy and unfamiliar.
“Okay, I’ll ask,” Kip finally broke. “Why did you hide it from me? Did you not want me to see? Or is this a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ situation?”
Scott let out a chuckle, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife. “It’s definitely not you, it’s me.” He paused. Gathered his words. Took a breath, like his therapist had taught him — inhale, hold. Exhale, hold. “When my parents died, it felt like a split, in my life. There’s was a before and an after. So there’s also a Scott before, and a Scott after.”
He grabbed Kip’s hand like a lifeline, like he could communicate what he meant, how he felt, through this simple touch.
“I know I can share everything with you. But you’re part of my after, you know? The best part of it. The Scott I was before, he’s been gone for so long, I don’t think it occurred to me to show you. Or that you’d even want to see it.”
“Oh, Scott.” He cupped Scott’s cheek with his free hand, letting his boyfriend lean into his touch. “Even if you don’t feel like it, it’s still a part of you. And I’ve always wanted to see all of you, always.”
His thumb chased a tear on Scott’s cheek. “It’s funny,” Scott said in a shuddering breath, “I’ve had a long time to grieve them. I mostly did. But since you’ve made your way into in my life, I’ve hated that they’ll never get a chance to meet you.”
“Me too. I bet they were wonderful.”
There was nothing to add that could change the tragedy of a life cut short. But there was power in living through memories. “Can we look at them together? So you can tell me about your family?” he asked, rubbing slow, soothing circles on Scott’s cheekbone.
The book was still closed on his lap, and Scott picked it up wordlessly, opening it to a random page. The first image was a group photo, taken in front of a richly decorated Christmas tree.
“My mom’s side of the family,” Scott explained without preamble, like taking more than a few seconds to think would make him back out. “It was a few years before I was born, Dad’s first Christmas with them.”
“Mmmh. Must have been nerve-wracking,” he laughed, remembering the mess Scott had been when he’d spent Christmas with Kip and his dad for the first time.
“Yeah, probably. That’s my grandpa,” Scott added, pointing at a man of tall stature, his old age betrayed by his graying hair and deep wrinkles, rather than a weakening body. “My mom told me he always gave my dad a hard time.”
“You have his eyes,” Kip noticed. He’d spent so much time looking into those eyes, in their most intimate moment. It felt important to know where they came from. He wanted to trace back all of Scott’s features in those pictures, to thank all those people, one by one, for making what was Scott Hunter.
As they went through photographs, together, Scott went through stories, his voice more and more animated as he turned the pages. It was like a switch had been turned, like Kip had been finally allowed to meet a whole new side of Scott he wasn’t even aware he was missing out on. He decided he loved it.
And in the moment, the room started to feel heavier than just two.