History was the one class Ivan worried about the most. Mrs. Edelstein liked to pair them up, and he wasn't comfortable around anyone. Especially not Yao.
They had been partners for one assignment, and it was so hectic for Ivan that he had wanted to scream. They had barely spoken, but his mouth had been so dry afterwards.
Mrs. Edelstein passed back their papers, the ones they had worked on the week before. The one that Ivan had worked with Yao on. The A on the top of the page gave him no sense of joy. It was just a letter. It had come with a price too painful.
"It was interesting to read about all of your backgrounds," Mrs. Edelstein said with a grin. "It really makes you appreciate history more, don't you agree?" She giggled. "I want you all to pair back up with the partners you had last week. I want to continue this activity a bit more. A research paper if you will."
Most students heard paper and wanted to cry, but for Ivan, hearing that he had to go back to talking with Yao again made him want to curl up and die. Hadn't he been tortured enough?
"Now, now, enough complaining," Mrs. Edelstein said. "Really, it isn't that bad. Research one of the countries that your family comes from. See what types of culture they've brought here and how you use it in your lives today. Turn it in on Friday."
They were free, but Ivan never felt more trapped. A project. With Yao. He would have to spend more time with him. He would have to see him more. He would have to talk about himself. And Yao would have to talk about himself too. Ivan would learn about him, and everything would change.
"Ivan?" Yao was standing next to his desk. "We were partners last week. Do you um…remember?"
"Yes, I remember," Ivan murmured, but he wished he didn't. "We are meant to be doing project now?"
"It seems so," Yao said, pulling up a chair to sit down. "We have to research one of the countries we come from. So Russia or China. Do you want to choose?"
Ivan shook his head. That was an opinion question, and he out right refused to answer those. It gave off information about himself, something he couldn't allow.
"Well, I did come from China," Yao said. "I grew up there. I know a lot about the culture there. I don't even need to look anything up!" He laughed softly, and Ivan felt like melting. His laugh was so bright, and it almost made Ivan want to laugh with him. But he had forgotten how to laugh a long time ago. "Only if that's alright though. We don't have to do China."
"We can," Ivan said. "Sounds interesting."
Yao smiled. "Okay. You can come to my house after school if you like? We can start the paper then?"
No, this wasn't happening. He couldn't go to Yao's house. He would know where he lived then; he hadn't known where Toris had lived, and he had still gotten to him in the confines of his own home. What would happen if he knew where Yao lived, where his bedroom was? He would go insane. He'd probably scare him off in the middle of the night.
His head was nodding before he could say anything else. Why was he agreeing to this? It was only going to make his situation worse!
"Great!" Yao said, picking up his things. "Come over at three o'clock, okay?" He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. "Go to this address." The bell rang, and Yao moved to race out of the classroom, ponytail flapping behind him. "I'll see you later, Ivan!"
The sound of his name coming out of Yao's mouth felt like someone had given him wings and sent him to heaven. If only his life weren't going to be turned into hell at three o'clock. Then everything would've been perfect.
Ivan almost didn't go to the Wang's house at three. He could say he forgot or that he felt sick. There were millions of excuses he could use; it wouldn't be the first time he had gotten himself out of a situation. People were just too complex, and he couldn't always deal with them.
But he remembered how excited Yao had sounded when he had told him that he'd see him after school. And thinking of blowing him off made his heart sink. Swallowing his fear, he told Natalia that he was leaving for a bit and walked out the door.
It took him a while, but he finally found where he was meant to be. Walking up the front steps was like taking a stairway straight to his death. The doorbell chime sounded like a funeral march. Waiting was like an eternity. Why was nothing happening?
There was still time to get away. The door wasn't open; no one had noticed him yet. But his feet were glued to the front stoop. Even if he wished to run, his body wouldn't let him.
And then the door was opening. A young boy that reached just to Ivan's knees was staring up at him, mouth agape. He blinked his dark eyes before breaking out into a wide smile.
"Mommy, there's a giant at the door!" the boy exclaimed. Ivan, ready to run as far away from the house as he could, was relieved to see Yao pick up the boy and rush him back into the house.
"Im Yong Soo, stop it!" Yao scolded, turning to Ivan and smiling. "I'm sorry. My stepbrother can be a bit of a pest sometimes. Won't you come in?"
Ivan followed Yao inside. This was it; he knew where Yao lived. He knew what his house looked like. Soon, he would know where his bedroom was. The thoughts were terrifying. He would hurt him with this information. And he still kept following him.
"Kiku," Yao said to his brother sitting in the kitchen. "This is Ivan. We're going to be in my room, alright?"
Ivan had almost forgotten about Kiku. The boy looked from his brother to Ivan but made no indication of knowing him. He must've not told Yao about seeing him at support group. At least that worry was lifted from Ivan's shoulders.
Up the stairs and down a long hall, Ivan was pulled into Yao's bedroom. It was the farthest on the right. There was a window with a large oak tree next to it. Memories of Toris flooded his memory. It was all too familiar.
"I've already started writing down a few ideas," Yao said, pulling out a notebook and pencil. "I thought we could discuss which ones were best and start from there."
"Okay," Ivan said. Yao giggled, patting the spot on the bed next to him.
"Sit down, silly." Though skeptic, Ivan sat down, leaving enough room between them so their knees couldn't touch.
They both leaned over the notebook, but Yao did most of the talking. He told Ivan about the different bits of culture he had experienced in China, and Ivan pointed at the ones he liked the most.
Almost all of Ivan's fear washed away. Yao didn't ask anything personal about him, and he didn't say anything about himself besides his history in China. It was as if Yao knew that Ivan couldn't hear those things. It was almost comforting.
"We still eat dumplings a lot," Yao said, talking about how his family still ate traditional Chinese food even after they moved. "But we've been trying to eat more American food. I must say, it doesn't compare."
Ivan shook his head. "No, I suppose it does not. Though I would not know. I have not had Chinese food."
Yao nudged him lightly with his shoulder. "Why don't you stay for dinner? My mother makes great dumplings."
How Ivan wanted to take up his offer. It would be a normal night; he could sit with someone who was the closest thing he had to a friend and just talk. But with Ivan, it was never just talking. There was the constant worry about letting too much slip and listening too much to other people.
"Thank you, but I cannot," Ivan said. "It is late. I should be going home before my sisters worry."
"Oh," Yao said, face falling. "Alright. Can we meet again tomorrow? To work on the project?"
Ivan nodded, wrapping his hands around his scarf. He grabbed onto it like a lifeline, dragging his feet towards the door, hinting that he wanted to leave.
Understanding, Yao walked him downstairs and to the front door. "I'll see you tomorrow at school. And after. Same time?" Ivan nodded. "Alright. Have a good night, Ivan."
Resisting the urge to jump out of his own skin, Ivan made his way home as fast as possible. This was a completely new experience for him; never before had he been around someone and not felt urgent or afraid. Sure, the fear was still there, but it wasn't as prevelant.
When he returned to his house and walked in the door, he felt a jolt of excitement in his gut when Katyusha asked, "Where were you?"
Ivan grinned, playing with the tassels at the end of his scarf. "I was at friend's house."
For the rest of the week, Ivan would drop his books off at his house and then quickly make a beeline to Yao's house. They worked well together, mainly because Ivan simply agreed with anything Yao said. He didn't feel like arguing where a certain topic should go in the paper; that would an opinion.
Thursday afternoon, there was little to do. The majority of their paper was done, and within minutes, their editing was completed. An awkward silence settled over the two, worrying Ivan. Now that the paper was done, there was no reason for him to be in Yao's house. He wanted to tell him he had to leave, but his mouth was clamped shut.
"Do you think we'll get a good grade?" Yao asked suddenly.
"Yes," Ivan said with a nod. "You did good job on it."
"You helped," Yao said, furrowing his brow and blushing. "Give yourself a little credit. Both of our names are on the paper."
They went back to sitting in silence. Yao looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't. He fiddled with the eraser on the end of his pencil and chewed his bottom lip. Ivan wished he could break through the quiet barrier, but what was he supposed to say?
"I like your ponytail," he blurted. Yao turned to him with a confused expression set on his face. Ivan wished he could've dropped dead right there. What kind of response was that? A response someone with Reactive Detachment Disorder gave.
"Huh?" Yao said, tilting his head to the side.
"I am…I am sorry. I did not mean to say such thing," Ivan rushed, clutching his scarf and hiding his face in it.
"No, that's alright. I was just surprised," Yao said. He laughed when he saw Ivan trying to use his scarf as a shield. "Really, it's okay. No one has ever said they liked my hair." Yao reached up, pulling the scarf from around Ivan's face. "You have nice eyes. I haven't seen purple eyes before."
"My sister says they are special," Ivan mumbled, head focused down.
"They are," Yao agreed. Unsure of how to react, Ivan settled with continuing to stay quiet. Talking was not an option. It had only made him sound stupid.
He wasn't used to talking about his feelings. Even when he and Toris were friends, they never talked about such things as physical appearances. How was he meant to react? Looking at someone and actually talking about what they looked like were two different stories. One was harmless; the other could cause so much suffering. And Ivan didn't want to see Yao suffer, especially not on his behalf. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.
"I must go," Ivan stated. "It is late…"
"But you always say that," Yao said. "You've been saying that all week. And it is barely dark."
"I am sorry," Ivan said moving to the door. "I will see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Yao."
He didn't look back as he ran down the stairs and through the front door. He felt Kiku staring at him from the kitchen, and he could hear Yao calling after him. But he kept running. He didn't reply to Katyusha when he got to his house and she asked him if he wanted dinner. He just continued to run into his room.
Burying his face in his pillow, he felt his scarf slip up over his nose. Yao had touched it. What he felt was where Yao's fingertips once were. He held onto it tightly, reveling in the remembrance of Yao's gentle touch, pulling his face free. His skin barely brushed against Ivan, but he could so clearly feel it.
What would it feel like if Yao's fingers touched his? What if he could hold his hand and feel the warmth radiating between them? They were blessed thoughts that would only ever be wishes.
He tried to push Yao out of his head, but he just stuck. The way his brown eyes so desperately begged him to stay clawed at Ivan's heart. If only he was different, then Yao wouldn't have looked so pained. But he couldn't change how he was. Hurting Yao was just part of the cycle.
Friday in English class as Yao handed Mrs. Edelstein his and Ivan's paper, he sighed. He thought that things had been going so well. But then Ivan had run out of his house, in what seemed to be fear.
The class talked amongst themselves as Mrs. Edelstein said they could. It was the day before winter break. No one was paying much attention in any classes. The teacher's had given up hope, simply allowing them to talk or run about the room.
Yao, friendless, tried to get up and talk to Ivan, but he couldn't find it in himself to move. He just sat, staring at the board until the bell rang, mindless thoughts running through his head. Break was soon approaching them, and for an entire week, Yao wouldn't have to worry. He could relax his mind and perhaps even have a bit of fun while he was at it.
He lingered in the room, waiting for the rest of the students to fight their way to the door before he did. When he did get up, he felt a hand grab his. It was big and warm; he remembered that hand. It was the same one that had accidently gripped his days before.
Turning around, he was greeted with Ivan holding out a piece of candy. Eyeing him suspiciously, Yao held out his hand and took it from him.
"I have not tried Chinese food," Ivan said. "But you have not tried Russian food. Is Russian candy. Is very good."
It was such a small gesture, and it still gave Yao a sense of hope that maybe Ivan was much more than a silent, socially inept giant.
"Thank you," Yao said. "I wish I could give you something."
"One day, maybe I have Chinese dumplings with you," Ivan suggested quietly. "Not now. But…some day."
"Sure," Yao said. "Any time."
Book bag in hand, he and Ivan walked to the door. As they were about to go their separate ways, Ivan said, "Have good winter break, Yao."
"You too, Ivan," Yao said, watching as Ivan walked up the stairs and out of sight.
Life was just beginning to look up for Yao. He had friends now, and maybe over break, he and Kiku could do something together, just the two of them. And now, Ivan seemed to be opening up more to him. It was unexpected and completely out of the ordinary. But it was electrifying. Yao wanted to hold onto that feeling forever.
To be continued.