#seth gordon

It's a mindless motion, something he doesn't think Seth is really thinking about, but Kevin leans into it, anyway. They're at practice, though Kevin is benched for a sprain, and Seth is sitting next to him instead of practicing on the court. Kevin thinks about telling him off, but Seth's finger is rubbing softly against his wrist, and his brain is short wiring.

It started as something simple: Seth was on his first week back after his coma, and he had spent the past few days making amends — he had started with Nicky, had basically groveled at his feet for forgiveness — and now he was holding out his hand for Kevin to take. It was almost soft, the way he held his hand out, though every other part of him was as spiked and rigid as ever. Kevin took it, not getting up from the bench, and shook firmly. Seth grinned wildly, then sat next to Kevin and started talking about how, when Kevin's back on the court, he should run drills with Seth. It's small, incremental movements that lead to Seth's fingers against Kevin's wrist. First, Seth gets close by turning to face Kevin, ranting about how he wants to get better — and Kevin is sure he's dreaming at that, anyway, because only in a dream would Seth Gordon ask Kevin Day for help — about how he thinks he could be good, really good. Then, Seth is gesticulating, motioning with his hands some nonsense mock game in which Kevin (the middle finger) passes to Seth (the other middle finger) and Seth makes some complicated maneuver and wins them the game; and his hands get closer to Kevin with each motion. Kevin is listening to Seth, feeling vaguely like he's entertaining a rabid toddler, and then Seth stops moving, slumps his hands next to him, close enough to Kevin to touch, in defeat.

"Why'd you stop?" Kevin asks, and that's when Seth jolts and his fingers land on Kevin's wrists. Kevin inhales, but Seth doesn't move, doesn't acknowledge it.

"Didn't wanna bore you," Seth says, and he's ducking his chin slightly, averting his gaze from Kevin's.

"You weren't boring me." Kevin says, and it's something final, something resolute. Seth's fingers start to move, to glide smoothly over the skin of Kevin's wrist. Kevin tries not to look. Looks, instead, at Seth's face: there's a scar just above his lip, on the left side, raised white scar tissue, and he has moles scattered across his face, one on his eyelid, the right one, several on his chin and cheeks, a few on his forehead; more on his neck. Kevin wants to ask how he got the scar, if his whole family is covered in moles or just Seth, wants to feel the mole on his eyelid beneath his fingers. Kevin shakes his head, zeroes back in on the feeling of Seth's fingers gently stroking his wrist.

"No?" Seth asks, and he presses in, like suddenly he's realized what he's been doing. His eyes track Kevin's, sees as they dart to the left, then right, then left again before settling back on Seth's face.

"You have a scar on your lip," Kevin's says, "what is it from?"

"Oh, me and one of my brothers were shootin' bottles and a shard of glass struck me," Seth says, and he's smiling like it's a positive memory. Kevin wants to touch it, wants to feel the raised skin, feel the muscles twitch. Kevin lets out something that could pass as an "Oh," and Seth's smile grows toothy.

"Alright, princess," he says, removes his fingers as he stands up, "I'll get back to it." All Kevin hears, though, is "princess". He thinks maybe he'll drink himself to death later tonight. It was thoughtless, the way Seth said it, and Kevin thinks maybe he's just having a normal reaction to a pet name. But then he thinks about the way he cataloged the moles on Seth's face, about that scar just above his lip. Kevin knows he's attracted to both men and women, but he never once thought he could be attracted to Seth fucking Gordon. He had looked at Andrew, appreciated Neil, glanced at Matt. Even Aaron, forbidden as he was, had caught Kevin's attention. Held it for more than a second. He watches Seth walk back onto the court, watches him get his stick, watches him clack his and Aaron's sticks together, watches him line up a shot and score. He thinks he's going to die. He doesn't want these feelings, unexplored as they are, and inconvenient as ever. He wants to be back in the court. Wants to let everything else slip away. But he's benched, and his brain has too much free time. So he stews.

When practice is over, Neil knocks Kevin on the head with his armor, tells him to stop staring into space and get the fuck up. Kevin bites back a retort; something about Neil's staring problem, something about his sprain, something about how Neil's self-harming nature appears to extend to others. But he doesn't, just gets up with a scoff and pushes Neil's hand away. Andrew isn't far behind Neil, waiting for them both to go to the locker room. Kevin wants to roll his eyes, but he asked for this. Asked Andrew for his protection, for everything he had. The fact settles uncomfortably in his gut, churns. As they walk, Kevin critiques Neil's form, then, as if accidentally, he asks Neil to help Seth out on the court while Kevin's benched. Neil stops in his tracks and looks at Kevin, really looks at him, and he must see something there because he nods his assent and starts walking again.