Lex's POV

The first memory I have of Ivan Petrov was in my first Wildcat-Falcon game. I was a freshman and so was he. In games as important as this, freshmen seldom played. We were benched the whole time, probably substituting if someone was seriously injured.

But even that rarely happened.

Cal, Jamie, Blake and I were on the bench, watching the Wildcats play against the Falcons. Most of them were senior years, and the rest were juniors. The sophomores, like us, were benched as well.

Unofficial cheerleaders. That's what we were.

The Falcons were leading, but the Wildcats weren't very behind. We only had a two point lead, and judging by the way the Wildcats were playing, we'd lose that soon.

After the half time break, the Wildcats made some changes in their team. They were six points behind.

The second half began. Among the five Wildcats on the court, I'd never seen one of them before. 'Petrov,' his jersey read. And he was a freshman. All the other freshmen - both Wildcats and Falcons - were looking at him with envy. He was playing in the most important match the school ever had, and he was just a freshman.

Blake and Jamie started laughing. The Wildcat coach must be absolutely nuts to let a freshman play, especially when they were losing.

But Petrov made all the difference. He was reckless. He'd score from across the entire court, he made three-pointers look like a joke. And he dunked, not once, not twice, but a total of five times in just one quarter.

He was a machine. A scoring machine. The Wildcats simply had to pass the ball to him and he'd make a shot in record time.

And he was the shortest in the team. But he used his height to his advantage. While everyone else was running, he was practically flying. His feet barely touched the ground. He was that light. If someone told me his bones were hollow, I'd believe it.

We ended up losing the game, obviously. But it still was quite close. The Wildcats were ten points ahead of us. All because of Ivan Petrov. The game changer.

All of us were in awe even if we wouldn't admit it. This guy had a sure shot at all the major leagues. Hell, he'd even make it to the NBA. After seeing him play, we all knew our future was bleak.

"He on 'roids, or somethin'?" Carlo 'Cal' Rodriguez asked us all. Jamie, Blake, Cal and I. We were, according to most seniors, the future of the team. 'Rising talents', they'd called us. But after looking at Petrov, even that felt like bragging.

"Even if he's taking something, he won't be able to play like that," Blake said. "Future MVP of the NBA, I'm telling you. The next Jordan."

"Woah." Jamie this time. "You're gonna start an Ivan Petrov fan club if we let you go on."

We all laughed.

"What's up, Lex?" Blake brushed my shoulder. "You've been quiet."

I shrugged. "Nothing, really."

"Took your breath away, didn't he?" Blake looked pointedly at Petrov. He's always been able to see through me. "Everyone's blown. You should see the way the seniors talk about him. He really is something."

I nodded wordlessly.

Blake exhaled. "A shame he's stuck with Vinny and his crew."

I chuckled. "You wish he played for the Falcons instead? That's like treason, isn't it?"

"Oh, come one! Everyone's thinking it, there's nothing wrong if I say it."

I laughed with Blake. "Make sure Jamie doesn't hear that."

We walked towards the rest of the team. We're all sad we lost, surprised even. We're sitting on our bench area. Everyone was talking about what happened on the court. There isn't much anger or shame, just amazement. You could see it on all their faces. Probably a privilege to play against a future celebrity.

The sophomores, however, weren't very lively. They didn't like Petrov by the look of it. So when Petrov was passing by our team bench area, one of the sophomores - Cyrus - extended his leg right in front of Petrov.

Petrov tripped on Cyrus's extended left leg. We all expected him to fall face first on the ground. Cyrus had his lips curved, ready to laugh in mockery. But that was not what happened.

Ivan tripped but he didn't fall. He landed on his palms and then lifted his feet, so he was handstanding. And then he flipped, landing back on his feet, his back towards us.

Ivan Petrov had just somersaulted. Cyrus ended up making Petrov more legend-material. His crooked smile turned into a frown.

Petrov walked away without looking at our side, probably smirking. He was proud of himself. Smug. You could see it from the way he was walking.

He reached his team's bench area. Everyone gave him a hero's welcome. Highfiving and fistbumping and all. His coaches patted him on his back, the players hugged him. They were laughing, cheering, and the whole scene was beautiful.

But amidst all that mirth, three people were glum. Vinny, Ezra and Micheal. The three of them always stuck together. But their friendship seemed different than the one Jamie, Blake, Cal and I shared. Ezra and Micheal just did what Vinny asked them to do. They were followers, not friends.

The Wildcats' assistant coach, Merton, squeezed Ivan and ruffled his hair. He wore it long, it reached his nape, just how it is now. While playing, he'd tie it up in a ponytail.

Then the captain of the Wildcats, Luan, was next. He hugged Ivan, kissed him on the shoulder and then piggybacked him.

"That's hella gay, dude," Jamie commented.

"They're bros," Cal said. "Don't misunderstand."

"Talking about gay," Blake said, jumping on his heels. He's always excited. "I've got some news."

"Waoh," I said. "You're coming out or something?"

Blake narrowed his eyes on me. "I wouldn't come out even if I actually was gay, it'd ruin my entire career."

"Like we have any career after this Ivan guy showed up," Cal muttered.

"Anyways," Blake continued. "Jessica Snow just came out as pansexual."

"Holy shit!" Cal exclaimed. "That cheerleader? Who Lex has an eye on?"

"Dude," I whined, shoving Cal playfully.

"It's true, what the heck?" Cal defended himself. "It's nothing new, though. Lex has an eye on everybody."

"And vice versa," Jamie pointed out. "I swear, Violet would choose him over me if she had the choice."

"Violet has the choice," I joke despite knowing Jamie hates us making fun of his girlfriend.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Don't do that!"

"It's fine, James," Blake consoled him. "We won't tell her."

We all laughed. We continued talking about random things. And whatever we spoke about, Petrov always managed to break into the conversation. We couldn't - Okay, I'll speak for myself. I couldn't stop thinking about him.

And even now, almost three years later, I still can't. Because it's eleven in the night, and he still hasn't returned.

That video, it hurt to see it. I can't imagine what Ivan must've felt like. His own team, that too. Why would anyone do anything like that?

I'm pacing in my room. He left his phone here. Why? I'm so worried. Where is he? Is he okay? He obviously isn't. I shouldn't have let him go to his house. I should've followed him. Screw my friends if they think something's going on.

They wouldn't be entirely wrong.

I flick his phone. His phone is password protected. I have to trace out a pattern to unlock it. It's a simple L, I've seen him do it a hundred times before.

As soon as it's unlocked, I go through his contacts. He doesn't have Vinny's number. In fact, he doesn't have any of his team member's phone numbers. He only has Tyler's number.

Something's better than nothing.

He also doesn't have Dorian Gray's number. Did he save it as something else, then?

That is not important, Lex, I scold myself and call Tyler.

"Ivan?" Tyler's voice cracks through the phone.

"Hey, Tyler, it's me. Lex," I say. "Do you - so you don't know where Ivan is, do you?"

"No, I-- wait, why do you have Ivan's phone in the first place?" Of course he's suspicious. He's Tyler Ziegler. Ivan told me about him.

I sigh. "It's a long story."

"Oh yeah? And what part of it includes barging into his house and videotaping his father while he's drunk?"

"Tyler, I didn't do it. You know who did it. Come on."

He calms down. Only a bit. "Where's Ivan?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me," I say. "He hasn't re- Nevermind."

Tyler coughs. "When did you start worrying about him?"

I shake my head. "I just did. Do you have any idea where he is? Where could Vinny take him?"

"I don't really know. And even if I did, why would I tell you?"

"Please, Tyler, I'm only trying to help."

"You know what Vinny did. I really can't trust you," he justifies himself. "I'll be honest, though. I have no idea he was missing or anything. I didn't even know his father kicked him out until I saw the clip. I'm really... I don't know, Lex."

"Understandable," I mutter. "Ivan's probably in danger. Jesus Christ, try searching for him. I have no idea where to look."

"All right, I'll help," Tyler concedes. "Call me if you find him. And I'll call you, same number."

"Same number," I agree and he hangs up.

I slip his phone into my pocket beside my own phone and bolt out of my room. I race downstairs, grab the first aid kit - just in case - and step outside the house. It's drizzling.

I start my car and drive towards Ivan's old house. The drizzles turn into heavy rainfall along the way. I'm glad there isn't any lightning. 

The door of Ivan's apartment isn't locked. I push it open and venture into the darkness. His father's sleeping in the bedroom and Ivan isn't here anywhere. I bite my lip. This is worse than I thought.

I find Ivan's bike on the road leading up to the apartment. I attach the bike to the back of my car where an extra tire can fit and drive through every single lane. I have my flashlight out, scanning every deserted plot just to make sure he isn't left there aloof.

All this rain makes it hard to focus. Bloody convertible. Water trickling down my hair and face, everything is bleak.

Finally, I turn towards the woods. The scent of damp mud fills my nostrils. The forest looks beautiful in the rain. My forehead creases as I drive on. I take unusual turns into the woods, places I've never ventured before. Too many dead ends, I keep turning back.

Tyler hasn't called me yet. Where are you Ivan?

My flashlight is hitting everything, and I still can't find him. Where could he be? What did they do to him? My heart's beating as loud as the rain. I can't lose him. The world can't afford to lose him. He's a legend. We can't.

I keep driving until I finally spot something unusual. On a grassy spot in the middle of nowhere, someone's lying down. Holy crap.

I jump outside my car, First Aid Kit in hand and run as fast as I can towards the body. It's Ivan.

"Holy shit, Ivan." I kneel beside his body, place my hand on his heart - it's beating. His shirt is torn and his whole body is caked with mud. His hair is slicked behind. He has a black eye and there's a pool of water around him. Red water.

Shit.

"Ivan?" I say tentatively.

He blinks his eyes open. And then blinks again. He opens his mouth and moves his lips but no sound comes out.

"It's okay," I mutter. I lift his upper body and slip one hand beneath his back and the other below his knees. I stand up with him in my hands, bridal style, and carry him to a nearby tree.

Almost no water can pass through the tree making it a perfect spot to carry out any first aid I can. I lay him down, he winces.

"I'm sorry," I mutter. Most of the blood on his wounds is washed by the rain. I examine whatever I can. He has a few broken ribs, fractured limbs, and a cracked nose. Wounds and bruises everywhere. I clean each of them one by one and then bandage them. There's a wound on his head. So I wrap his forehead with antiseptic gauze.

I check his ears. They aren't bleeding. Phew.

I realize he's saying something but I can't hear it. So I tilt my head towards him, ear next to his mouth.

"I didn't think I'd see you again." He smiles as he raises his hand instinctively. I feel his palm on my cheek. They travel up to my hair. "Smooth as silk."

I look at his face. Our eyes meet and we hold contact. It isn't like any of the times we've stared at each other before. Before, it was a contest - who'd look away first. But now it's more like we're staring just because the other person is beautiful. From the inside out.

His fingers wander across my face, slowing down only when they reach my lips. I've chewed on them so much these past hours, I didn't realize they were bleeding. "Man," he whispers, fingers brushing my lower lip. "You're perfect."

My eyes widen. "I'm not, look." I hold his wrist and guide his fingers through various parts of my face - beneath my eyebrow and next to my jaw. My scars.

He exhales, fingers still lingering on my scars. You can't see them unless you look close. "Beautiful," he corrects himself.

I smile. "Is that what Dorian Gray fell for?"

He smirks and turns his head so that his cheek touches the ground. His grip on my face falls down to my neck. "I didn't expect this from you."

I brush a strand of hair off his face. "You're hallucinating. I'm not whoever you think I am. You'll never say things like this to me."

"Hope," he says, surprising me. "I know who you are, idiot. I'm not blind."

I laugh. He laughs along - or at least tries to. He winces. His ribs must be in a terrible condition.

"Glad you're back," I mutter. "Don't move."

He stiffens as I loop my hands around his knees and neck once again. His hand stays around my nape, playing with my hair.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," I state the obvious. Ivan groans.

As I walk towards the car, Ivan says, "Pinch me."

"What the heck! I'm not injuring you any further, not when you're in this state."

"Then tell me this isn't a dream." His eyes are still closed.

I tilt my head and kiss his forehead. "This is not a dream," I whisper.

He sighs, still not opening his eyes and presses his head against my arms. "Then I'm already dead."