Open RP Post

[burnyoudown]

🔥 Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
🔥 General squick/trigger list.
🔥 m/m for anything shippy.
🔥 General headcanon for Kavinsky. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🔥 Kavinsky's kink list.
🔥 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

Comments

for Adam

[burnyoudown]

[ooc: from here.]

[He thought about texting back while he waited, but it took a lot of effort to coordinate his fingers right now, so he didn't. He pocketed his phone and leaned his head back instead.

When Adam approached, Kavinsky struggled to sit up better, mostly so he wouldn't make a fool of himself by spilling water everywhere whenever he got around to opening the bottle that he accepted.]

No. [He hadn't asked. He didn't usually need to ask. Maybe that had been a mistake on his part.

But, despite how off he felt, he still smirked.]

Why, worried I'm gonna kick it?

[existandbleed]

No.

[It's an easy answer, with only a brief flicker of something sharp in his expression. But Adam softens it after only a moment, turns it into a curl of an uneven smile, something different than he wears around his friends.]

You're too stubborn to just die, aren't you?

[He arches an eyebrow at Kavinsky, almost rhetorical. He doesn't open the bottle in his hands, but lets his fingers leech the cool perspiration on the glass neck.

Not long ago, he said he hated Kavinsky, but the truth was more like this: Kavinsky was everything Adam wasn't, couldn't be. Rich and gorgeously exotic and with a car made for racing, that could do a quarter mile in thirteen seconds on factory specs. It would have been jealousy if he let himself admit that he wanted things.

Adam should feel out of place here, with a cellphone in his pocket and a bottle in his hands. Instead the colored lights and music he doesn't speak the language to are almost a strange sort of balm to all the open wounds.]

But I'm not sure you'll be able to drive me home.

at the dream field;

[smiledevilish]

[Most people seemed to think Dimitri and Kavinsky should be rivals, but he doesn't get close enough to him for that, and actually tries to avoid getting on K's bad side. They were both drug dealers, but Dimitri actually had a certain sort of manners where Kavinsky was concerned-- he never tried to sell at K's parties, and just generally kept his head down where the other boy was concerned.

Dimitri's father had been Russian mafia, wealthy with a successful life of crime that had long run in the family. And then one night he never came home. A man with a smile like death told the blond that his father had disgraced himself, and he's been in over his head ever since. He's a scholarship student like Parrish, although he lives in the dorms rather than a trailer. His family had gone from living in luxury in a house in St. Petersburg, and now rented an apartment on the rough side of NYC. Dimitri only attended prep school out of his mother's hope that it would make it so that he could give her back her life of expensive dresses and weekend spa trips.

So the rumor about K's father being mafia is enough to keep him playing nice, to not get too close, and to keep him out of the other boy's dreams.

The rumor that circles about Dimitri is this: he should be dead. The summer before he transferred to Aglionby he crashed during a race, and the airbag didn't deploy. Blood and broken glass and the scream of warped metal. There was nearly a funeral -- or so the story goes. He grins like a joke he isn't telling and shows off the inked sleeves of his tattoos, shows off where he says it covers up scars, lets people feel for them. But it's still a lie.

So he never tells the Dreamer that for Dimitri even reality is colored by dreams, that he walks in the dreamforest, shapes castles and impossible racetracks, every desire that kindles in his heart. He couldn't see any reason to say it-- Kavinsky seemed to be fine, even if he had enough of his own sort of trouble.

But the other boy looks at Ronan the way that he used to look at Elijah: like the only fucking thing that matters. Like he would burn the world just for his attention, and he knows it'll end in flames. Dimitri remembers the feeling, and he knows how losing that can turn you inside out, how it burns. It sparks something in him, maybe even empathy. Or maybe it's just thinking that Kavinsky deserves better than being left alone with the bitterness.

Which is how they get to this moment right here: Dimitri pulling up in his bright red Mustang, all after-market parts and LED lights amidst a hundred white Mitsubishis. He doesn't so much as bat an eye at the dreamt cars, just gets out and pockets his keys in his cargo shorts. His tee-shirt on the other hand declares "my sexual preference is often" because he's seventeen and thinks shitty tee shirts are amusing.

He figures anyone that actually knows Kavinsky probably is smart enough to avoid him in the mood he's in. Instead here he is, playing the world's biggest idiot. He wouldn't be entirely surprised if the other teen started off by punching him in the face. But well, there's a certain familiarity, a certain catharsis in violence, and Dima's never turned down a fist fight. And he figures that even a fight might be better for K's mood than just leaving him alone with it.]

Hey. Kavinsky?

[He calls his name and there's an urgency to it. After a pause, he curses under his breath as he drags a hand through his blonde hair, because he doesn't really have a plan. He isn't even entirely sure which of the cars he's in, and there's too much here for him to feel it out. So he looks for him the old-fashioned way: walking among the cars, letting his fingertips drag against the spoiler of the cars he passes, that jolt of dream on dream at every touch.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky was not in a good mood. His mood was so sour, in fact, that he hadn't even mustered up the energy to leave the dreaming field yet. Just a little while ago, things had been good, hadn't they? He'd had Ronan. He'd had everything. It hadn't even been like he'd wanted to turn Ronan against Gansey, he'd just wanted to feel like he mattered to him, too. He'd wanted to feel important to Ronan, for Ronan to choose him. Instead, Ronan had tossed him aside the moment he wasn't useful anymore.

He'd always figured that Ronan would take a newly dreamed Pig back to Gansey, but he'd thought-- He'd thought Ronan would come back to him, too. It was all he'd wanted and it didn't feel like it'd been much to ask for. Ronan wasn't that much different than him, really, and yet...

He turned his head to the side when he heard his name, a familiar voice that broke the silence hanging over the field. He didn't know how he felt about Dimitri being here--here, of all places. Despite knowing that Dimitri was looking for him, Kavinsky didn't budge from where he sat in the passenger seat of one of the Mitsubishis, window rolled down and pale arm hanging out.

He felt dead inside but this shit was far from over. He'd get Ronan, one way or another. He just had to figure out how. Unfortunately, his brain was running on empty, chasing itself in circles going over and over again how Ronan had left him.

Drumming his fingers on the outside of the car door, he sighed, then heaved himself over enough to lean out the window, squinting despite his sunglasses.]

What. [He said slowly, loud enough to be heard even though the other boy was still a few rows of cars away.] The fuck. Are you doing here?

[He wanted a smoke. He wished he was high. Anything to dull the pain. But both of those things required getting out of this car and going to his other car and that felt like far too much effort right now.]

Here to put me out of my misery?

[He was going for joking but his tone fell short and there wasn't even a hint of a smile on his face.]

more dream pack ronan | some point after the skov thread idk what im doing

[threesecrets]

hey dickbag
is it cool if i bring some stuff over?

[The text could be innocuous, but it's the fastest that Ronan has probably ever sent messages in a row like that in his life. That slight edge of his nerves betray him, give away the hint of vulnerability. Not to mention that he brings stuff over all the time, and has probably never bothered to fucking ask about it -- if Kavinsky protested he'd probably just laugh. But it didn't matter, because everything left with him in the shark-silhouette of the BMW however many days later, when he eventually defeated the magnet of attraction. No matter if it was a small dragon or blooming plants that grew chocolate peanuts, or something else that had caught his interest -- either dreams or a joke or occasionally even something that meant something.

But the truth was that was a pain in the ass. If he stayed for more than a night, he'd end up stealing shirts and pajama pants- which was fine. The prospect of stealing Kavinsky's toothbrush or having to drive down to the corner store when all he wanted was pancakes and to look like he wasn't affected by how K looked first thing in the morning- it was a lot less charming than kissing him. He could try and dream it, but he didn't trust his own dreams to give him something so mundane. The idea of asking K to help him was fucking demeaning.

So eventually, Ronan broke down, and it looked like this: a small innocuous black bag with necessities and a few pieces of clothes. Things he could leave there. Ronan sitting on the edge of his bed, teeth scraping his lip raw. He's been letting Kavinsky pull him in closer but this was -- he didn't know. New. The sort of thing he doesn't talk about, but that he couldn't not talk about.

It felt like something concrete, like a choice. Something concrete. He knows Declan would disagree, but it doesn't feel like he's making the wrong choice.]

great things is what you're doing

[burnyoudown]

[The fact Ronan was asking made Kavinsky pause. He always brought shit with him and K never minded. Why did he suddenly have to ask? What exactly was he planning on bringing?]

yeah y wouldn't it be?

[And then, a few moments later, because Kavinsky couldn't help himself, he added;]

should I clear out a drawer for you?

[He was joking but he wasn't. Did Ronan want to make staying over a more permanent thing? Did he want... fuck, just the idea of Ronan wanting something more made Kavinsky's pulse spike. He tried to tell himself not to jump to conclusions. Maybe this was nothing and Ronan had just finally found some manners. Not that his lack of them would ever bother K--it was one of Ronan's charms.]

/during/ the skov thread ahem

[threesecrets]

[After ghosting Kavinsky for the better part of a week, the first contact he gets is this:]

ive kidnapped skov & swan
& were gonna have a party without you

hope youre prepared to pay ransom
else im not giving them back

[It's a good sign, even if it is an odd way to say hey ive missed you. But the sentiment is there, behind the threat that's a joke and true all at the same time. Kavinsky can probably tell that he's certainly high.

But it means that Ronan is with Skov and Swan, by his own choice, and apparently enjoying their company enough that it somehow has him in a pleasant mood. Enough so that he actually texted Kavinsky first without provocation, in what might be a brand new turn for their relationship. Ronan's mood always skews dark when he stays away, which usually means he's sharp as a blade when he slides back to Kavinsky's side. Even after their worst fights, eventually he's so miserable he can't help himself, can't keep denying what he wants. So he ends up responding when the other boy baits him with cars or drinks or the prospect of something on fire.

Ronan's even polite enough to pull this when there's still an hour or so before the earliest of party-goers starts showing up for Kavinsky's revelries. Although, that's probably just fortune rather than Ronan developing a sudden affliction of good behavior.

He isn't seem at all inclined to admit to what it was that scared him off in the first place. But that's just Ronan; no matter the day or the hour. He never acknowledges it without pressure, without some clever application of charm. It's easier for them both to just let it fade away into the night. Just accept that he's as mercurial as Irish weather, but that he always finds his way back.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky went through a couple of emotions upon first reading Ronan's text. First was surprise--Ronan never texted him out of the blue without some kind of push. Next was confusion over the idea of Ronan willingly hanging out with Skov and Swan--maybe he should have had Skov wedge his way into Ronan's life in the first place. He'd always had a gentler touch than Kavinsky, though not as gentle as Jiang. Last came amusement. It was startlingly easy to imagine the three of them somewhere, getting high and having a good time. Kavinsky almost felt jealous that he wasn't there.]

thank fuck
it's about time someone kidnapped Skov
you can keep him
just remember to take him for walks

[Ronan wasn't the only one who had to deal with Kavinsky's dog jokes.]

what do I have to do to get Swan back?

kavinsky lives and eli moves to aglionby

[richspoiledrotten]

[Elijah might come off as sharp and uninterested in the people around him, but it was more complicated than that. So when the 4th of July party went to Hell, he wasn't one of the people just standing there like a moron, praying it was all a trick. And he'd watched a boy die in flames not too long before, and like fuck was he going to do it again.

Somehow a dragon made of flames and a car crash that had been all wrong didn't seem so different, really.

He didn't get there in time to help, having to fight his way through the crowd, and by the time that he made it to the white Mitsubishi, Skov had already dragged the boy down. So he did what he could- offered a couple pills and a silver flask that looked like the sort half the boys at Aglionby hid in their lockers. But it tasted like warmth, like sunsets, something that healed you from the inside out. It tasted like dreams. It was enough to make the sort of questions the paramedics asked about fire safety and not what the fuck happened here? It was enough to make sure that Kavinsky was okay, whether or not he really wanted to be.

And then he vanished back into the crowd, growling something about take care of him yeah? to Skov before he walked away. Elijah had no interest in sticking around to see what the authorities made of it all. Last time he'd punched a cop, and he didn't have any friends here that could quiet that sort of thing.

It's still summer, so there's no easy way to track him down, find his face in classes, his name on the dorm list. Even the flask he left behind doesn't have his initials on it like most Aglionby assholes, instead it just bears a Latin quote:

"Extraneus hic ego sum
quia non intellegor ulli."

Which translates to I am a stranger here, because I don't understand anyone, a variant on Ovid, for anyone that's kept up on their classes. Instead, the first time they actually meet is at Kavinsky's substance party -- his first after the shitfest of the 4th. Elijah is a couple drinks in, bruised knuckles from a scuffle that wasn't quite a fight, his brown eyes still a little red-rimmed from the joint he'd smoked at the beginning of the night. He seems to hold it well, though: not his first time, surely.

He isn't the sort of boy that's good at making friends, but he slips between the clusters of people, hangs out for a while. The alcohol and the drugs help, makes it a little less obvious that he's different, makes him a little less cruel. But he still has to duck away with the excuse of finding another drink or something when he boils too hot, wants to punch people in the face because they've spent the last twenty fucking minutes talking about some reality tv bullshit. So he's standing alone by the last of a smoldering fire, kicks the embers just to see the sparks glitter red on the air.

That's when he catches a glimpse of Kavinsky sitting on the hood of the same white car he'd watched a boy haul him down off of. He doesn't walk over to him, even if he wants to, even if something skips in his chest. There's still a misery that lingers in his veins that he doesn't know how to wash off. He almost wants to leave, climb into his car and drive too fast until he remembers how to breathe. He looks away, sudden, busies himself drinking from the red plastic cup someone had pushed into his hand.

He wasn't about to get caught watching when he didn't know what the fuck to say anyway.]

yiiiiiiis

[burnyoudown]

[The 4th of July had been a rough night. Kavinsky wasn't sure who it was worse on; himself or Skov. He'd been rougher on Skov than he deserved considering he'd saved Kavinsky's life, but maybe K hadn't wanted to be saved. He'd only started to quiet down when the nameless boy had approached. Things had been less rough after that, somehow. The worst part had been when Kavinsky went to look for him to talk to him, he was nowhere around. All he'd been left with was the flask--he held onto it for the moment when he'd see the boy again.

Kavinsky withdrew into himself for days after the 4th, wallowing in his misery, only coaxed out of it by his boys. They weren't always gentle with their coaxing, but it worked out in the end. Eventually, he started to feel like himself again, enough where he felt like throwing another party. He tried to tell himself he didn't care if he ever spoke to Lynch again, but that was a lie. Kavinsky had almost died because of him, or maybe it was K's fault and not Lynch's. It was a lot easier to blame someone else instead of himself for a change, though. It lifted a little of the weight off his shoulders.

He still wasn't quite one-hundred-percent when his substance party rolled around, but getting high helped. Anything that kicked him out of his head even a little made dealing with shit easier. He still wore his sunglasses even though it was night, but that didn't stop him from thinking he recognized someone. He could have been wrong, but he hadn't stopped thinking about the contents of the abandoned flask since that night. It wasn't normal, and he'd consumed enough dreams to know one when he encountered it. He was grasping at straws, hoping to not be let down again because he didn't think he'd be able to handle it-

Sliding down off the hood of his car, he made his way over to the boy at the nearly burned-out fire. The closer he got, the more certain he was that he was right. His pulse picked up a little, and he took a deep breath when he stopped a few feet from the other boy, exhaling on a sigh.]

I don't think I got your name before.

[He knew he hadn't, but he didn't want to frame it in an accusatory way for a change. He was rough around the edges, sure, but he also remembered how this boy had fled after helping. Kavinsky didn't want him to feel like he had to run again before he got some answers.]

holiday vibes + cars + ???

[smiledevilish]

[It had been the last day before winter break, when Dimitri had realized that Kavinsky was going to be left for the holidays without most of the pack. The words you should come with me were out of his mouth before he could think better of it, but he's realized he doesn't regret them. He'd just shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, like this isn't choosing to let Kavinsky in closer than he's let anyone else.

He warned his mother he's bringing company, but mostly just so that she could get being a bitch about it out of her system beforehand. His sister is almost as excited to meet one of his friends as she is to know what her presents are going to be.

And having Kavinsky along actually helps out, since it means they don't take his Mustang. Six hours isn't bad, but Dimitri drives a red, second-hand Mustang not overly fond of the winter months. And he's not about to complain about being in the passenger seat when it's Kavinsky. But the fact that he's attracted to K isn't any sort of secret, even if he hasn't specifically said it in words- just in dreams.

Although calling it attraction is starting to feel like underselling it.]

Thanks for coming with me. Christmas isn't usually my favorite holiday.

:eyes emoji:

[burnyoudown]

[He didn't usually go home with anybody for Christmas, except the year he'd gone with Prokopenko. Usually, he went with his mom up to Jersey to visit his father, but that never ended well. Having plans meant he didn't need to worry about his own shitty family. It meant he didn't have to hang around the mansion alone either while his mom went out to Jersey by herself, if he declined to go. It meant...he had someone he actually liked to share it with.

Glancing over, he patted Dimitri on the knee, hand lingering for a moment.]

I'm just glad you invited me in the first place.

[Which was his way of saying thanks.]

What happened with you and Christmas?

[True, it wasn't one of Kavinsky's favorite holidays either, but that was only because people were usually busy visiting their friends and loved ones and less interested in getting blackout drunk or high out of their minds at a party. Which meant it was usually just him. Alone.]

ro and kavinsky and adam? maybe? idk what I'm doing but have a thing anyway

[threesecrets]

[When Kavinsky trails fingers against his tattoo it isn't in a dream. It's a touch mapping out the shifting edges of shapes that are dreams and aren't curled in black ink.

Ronan flinches, burning as he arches into his touch with a choked sound and heat in his veins. He still leaves, but not before he kisses him, desperate and aching and fingers sliding into his hair. Ronan's knees hitching to his hips on the hood of the car as they press chest-to-chest. Wasted on dreams, on desire. Staying is still impossible.

But coming back isn't.

So he still leaves. Still ghosts him for a few days to get his fucking head on straight. But it's not cruel as it could be, even if it's a messy thing. Kavinsky isn't the only boy that catches his eye, and Ronan doesn't really know how to handle the ways that they bleed into one another in his dreams. Adam also isn't oblivious the way Gansey tends to be, so Ronan doesn't think that his struggles or his attractions are as invisible as he wishes they were.

Ronan doesn't mean to be selfish. He hasn't kissed Adam, but there was a moment with the two of them standing in Cabeswater where he could feel his pulse racing in his throat, feel his face heat. It felt like an almost. He feels like he ought to say something to Kavinsky, but that would mean talking about what the kissing means in the first place.

He really doesn't mean to be selfish. But he's looking at Adam and the words you should come with me are off his mouth before he thinks better of it. Because Adam hadn't believed he could beat Kavinsky in a streetrace -- and clearly that's the sort of thing that needs proof.

Or maybe Adam realizes its Ronan's clumsy way of trying to invite him into his world and not just Gansey's. A world that includes Kavinsky, for better or worse.

So there's a car race.

And then in the aftermath there's three boys; two drinking beers and Ronan trying to decide if this is a good night or not. Or if he's one wrong word from being strangled to death by both of the boys he likes.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky couldn't help but wonder who the third wheel was supposed to be. Was it him or Adam? Had Ronan kissed Adam too or was it just him? Not that Kavinsky had kissed Adam, ever, but- The thought was there, sometimes, but not as real as the day Ronan had kissed him. It had felt like a dream, like something better than a dream, and then Ronan had fucking ghosted him. Because of course, he had. But things didn't end as poorly as they could have, and now here they were.

He couldn't remember ever saying more than two words to Adam and he wasn't exactly making too much of an effort right now, but he wasn't ignoring him, either. He just...didn't know what to say without being a jerk, though that was sort of his default setting. And then, out of nowhere-]

So have you kissed Parrish too, or just me?

[It was a good thing Adam hadn't been drinking anything (he wasn't a fan of beer or any other alcohol, really) because if he had he likely would have choked on it.]

Excuse me?

[He defaulted to polite when he was caught off guard, Henrietta accent slipping out a little stronger than usual. He hadn't known-- he hadn't thought-- Ronan and Kavinsky? That was something difficult to wrap his head around and yet not that difficult at all, at the same time. They were more alike than most people, especially Gansey, seemed to realize. It wasn't even that they were opposites, they were- it made Adam feel some sort of way if he thought about it too hard.

So instead, he turned inquisitive eyes to Ronan. Not accusing, just questioning. What was going on?]

good end AU!!!!

[threesecrets]

[Torn between want and fear, Ronan doesn't bring back Gansey's Camaro, perfect as memory. All he brings back is a pair of white sunglasses, clutched in his fingers. He swallows, tries not to think of what it means, if Kavinsky can read what Ronan was dreaming.

Once he has his body back, once he can move his fingers again, he unfolds them and with a sly smile that's full of razors, Ronan slides them onto the bridge of his nose. His heart pounding in his chest, leaning into the other boy's space, grinning something wicked, kicking his legs playfully. Wouldn't take much to be close enough to kiss, and Ronan can't help being painfully aware of it.

But he doesn't say it.]

Now we can both look like douchebags.

[What do you want, Ronan Lynch?

Knowing was almost worse. He almost wanted to punch Kavinsky just to prove something to himself or whatever God was watching. But maybe God didn't care, or didn't matter. And maybe that was okay because he did. Care. Kavinsky might be a Bulgarian Jersey Trash piece of shit, but Ronan cared about him, wanted him in every way he'd been trying to convince himself he didn't want anyone. Or at least not other boys.

Running feels too much like cowardice so he stays. Instead he laughs, shoves against K's bare chest in a way that could almost have been starting a fight if they weren't too close for comfort, a cocktail of sweat and cocaine and wanting. Two boys topless on the sizzling hood of a car under the summer's morning light, with the same stupid fucking sunglasses.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky eyed him for a long moment, considering Ronan and then the sunglasses. They were even better than his previous attempt at them, he thought, but that wasn't what Ronan was supposed to be dreaming.]

Good job, man.

[He said slowly, reaching out to flick his fingertips against the side of Ronan's sunglasses. He was more or less unfazed by the shove, was instead much more interested in how close the other boy was. Kavinsky leaned in closer, nearly nose-to-nose with Ronan as he smirked.]

What the fuck are you doing dreaming about me?

[It was a tease and a taunt and a challenge all in one. Ronan was supposed to be dreaming Gansey's balls back for him, but apparently dreaming K's sunglasses was more important. Or more enticing, either way. Of course, Kavinsky also liked to believe the sunglasses weren't just fashionable, they were functional, too. The light hurt when he was high; wearing them had become a habit, even when he was sober.]

substance party shenanigans;

[brokengold]

[Aidan was not the sort of boy that attended K's substance parties.

Except here he was on a Friday night, his old Toyota Corolla parked far away from the scene of the disaster he was about to walk into. Aidan didn't want someone to mistake it for another pile of junk to set on fire; it wasn't like he could afford another.

He doesn't really have street clothes, so he sticks out from the boys in everything from fishnets to tee-shirts. He's in a subtly striped button-down, rolled up to the elbows, and unbuttoned at the throat. But his hair is gelled back, and he looks more or less like any other Aglionby boy, if a bit over-dressed. He probably could have borrowed something if he'd asked someone. But if he were to talk to any of his friends, he would have had to admit to where he was going, talk about his mother or Elijah, and he doesn't want to do any of that. He doesn't know what he does want, either- not really.

Maybe he wants to see something burn.

The only thing out of place about him is that his knuckles are bruised and scabbed over. He'd found a construction site with a block of cement slats and punched them until they broke, but it just left him feeling empty, not better. He did manage not to break his hands, though. Aidan's a broken boy, alone and hurting, and this might not be someplace that he belongs, but it's .. something, at least. It feels less awful than doing his homework or trying to figure out his magic by himself on a Friday night.

Elijah is off at one of Dimitri's gatherings of his questionable friends, and Iris has her ghost-girlfriend, and so Aidan is just-- alone. So he comes here, instead. Not like he hadn't heard the rumors before. So when Kavinsky had told him to come at the end of their shared math class he'd said maybe, for some reason he still doesn't really understand.

He hadn't known if he'd do it or not.

But he ends up here once he got in his car, almost without really thinking about it. So now he's trying to keep the leather of his shoes out of the spilled beer and possibly more questionable drying liquids on the fields of the neglected fairgrounds. They almost seem to glitter under the summer heat and the bonfires. He sees Kavinsky on the hood of his car, and he walks over, hooking his thumbs into his pockets.]

You throw quite the party.

[burnyoudown]

[It took him a second to recognize Aidan, but Kavinsky was pretty good with faces. Especially when he'd personally invited someone to one of his parties. He grinned, tipping his sunglasses down his nose a little as he looked the other boy up and down. He was a little overdressed for a party, but Kavinsky didn't really care about what people wore. He cared about the attitudes they brought and that they had fun.

Sitting up from where he was lounging, beer bottle in hand, he scooted over a little and patted the empty space next to him on the hood.]

It's one of my specialties.

[He knew what made a party fun. He knew what people wanted to see and do. He knew what he wanted out of a party. They were always more fun when something exploded or at least caught fire.

This guy though--Kavinsky couldn't tell if he was having fun or not. He planned on finding out. It was a good excuse to talk to him instead of 'you're hot'.]

Are you having a good time?

the one where k lives;

[sphecophobic]

[Ronan isn't alone when he brings Gansey the Camaro.

There's Henrietta's dark king, all sharp grin and white-rimmed sunglasses. Gansey bristles, but it's hard not to soften a little when Ronan admits that Kavinsky had helped him dream back his Camaro. Hard not to flush a little thinking about the fact that he was forever acquainted with what the other boy's dick looked like, too. He palmed a hand across his face and then busied himself trailing his hands against the lines of the Pig, like he was either looking for a fault, or just reacquainting himself with his car.

It had been a mistake to leave it at all. He should have known better, truly.

So it comes out that K is a dreamer too. And Gansey tells him about Cabeswater. Ronan's afraid that it's the dreaming that's eating at it, but it's Adam and Persephone that bring the ley line back to life. It sizzles back into being, powerful as a tidal wave, in the middle of the night on the 4th of July.

But Gansey and Kavinsky aren't friends.

He's just- he's someone that happens to show up at Monmouth on occasion. That comes with them to Cabeswater on occasion. That Gansey has even allowed to ride in the Pig once or twice. That he has had painful conversations with Declan about. So he supposes they're more than acquaintances. And he's come to accept that the other boy isn't nearly as soulless as he had assumed. He was dangerously handsome when he wasn't being horrible, and his aversion to wearing a shirt in the summer months while Gansey sweltered in his polo shirts didn't help him avoid that awareness.

Of course, the truth had always been that his cruelty was a mask over his jealousy. The fact that Kavinsky could steal Ronan's attention, seemed capable of offering him something that Gansey couldn't got under his skin, made him want to push him out of Ronan's life. He didn't quite understand how he'd ended up tangled in Gansey's, too.

Except Kavinsky isn't the reason that Monmouth is empty.

It's one in the morning- just before Halloween- and Monmouth is empty because Ronan is spending the weekend at a little apartment above St. Agnes. And Gansey, best-friend to both boys, has to smile about it. Kavinsky might have misjudged Ronan's affections, but he hadn't misjudged Gansey. Not even his model Henrietta holds his attention tonight. He'd had a crush on him when Niall had died -- how could you be close to Ronan and not be a little in love with him? But Ronan had needed a friend, a brother, needed him to be anything else. And so he had.

Texting Kavinsky was a mistake.

Because he ends up with him in his space, looking at Gansey like he knows why he texted him. And he doesn't like the idea that Joseph understands him better than his best-friends.]

I'm not used to being alone.

[He murmurs it like this doesn't feel like fishing for a bad idea. It does but Gansey is willing to ignore that voice for now.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky shrugged, hands in his pockets. It was the only way he could keep them to himself, if he was being honest- and he usually was, which always seemed to surprise people.]

I am. It fucking sucks, doesn't it?

[He was used to it, but he hated it. It was why he surrounded himself with friends and threw so many parties. Speaking of, he had an epic one planned for Halloween. He was looking forward to it. It'd put a dent in his depression for a while, distract him from feeling utterly alone. He had another distraction right now though in the most unexpected form.

He wasn't sure what he had going on with Gansey, though he was pretty sure he'd been shunted to the side by Lynch. Which was- it was fine, it was whatever. They were still friends at least, and that was... well, it wasn't the dream, but it was enough to soothe some of the ache in his chest.]

What d'you expect me to do about it?

[He wasn't usually the guy people texted or called for company-unless it was sex-but he was almost flattered that Gansey had reached out to him. The other boy might not have been as bad as Kavinsky'd always figured he was, but he still wanted to take him down a peg or two sometimes.

He might have taken a chance to (gently) needle at Gansey, but Kavinsky was still there. He'd still answered and shown up. That was probably the most telling part, when he easily could've told Gansey to (literally) go fuck himself. He'd certainly told his boys the same thing plenty of times when he hadn't been in the mood for their bullshit.]

something something substance party;

[sphecophobic]

[It had happened a few months ago. They'd run into each other at a party, which was nearly impossible in and of itself, as Gansey didn't typically attend Aglionby parties. But it was a Crew thing, and he'd mostly been hoping that he might find Ronan and be able to drag him home early before he got himself into too much trouble. But Ronan had apparently found another venue for drinking his feelings away.

Instead he'd ended up with a nearly empty red plastic cup, and Kavinsky making lewd comments. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe he was just tired of it but he'd told him to either do something about it or shut up.

Kavinsky had not shut up.
In truth, Gansey didn't think he'd really wanted him to.

He didn't let himself think of it, most of the time. Buried the awareness of it too deep for it to infect his conscious thoughts- most of the time. But it was there, behind his thoughts, it found him when he was alone. The fact that this was the year he was going to die.

So he lets the other boy kiss him. He kisses him back. And they fall into -- whatever this thing is that they have. They're not dating, not really. But they're something. It's a secret he keeps tucked away, even if he smiles when the other boy texts him. Finds excuses for long drives in the Camaro, and doesn't mention when they end up at Kavinsky's house in the suburbs.

And Gansey isn't stupid. He knows that Kavinsky is chaos incarnate. There's no way this ends that isn't messy, but Gansey lets himself believe that he can keep it together for just a little longer. It was only supposed to be a few kisses one night that no one would ever know about. But it's easy to draw it out, to give them another week, another month, until the end of the summer.

So Gansey knows this is going to explode in his face. He just can't help himself.

It's late when Gansey makes it back to the substance party, but that's the idea. When most of the party-goers have either drifted off or found a space on the ground to pass out on. He'd told Kavinsky earlier that he wouldn't be able to stop by before he left for DC, but he doesn't think he'll be able to sleep before Helen picks them up anyway.

So he's here. The Camaro parked far enough away so he doesn't have to worry about broken glass or stray flames, and he walks the rest of the way. He doesn't quite know what he's going to say, because earlier ignited a complicated cocktail of feelings that are still smoldering under his skin. Namely jealousy. He doesn't entirely know if it was Ronan, or the drunk girl that had been next to him in the car-- but Gansey was not supposed to be jealous about Joseph Kavinsky.

It was supposed to be a distraction, just a chance to feel something in case he never got the chance. But he was realizing that he cared, wished he could bring him with him to DC and laugh behind the back of every oil baron and political hopeful. He'd never ask, but he suspected Kavinsky could clean up nice, if he wanted to.

Gansey was in way over his head. He'd known Kavinsky was trouble, he just thought that trouble was limited to streetracing with Ronan. Not his heart.

Thankfully, Kavinsky is easy to pick out in a crowd, especially since it's mostly just embers. Just K and his dogs, leaning against Swan's Golf. There's a spark in Gansey's smile, still the hint of the boy from earlier. That quiet truth that if you dug deep enough there was a side to him that wasn't proper at all.]

Sorry I'm late.

[He's not sorry; and technically he's not even really late since he hadn't planned on coming at all. He just- he'd needed to see him. God, he's a mess.]

Yeeee

[burnyoudown]

[His boys knew, of course. Or they knew sort of. They ribbed Kavinsky about the whole thing and usually, he laughed along with them. What was he doing kissing Dick Gansey? Gansey was handsome and charming in ways that Kavinsky wasn't--which wasn't to say K wasn't handsome or charming but his charm wasn't the same as Gansey's. Gansey's handsomeness seemed effortless, as if he could roll out of bed and go right about his day looking perfect. Besides that, he had a nice mouth and nice eyes. Kavinsky let his boys think it was all surface-level attraction. It was easier that way.

He was surprised to see Gansey there, but he didn't show it. He was riding a glorious high, shirtless, wearing his sunglasses no matter how late and dark it was. His heart tripped a little but he smirked, pushing away from Swan's car as Swan and Skov exchanged a look behind his back. Swan leaned in to say something in Skov's ear and the other boy started laughing. Knowing Skov right now it didn't even have to be funny; everything was funny when he was high.]

You know what they say; better late than never.

[What did it mean that Gansey had showed up? Did it mean anything at all? He knew, vaguely, what Gansey thought of him and most of it wasn't pretty. But he also had a smile that made Kavinsky want to set shit on fire. In a good way.]

You got something for me?

[It was a substance party, after all, but the only substance he was looking for right now was a kiss.]

dreamer in the dream pack

[richspoiledrotten]

[Elijah gets pulled into Kavinsky's pack of dogs because he has nowhere else to go. Or well, nowhere else that he wants to go, at least. Because when he snarled at Kavinsky, all bared teeth and sharp eyes, he'd grinned. Not like he was mocking him, but like he could put up with him, like he didn't find him off-putting. Elijah moves through the world like he's ready to fight the whole room, which tends to make him a loner by default, but K doesn't seem to mind.

And slowly, it turns out that he doesn't have to be. Kavinsky can put up with him at his worst, and slowly Eli learns to let down his walls a little bit. Enough to show that there's good to go with it, too. That he isn't all anger, even if he's got it in spades. He gels with Skov and Jiang, and he likes Swan too. Proko- is strange. He doesn't know how he feels about him. Like they're sort of the same, somehow. He thinks he'd die for him. K and his boys are the only friends he needs, as far as he's concerned.

He loves cars, his family, and- maybe Kavinsky and his boys. They all seem to be made of the same stuff, in one way or another.

There's a shadow to him, something he doesn't talk about, but everyone has secrets, trauma. He races with them, shows up at K's parties, drinks and gets high with them, and that seems to be what matters.

One night, Eli puts someone on their ass for getting in K's face. Not really a fight- he just hauls the guy backwards and hits their knee so they tumble to the ground, sputtering in fury. He calls Eli just another one of K's dogs, and the dark-haired boy grins, wild and almost manic, green eyes glittering by the light of the bonfire.

Do you really think that's a fucking insult?

So of course Elijah ends up as part of the pack. It had felt almost inevitable. But, he doesn't sleep around them often, always wakes in a panic when he does. He'll stay over a couple nights, but he usually stays up, whether that's watching bootleg Saudi racing videos, or flirting, or just pressed up close to someone's side just for the proximity, the contact. But he usually ducks out before that can go far enough to really be called making out.

It's been a couple months. Long enough that he's close with the other boys, but not so close they've all spilled their heart veins, that they know each others' secrets and worst truths. Tonight he lets himself be talked into trying one of K's pills, not quite knowing what to expect from this one. It's just the boys at K's house, ostensibly there to watch movies, but Eli ends up in his bedroom as he places the pill on his tongue. It seems safe, even if he knows better than most what a fucking lie that is. But it's an easy high, soft and syrupy. He drifts, nuzzling into his side. K says something that he doesn't quite catch- probably checking Skov doesn't set the kitchen on fire- and he falls into sleep before he comes back.

But he's there at his side, next to him in his bed, when it all goes to shit.

Maybe K can tell the difference. The way that it's less like Elijah brings them back with him, and almost more like things fall out of his dreams. It sets Kavinsky's comforter on fire, along with the clothes Eli had been wearing. A pair of creatures of all wrong angles, shifting features that obeyed dream logic, not waking logic. It was all shadow and flame, turning the air to ashes. K goes for his gun, and Elijah is halfway through you can't-- because only dreams can kill a dream, when K puts a bullet through its face and it starts to crumble.

Eli had managed to peel himself out of his clothes before they burned him, so he's down to his boxers when he draws a sword from the air. After a brief scuffle he shoves it into the other one, accidentally up-ending Kavinsky's bedside table in the process. There's blood and strange bodies that even in death don't fit in the waking world- but then it's just blood and ashes. And if Kavinsky is paying attention, he might catch the moment when the sword climbs back onto Elijah's skin. Ink that trails up his fingers, curling around his wrist again, and slowly spelling out Latin words in a line up his arm that means: I will find a way or I will make one.

But standing there in plaid boxers and nothing else, it's hard to miss the scars on his chest. Surgery scars- around his nipples and the bottom edge of where they redefined his chest. They're healing well, but still recent- the scars are pink, rather than faded silver. His breathing is rough with the adrenaline, and he wants to ask ... there's so many things he wants to ask. But instead his shoulders curl in, and he deflates in a way he hasn't before, that seems like more than the dreams. Something in his body language, in how he looks at Kavinsky changes.]

Do you.. have a shirt I can borrow?

[He imagines the other boys will probably be checking in on K in a moment, and he doesn't want them to see him like this. He should ask about the gun, about the fact that K killed a dream like he'd done it before, but the terror clawing in his heart feels more pressing- that the only boys he'd thought of as his friends won't see him for who he is.]

[burnyoudown]

[It'd been a while since he'd had to shoot a dream, but not as long as he would've liked. There was always a chance he would pull something awful from his own dreams, a dragon or a horror amalgamation that needed to be disposed of before something terrible happened. But this hadn't been his dream.

His room was something of a wreck now, but he didn't really care. Everything in it was just a thing; he could replace or fix them. People were more important, and both himself and Elijah seemed unharmed. He wasn't looking at the mess though; he was looking at Elijah. At his scars, at the tattoos on his arms, the way the sword melted back into his skin. He had so many questions; he didn't know where to start. But there was a more pressing matter to take care of first.

Nodding, he put the gun down on the top of the dresser.]

Yeah.

[He opened a drawer, rifled through the contents, and pulled out an old band t-shirt, worn and soft, and held it out to Elijah.

He couldn't help but stare again, gaze flickering to his tattoos, particularly the Latin bit. Latin wasn't his best subject, but he thought he got the gist. He couldn't get the thought out of his head; Elijah was magic. He was magic. And Kavinsky might never have found out if this accident hadn't happened. He assumed it was an accident, at least. Unless Elijah had wanted to kill him with a fire and horrible creatures. He doubted it, though. It was a complicated way to kill someone; easier to just put a bullet in their head or something.]

Thanks for ruining my bed.

[But his tone was surprisingly light, more teasing than accusing.]

drugs and boys and other things;

[lostmirror]

hey
got ur # from a friend

he said u can get p much anything
true/false?

[burnyoudown]

absolutely true
i can get you whatever your heart desires

what can i do for you?

after the skov thread

[richspoiledrotten]

[Skov and Elijah fighting isn't surprising; it happens all the time. But it plays out a bit different this time- because usually Eli backs off, pulls away before it was too obvious how blurred the line was between this and foreplay. But tonight he just peels off his tee-shirt, damp with sweat, tossing it on the floor as he asks Skov if he's tapping out. It's trust, and also a quiet renegotiation of where the lines used to be. Because Elijah isn't scared anymore, scared that the boys knowing who he is, what he is, will mean losing it all.

Turns out Skov isn't done, either-- or at least isn't willing to back off from the challenge. Or maybe just knows that Eli needs something tonight, and doesn't know how to say it.

Eventually, of course, the boys are spent one way or another, and K's other puppy disappears with Swan, leaving Eli all flushed and starry-eyed. He joins K on the couch, drawn in like something magnetic. Usually he wouldn't be so obvious about it, but he's high on endorphins, and the idea of being alone somehow feels like the worst thing in the world. So Eli just nuzzles in against his shoulder, half a kiss, and he'll climb into his lap if he'll let him- too punchdrunk to think better of it.

He's still, quiet in a way that he usually isn't. Which would be scary, if he didn't trust all of them. But he does. So instead he just leans into Kavinsky, feels like his feet are scarcely on the ground.]

Can I just--?

[It's not quite a question, but his words are a little slurred, like he's drunk just off the feelings. K might be able to tell that he isn't used to it, either. This is new- if he had more awareness, he might be a little embarrassed about being like this over a fistfight. But maybe pretending that was why they did it was a little dishonest, anyway. He did it for the bruises, the split lip, the way that their fingers sometimes pressed too tight against each others' throat.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky thought he knew what it meant, Skov and Elijah fighting. They didn't dislike each other; it wasn't about that. It was the opposite, and he'd known Skov for long enough to know that fighting with a friend was as good as making out to him sometimes. He knew by the wounds when Skov pulled his punches and when he didn't; he was careful with Elijah.

He didn't protest when Elijah joined him on the couch or climbed into his lap. Instead, he tipped his head back a little and looped his arms around the other boy's waist.]

What is it, sweetheart?

[He had trouble denying his boys anything, Elijah included. Even if he was the newest among them, he was also something other, not quite a dreamer like Kavinsky but close enough to make him protective of him. Kavinsky wanted to be there for him because no one had been there for him when he'd needed someone.

Fuck, but he was always getting in over his head with his boys, developing feelings when he told himself he wouldn't. Doing what he could to make them happy and keep them safe. He might have fought with them sometimes, but over the years they hadn't been through a single thing that their friendship couldn't survive.]

forth of july, but weird;

[threesecrets]

[Ronan is a strange thing. Greywaren.

Dream and a dreamer. He twists time- a circle he can shift in his fingers when he's on the ley line. He keeps secrets from himself, brothers and forests, notes written in berries and blood. Lies and half-truths; but mostly to himself. Dreams aren't built on things that are true until he makes them that way, anyway.

One awake and one dreaming, dream and the dreamer. When Ronan begs for a copy of himself with filth in his hands, Cabeswater already knows the shape of his body. It gives it to him like it already knows how; like its dreamt him before. Because Ronan is not just one thing. A raven for the one that wakes, a girl with hooves for the dream.

The ley line was jagged and uneven that night, but it's not hard to twist it carefully until he finds just the right breath. This feels risky, but Ronan's always been reckless. This is bigger than the ways he's changed things before. But more than that, it feels worth it. He's not trying to change the world, really- he just wants to steal a boy. Take something for himself, this once.

It's before the dragon. Before the terrified boy meets Kavinsky in the dream and says everything wrong.

It's a moment where he thinks he might have a chance to change the way the story goes. He doesn't know if it'll work, doesn't know if he's enough. But he's here anyway, stretching a heartbeat of a moment into a world, just for Kavinsky. The forest stops tearing at the dreamer, a low murmur in the leaves and branches as Cabeswater gives him what he needs- Ronan is is a King here.

He smiles at him a little sadly, something different in how he holds himself from the boy K left back on the racetrack, scrambling for those green pills: he loves him.]

You know how this is going to end, don't you?

:eyes:

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky was fire. He was hatred and anger and self-loathing. He was acid and venom and hurt. Ronan had rejected him. He'd left him standing in the dream field and he'd ghosted him and he hadn't responded about the Fourth of July until Kavinsky had taken matters into his own hands. K'd asked nicely. He'd left him a fucking car. He'd just wanted some of Ronan's time, to feel like he mattered. All right, so he'd wanted more than that, too. He'd wanted to be Ronan's boyfriend. But it felt like it was too late for that now. They were standing on the precipice. He just needed a moment to gather his thoughts, to put together what he wanted to dream to life.

And yet he hesitated. There was something about the way Ronan was looking at him. Kavinsky lifted his chin, dark eyes burning as he regarded the other dreamer.]

How this ends is on you.

[He jabbed a finger in Ronan's direction. Kavinsky wanted to give him another chance, to keep holding onto his last scrap of hope- but Ronan had made it pretty obvious how he felt.]

You made this ugly.

dreampack au - kink talk;

[richspoiledrotten]

[It's a Saturday night; most of the rush and the thrill of the party and the racing the night before has faded, but there's no school tomorrow, and the night still feels like freedom. He's cuddled up next to Kavinsky, a movie on the screen that neither of them are really watching. The rest of the boys are all scattered elsewhere-- Swan and Skov went to the store for snacks a while ago, but they haven't come back and he imagines they probably got distracted.

So it's just the two of them, Eli's legs across K's lap and his head on his shoulder and it's a thrill. The fact that he can do this- touch him and be close to him. They've been talking idly through the movie since no one seemed particularly captivated by rewatching Justice League, but it was noise and color in the background.

But eventually, he ends up bringing up the things he'd talked about with Swan. He's been meaning to talk about it, but he hasn't quite known how, and hasn't wanted to talk about it when there were other people around. So it's taken him a bit to actually bring it up. At first glance, with people he doesn't know, Elijah tends to seems like he's all venom and polish. And then you get him talking about something that matters and he struggles not to choke on his words.]

So-- I was talking to Swan about safewords? He seemed to think I should have one. And... I kept thinking about you.

[It's not quite a question, but it's part of one- sort of hanging in the air between the words.]

[burnyoudown]

[The only thing Kavinsky was particularly captivated by was Elijah. He had one hand resting on Eli's knee, familiar and casual, and occasionally leaned his head on the other boy's. It was nice to be close and comfortable like this, any earlier tensions more or less fizzled out.

He looked over when Elijah spoke, letting the words sink in. Maybe it was something Kavinsky himself should've brought up with Eli--or maybe Skov should have, but lord knew Skov wasn't the right person to talk about it. Skov could barely handle himself, half the time.]

What about me? It's a good idea, though. Shit can get crazy sometimes; it's better to have a firm way to tap out.

[And there was no shame in tapping out, either. The boys could be cruel sometimes, but they understood boundaries and limits. If someone wasn't having a good time anymore there was nothing wrong with them taking steps to make themselves comfortable.

Some days, things could be tame. Others, Kavinsky could get high out of his mind and pull a gun on someone, feeling invincible. His boys were usually game to play along, but not always.]

gimme ghost kavinsky? :3 :3

[threesecrets]

[Kavinsky died on the 4th of July.

Ronan didn't know how to save him, but then he didn't even know how to save himself, how to stop dying. It feels ugly, but Kavinsky's death is part of what saves him. The other half is this: Declan, with his things mostly moved out of his dorm room, destined for a townhouse in DC that didn't feel far enough away for them to look each other in the face.

Pleasant goodbyes weren't what Lynch boys were made of.

So they fight, of course, because they're breathing, because they don't know how else to say it. Declan grabs him by his jacket, Ronan hits him, his brother curses, spitting blood into gravel. He actually snarls- like something wounded, like a creature that lashes out, hurts because it's hurting. Something ugly in Ronan thrills at the feeling.

Don't you get it, a question hurled like bullets. And Declan pulls out Ronan's ribs so easily he knows his brother could have done it all along. Because Matthew is one of his. Always has been. And dying- it's a luxury he can't afford. He didn't realize how close he'd been to wanting it, until it was no longer an option. He exhales in a uneasy gasp, shrugs it off like he isn't bleeding from the words. Bitter words of how Ronan had dreamed himself a better brother, and it's hard to blame him, for once.

He goes back to the Barns.
He does not dream.

It starts with Adam, over headlights and tarot cards- the Devil. And he exhales a breath rich with guilt, so thick with memories he can taste it. And Ronan finds himself staring at dark eyes and white sunglasses. He shudders with shame under Adam's blue eyes, tries to laugh it off. He asks himself if he's dreaming, and he isn't.

It gets worse after that-- or maybe better. Ronan isn't sure anymore. Gansey died and came back. Cabeswater died and Ronan hasn't figured that out yet. Death seems less than it did before. He can smell Kavinsky's cologne and the slow curl of the weed he smoked in the car with him when he races Jiang. When his dreams start to crumble he knows it isn't his hands that put them back together.

Ronan doesn't just pull things from his dreams. Sometimes his dreams are a door, a space where living and dying are almost the same thing. It's someone else's fingers that put the green pills on his tongue, passes him the beer he uses to drink it down. Maybe it isn't the only thing he takes -- he stops checking. It feels like a summer he can't forget and can't fix. He told Blue and Gansey about the Camaro but he didn't go with them. He couldn't stand to see that place without Kavinsky there.

Adam checks in on him, but Ronan knows it wont last. Another month or two, he guesses. He's leaving for Harvard, because of course he is: he always has been, in his heart. There was always something he wanted more than magic.

Ronan sleeps, but he doesn't dream. But he still feels trapped when he wakes. It takes him long minutes to identify it as touch, hands on his skin, like the weight of a boy that doesn't eat enough. Like the ghost of a boy that he loved.]

Hecking yeah!!

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky had always been fire. He'd been bright and burning and full of so much life no matter how poorly he'd handled it all. Just like a fire, it was hard to snuff out his embers entirely. He'd died on a ley line and now he was something else, something not living but not fully dead, either. He could move on; he'd probably see Prokopenko again. The real one. The one who'd died. But he didn't want to move on. He had unfinished business.

It went by the name of Ronan Lynch.

Kavinsky was cool to the touch. Of course, he was; it wasn't like he was going to get any warmer. His flame was burning low but it was still there. He was still there. It didn't take as much effort as he'd thought it would to touch and interact with things. Less effort than dreaming. Not that he could do that anymore. It was weird. He didn't really like it. He missed having the world at his fingertips, doing whatever he pleased, dreaming whatever he wanted.

But what he wanted more than anything else was Ronan. So, K got into his room. That took less effort than it would have before, too. He didn't have to worry about getting lost or picking locks. He was just there because he wanted to be. It was easy and yet-

He sat astride Ronan's thighs, leaning forward, hands skating down his arms. Ronan was warm- so warm. Kavinsky looked exactly like he had before he'd died- eyes dark and hungry, lips full and equally hungry. He leaned down closer, necklace brushing Ronan's skin before his lips did, mouth ghosting over his neck.]

Lynch.

rovinsky trash :eyes:

[threesecrets]

[Ronan was going to a party with Kavinsky.

It was really something of a marvel that Ronan had agreed, if they were being honest. But it had been one of his bad night, where he couldn't stand the way that Gansey was looking at him like he was already expecting Ronan to do something that he would disapprove of. So he'd retreated to his room, but it felt like a cage more than anything. Maybe it was the humidity, the way that the Henrietta air churned like it was waiting for a thunderstorm. Maybe it was the after effects from when he'd woken that afternoon with his dreams in his hands.

His phone had chimed with a text notification, and he'd had to force himself to get a cooked hotdog from the fridge to feed to Chainsaw, just to keep himself from answering too quickly. He didn't want to come across as desperate; though whether to himself or Kavinsky was a question he remained pointedly disinterested in. So he slowly fed her, as she made sounds loud enough to bother the dead, and only afterwards flicked the screen up to see what Kavinsky had sent him this time.

It was an invitation to a party that Ronan would normally have refused out of hand. He either went to Kavinsky's parties or he went to an Aglionby party.
He did not go to an Aglionby party with Kavinsky.

But he needed to get out of Monmouth, get out of his head, and it had been a while since he'd let Kavinsky lure him out for something more than their usual Friday night races. The text he sent back was if you race me first, which was honestly about as close to just saying yes as Ronan Lynch was capable of.

He does not tell Gansey where he's going.

He gets in his car, and he meets up with Kavinsky, and they race; Ronan wins. He feels more human and more alive than he has in days. He assumes that they're going straight to the party, but instead they end up stopping at the Deering General Store, which is quite possibly one of the seediest places that Ronan has ever laid eyes on. It's worse than Nino's. But he parks the BMW and K gets out of the sleek white Mitsubishi -- which still seems the most eye-catching of all the vehicles in the parking lot to Ronan. He follows the other boy, complaining almost good-naturedly about the side-trip.

Don't worry, I'll make it up to you, Kavinsky says with a filthy sort of grin, but Ronan doesn't think much of the innuendo.

What he does think about, following along while K hands off packets of pills and powders, is that he doesn't think K had considered that he might actually say yes. This side-trip, all Kavinsky's business-dealings, was not the sort of thing that he brought Ronan along to. He'd made plans, assuming Ronan wouldn't show, because Ronan never showed to an invitation that was come somewhere with me. Without quite knowing why, Ronan couldn't help feeling guilty about the realization.

When K seems to have finished, he expects that they'll head back to the parking lot, but instead Ronan finds himself being herded back towards the public bathrooms. He clearly doesn't quite get it, but he isn't protesting, either. He follows, even lets Kavinsky push him up against the door for a moment and tries to pretend that his breath doesn't catch at the proximity, that his face doesn't flush, that he doesn't almost want-- want what?

He doesn't know, and the door swings inward under his weight, letting him regain some space, before Ronan has to risk figuring it out.]

:3

[burnyoudown]

[Ronan should feel guilty, in Kavinsky's opinion. He liked to think that both of their lives would be vastly improved if they spent more time together, for various reasons.

It was different having Ronan along for this little business detour, but the sort of different he could get used to. He wasn't even concerned about Ronan snitching; it wasn't like there weren't rumors everywhere. But Kavinsky was untouchable. Ronan, on the other hand- K couldn't wait to get his hands on him.

He grinned as he followed Ronan into the bathroom, barely glancing around to take stock of their surroundings before returning his full attention to the other boy. He'd meant what he said about making it up to Ronan. Circling around him, Kavinsky pushed him back against the door again, reaching around him to engage the lock. He wasn't worried about someone trying to force the door open, but he had a feeling it'd be a bit of a peace of mind for Ronan.

He traced his fingers along Ronan's jaw, wasting no time dropping his other hand to the front of his pants, squeezing firmly. He half expected Ronan to push him away or something- he wouldn't have been surprised, just disappointed.]

You've been so patient, sweetheart; you deserve a reward.

poly trash verse ahem ahem XD

[threesecrets]

[Ronan's on a video call with Adam up to nearly the last minute before Kavinsky arrives. He hears the Evo's engine, the crunch of tires on gravel, and his heart skips a beat, racing under his ribs. The very fact that Kavinsky is here and that he could touch him if he wants to- it's almost overwhelming.

That's not what his intention is, though. Or at least it's not what he told himself. He'd insisted that it was just supposed to be some time to acclimate to each other again, to exist in each others' space when Ronan could admit that he wanted him, when he'd tried so hard to deny it for months. Convincing himself that he could be just friends with Kavinsky, despite that the way they circled each other never really felt friendly.

Ronan steps out and waits for Kavinsky, leaning in the frame of the door. It's a nice night, just a little chilly with the leaves turning vibrant shades of red and orange. Ronan's cleaned up nice, even if something about the way he holds himself makes him seem disreputable anyway. It's subtle things; freshly shaven, no mud or scuffs on his boots and instead of a tee-shirt he has a black button-down, rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned at his throat. It's attractively tight in his shoulders and against his biceps. He wears a warm sort of smile, just a little bit unsure as he watched Kavinsky make his way over from the car.

He's also holding three roses- they're multitoned, both red and golden, almost like the blooms are flames on thorned stems. But no, they're just flowers. But they made him think of Kavinsky when he saw them.]

[burnyoudown]

[He didn't know exactly what he was expecting when he pulled up to the Barns. Not from the place itself but from Ronan. Ronan had held him at arm's length for so long and Kavinsky had told himself that was okay, it was whatever, he could live with it. But the truth was, he wanted him desperately.

He certainly wasn't expecting to see Ronan practically dressed up. Not that Kavinsky felt self-conscious in a white tank, designer distressed jeans and hi-top sneakers, but if he'd known- you know? He might've worn something else.]

Is this a date?

[They were the first words out of his mouth as he approached the porch and, by extension, Ronan. Kavinsky couldn't help it- Ronan even had flowers and no one had ever had flowers in Kavinsky's proximity with the intention of giving them to him. Unless, Ronan was expecting someone else, too. K doubted it.]

Shit, man, you should've told me. I would've brought something.

[Wine or something. Not that he was particularly fond of wine but people drank it on dates, right?]

poly verse :eyes:

[dreamandbleed]

[Adam hadn't intended to end up connected with Kavinsky's boys, of course.

But he'd ended up assigned to tutor Skov, and then he'd ended up making out with Skov and Swan, and then he'd realized that he actually liked spending time with them. One thing led to another and then it was really only Kavinsky that Adam wasn't at least friends with. Not that they seemed to dislike each other, they just weren't close. Kavinsky had more defenses than the others, and Adam understood that too much to push.

He never would have considered himself the type to be involved with more than one person, but the other boys were okay with it. And Adam was greedy for contact, for affection, to feel like he was wanted. Knowing that they did... it felt like baby steps towards healing the hole in his heart. Not that he knew how to say that outloud.

It wasn't the first time he'd spent the night at Kavinsky's place instead of his room above St. Agnes. It was the summer so there was no school, and he didn't have work until the afternoon. It had been easy enough to justify as they watched questionable movies on Kavinsky's movie theater screen in the basement. But now it was the middle of the night, and something felt- off, somehow.

He thought it was Cabeswater, but when he pulled the cards he didn't get any answers.

Which was how he ended up scrying. Doing it alone was risky, but whatever this was felt close- it wasn't like he'd be going very far. He didn't know what he'd been expecting. But whatever it was, it wasn't this. It feels like a dream, like a nightmare, like anger, and Adam does what he can to settle things. He'd always been good at making things quieter. He's almost thinking that he's going to be asking Ronan what the fuck had happened, except--]

Kavinsky?

[His voice is soft, comforting- because something about the air still feels like it's hardly a breath away from going wrong. Adam didn't know he was a dreamer, of course. Not that he'd blame anyone for keeping it from him; of all people Adam understood the value of secrets. And it wasn't like he'd told anyone that Ronan was a dreamer. If he'd told someone about his own abilities, he probably wouldn't be alone staring into the water of the bathroom sink. Adam and Kavinsky just hadn't been quite close enough yet for those sort of truths.]

Yaaas also cw: abuse

[burnyoudown]

[It was a nightmare, and it simmered with anger and fear and heartwrenching helplessness. Kavinsky hadn't been expecting company- he'd never had company of this sort before so why would he? He was on his back on the floor of a house that wasn't his Henrietta mansion. His cheek had split. His father stood over him, menacing and aggressive.

The moment Adam tried to settle things, Mr Kavinsky disappeared in a curl of smoke and ash that scattered across the floor. It was the only way to make the nightmare a neutral space. Except Kavinsky didn't get up, not right away. He took a moment to process the sound of Adam's voice before pushing himself up. His hands were shaking, so he curled them into fists.]

What the fuck are you doing here?

[His hackles were raised but only defensively. He didn't know if his dream was taking a new turn or if Adam was really there. He felt real but so did a lot of things when you could do what Kavinsky did. He was a king, even battered and shaken, dark eyes filled with the last remnants of fear.

He couldn't say he hadn't dreamed of Adam before but it hadn't been in the sense of a nightmare. Was his mind turning against him in new ways or-]

Are you real?

[He raised a hand to touch his thumb to his cheek where the wound was already closing, leaving just a smudge of blood. He was a king.]

dreampack polyverse awfulness coughcough

[threesecrets]

Can we-- talk?

[Ronan does not look like he wants to talk. He looks like he wants to hit something; judging by the state of his knuckles he probably already has. But his fists aren't clenched and he isn't going for Kavinsky's collar, isn't shoving him down on his car or up against a wall. Mostly because he isn't sure that he's allowed anymore, and that realization had sent a pang of hurt through him that he didn't understand. But despite having the appearance of a thunderstorm, he's being surprisingly civil.

It's one of Kavinsky's parties, a few weeks, or maybe months after everything changed. Ronan might be slow on the uptake, but he does catch on eventually. He'd felt it, but he hadn't known what it was. Adam was just around less, and when he was he felt sharper. He was more himself, louder, pushed Gansey in ways that Ronan wouldn't. He'd even caught the scent of weed on him, though he wasn't sure if it was from his own use or the company he kept. He'd seen the way that he looked at Swan and Skov, small touches when he thought no one was looking. Like he didn't realize Ronan was watching.

But this had been worse: Kavinsky standing with Adam by his locker, Adam's sandy head bowed towards him with a vicious smile, laughing- and Kavinsky looked almost lighter than he did when they were racing. Lacking anything to slam, anything to break, Ronan had just ditched class for the rest of the day, the rest of the week, feeling too bad for anything else. It's a bomb, just like you, and Ronan thought that he was going to fucking explode.

The summer had still been bad, even if it ended with a whimper, a gasp, not a bang. Kavinsky had told him what he was, and Ronan had flinched. He'd pushed him away and wondered why things weren't the same when he reached out later. But now it's Friday night and there's a party and Ronan's here, because he doesn't know what else to do.

Maybe it's not that he doesn't know what's happening. It's just that he doesn't know why it hurts.]

take 2!!

[burnyoudown]

[The real question was, did Ronan ever look like he wanted to talk? Kavinsky wasn't sure what he was expecting out of this. He'd sort of figured Ronan would have punched him already but he hadn't, which meant- meant what?

Kavinsky took a sip from his cup of alcohol, watching Ronan over the rim of it. Sometimes, things were easier when they just hit each other. Talking and using actual words was a lot harder. But he was going to give the other dreamer a chance here, if he really wanted to talk.]

Sure thing, princess. What's on your mind?

[He wasn't trying to be needlessly cruel but- Ronan was the one who'd pushed him away, after everything Kavinsky had tried to do to get and keep his attention. After all of the things Kavinsky had given him. It wasn't K who'd failed in this case, he didn't think. But it was also easy to point fingers and lay the blame on someone else's shoulders. It was easy to blame Ronan.]

dreampack polyverse conversations

[dreamandbleed]

[Adam was cuddled up against Kavinsky, his head nestled into his shoulder. It had become more common than not, on nights where he could stay over. Not late enough that they were asleep yet, they were just- talking. Adam in a pair of boxers, his fingers tracing idly along Kavinsky's abs and his ribcage. He teases him sometimes about how nice his abs would look if he ate more than Twizzlers. But it's worry more than teasing, really.

Because he cares impossibly about the boy he's tangled up with.

They talk about all sorts of things, of course. Cars. The things they care about. Failed relationships. Adam tells him about Blue, about how he hadn't thought he was worthy of anyone after her, not until Skov and Swan. And at first he was just glad for the attention, and now he's here, with a boy he cares about, that he can say he's dating. It will never be you and me, she'd said to him. It's a strange parallel, and one that actually gets them here, talking about Ronan Lynch in more detail than they have before.

It's complicated for Adam, but those things are harder to say outloud. That they're still friends, but he never feels equal to Ronan the way he does in this space he's build with Kavinsky and the other boys. He feels like everything he fights to hold onto is a joke. It's hard not to be around them and still feel as small as he did before.

He sighs, exhaling as he lets his fingers slot against his ribs, holding onto him a little tighter. But he laughs, a little bit self-conscious, but it's vulnerability. It's giving away a piece of himself.]

I mean- I've never told anyone, but I've been attracted to him since basically the first day of school. So I sort of get it. He's like a heart attack. How do you not want to kiss him?

[burnyoudown]

I definitely want to kiss him.

[He had for a while, months, but he wasn't going to say just how long out loud. Wanting to kiss Ronan aside though, he was happy snuggled up to Adam, arms draped around him. Adam made him feel happy and alive in ways he hadn't thought he'd actually get to have before. It was nice and he was special and Kavinsky never wanted to let him go.

It was nice, in a way, that they both thought Ronan was drop dead gorgeous, but what else did it mean? Did it mean anything? There was, at least, nothing wrong with thinking someone else was attractive while you were in a relationship, he was pretty sure.]

You've got good taste though, so I'm not surprised.

[He was only partially teasing. He did think Adam had good taste; Adam was dating him after all. Kavinsky would like to believe he was a good boyfriend but he wasn't sure. Adam was his first real relationship, the first one where he really wanted to try and make things work. He'd fucked up in the past but he refused to do it again.]

The Threesome Thing;

[dreamandbleed]

[They all knew what the intention was here, but at the same time Ronan had suggested trying to make it something casual, where they could just hang out and see what happened. Adam knew that it was for his benefit, so that he didn't feel pressured, but he was trying to see that as a good thing, to remind himself that meant that Ronan cared how he felt, and not focus on the fact that he was woefully inexperienced with this stuff compared to the two other boys. But they wanted him anyway; wanted him here with them.

And it helps, actually. They pile together on Kavinsky's bed, and he puts on a movie; not exactly the most traditionally sexy sort of thing, but it has cars, topless Vin Diesel, and they've all seen it more than a few times. So it's easy to leave it in the background. Kavinsky and Ronan don't bother with shirts, and Adam loses his almost immediately. Ronan pulling it off over his head as Kavinsky kisses him, with hands steadying him as they trail against his skin, and then pulling him down between the two boys. He can't believe he gets to have this, hard to imagine even dreaming about it, and here they are, both of them with fingers on his skin.

No one really pays attention to the movie aside from occasional sideways glances. Mostly they cuddle and they kiss and the two boys both whisper words in his ears about how he's beautiful and wantable and it makes Adam shiver, makes his stomach twist with heat as his face flushes. Kavinsky and Ronan are both in boxerbriefs, though Adam opted for pajama pants -- he admittedly doesn't have anything under them, though. His heart is racing and he's achingly hard, a fact which the fabric does little to hide. Ronan's been intensely distracted the whole time, though he'd been trying to be as casual about it as he can manage, because he doesn't want to spook Adam. But he can't help being eager.

He looks to Kavinsky, trying to make sure it's okay as he gets his teeth into Adam's waistband and starts pulling them down. He presses one of his free hands to the front of K's underwear, touching his dick through the fabric as he strips the boy's boyfriend- or is it fiancee now?- with a grin. Adam's eyes are half-masted, fingers gently touching against Ronan's scalp, in a way that seems rather like encouragement. But after a moment he lets Ronan real with his pajama pants and reaches out to Kavinsky, kissing him again and only pulling back for breath.]

How do we..? I want you. I want you both.

[Ronan clearly has thoughts given the glint in his blue eyes, but he's equally clearly willing to follow their lead -- he's not going to push for his own desires unless they ask for it. But sex had always been easy for him to fall into, once he stopped worrying about what it meant.]

*arrives late with starbucks*

[burnyoudown]

[Threesomes could be tricky to manage, especially when Kavinsky wanted both of them at the same time but only had one dick. Though that was only the mildest inconvenience; there were plenty of ways to work around it. He was briefly distracted when Ronan touched him, murmuring quietly, and then again when Adam kissed him.

'How do we?' was a good question. Normally, Kavinsky was selfish but he wanted to lavish affection and attention on both of the other boys as much as he wanted to be the center of attention, himself. He was ridiculously turned on already, going through various different scenarios in his mind.]

I want you both, too.

[Dipping his head to kiss at Adam's neck, he let his gaze flicker to Ronan, unable to help smirking.]

What's on your mind?

[He wasn't normally a people pleaser but that was different with Adam and Ronan. Besides; he could at least hear out Ronan and see if he had any good ideas. Shockingly, he did that sometimes--have good ideas, that was. He was, of course, more than willing to hear Adam's opinion, too.]

comfort cuddles + magic weirdness;

[dreamandbleed]

[Adam could not have really articulated how he knew something was wrong, just that he did. It was like He could feel it the pulse of his heartbeat, in how his hands grasped for something as he gasped awake -- Ronan's name on his mouth. He was desperate, grasping for something he could use, and thankfully coming up with a superbright LED flashlight. The light on his phone wouldn't have been bright enough, but this should work. It wasn't his car headlights, but it'd be enough to pull him out of himself. He hoped.

But, he wasn't about to ignore Kavinsky who either hadn't fallen asleep in the first place, or had roused when Adam had startled awake. At least he wasn't Dreaming- that was the last place that he wanted him right now. He cups his jaw and gives him a quick kiss in lieu of an explanation, because he doesn't feel like he has time for the later. His voice is even and sure when he looks into his dark eyes.]

Something's wrong. Just- trust me, sweetheart. Make sure I come back -- that we both do.

[And then he's cross-legged in Kavinsky's bed, with a light shining into his blue eyes; trying to send himself far enough that he can find Ronan. Which is Cabeswater, because of course it is. And technically he's scrying into the space, but it feels real, feels solid under his feet- not like dreaming. But with the pulse of the ley line through him like this, pulled to the place that he'd bound himself to, pulled to Ronan, no wonder it feels so real. Usually he's more reckless, but tonight he's glad that Kavinsky is there to watch him. Briefly he thinks of his boyfriend, sure that he's worried about him, and worried about Ronan, but he pushes the thought away before he can get distracted.

He can feel Ronan, but he can't find him. At least, not at first. But he can feel Cabeswater, old and unknowable, and then he realizes why. That Ronan's under Cabeswater, pulled into the lake beneath it -- drowning. And oh, how he snaps at the forest to fix it, to fix this, to save its dreamer. It doesn't answer in words, but Adam understands the meaning: you are our hands and eyes. Which meant Adam was supposed to save Ronan, but he felt so small and alone. How could he possibly-- He wanted Kavinsky and Blue and he wanted Gansey; knew that they could do something, could force this into something they could solve just by wanting it to be so, by dreaming it. What could Adam do?

Outside of yourself, Magician.

Adam's breath catches in his lungs, and he doesn't know if it's actually Persephone, or just the memory of her voice, her words. But maybe it doesn't matter- especially here. And in a breath it reminds him of what he is, that there was a name he'd claimed for himself, something bigger than Adam Parrish. The stones, the lightning: a network at his feet.

The Magician was a card of power, of acting with your full potential instead of holding back, having the will to manifest your desires into the world. It was reaching and saying I will instead of I want. Months ago he'd taken his first steps, but this felt different.]

I'm going to save him. So please-

[He says it in Latin, but also in the language of thought and intention that he's been so slowly learning to speak to Cabeswater. But it's Ronan, who it loves best, so he hardly has to say the words. He needed power and this place needed a conduit, a connection. Vines threaded against his skin, cool where Adam was flushed, his heart racing with the nervousness of it. Letting this be on his shoulders, standing and being powerful rather than quiet or polite.

It feels like a strange sort of comfort, almost a sort of reassurance: like the forest believes in him.

Most of what he's done so far has felt like small things, small pieces that when he aligned them correctly, could knock the bigger things into place. But nothing about this felt small. It was Ronan, after all. And it was Adam, standing here on his own, but not alone.

He takes a breath.

Kavinsky can probably feel it, because the ley line surges, like lightning on a power line, the way they'd used it to distract the hitmen from the dreamers last summer. Maybe K can even see it, like Adam had seen Ronan all those months before, when he'd been correcting the line, like a window. Because there's that way that the power warps the line between reality and dreams, between Adam and Ronan. He can feel him, feel the beat of his heart, and with the power of the ley line running through him, like a glowing current in his human hands, he reaches for him, trying to wrap it around him. His palms press against the ground, the soft velvet of the grass, the dream forest that had wrapped itself around him ... and then he reached further, touching beneath it.

Adam didn't know what the lake was, anymore than they had before, and at the moment he didn't much care. All that mattered was that it had Ronan and that Adam was going to take him back. It's fierce determination, a green glow in his blue eyes, bending the ley line because he needed it to be here, because he needed to be able to reach him. Desperate and wild, his skin glowing faintly where power hums into the line between the two boys, and then--

Then Adam is gasping and stumbling, almost falling, but managing to catch himself, and catch Ronan. Because the energy of the ley line in his hands had been one thing, but Ronan's six-foot-two frame, wet to the skin, is another. For a moment, he lets himself hold him, lets his fingers find his chest, the beat of his heart. He almost kisses him, just so overwhelmed- a moment where he'd thought he was going to lose him, that everyone would- and no one would forgive him for fucking this up. And Ronan might be an asshole, but he's an asshole that Adam couldn't stand to lose, either.]

Ronan--

[But then Ronan is coughing, spitting out water and making a face as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.]

Shit, that's fucking gross.

[He wants to say something, but he doesn't know where to even start. So he just gives Adam a quiet look that he hopes looks... thankful or something. Which isn't remotely enough, and he knows it, even without really knowing exactly how he ended up there. But he had thought he was lost; that no one would find him. Drowning in slow motion. Had he even been dreaming?

Ronan is woozy and unsteady, and Adam ends up half-carrying him. Which is not an easy thing, although Ronan is lighter than the FTI automatic transmission he'd had to lift up onto jacks the other day. But Adam really isn't thinking about anything except getting the boy in his arms somewhere safe. And safe to him means pretty much one thing:]

Kavinsky!

[It's not on purpose, but right now he's still sort of glowing, and Cabeswater has its vines still pressed to his chest with a feeling that sounds like thank you. But somehow dreams become reality become dreams. The window becomes a door. Adam, cross-legged on the bed is instead off to the side with six feet of squirming Ronan Lynch leaning into him, and there's leaves and ferns on the carpet of Kavinsky's room. And Adam hasn't even had the chance to process that this is weird yet.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky didn't have a single flying fuck of an idea what was going on. He trusted Adam when he said something was wrong but he didn't know what he meant by both of us and- nothing made any sense. While Adam was scrying and doing...whatever it was he was doing, Kavinsky sat in bed in his boxers, waiting, not impatient, just...worried.

So when Adam- when he, what? Teleported? Changed places without moving? And suddenly had Ronan with him? Kavinsky flinched. He worked hard to be a tough guy who wasn't startled by anything but there was only Adam- and Ronan. And Kavinsky trusted both of them. Not only that, but Adam was glowing? Question mark? And there was flora all over the floor and Ronan was drenched and-]

What the fuck?

[Kavinsky didn't move. Not yet. He was used to strange and unusual things. He, himself, was strange and unusual. Sometimes, there were still things that caught him off guard, though. This was one of them.]

[threesecrets]

[Ronan had fucked up.

He'd known at the time, really. When Kavinsky had tried to talk about something real, about them, about what this thing they were doing together meant- and Ronan had flinched from it, walked away like it didn't matter because he was scared and uncomfortable, and on him that was always written like anger.

But he'd thought that it would blow over like every spat they had. He'd even texted Kavinsky for the past three days to no response, which made his stomach twist with a sick sort of feeling, panic starting to crawl through his insides.]

man at least let me know youre alive
im not dragging your ass to the morgue

[It wasn't quite a joke. Because Ronan didn't think Kavinsky was actually dead. He figured he just had him blocked or was specifically ignoring him; that he'd finally burned the only bridge he thought was immune to his bullshit. It's a Wednesday night, school in the morning, and only a scant hour and a half from midnight, cuts from his fight earlier having turned to a low ache, but the pain is an almost welcome respite.

Ronan shrugs his shoulders carelessly to Gansey's worried question as he heads to the door with his keys in hand. I dunno, Gans; maybe the morgue, he quips back bitterly as he heads down to the BMW. It's pouring rain, but still hot, that way it gets when the August weather starts to shift further into September.

Ronan isn't drunk yet, but he certainly doesn't want to be sober. Maybe he'll go to the church and drink himself stupid waiting for texts that wont come.

It doesn't even occur to him that he's driving to Kavinsky's house until he pulls into the suburban hell cul-de-sac where his house is. He almost considers turning around, but instead he parks sloppily, halfway in front of one of the neighbor's driveways with a screech and and the smell of his tires burning tread as he gets out, slamming the door.

He walks to his front door, standing in the rain as he knocked obnoxiously on the door. He looks angry, but Ronan always seems angry. But in his heart he whispers: please please please. He just needed another chance. He knew he didn't deserve one, but he needed it all the same.]

[burnyoudown]

[He came so close to texting Ronan back the last time, he really did. It wouldn't have been anything meaningful, just something like asshole, but he didn't. He was too busy getting drunk. Again. It figured that the one time in his life that he thought he had something good, something happened to fuck it up. In this case, Ronan was both the good thing and the thing that fucked it up. Kavinsky should have known. When was anything about the other boy ever easy when it wasn't about sex?

Kavinsky was almost sloppy drunk by the time Ronan came knocking. Except he didn't know it was Ronan--it could have been one of the annoying as fuck neighbors. He didn't know why they bothered but they did- sometimes. Except it was too late for neighbors, he realized as he peeled himself out of his seat and made his way to the door, and it was fucking raining. He opened it after only a slight fumble, ready to verbally tear out the throat of whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the other side.]

The fuck do you want?

[His expression changed when he realized it was Ronan. For a moment, his face was unreadable, then his shoulders sagged.]

As you can see, I'm not dead.

[And yes, it confirmed he'd read Ronan's texts, he'd just been ignoring him because he couldn't think of something civil to say. But now Ronan was here and Kavinsky couldn't just give him the silent treatment face to face. He wasn't a toddler. Maybe this would be good, maybe they'd- what, actually talk? Talking wasn't one of their strong suits.]