[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.]
poly trash verse ahem ahem XD
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.]