[In truth it took him a moment for his name to sound familiar, but there was something about the feeling of him saying it that made it click into place. Ronan's name and Kavinsky's voice on dozens and dozens of nights. Summer, with the wind in his face, his chest swelling-- happy. He thought that he might have cried too, if he was the shape for it.]
I thought that I'd lost you, too.
[And then suddenly, in a surge, he's reaching out, trying to wrap his arms around the other boy, but it isn't that simple when neither of them are really shaped for it. It's all tendrils and emotion and memory, it's all the feelings, everything that Kavinsky had meant to him, everything that had felt too big for him to swallow when he'd been seventeen and terrified.]
I thought-- I thought that I'd lost you, forever.
[He'd hated himself for it. More than that, he'd swallowed Kavinsky's pills every single night and tried to tell himself it was fingers more slender than his own against his lips. He tangles the two of them together, none of his walls and defenses, no longer trying to hide anything that he is. Not from the other boy, that like him had never really been a boy at all. He wants to say I'm sorry, but it feels too small, too cheap.]
I loved you. I still...
[His body shifts, slowly, remembering human, remembering boy, remembering Ronan Lynch, until he's a smaller thing than the truth of him. But his tendrils and feelings can't hold onto Kavinsky tight enough to satisfy the way that he aches. He needs hands; even if it's just to tangle Kavinsky around his naked body. He'd needed to find him -- it was more true than Ronan had understood.]
no subject
[In truth it took him a moment for his name to sound familiar, but there was something about the feeling of him saying it that made it click into place. Ronan's name and Kavinsky's voice on dozens and dozens of nights. Summer, with the wind in his face, his chest swelling-- happy. He thought that he might have cried too, if he was the shape for it.]
I thought that I'd lost you, too.
[And then suddenly, in a surge, he's reaching out, trying to wrap his arms around the other boy, but it isn't that simple when neither of them are really shaped for it. It's all tendrils and emotion and memory, it's all the feelings, everything that Kavinsky had meant to him, everything that had felt too big for him to swallow when he'd been seventeen and terrified.]
I thought-- I thought that I'd lost you, forever.
[He'd hated himself for it. More than that, he'd swallowed Kavinsky's pills every single night and tried to tell himself it was fingers more slender than his own against his lips. He tangles the two of them together, none of his walls and defenses, no longer trying to hide anything that he is. Not from the other boy, that like him had never really been a boy at all. He wants to say I'm sorry, but it feels too small, too cheap.]
I loved you. I still...
[His body shifts, slowly, remembering human, remembering boy, remembering Ronan Lynch, until he's a smaller thing than the truth of him. But his tendrils and feelings can't hold onto Kavinsky tight enough to satisfy the way that he aches. He needs hands; even if it's just to tangle Kavinsky around his naked body. He'd needed to find him -- it was more true than Ronan had understood.]