[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.]
something something substance party;
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.]