[Honestly, Kavinsky's assessment is neither entirely incorrect, nor as insulting as Gansey had expected. He'd imagined he was going to say things like knitting. Instead his words are fair instead of like he's pointedly trying to get a raise out of him.]
I don't care for golf, but it's one of the unfortunate hazards attached to my last name.
[Gansey pulls the pool balls out of the table two at a time, letting them roll against the green felt, only to go still when he realized that Kavinsky was suddenly too close- in his space, the sort of proximity that gave the air a charge, made his heart race.
Fishing for trouble, for sure.
He should step back, but he doesn't. The words that follow make him feel- he doesn't know. He probably would have been all sharp disapproval if Kavinsky wasn't so close, if the tone of his voice hadn't shifted into something that felt less like it usually had when he was tossing sexualized insults at the pair of boys.
And it's tonight, when Gansey is trying to not wallow in wanting things he can't have. So there's something like longing on his face, a little wounded, even if he tries to be less obvious about it.]
It was never like that.
[He says it softly, the words careful, but his breath still makes it easy to read what he doesn't say: it was never like that for Ronan. Gansey had wanted, ached with it, but he buries it now. Tries to make his feelings into something acceptable, to be able to support his friends, to be happy for them- and he is. He's always wanted Ronan to be happy, or at least have a chance at it.
But there's something about having Kavinsky this close, about having him invoke those old insults that probably wouldn't have bothered him nearly as much if he'd gone home and had his impossible best-friend in his arms. But it always reminded him of what they weren't.]
I'm glad he has Adam. Although I don't see how that's in my favor.
[He's courting trouble, or at least willing to chase it. He could just leave it be, walk away, but he doesn't. His hands braced against the pool table, but he doesn't flinch from having the other boy in his space, from the way his voice feels like a suggestion that heats his skin.]
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I don't care for golf, but it's one of the unfortunate hazards attached to my last name.
[Gansey pulls the pool balls out of the table two at a time, letting them roll against the green felt, only to go still when he realized that Kavinsky was suddenly too close- in his space, the sort of proximity that gave the air a charge, made his heart race.
Fishing for trouble, for sure.
He should step back, but he doesn't. The words that follow make him feel- he doesn't know. He probably would have been all sharp disapproval if Kavinsky wasn't so close, if the tone of his voice hadn't shifted into something that felt less like it usually had when he was tossing sexualized insults at the pair of boys.
And it's tonight, when Gansey is trying to not wallow in wanting things he can't have. So there's something like longing on his face, a little wounded, even if he tries to be less obvious about it.]
It was never like that.
[He says it softly, the words careful, but his breath still makes it easy to read what he doesn't say: it was never like that for Ronan. Gansey had wanted, ached with it, but he buries it now. Tries to make his feelings into something acceptable, to be able to support his friends, to be happy for them- and he is. He's always wanted Ronan to be happy, or at least have a chance at it.
But there's something about having Kavinsky this close, about having him invoke those old insults that probably wouldn't have bothered him nearly as much if he'd gone home and had his impossible best-friend in his arms. But it always reminded him of what they weren't.]
I'm glad he has Adam. Although I don't see how that's in my favor.
[He's courting trouble, or at least willing to chase it. He could just leave it be, walk away, but he doesn't. His hands braced against the pool table, but he doesn't flinch from having the other boy in his space, from the way his voice feels like a suggestion that heats his skin.]