[He shivers, leans into the cool touch of his fingers. It's comforting, honestly, the way he's cool when Ronan feels almost feverish, either from emotions or the night air, or that he'd always had an ember heart, too. His eyelashes flutter and he lets his head lean into his fingers, trusting. He laughs when Kavinsky says he thought he'd be a bitch about it. Because he's wrong, but he also can't blame him for the assumption given how he'd treated him.]
Fuck you. One of my best-friends is also a ghost, you know. It's great; can't bitch when I throw him out a window if he's already dead.
[There's a slight touch of wry humor in how he says it, like he might be joking. It's true, of course, but- the words aren't sharp. Not like Ronan isn't sharp, but like he isn't sharp with Kavinsky, or at least not now, like this. When Ronan's hands betray him as surely as his tears, fingers clinging to him like he's afraid of losing him again. He closes his eyes and just leans into him, not kissing, but- there's the tension of it in the air, of things lost between them, dreams and promises unkept.
Ronan is simultaneously hurt and ecstatic with Kavinsky in his arms, overwhelmed and he just- he still wants him, wants those fingertips on the ink of his tattoo. But the ghost of his bloody heart asks that question and Ronan just sighs into the air instead.]
That I'm a goddamn mess? [He smiles thinly, but doesn't stick to the deflection.] I don't know how to say this, how to-- I just fucking--
[He quiets for a moment, catches his breath. He's wounded, and a year later he's still bleeding.]
I figured out that.. I think I'm in love with you, okay?
[He swallows, hides his face in K's shoulder like that will shelter him from what he says. It doesn't, of course. The horror has been this hole in his chest, a chill in the marrow of his bones, eating him alive. He wants to say something else, but he doesn't know what. So he just-- he holds him. Probably too tight, if he was flesh and bone, Ronan's breath coming too fast, heart racing, and it's still awful and it's still overwhelming and he feels like he's choking on the empty space where they'd been supposed to make something together.
His eyes are still damp, but he's trying not to cry. Ronan didn't like to think of himself as the sort of boy prone to tears. Kavinsky might also notice the phrasing: I'm in love with you. He doesn't say was. He hadn't ever put an end date on it just because K died. How could he when he'd been dead when Ronan realized how he felt? And now he's here, and- he doesn't know what this means.]
I was scared, K. I wanted so much more than I thought I could ever have, than I was allowed to want, and so I was an asshole and I pushed you away. But I thought-- I thought that we'd go back to how things were, how they always were with us. I ghost you and we yell and we hit each other, but we never-- [His voice breaks and Ronan doesn't try to hide how he shakes, his voice dropping to a fragile murmur, guilt and shame, always. They felt thicker than blood, most days.
And he still doesn't know how to say the complicated piece of it. Something about how they'd both been dying, but Kavinsky kept him alive, too. Ronan just hadn't known how to return the favor. He hadn't understood he was supposed to, hadn't seen the steps they'd been dancing until too late. He thinks Jiang knows that the real reason Ronan still races with him is that he felt like the only part of Kavinsky that was still alive.]
--you weren't supposed to leave me for real, you dick.
[Normally this would all be anger and violence, but he's spent so much of it.]
no subject
Fuck you. One of my best-friends is also a ghost, you know. It's great; can't bitch when I throw him out a window if he's already dead.
[There's a slight touch of wry humor in how he says it, like he might be joking. It's true, of course, but- the words aren't sharp. Not like Ronan isn't sharp, but like he isn't sharp with Kavinsky, or at least not now, like this. When Ronan's hands betray him as surely as his tears, fingers clinging to him like he's afraid of losing him again. He closes his eyes and just leans into him, not kissing, but- there's the tension of it in the air, of things lost between them, dreams and promises unkept.
Ronan is simultaneously hurt and ecstatic with Kavinsky in his arms, overwhelmed and he just- he still wants him, wants those fingertips on the ink of his tattoo. But the ghost of his bloody heart asks that question and Ronan just sighs into the air instead.]
That I'm a goddamn mess? [He smiles thinly, but doesn't stick to the deflection.] I don't know how to say this, how to-- I just fucking--
[He quiets for a moment, catches his breath. He's wounded, and a year later he's still bleeding.]
I figured out that.. I think I'm in love with you, okay?
[He swallows, hides his face in K's shoulder like that will shelter him from what he says. It doesn't, of course. The horror has been this hole in his chest, a chill in the marrow of his bones, eating him alive. He wants to say something else, but he doesn't know what. So he just-- he holds him. Probably too tight, if he was flesh and bone, Ronan's breath coming too fast, heart racing, and it's still awful and it's still overwhelming and he feels like he's choking on the empty space where they'd been supposed to make something together.
His eyes are still damp, but he's trying not to cry. Ronan didn't like to think of himself as the sort of boy prone to tears. Kavinsky might also notice the phrasing: I'm in love with you. He doesn't say was. He hadn't ever put an end date on it just because K died. How could he when he'd been dead when Ronan realized how he felt? And now he's here, and- he doesn't know what this means.]
I was scared, K. I wanted so much more than I thought I could ever have, than I was allowed to want, and so I was an asshole and I pushed you away. But I thought-- I thought that we'd go back to how things were, how they always were with us. I ghost you and we yell and we hit each other, but we never-- [His voice breaks and Ronan doesn't try to hide how he shakes, his voice dropping to a fragile murmur, guilt and shame, always. They felt thicker than blood, most days.
And he still doesn't know how to say the complicated piece of it. Something about how they'd both been dying, but Kavinsky kept him alive, too. Ronan just hadn't known how to return the favor. He hadn't understood he was supposed to, hadn't seen the steps they'd been dancing until too late. He thinks Jiang knows that the real reason Ronan still races with him is that he felt like the only part of Kavinsky that was still alive.]
--you weren't supposed to leave me for real, you dick.
[Normally this would all be anger and violence, but he's spent so much of it.]