Joseph ♔ Kavinsky (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burnyoudown) wrote2021-07-18 04:56 pm
burnyoudown) wrote2021-07-18 04:56 pm
Entry tags:
Open RP Post
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There's something about the way that Kavinsky stares at him. He looks at the scars, sure, but largely his attention seems to be on his tattoos, the ink- dreams- on his skin. He's not looking at him like he's- less. Like he might be different from the boy that had fallen asleep in his bed, but not in a way that means scorn or rejection. The very thought of it- that K might know and not hate him for it makes his throat feel tight, his heart race unevenly.
There was a reason he'd transferred after the surgery. So far away that no one knew who he was. A boy's academy so no one would question it. It had been a mess to get all his documents in order, but his father had lawyers for things like that. They handled the court orders, and the polite and not-so-polite requests to update his name and gender on all the records that Aglionby had needed. Just a boy, just another rich asshole.
He takes the tee-shirt, murmuring a quiet thanks as he does, rubbing his fingers against the soft fabric for a moment and then awkwardly pulling it on over his head. He wants to curl up in a ball, or maybe curl up in K's lap, but he tries to look like he's okay, even if he isn't. He feels small standing there in a tee-shirt and boxers in the ruins of K's room, his heart racing.]
You needed a bigger bed anyway- this just gives you an excuse.
[It's clearly supposed to be a joke, or maybe a vague sort of flirtation, but his voice doesn't quite carry it. Uneasy, unsure, and he swallows awkwardly. There's an I'm sorry there between the words, but Elijah doesn't know how to say it outloud when he already feels so undone.]
This is why I don't sleep.
[His voice turning softer, but more honest as he says it with a sigh, rubbing a hand through his sleep-messy hair. Which is clearly an excellent solution to the problem. The fear and the sleeplessness making his dreams more prone to horrors when he finally gives in, making him less able to control what happens to his dreams when he wakes. But he was alone with his dreams, unable to control them, and he didn't know how to handle it any better.]
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[As big a fucking bed as possible. He managed a little smile. He wasn't upset about the bed or the mess. He was glad they were both in one piece. Things could have ended disastrously. They could have burned to death or been murdered or any other number of terrible things.
He wanted to reach out and touch Elijah, to reassure him, but he wasn't sure if he should. Normally, he never cared about invading someone else's space, but- Elijah was different. Not just because of the dreams but because he mattered to Kavinsky.]
I can help. You don't have to be afraid.
[And he knew what it was like to be afraid to sleep, to worry about what horrors you were going to pull with you. It'd been years and years since he'd really had to worry, but things still happened from time to time, even now. There was a reason he kept a gun close by, and it wasn't just because he worried about burglars or other nefarious situations.
But it wasn't healthy to not sleep and it wasn't like avoiding it had ever done any good. Things were just worse when you did sleep.]
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[K smiles, and Elijah manages to echo it. He wants to reach out and touch him, wants to reassure himself that the other boy is still here, still breathing and real and alive, but he doesn't want to imply that he needs it. So he resists the urge.
At least until Kavinsky says that he can help, that Eli doesn't have to be afraid- like he knows anyway. Like he doesn't judge him for it. His heartbeat feels erratic against his ribs, and he looks him over, a little bit flushed as he scrubs a hand over his face. Fuck. Fuck everything.]
I don't have to be afraid.. about the dreams, or- everything?
[It's a soft question, saying the thing he can't quite bring himself to put into words. He thinks it's maybe okay, though. Kavinsky isn't acting like he's an imposter, like he'd lied to him by acting like he's a boy. But he just- he needs to know.
Interestingly, even down to his boxers, Elijah's silhouette is still more masculine; the soft plaid fabric doesn't sit entirely flat against his body. It looks like there's something in his pants, anyway. And there is, but it's made of soft silicone. He'd figured out pretty early on that cis guys were way too interested in other guys' dicks to not have something in his jeans.
And well, he likes the feel of it.]
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[Kavinsky would like that. He liked having his boys close, not just because he was greedy but because he was lonely.
Stepping closer, he reached out to rest a hand on Elijah's shoulder, gentle but firm, thumb brushing back and forth for a moment.]
Everything. I can help with your dreams. And you're- [Fuck, how did he put this. He wasn't good with words sometimes, but actions didn't always solve all the problems.] -you're safe here.
[It wasn't quite what he was trying to go for, but it was true all the same. He couldn't say he didn't think of Elijah differently now, but it had more to do with the dream things than anything else. He couldn't get over the idea that Elijah was magic.]
I won't tell the other guys. [He added, more quietly. He didn't out people, especially not people he cared about. It was up to the individual what they wanted to share about themselves, in his opinion.]
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Getting top surgery was more or less good enough for him for now. He didn't know if he wanted more than that. He has the luxury of having the money for it, and his parents' support, the ability to get on a plane to see whatever doctor could offer the best care- but he had yet to hear about a procedure that would give him a dick like any other cisguy. And if he couldn't have that, he didn't know if halfway would be better than what he had.
And so even if he was more or less okay with his body, it was other people he worried about. Impossible to tell who would be okay with who he was and who wouldn't, unless he asked, outed himself, or if he waited until his clothes came off. Needless to say, as much as he wanted, he'd never been willing to make himself that vulnerable for someone.
Except that he'd ended up like this anyway. And K's hand is a comfort on his shoulder, the way that he says he's safe- in all the ways that he's never been safe. Not outside of home. He nods slowly, murmuring a soft thank you when he says he wont tell the other guys.
And then he just gives into the urge he's been fighting and just steps in, pressing up against the other boy, one hand clutching against his ribs in the fabric of his shirt. Eli presses his face into his shoulder and he's maybe- he maybe sniffles a little bit. He's not upset, he's just a little bit overwhelmed. So many things he could say, but instead it's one of the things he'd meant to say earlier, when Kavinsky had killed one of his nightmares.]
You can make dreams too.
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Yeah, I can.
[He pressed a soft kiss against the side of the other boy's head, a small comfort, he hoped. A little sign of affection.
He wasn't sure their dreams worked the same way, not after he'd seen what'd happened with Elijah's tattoos, but it was close enough. Enough that Kavinsky felt a longing to understand it more, to keep Elijah in his life. It might have been a selfish desire, but he didn't want to feel alone anymore. He didn't want to be alone. He knew he had his boys, but they weren't the same, they couldn't understand.
It was part of why he'd do whatever he could to help Elijah with his dreams. The other part was just- he did like helping people, contrary to what was probably the popular belief.]
You know the odds of the two of us finding each other is probably astronomical.
[The two of them being able to bring dreams into reality. He didn't know how many others there were who were like them, but. It was probably a relatively low number.]
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You'll really help me? I've always been on my own.
[And clearly not doing great with it, if this was any indication.
He's not good at asking for help, but he's trying to be receptive. He didn't quite know how to say please, but he hoped that was close enough. He lets his other hand press low against K's spine, like a wordless affirmation, a whisper of affection he couldn't have spelled out.]
Probably. But-- fuck. I'm glad we did. That I met you.
[The words are soft, a little muffled as he says them more into Kavinsky's shoulder than to his face. He's not good at this- being vulnerable, saying that sort of stuff that was sort of helplessly affectionate. He wouldn't say he had a crush on him, exactly, it was just- how did you orbit around Kavinsky without wanting him a little? How did you find someone whose soul was the same and not want to hold onto them? Elijah didn't know how, anyway.]
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[Maybe somebody else would, but he wasn't about to.]
I know that feeling. I had to teach myself everything.
[But he'd done better with his dreaming than Elijah was. Though Elijah's also seemed to work differently so maybe that was part of it, too. But keeping your dreams from escaping your head- that shit could be hard. It was just as hard as bringing exactly what you intended out of your dream, the way you wanted it. He'd spent months, years, practicing until he'd gotten things just right. Some things were harder than others, too.
He didn't say anything about the vulnerability of the moment. He didn't even think of teasing Elijah for anything. There was nothing to tease about; they'd both had a traumatic experience that could have ended poorly but they were both alright. Secrets had been revealed and- Kavinsky knew that could be tough. He might've seemed casual about being a dreamer and killing dreams and all of that, but he felt charged with new possibilities.
There was someone like him who actually wanted to be around him. He wasn't alone. He would do what he could to teach Elijah and if they could combine their abilities...who knew what they could be capable of together.]
I'm glad we met, too.