Adam Parrish (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
forleaving) wrote2021-04-22 01:24 pm
forleaving) wrote2021-04-22 01:24 pm
Entry tags:
Open RP Post
🌳 Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
🌳 General squick/trigger list.
🌳 Prefer m/m for anything shippy, though m/f is also okay.
🌳 General headcanon for Adam. I don't have any yet, will update when I do.
🌳 Adam's kink list.
🌳 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!
harvard shenanigans
[Elijah wears a worn leather jacket over his prep school uniform instead of the monogrammed sweater, so he doesn't look much like a typical prep school kid himself, to be fair. The tone of his voice makes it sound like a wry sort of joke, but the smile he flashes at the older boy is sharp; something dangerous in a way that hints more at street races rather than well-maintained Ivy League classrooms. But Eli had just received his acceptance letter for the upcoming fall semester, and since Kingswood was one of the unofficial Harvard feeder schools, his advisor had managed to pull a few strings to send him across town to tour the campus before all the college kids left on Winter Break.
He wasn't sure if Parrish had volunteered, was unlucky, or it was some sort of kismet, but somehow he'd ended up as the one showing him around. He was cute, and he looked respectable, like he had his shit together - the sort of boy that his father would approve of, he couldn't quite avoid thinking. As much as his father loved and supported his children, Elijah knew they were all a little bit left of center in one way or another.
Eli looks normal enough, at least. Aside from his whole angry goth-punk vibe at least, but that's almost the most normal thing about him. Most of his tattoos are hidden under his clothes- for today at least- but the design on his right hand is obvious: a simple filigree pattern like a sword guard that wraps around his wrist and a phrase in Latin that vanishes under the wrist of his jacket. Which could be normal enough, were it not magically permanently carved into his spirit.
aut viam inveniam aut faciam: I will find a way or I will make one ... Elijah is always a sword.]
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He smiled thinly, but politely, inclining his head a little. The point was, he thought he knew trouble when he saw it by now, and the boy standing in front of him fit the bill. Not just because of the way he smiled or the leather jacket he wore, but the combination of the two. In fact, at a glance, he reminded Adam a little of Ronan, which made something twist in his stomach in ways he couldn't quite figure out without diving too deeply into the emotions.
When he spoke, it was carefully un-accented, all of his Henrietta accent obliterated. He'd worked hard on that.]
That's right. And I'm an outlier; I don't fit the mold.
[But he was well aware of how prep school kids usually were. He'd dealt with entitled assholes for years.]
You should consider yourself lucky you didn't get someone else.
[His mouth quirked into another smile, a more genuine one this time.]
texting disaster
[The text comes out of the blue, late, but he knows Adam is still up- just off work and with graduation looming tomorrow.
Ronan's lying on the hood of his car, drinking, and there used to be a forest here. The stars are so bright they feel like knives between his ribs.
Before, he would have texted Kavinsky.
Padded into the main room of Monmouth where Gansey would be working on his model town with poster paints.
Raced too fast.
Gotten orange juice at 3am.
Let someone remind him what being alive feels like.
But he's lost one, is losing the other. So he texts his boyfriend instead. Admitting something is wrong has never quite been something he knew how to say, so instead he's just a jerk and leaves Adam to figure it out.]
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A towel. Why, do you want a pic?
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cdth au stuff
But for now, he's just standing in an empty apartment, alone with just his boyfriend. His things are all stacked in boxes still, but he can't help the way that the feeling of it all kicks in his throat and curls in his chest. His things, in his place. Here, with Adam. He bites his lip a moment, toying with something in his pocket as he smiles at the other boy. Ronan scarcely believes that this is real, to be honest. That he made it here without fucking it up, without being the car crash for once in his life.
It feels almost like growing up, weirdly. Or trying, anyway. He feels like he's masquerading as an adult, cleverly hiding the speeding tickets and lonely desperation where no one can hold them against him. He reaches out, catching Adam's hand as he faces him, holding just a little bit too tight. Just until his breath evens, until the ground feels solid under his feet.]
I want you to.. I mean- fuck, here.
[For a moment he doesn't let go of his hand. But then he does and with a sigh that sounds like agitation unless you know him well enough to read the nervous energy that it hides, he pulls a gold chain out of his pocket. Two keys are strung on it. Same as the new ones clipped to Ronan's carkeys.]
Front door and the garage. I'm not saying you should move in. I just want you to know that you have a place here, too.
[That you can if you want to, but that's harder to say outloud, so it just hovers in between the words instead.]
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Adam hoped things wouldn't explode in either of their faces. He hoped, really really hoped that they could make this work.
He smiled when Ronan snagged his hand, holding on firmly but mindful not to hold on too tight. He waited patiently for Ronan to give him...whatever he was going to. His breath caught when he saw the keys. The other boy said he didn't have to move in, but the idea still made Adam feel some sort of way. With anyone else, it might have been a bad way, but things were always different with Ronan. It would be like spending the summer with him at the Barns.
If Adam could do that, he could- he wasn't sure. His need to be independent warred with his desire to have a home with Ronan. He didn't have to give up his dorm room if he moved in though, he could still have a place to go if everything went to hell. Or he could stay over sometimes, or-
Abruptly, he realized he was just staring at the keys. Reaching out to take them, he also took a breath.]
Thank you.
[Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. Looking up to meet Ronan's eyes, he added-]
I'd like to stay, sometimes.
[He looked away, down at the keys again.]
I always feel more like myself around you.
[And not just because he didn't feel like he had to hide his Henrietta accent.]
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different harvard nonsense;
[Aidan catches the other boy in one of the buildings on campus. He looks like he could be a student here; polished, and with easy charm in his smile and the warm tones of his voice. Something a little southern, but it's subtle- hard to pick up unless you were attentive to that sort of thing. He wears a smart-looking cardigan over a button-down to ward off the winter chill, one hand on his hip and the other tucked into the pocket of his slacks.
But then, Aidan is a liar.
Abuse didn't train him for honesty, but for pretense. It made him a sharp boy, and he'd learned well. He hid himself behind charm and smiles while his mother hid bruises behind makeup and excuses.
When he'd moved in with his father after the new custody settlement, his father hadn't had money for clothes the way his mother did. So Aidan was careful about the sort of things he bought and what he asked for. Never on-trend sneakers or flashy jackets-- always classic pieces that wouldn't look out of style when he wore them next year, upscale brands from thrift shops. Things that could be let out or adjusted as he grew.
He'd done all that he could not to look like some poor charity case when he started at Kingswood, even if he still feels like it when he looks in the mirror. It's probably his best magic trick, even if Elijah calls him boring. He could probably write a book on how to look like a rich asshole when your father is an ER nurse.]
If it's not too much of an imposition, do you have a minute? I wanted to ask you something.
[Something not quite fit for the open hallways. But then, Aidan did want to ask him about magic.]
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He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and smiled politely.]
Yes, that's me.
[He couldn't help but wonder if this was trouble somehow. Trouble seemed to follow and find him no matter how hard he tried to keep his head down. Maybe he was unlucky or it was just his fate in life. It wasn't that the boy looked like trouble--he looked handsome if Adam was being honest--but Adam was generally worried most of the time. It was a hard habit to break.
Checking his watch for the time, he took a moment to think about the request. He was always cramming as much as he could into his time, even here and now--especially here and now--but he could spare a minute.]
I've got a bit of time. What is it?
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noctium au thing!!!
He told himself it was just pragmatic; being in public housing was nearly as risky as being in Monmouth. And Adam knew about the dreaming, understood that his control of it wasn't always perfect. But the truth of it wasn't that simple, because- because Adam Parrish loved him. Love was a weighty subject for both boys, and Ronan didn't want to hurt him, but he also wasn't going to lie to him.
They hadn't quite gotten that far before he was pulled here. But also.. he could imagine it, if he let himself. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't a boy that wanted people he couldn't see himself falling in love with. But he didn't really know how to say that to himself, let alone to Adam. He wanted him; it would have been easier if he hadn't, he thinks. He'd been angry because it robbed him of the chance to figure it out.
So this was- it was more complicated than he was admitting. Or maybe it wasn't complicated at all, and it only seemed that way. This wasn't his first experience with twisted timelines. But he smiled, a little bit awkwardly when Adam opened the door, shrugging his shoulders as he looked at him, a little bit too intently for a moment.]
Hey.
[He held up a small white box, which had the name of a local bakery printed on the top.]
Got you something. Housewarming.
[Not that Adam was known for being overly receptive when it came to gifts, but Ronan would absolutely sit on Adam's floor and shove the weird gem-themed cupcakes in his mouth himself. But he was hoping that this place was different enough that gifts didn't still feel like a leash. Adam had his own place, and Ronan was far from rich at the moment.]
!!
You shouldn't have. I mean, hey.
[He smiled a little. He knew things were rough for both of them, not just...between the two of them but in general. Being in this place was rough. It wasn't necessarily terrible but it was...different. And strange. They were used to strange, of course, but it would have been easier if he hadn't felt at odds with Ronan.]
Come in.
[By which he really meant thank you. It was strange, too, accepting gifts, but they were on more even footing here as far as funds went. And Adam was the one who'd set himself up in a cozy little apartment first, taking care to make sure there was a spare room in case Ronan showed up and needed some space to himself. At least his preparation hadn't been in vain.
He just hoped things worked out. He knew what he really wanted and it felt selfish, but he couldn't help it. He'd never really loved anyone before, especially not the way he loved Ronan. He wanted good things in his life but he wanted Ronan to be happy too. Even if that meant his romantic life didn't include Adam. But Adam didn't want to jump to conclusions- there was always hope, wasn't there?]
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yells about pynch things aka ronan is a mess
His singular experience in this regard was the way that Kavinsky had approached him. And even if it would have worked if he hadn't had his head up his ass- he didn't think that Adam was so easy. So to say that Ronan had no idea what the fuck he was doing was honestly an understatement.
But he'd fucked it up with Kavinsky by flinching from it, ruined him in the worst ways. So even if he didn't deserve to get what he wanted, he felt like he had to try. The alternative was worse.
First attempt had been the Barns. It hadn't been-- it wasn't a date, or at least not a proper one. But it was the two of them, alone together. It was a space where he at least more or less felt safe trying to express his attraction. He wanted.. he didn't fucking know what he wanted anymore. But he wanted to hold Adam's hand. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted more when it was late night and he closed his eyes. But it felt like.. this already seemed like stealing from the world itself. So he was trying, clueless as he was.
The second attempt was tonight.
At the Barns-- he'd had an excuse, a proper one. This was almost a lie, because he'd turned up asking for help with his homework, for lack of a better idea. He'd figured that Adam at least wouldn't turn him away for fear of stifling even vague inclinations toward good behavior. He probably could have just asked; just told Adam that he wanted to spend time with him, but that seemed terrifyingly direct.
He hadn't lied outright though: everything he said was technically true, and even somewhat believable. Gansey did still tie himself in knots over Ronan's grades, and every so often Gansey's displeasure was known to move even Ronan Lynch to attempts at scholastic achievement, like the alignment of celestial bodies.
So he he was here, on the floor of Adam's apartment, leaning back against the side of the other boy's bed. There was a strange sort of intimacy to it, and it left his stomach in knots, heated his skin as he watched Adam with his sharp blue eyes. He was a mess, but he thought that was okay. Luckily Adam hasn't picked up on the fact that Ronan is crushing on him fervently, which gives him the luxury of figuring this shit out on his own. And the occasional ploy such as this one.
Of course, Ronan hasn't really gotten much done in the way of homework, and every time their eyes meet, he thinks that he's sold himself out. He feels like he's in over his head, but when has Ronan allowed that to stop him before? So he's- still here. Textbook in his lap, and his pencil tapping against the paper. But it's not where his focus is. Instead his focus finds its way to the freckles that dust the bridge of the other boy's nose, the line of his throat and the way his blue eyes look under his pale lashes.
He's a fucking mess. But he tells himself that leaving would seem more suspicious- bolting when he'd scarcely gotten settled on the floor almost promised questions later. And unlike Gansey, Adam wasn't afraid to push him a little, to tell him he was being an asshole. Which meant that his discomfort wouldn't actually prevent Parrish from getting answers the next day, if he wanted them. His heart is a ruin, racing in his chest in fits and starts, and every time Adam almost catches him watching, he fucking forgets how to breathe.
Ronan's just a tangle of yearning, and he doesn't know what the fuck he's suppose to do with it.
But so far it's dragged him semi-willingly through three trig problems. So maybe when this all crashes and burns that'll at least buy him some goodwill.]
:3!
Only recently had he started to think it was something more. Something closer to how he felt about Blue, something that made him lowkey a bit of a mess around Ronan. Like sometimes he wasn't sure what to do with his hands or where to look. He felt like he was a gentleman--he didn't want to let his eyes wander or, even worse, get caught with wandering eyes. He was determined not to ruin the friendship he had with Ronan; Ronan was more than capable of that on his own, some days.
But still, it was difficult not to admire Ronan's eyelashes while they were supposed to be going over trig problems. Or not to watch his hands as he tapped his pencil. It was a bit of a battle to focus on what he was supposed to be focusing on. Numbers were at war with the attractiveness of the boy sitting next to him and the latter was winning for his attention.
He sighed, a soft little sound that had little to do with their actual homework. Glancing over at Ronan, he tried to discern if he was paying attention or not, but really it was an excuse to admire the lines of his face.]
You're not too bad at these.
[Which didn't entirely surprise him. He was of the opinion that Ronan was intelligent enough, he just didn't apply himself properly. Schoolwork should have been easy for him, but instead, he spent his time on other endeavors.]
harvard and poly stuff, ahem
Kavinsky is coming over to the Barns later, and they're going to-- fuck, but Ronan doesn't even really have a plan.
It's the first time, putting words into practice. He almost wants to back out, even if this is so much what he wants that his heart feels full in a way that he couldn't even explain to Adam. Currently he's on a video call with his boyfriend, just out of the shower. It's mostly been idle smalltalk, Adam working on his homework, but it's nice anyway. Just to see him and hear his voice, to feel like he's still part of his life. Adam's over an hour and a half away, despite the way that Ronan drives on the interstate, and it feels like that might as well be another country some days.
He misses him so fiercely it claws in his veins.
But he misses Kavinsky too, sometimes. Unlike Gansey, Adam had never tried to control him, to limit who he saw, or insist he stopped going to his parties. So they still saw each other, though Ronan had pulled back as much as he could stand. Kavinsky was a temptation, even if Ro wouldn't have said that outloud. Things could be tense sometimes, but they'd stayed friends. He hadn't known how to choose two people back then, hadn't known he was allowed. He loves his boyfriend, who sometimes knows the dreamer better than Ronan knows himself.
Eventually, now that he has his jeans on, he finally manages to ask the question on his tongue:]
This is really okay with you?
[They'd talked about it before, agreed to it, but Ronan couldn't help that he needed to hear it again. He was a ball of nerves, though in truth a lot of it was just anticipation. He kept looking at the clock.]
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He smiled warmly in response to Ronan's question.]
I wouldn't have said it was okay in the first place if I didn't mean it.
[He might have done his hardest to pretend he was someone he wasn't at Harvard and that his origins weren't as awful as they really were, but he wouldn't lie about something like this. Especially not to Ronan. This was important and- he wanted things to work out.
Not enough people in Ronan's life had truly supported him and Adam wanted to be one of the ones who did. Ronan supported him, after all, had let him ramble and vent about his future and colleges and life choices even though Ronan was following a different path. Everybody in life had a unique path and Ronan's might not involve college but that didn't make him any less, even if Adam had scoffed about that choice before. He'd never thought Ronan was less. How could he when his boyfriend was the singular most fantastical person he knew? It was no wonder that he would be interested in someone who could do the same things. Adam wasn't on their level but he'd still found ways to make himself useful, ways to earn and work and feel like he was making something of himself.]
Relax.
[As if Ronan would be able to do, probably, but Adam was doing the best he could from so far away.]
What's your plan for tonight?
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Kavinsky & Ronan & Adam & A Party
Adam Parrish, standing near the bonfire, in the process of turning to grab a Pepsi off the hood of a car. A stripe of his bare abdomen visible in how his body reached and bent. Firelight from the bonfire highlighting his freckles and making the dirt-brown of his hair almost copper. It was a good picture, but more than that it was provocative.
Kavinsky had even loaned him a shirt "just for the night", but Adam's build is a bit more solid than his, so the sleeves pull pleasantly taut against his biceps and upper arms. There's no real explanation of the photo, just a single text:]
parrish cleans up nice, doesnt he Ro?
since when the fuck does he go to your parties?
[The reply is shockingly fast, based on Ronan-time, which Kavinsky frequently measured in hours.
The truth was that Kavinsky had bribed Adam with cars, with letting him drive behind the wheel of the Mitsubishi. The benefit of showing up for class sometimes, and being smarter than people took him for, was being able to use his Trig homework as an in with Adam Parrish. This was a product of time and effort, genuine interest.
Now he was here keeping his eyes on him, talking cars and rally races, and actively enjoying it. There's a few questions about Ronan, about who he thought was cute, just to get a feel for things. And also making sure he didn't wander off before the last part of the threesome showed up.]
i asked him real nice
[Which wasn't even untrue, save that coming from Kavinsky it had certain filthy undertones. Say, if you considered what it usually meant when he offered to ask Ronan really nicely.
He knew that Ronan would show, of course. Kavinsky could see how Ronan ached for Parrish from a mile away. And he wasn't the jealous type, not really. It didn't worry him that Ronan wanted someone else, as long as Ronan didn't stop wanting him. And Parrish was cute, charmingly enthusiastic about cars, and lit up under the laser-focus of Kavinsky's attention like someone with far more to offer than they've been allowed. He was pretty sure Adam wanted Ronan too, but he was less obvious, kept his cards near his chest. So the only answer was trial by fire: push them together and see what happened.
With Kavinsky's guiding influence, of course.
Sure, this'll make Ronan jealous, but more than that, it'll turn him on; and that's really K's objective here.
A few more minutes and still no response to his text. But that's fine: Kavinsky can be patient. And he knows that he's got him hooked. He's not cruel- or well, he's not trying to hurt Ronan. He just wants him mulling over all the different possibilities of that sentiment on the drive over.
And then ten minutes later, there he is; with a tire squeal and a slammed door: Ronan Lynch. Kavinsky isn't bothered by the fact that he goes to Adam first, like fire to a moth. He settles for just sliding up next to Parrish- the proximity of his body close enough for the other boy to feel how he burns.
He smiles at Ronan, waiting for him to catch up and connect the dots. To realize this is a promise, not a threat. He wants to put his hands on the other dreamer, wants Adam to put his hands on Ronan too. But he needs Ronan to be able to translate it so he doesn't just punch Kavinsky in the face because he's slow on the uptake.]
Parrish--
[Ronan starts, but doesn't seem to have words to follow that up with, like he hadn't actually considered that he'd have to have a conversation with the other boy. Really, Kavinsky loves Ronan, truly, but the boy gets in his own way more than anyone else does, every time.]
It's nice to see you here. Brings a bit of class to the usual assholes.
[Thankfully he manages in the end, Ronan flashing a look at Kavinsky for the last part, all irritation, but he just grins in response. He knows those are not the words that Ronan had intended to say, but they're far better than the alternative. Proko gets Ronan a drink, and Kavinsky looks at Adam with something filthy in his eyes, because he thinks the other boy is far sharper. That he's probably already caught the nuance, unlike Kavinsky's not-quite-boyfriend. But the look he gives him is pointedly inclusive; it's an invitation where he isn't on the outside.
But he's tried his best to make the entire night feel like that for him. Not just because Ronan liked him, but because he thought he deserved it.]
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He was still surprised when Ronan showed up--and abruptly self-conscious. He couldn't help but feel a little out of place; Kavinsky's parties weren't usually his thing. But he hadn't felt aloof at this one, like he was invited along because Kavinsky pitied him or something. Honestly, he'd felt welcomed, included, and...it meant a lot to him, more than he could figure out how to put into words. But it still stood that he was surprised to see Ronan.]
Are you sure I'm not an asshole, too?
[He thought of himself as one, sometimes, especially when he fought with Gansey. But really, he was trying to be lighthearted, a little cheeky maybe. Maybe he was also of the belief that Kavinsky wasn't as much of an asshole as people made him out to be. He could be one though, just like Ronan, but-]
I wasn't expecting to see you here.
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But this was likely not the sort of risk that he had anticipated: the rise and fall of a dark-haired teenaged boy's chest, passed out on Adam's dorm room floor. A boy that was supposed to have died, over a year and a half ago. But instead Kavinsky had been there in that space that wasn't entirely a dream, with Adam and that thing, the feeling in the dark. K had finally heard a voice he recognized, and so he'd tried to push that thing away from him, push Adam back towards his body.
Kavinsky had a lot of experience when it came to holding back the things that hated you, anyway.
Adam had heard him, which had been strange enough. But he hadn't expected to go back with him.
Kavinsky unfortunately had no more clear answers to the situation than Adam did. This wasn't how dreaming was supposed to work; it wasn't like he could just dream himself back to life, even if the ley line was stronger now, thanks to Adam's slightly-misanthropic ex. And if Kavinsky had dreamt himself back to life, he'd have dreamt himself some clothes, too.
Well. Probably.
Even if the look on Parrish's face as Kavinsky woke, and he realized he was staring down at a very naked boy was close to priceless. So he'd ended up in a pair of his pajama pants, and a burgundy Harvard-branded pullover sweatshirt. He'd been sitting on Adam's bed, starving for the first time in a very long time, and also without an immediate craving for cocaine -- where ever Kavinsky had been lost, it seemed to have doubled as a detox program. Adam had managed a bag of popcorn, which was something, at least.
But rather than discussing the metaphysical repercussions of scrying and/or resurrections, they're debating restaurants when Parrish's roommate walks in. It takes all of about two minutes for Kavinsky to be dubbed "Adam's new boyfriend". And about ten minutes after that, there's the name of a restaurant and the decision that the rest of the Friday Night Criers should meet them there so Adam can introduce the rest of his friends. Kavinsky expects Adam to manufacture some excuse, but instead they end up at a place they've been dying to try that's a hipster imitation of a cheap small town diner.]
I know you must hate this place.
[Kavinsky breathes it against Adam's ear in the brief moment when his friends are inside and the other boy is about to get the door. His tone is amused but not mocking; he doesn't ask about his accent or the way that his friends act like he's someone other than the boy from Henrietta. Instead, it's almost more like flirtation, the way that he lets his fingers rest against Adam's shoulder for a heartbeat too long.
Shockingly, Kavinsky behaves- more or less. He's certainly a little bit more cuddly than Adam probably expected as they end up next to each other on the bench seat. But whether that's because he's playing up the fact of being his fake-boyfriend, or because he's alive and breathing again, because it feels like Adam saved him -- it's hard to tell.
He actually even manages to be charming, eyelashes over his dark eyes that glint with mirth, and easy smiles. He lies to Adam's friends with a straight face, about having just gotten off an international flight and a multi-hour struggle to find his misplaced luggage, only to discover it had been forgotten on the plane, ending up in France and that he was going to be waiting days for it to turn up at his hotel. Which is of course a fate that Adam's friends have nothing but sympathy for.
He doesn't try to stick his fingers in subjects that he knows will make him squirm, even if it would have been easy. Especially when his roommate insists on telling the story about the time Adam's last boyfriend got drunk and ruined their dorm room with literal crabs and a motorcycle. Kavinsky manages to play the part, but he nudges Adam's leg with his knee, so that he can steal a flicker of a conspiratorial look. Because Kavinsky is a lot of things, but he isn't dumb.
I was actually in love with him once too, he admits, sliding a piece of honesty in between the things that he can't say. I mean, did you see his shoulders? That boy has the best arms of anyone I've ever seen-- No offense, Parrish. His tone is easy and playful, and conveniently happening to steal the conversation away before it can linger too long on the subject of Adam, and instead devolving into most attractive athletes models and movie stars for a minute or two, and then springing back to focus on Kavinsky. He bumps their shoulders together, like a tactile sort of comfort. Like he understood that no matter what had happened he understood it couldn't have been easy.
Oh, I'm taking a gap year, but I plan to major in art history and maybe pick up a minor in chemistry; I always thought restoration would be cool to get into, and sciences look good on a diploma no matter what field you're in. And that turns out to not be a lie, or at least, not entirely a lie, given the way that Kavinsky can keep up the conversation. But of course it would appeal to him, given the way it intersected with the black market and art forgery. He had wanted to graduate, to go to college. His life might have been a music video, but that didn't mean he didn't want things that were real, too.
Over their fifteen-dollar waffles that the diner in Henrietta had sold for eight-fifty, Adam gets to see the other side of Kavinsky: just a boy, just a teenager, who'd had interests and hobbies. Things that weren't about drugs and alcohol, that had wanted a life before he lost it. Adam's roommate graciously offers to spend the night with one of his other friends and leave them the room, accompanied by a completely unsubtle wink and a vague implication about what he thinks they'll get up to.
But it leaves Kavinsky and Adam with some breathing room, at least. A chance to actually discuss what the fuck had happened and what the fuck they were going to do about it- not that it's a particularly productive conversation.]
I don't know any more than you do. Maybe I'm your dream.
[It's ludicrous, or should be, but Kavinsky says it like he means it. It makes just as much sense as any of the other options, anyway. And given that he's alive and breathing and no longer just stuck in nightmares, he's not exactly interested in worrying about it. It's not like he wants to fix it. Though Adam points out that if there's something keeping him alive, figuring out what it is will make it easier to keep him that way.
Unlike earlier, it feels like there's a certain weight to being alone with Adam in his dorm room. Not just because someone implied they might have sex, but because- well, he liked who Adam was once he was away from Gansey. He liked that he'd decided he didn't like his story and written himself a new one, that he had a circle of queer friends that he cared about and that he took care of, to the point that they called themselves Adam's Crying Club like it was a badge of honor, like he was their superhero.]
So... if we're dating, does that mean I get to kiss you?
[He finally can't help asking, nudging Adam with his shoulder, fully expecting to get shot down even as he cuddles a little bit into his side.]
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When Kavinsky whispered in his ear outside of the restaurant, it did things to Adam. Things he wouldn't have expected, and god maybe he was lonely after everything with Ronan had gone to hell. Adam had always been lonely, though; only Ronan had really filled that hole in his chest and things hadn't lasted. There was nothing dirty about what Kavinsky said or the way he touched Adam's shoulder and yet there was a lump in Adam's throat and he very pointedly did not make eye contact with the other boy because the back of his neck had prickled with something like interest.
He'd expected Kavinsky to be an asshole, to be like all of the stories he'd ever heard about the other boy. He'd expected sarcasm and venom and insults. He'd expected him to be a lot like Ronan, actually. Instead, he was...shockingly pleasant and charming and intelligent and it didn't take long for Adam to feel deeply ashamed of how he'd felt when he'd heard of Kavinsky's death. He had the distinct impression he'd judged him too harshly before. Had it been Gansey's influence? Had it been stupid high school drama?
It was hard to keep the wonder and curiosity out of his expression when Kavinsky started talking about art history and chemistry. He'd never really thought about Kavinsky's future before, all the opportunities he'd lost and chances he would never have. Would he have those chances now? Everyone thought he was dead. Did he get his second chance now that Adam had- had what? Pulled him out of the ether? It shouldn't have been possible but here they were.
Adam should tell someone about this but who? Gansey would be Gansey about this. Blue was convinced Kavinsky was a prick. Ronan was... things were complicated with Ronan. Adam might very well have been in this on his own. Except- there were Kavinsky's boys but Adam didn't know any of them. What would they think? Had they known anything about Kavinsky being something more than normal?]
That's impossible; I'm not like you or Ronan.
[Adam murmured the words like he was afraid to speak them too loud. Like he didn't really want to argue. He didn't know how Kavinsky was here; he just knew that he was and it felt an awful lot like this was Adam's responsibility.
Rubbing his hands over his face, he sighed.]
Why would you want to kiss me? I'm-
[He swallowed and the lump was back in his throat. He was nothing but a liar and a fuck up. He was trailer trash pretending he was someone better than that. But Kavinsky knew that.]
I think I owe you an apology. So, I'm sorry.
[He knew he would have to elaborate on that, that Kavinsky was going to nudge him about why he needed to apologize, so after a moment he added-]
I thought you were just an asshole before. I didn't think about your hopes and dreams. And now I feel like a jerk.
[Maybe that was why he thought Kavinsky shouldn't want to kiss him. But when Adam looked over, there was something profoundly lonely in his eyes, along with guilt.]
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dreamer adam dreamer adam!!!
But Parrish was a dreamer too, which meant that he understood the pieces in the blanks, the things that Ronan didn't say- or maybe Ronan just wasn't nearly so subtle as he wanted to be.
Is this supposed to be a date?
And Ronan flusters, his pale skin flushes so that there's pink color that heats along his cheekbones. And he almost looks angry -- but of course Ronan almost always looks that way, especially when you push at him. But he doesn't lash out at Adam, doesn't push back or deny it. He just sort of sharply shrugs his shoulders as he puts away the piece of a dream that he'd hoped would wake his father's fairy cows. And there had been something, but it wasn't enough- not to keep Matthew awake.]
I dunno, man. Who the fuck else would I show this stuff to?
[As if he didn't have a bestfriend that would eat this up- and ask fifty questions that Ronan didn't particularly want to field. He wanted someone that understood: that understood him. And the question he tosses at Parrish wasn't a no, of course. Both because he wasn't going to lie and because in truth he didn't want to say no, not really. It was just that the idea of saying yes was even more unnerving.
After losing Kavinsky he'd first been more reckless with himself: careless to the point that Gansey and Declan had both been afraid he'd put himself into the ER or worse. But now he was- something else. A little quieter, a little afraid of being alone, of being the only dreamer. Which wasn't why he was attracted to Adam. He'd been captivated for months before they'd known about each other. But it made him a little more afraid of pushing him away. Because if he accepted that he had to stay alive, then he wanted at least one person in the world that understood him, since the other was dead (it still felt like he'd killed him).
He didn't feel like he deserved it, but he wanted this all the same. He wanted Adam Parrish, wanted to hold his hand and kiss him in the dark before they fell asleep, wanted to show him his dreams, what they could dream together. He wondered if this was how Kavinsky had felt.
But he puts on his best smile, grinning at him sideways, trying to pull up his bravado like armor;]
Do you want this to be a date?
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He didn't want that to happen here.]
What if I do?
[It wasn't a challenge; it was soft and thoughtful, his eyes flickering back to Ronan and studying him quietly.
It might not have been a conventional date but there wasn't much that was conventional about Ronan Lynch, Adam thought. Conventional boys didn't pull things out of their dreams. The same could be said for Adam. He'd always been so careful about what he took from his dreams, the things he made into reality, because he hadn't been raised the same way Ronan had. He hadn't had a safe place or parents who understood. Most of the time, he didn't think his parents understood him at all and they thought he was just a normal boy.
Did he deserve Ronan? Was Adam capable of loving someone? He knew he was getting ahead of himself thinking about love already but it would inevitably come up if Ronan said this was a date. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.]
It's not like I would mind.
[Which...wasn't exactly what he meant. He wasn't opposed to the idea. In fact, he wanted it desperately. He'd been looking at Ronan for a while and maybe it had something to do with them both being dreamers or maybe they would have been drawn together no matter what. He used to wonder how Gansey could be friends with Ronan because he was an asshole but here, in this place, he understood. Or he thought he did, at least.]
dreamer adam + ot3 feelings!!!
It was never going to be you and me- is that what you thought?
It had been what he'd thought, of course. It had been what he'd wanted, Ronan at his side, hand in hand, dreamers against the world. The realization that Parrish was also a dreamer was a new thing, limited to the past few days, but he'd been working him into that idea, too. Unsure if he wanted them both, if that was something he could have, or maybe he could at least pull him into his pack of boys-- but then it all went up in smoke with the Camaro.
And he can't help the way that he's hurt and wounded, and it seems like the sort of hurt that could have been fatal, like he could have drowned in the depths of it. But Parrish stays, and so Kavinsky tries to cover up his broken heart, pretend like he isn't holding the pieces in his hands.]
Thank you.
[They're not exactly easy words; not something he gives freely. But he means it as he looks at the other dreamer with a slight flicker of something in his deep brown eyes, just the two of them alone with Ronan taking the dreamt car to Gansey. He reaches out, softly brushing his hand against Adam's. He doesn't quite reach out to hold his hand, doesn't lace their fingers together, but there's still a comfort just in the touch, the feel of having him still close here with him. Something almost electric just from the slight hint of a touch; the fact that Parrish is fucking gorgeous doesn't hurt that feeling, either.]
For staying. For not- leaving.
[For not leaving me here alone is what he means, but can't quite say. As defenseless as he feels, it's still a sort of vulnerability he can't completely give away.]
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After a long moment, he turned his gaze away from the direction Ronan had disappeared in, looking over at Kavinsky. He might have been tough but even he couldn't completely hide the cracks in his expression. Adam knew what hurt looked like. It made him ache, knowing Ronan had hurt another dreamer like this. Who knew how many of them there were (he was sure there were more than three, but-)? The point was, spurning an offer of friendship felt foolish and limiting for everyone involved.
When Kavinsky touched his hand, Adam scrubbed his palm on his pants, because it was unbelievably hot out and he wanted to make sure he wasn't all sweaty, and then tentatively slid his hand into Kavinsky's. He didn't know what he was doing, he just knew he couldn't abandon the other boy.]
Ronan's an asshole. I'm not. I try not to be. [He amended.] He might come around, though.
There's so much more I want to learn.
[And Kavinsky seemed to know more about the mechanics of dreaming than either Ronan or Adam.]
But that's not why I stayed. You said we could be-
[He gestured vaguely with his free hand, unsure of how to word it. Was it an offer of friendship or something more, really?]
And I'm not saying no.
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speaking with words;
Ronan liked having Adam at the Barns, but it was a double-edged pleasure: he liked it too much. And so being the miserable sort of creature that he was, it was difficult to not think about the inevitability of losing it. Adam had college in the fall, a path to a diploma on his wall, a world that Ronan didn't know how to fit himself into. He could see his future loneliness as surely as he could hear it in how Gansey, Blue and Henry talked about their summer roadtrip. He knows that he could go with them if he wanted, but he's as sure he'd ruin it for them as he is that he doesn't want to leave Adam when there's a chance for even one day together.
Not to mention that Gansey's offer had felt like he was just an afterthought, which was almost as intolerable as Gansey leaving in the first place.
He checked on Adam after a little over an hour- both for his own nerves, and because he wanted him to know that he cared. He wasn't good at the words, but he felt these things with an intensity that all but destroyed him. Even if it was a stupid shitcan car and Ronan thought he deserved better, it mattered because it mattered to Adam. So he brought him some iced tea, and a bottle of water- the one Ronan used to bring with him back when he'd had tennis. He let Opal carry the water bottle, though she quickly wandered off after setting it down in the golden grass, tramping through the fields in her muckboots that had once belonged to Matthew.
Ronan on the other hand, took a moment just to appreciate the view- because Adam Parrish leaning into the exposed engine compartment of the Hondayota under the summer sun was the sort of thing that Ronan's fantasies were made of. So when he opened his mouth, he teased him a little to cover how affected he was. But as he handed over the glass, wordlessly urging him to take a break for just a little while, Ronan lightly bumped his shoulder into Adam's, and he leaned into his side like that for a long minute.
If he lets his mind wander, he'll think of another boy and another late summer afternoon. The fact that the Forth of July was only recently in the rearview doesn't help; it still clings to Ronan in a way he never tells anyone about. Not just on his skin, but with hooks that dig down to the marrow of his bones- even to his dreams.
Before he leaves, he shifts to hug him, and Adam laughs, says he needs a shower first, and Ronan says he doesn't care, wrapping him in his arms and sliding his hands up against his back. The other boy is damp with sweat, but all Ronan cares about is the contact, the fact of their chests pressed skin to skin, and Ronan half thinks Adam can feel his racing heartbeat. He kisses him: once, twice, thrice. Sweet and lingering, but bleeding with longing he can't help. He tucks his face into his shoulder for just a breath, just long enough for Ronan to pull himself together.
He's not selfish enough to tell Adam that he wants to keep him. But he does, he does. Fuck.
Instead he smiles, cupping Adam's face in his other hand as he looks into his eyes. He doesn't say anything, but there's something to the silence, like there would be words there if it was someone that wasn't Ronan Lynch. Instead, his smile turns a little bit filthy, more a smirk than a smile, a flash of teeth against his lips.]
When you're finished, you can take that shower and.. I'll help you relax.
[Most people might not have guessed it, but he was actually a little bit shy when it came to talking about sex. Not that he couldn't voice that he wanted it, but putting words to the specific acts and body parts always made his skin flush. It was a bit too real, the sort of thing that got glossed over in dreams and fantasies. So it was usually like this -- a look, a smile, a certain weight to how he said relax.
And then he walked away, telling Adam to send Opal inside if she got in his way. He stood on the porch for long minutes, just watching the dusty-blond of Adam's hair and the pale skin of his shoulders. It made him ache, made him want to hit something or scream without really knowing the reason why. Instead, he busied himself with fixing the hinges to one of the cabinets in the kitchen.
Adam came inside just after sunset, Ronan having just flopped onto the couch a little bit before, and it was not the easy thing that he had been hoping for. His eyes were dark and downcast, his shoulders tense, and it seemed like Ronan's own storm clouds followed on his heels. Ronan didn't ask what the diagnosis was, because Adam's mood told him all that he needed to know. Whatever was wrong with the Hondayota, it was fatal- at least in the temporary. A part that needed to be ordered and that Boyd's would not get in soon enough, something that had to be rebuilt. It was not something that even Adam Parrish could fix with determination and elbow grease.
He says he's going to take a shower, and Ronan lets him. He doesn't follow him, even if he wants to. He wants to kiss him from his lips to his thighs, wants to use his mouth for something better than words and pull the tension and frustration from his body. Instead, he turns on the oven and heats up a frozen pepperoni pizza -- it's not Ninos, but Ronan usually keeps a couple around for emergencies. Ronan doesn't really cook, but he has enough money that it's rarely a problem.
He sends Opal outside with a jar to catch fireflies, mostly to keep her out from underfoot when Ronan's already a mess.
It's admittedly a far cry from a homecooked dinner, but it was Ronan making an effort when he clearly didn't know what else to do. Trying to attack the problem directly felt like a sure path to making things worse, and he really didn't want to have to drive Adam back to St. Agnes or try to talk him out of trying to fucking walk. This at least felt less treacherous, even if it's just pizza. He sets out a chilled bottle of coke for Adam and a beer for himself, and there's ice cream in the freezer.
Normally he'd have just ordered takeout, but this was something to do, and it was something that he could do for Adam, even if it wasn't what he wanted to do. But unlike Gansey, Ronan had learned. Where the lines were, what he could get away with. And the fact that he did respect Adam's wishes seemed to make those lines a little more forgiving.
Case in point: the phone Ronan had gotten him for his birthday.
When Adam emerges, freshly showered and dressed, Ronan sort of wants to forget all about dinner and take his boyfriend's clothes off all over again. But instead he just sets the jar of fireflies on the table and dims the overhead lights a little bit. It's not really romantic, but it's-- something.
Ronan holds a hand out in invitation, and Adam takes it, and Ronan can feel his heartbeat calm into something almost normal. The other boy teases him about eating at the table- usually it's side by side on the couch, with plates and takeout containers on the coffee table. Ronan says it's just an excuse to look at him, and he isn't quite sure which of them is more flustered by the words.
They eat their pizza and they look at each other, and somewhere between the shower and dinner, Adam seems to have put Ronan's stormclouds back outside where they belonged.
Adam washes the dishes from dinner, and Ronan snags the ice cream from the freezer, adding some chocolate syrup and a bit of whipped cream just to dress it up a bit. One bowl, two spoons. He's licking some remnants of the chocolate from his fingers, cuddled up with his boyfriend when Adam finally tells him about the car. That it'll take a week at least, before he can have it up and running, and he has work and Graduation. Ronan's quiet for a moment at first; not because he doesn't care.
But this feels different than their usual pattern of pushing the difficult things out of sight. It feels like changing something, like Adam is trying. Like he's reaching or asking, and if he's doing the hard part, Ronan isn't so selfish that he wont meet him halfway. They've always soothed the hurts with hands and bodies because neither of them really seems to know how to say the words.
Or maybe it's just Ronan.
The other part is that he recognizes that this is Adam making space for him, allowing him to offer to help. Maybe he's not asking for it directly, but Ronan can feel that he needs something. Or more accurately, that Adam is allowing him to know that he needs something. And he knows that it's hard: Adam who has had so few people care about what he needs, so few people willing to offer it to him without strings. So he takes a breath and hopes he says the right thing.]
You can take the BMW, if you want to. Not like I've got anywhere particular to be.
[He doesn't even bring up his feelings about Aglionby or the graduation ceremony. He'd go if Adam asked him to, but he hadn't, and so Ronan had taken that as that whatever Adam needed from it was not something that hinged on Ronan's presence. He doesn't know how to talk about his feelings about it -- that he'd watched Gansey die and now he was going through the motions of a normal life, and Ronan still had nightmares. Adam also wasn't the only boy that Ronan loved that should have been in a gown, accepting his diploma with a handshake and a smile. Kavinsky probably would have had a smirk, worn his sunglasses onto the stage with the Headmaster. But he wasn't going to be there on Friday, just like he hasn't been there for all of Senior Year.
Of course Ronan had dropped out. What was there that tied him to Aglionby except misery? He drops his head onto Adam's shoulder like he doesn't quite trust his words to be right- or enough.]
/vibrates intensely
He was working on convincing himself that there weren't strings attached with Ronan. All Ronan wanted from Adam was Adam and he was already willing to give all of himself to the other boy. How fiercely Adam cared about him, even if they were both bad with their words about it. He should tell him how he felt more often, he knew, but it was hard. And more than a little frightening. He didn't think anybody in his life had ever loved him, not even his own parents. Especially not his own parents. They'd never even wanted him.
But Adam was trying, so he reached out and Ronan reached back. It was progress, and yet he still felt like he should ask if Ronan was sure, if it wouldn't be an inconvenience. Adam would pay for gas...if he could afford it. He didn't want to fight; Ronan wasn't his enemy. They were on the same team and they were supposed to be working together, not against each other.
Taking a deep breath, Adam held it for a moment before exhaling.]
If you're sure it's not a problem...I'd like that.
[It wasn't like Adam could bike to graduation, after all. Or work. Or well, he could but it wouldn't be practical. Driving would be easier and faster, and he was a safe driver. He'd treat the BMW like a precious jewel.
Raising a hand, he brushed his fingers, still cold from holding the bowl of ice cream, across Ronan's jaw and cheek.]
Are you- is everything alright?
[It shouldn't have been, but asking that felt like it was new, too. It shouldn't have felt that way just to ask if Ronan was alright, but they didn't talk about these sort of things. It made Adam feel guilty, and yet it was so hard to open up to people after how many times he'd been hurt. But this was Ronan, and if they were going to make things work, they had to talk. Didn't they?]
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that kavinsky revival au
[A beat, and then he adds:]
prokopenko woke up
[He didn't want to say "I dreamt Kavinsky back to life, please advise" in text, but Adam was sharp. Even compared to other Harvard attendees. And he knew Ronan. So he trusted him to put together the general shape of the situation without Ronan having to spell it out.
They might have broken up, but Adam Parrish was still Management in his phone. Who else was he going to call?]
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Of course, he called Ronan the first chance he got, when he had time to himself, alone in his dorm room. This wasn't something he was going to discuss over text, even if he kept glancing at those last three words before placing the phone call.
When Ronan picked up-]
What did you- no, wait. What are you going to do?
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kavinsky and adam ahem ahem
He knew that he and Ronan weren't a thing- weren't going to be a thing- but he couldn't help flirting with him anyway. Mostly because of the way that Adam's attention would turn to him like a laser focus, though. And even if it was from irritation, he wouldn't look away from Kavinsky for a while. And K was one of those kids that had never really learned the difference between positive and negative, just knew when people he liked were looking at him and when they weren't.
He knew it was a bad habit, he just couldn't help himself.
He flirted with Adam too, of course. Had ever since that night that Ronan had brought him to one of Kavinsky's parties. He'd even managed to give Adam his number, and the other boy even called him sometimes. And sometimes Ronan wasn't alone when he came to K's parties, and sometimes he'd let K give him a ride. He'd known, even before the fight that had made it abundantly clear, that he was more interested in Adam than Ronan. It was a fact that came as much as a surprise to Kavinsky as anyone else.
Adam wasn't even a dreamer. But then, that had never been the sole reason that K was interested in Ronan. He'd been interested in him before that, because he was gorgeous and sharp and because he made him feel like he was someone that might hold his hand when he needed there to be someone in the dark. He'd thought that Ronan might at least understand the feeling. Turned out that he understood less than Kavinsky had hoped.
And the truth was that Adam might not be a dreamer, but he still understood the dreaming. Maybe even better than K did; he knew the forest that he went to when he closed his eyes.
So, yeah, he was sweet on Adam Parrish. But he didn't really know how to just say it, and so instead he was a shithead about it. Honestly, it was a bit of a thrill when it happened. They were in the library, and he'd caught sight of Adam, and he'd been walking over with a look in his eye, intending on flirting with him, maybe whispering something teasing against his ear, but Adam cuts him off before he gets the chance.
Which is to say that he grabs Kavinsky by his stupid uniform tie and drags him so that he can shove him up against the wall. Which is absolutely not a good way to dissuade him, because now he's just furiously turned on. Sometimes it's easy to forget that Adam Parrish works three jobs and that all of them involve manual labor. That until the very recent acquisition of the Hondayota, he biked pretty much everywhere. That Adam Parrish was not a team player, and so rather than take Tennis or Crew for his PhysEd requirement, he just spent fifty minutes lifting weights three times a week.
And then there were moments like this, where he was viscerally reminded of just how strong Adam was under his quiet exterior.
Of course, Kavinsky had earned it. He'd been flirting with Ronan in between classes. Gansey had been hovering next to Adam, and so he'd turned his charms on Lynch instead. Which of course had drawn Gansey to his best-friend's side, eager to play the moral guardian. But really, the way that Ronan flushed and Gansey's mute outrage were just bonuses.]
Don't worry Dick, I was just leaving.
[And he had- not far, just to the lockers on the other side of the hall. Still close enough that he could watch Adam watch him. Where he could feel like it was summer and he was soaking up the rays of the sun. But of course, everyone had a limit for how much of Kavinsky's bullshit they were willing to put up with, and he'd apparently found Adam's. It was further than he'd expected, honestly.]
You know, if you want me to kiss you, there are easier ways, Parrish.
[His breath was a little rough, his face flushed and his eyes bright and heated as he looked into Adam's blues. God, he wanted him so badly, even if he was sure he was on the edge of fucking it all up because of who he was, because he didn't know how to hold his hand out when he wanted someone to hold it. Given how he'd always been treated, he couldn't help feeling that he'd be slapped away if he did.]
👀
And Adam cared. If he didn't, he wouldn't have actually called Kavinsky sometimes, talked to him, gone to his parties.
He was also a little irritated that shoving Kavinsky against the wall seemed to have had the opposite effect than he'd been aiming for. And yet, it made his skin tingle, too.
He kept hold of the other boy's uniform tie, like he needed to keep him in place, as if he wasn't a little embarrassed with himself for getting physical in the first place. At the mention of kissing, his gaze flickered briefly down to Kavinsky's mouth--he couldn't help it. The next moment, his attention snapped back up to his eyes.]
Is this a game to you? [He kept his voice down, respectfully, because they were in a library. Also because he didn't want the whole town to know their business right now.] How long do you plan on flirting with me and Ronan?
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just some soft sexy things
They got pizza; Kavinsky paid for it, but instead of getting delivery, Adam picked it up on his way over. He knew that Adam wasn't comfortable with being taken care of, even if K thought that he deserved it, so he paid attention and he did his best to find compromises that worked.
So they have pizza and they talk, and there's soft Bulgarian hiphop in the background. And then there's a point, sitting on the couch, hands softly touching, where K looks at Adam and asks if he wants to see his bedroom. But it's less of a tour and more an excuse to get his boyfriend onto his bed. He still shivers when he thinks the word- boyfriend; like someone like Kavinsky got to have someone like Adam. It isn't the first time that they've kissed, but it's the first time that they've kissed like this, where Kavinsky pulls Adam's shirt off, grinning as he palms his hands over the bare skin of his chest.
Where Adam tugs at K's shirt, and Kavinsky shifts his arms so that he can take it off, and it feels more vulnerable than the first time he admitted that he wanted him. It was letting Adam peel away his armor in a visceral, physical sense, but- Adam had been nothing but good to him. He had yet to give Kavinsky a reason not to give him everything. And so he lets him take his shirt off, so that they can press chest-to-chest, his binder against Adam's bare skin, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment, catching his breath just so he can kiss him again, desperate and hungry.
God, he wants him so much. He's so good in a way that he doesn't think even Adam appreciates. He's breathless, skin flushed with arousal as his dark eyes look at the other boy. But there's a flicker- something like uncertainty, a piece of something vulnerable when he pauses, just holding on to Adam for a moment instead. Kavinsky had a reputation for sexual prowess, but he'd confessed one night it was mostly myth. It was another lie he hid himself behind. He wasn't a virgin, but he wasn't experienced, either.
And Adam made everything feel special. Made him feel like he was lovely, like he could be a boy without feeling like his body was unwantable. But he couldn't help asking anyway.]
Is this.. okay?
:eyes:
Kavinsky was sweet. Sharp, yes, rough in ways, but- there was more to him than that. Adam wouldn't trade him for the world, even if he felt somewhat out of place in the other boy's house. He felt more comfortable in his bedroom, and yet a little racing-pulse at the same time. It was a private space, personal, and Adam thought someone's bedroom said a lot about them. How they kept it, how they decorated it, what they chose to do with the space. It was a reflection of themselves.
More important though, was Kavinsky's hands on his chest, his body against Adam's. His mouth, the way they kissed. Adam looped his arms around him, one hand pressed to the middle of his back, the other drifting up and down his side, a gentle caress of fingers and occasionally his knuckles. Kavinsky was lovely in every way and Adam wanted to hold him forever, keep him safe.]
Yeah. [He smiled, soft and sweet.] This is more than okay.
[It'd been a lovely evening so far and he couldn't imagine anything (realistically) ruining it.
His heart was full of affection.
Gentle and sweet, he kissed K again.]
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not part of the crying club;
This was different.
This was a boy in a leather jacket, face mostly hidden from the world, and he might have been easy to overlook for most -- there was something off in a way that made most people pull away. But Adam had seen it before. There but there was black oozing from his ear. No, not black. It was the opposite of light, the opposite of the ley line, and eventually, if someone didn't do something, it would be the opposite of alive, too. His eyes were gold, bright as metal, impossible.
And Adam saved his life.
Elijah was thankfully still conscious, even if he was a little slurred, black tear tracks shiny on his skin as they seeped into the collar of the white tee-shirt that he'd been wearing. They're on Adam's motorcycle, with the boy's arms wrapped around him -- he doesn't even complain about riding bitch, which he almost definitely would have, were he more coherent. Instead, he just rests his cheek against his back and holds onto him until finally, finally, he can suck in a breath that feels like air, and not corrosive.
When Adam stops the motorcycle, Elijah is a little bit clearer, his eyes not quite as searing as they'd been in the hallway. Where if not for the nightwash that still left trails on his skin, he could have passed for normal. For something human.]
I... thank you.
[It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. But what else did he say? He was a little scared, if he was honest, but he wasn't. Not about things like that, anyway, so instead he just touches the edge of what he really means.]
That's never happened before.
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Once they were there though, Adam parked and cut the engine. It was much easier to talk without the rumbling in their ears. Gently, he cupped the side of Elijah's face, if the other boy allowed him to, tipping his head a little to check the status of his nightwash and his eyes.
He didn't verbally answer the thanks, though he did modestly shrug a shoulder. He'd only done what he would have wanted someone else to do for him.]
Never? That's lucky. Are you feeling any better?
[Pulling a scrap of fabric out of a pocket, something somewhere in the vacinity of being a rag, he wiped carefully at the black streaks on the boy's face.]
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