Open RP Post

[devilofaboy]

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once upon the fairy market;

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky had died on the Fourth of July.
Or that was the story that everyone knew- almost everyone.

A Kavinsky had died on the Fourth of July.
And he'd dreamt a copy of Proko to live in a coma in Henrietta hospital.
This was the truth.

It hadn't taken him long after he'd realized that he could dream people to wonder what that meant for himself. None of his copies tended to live very long, of course; with his feelings toward himself, the dreams he brought them from were typically fraught with perils that chased them into reality. But that had been useful in itself- he knew that he could do it long before the Fourth of July- and he knew what it was good for.

It actually hadn't been because he wanted to make Ronan suffer. But Kavinsky had been operating carelessly ever since he'd moved to Henrietta; dying for any hint of another dreamer. And he would have died for it, if he hadn't taken steps to quiet the trail. As pissed as he'd been at Ronan, he hadn't wanted to leave them sniffing around to end up at his doorstep- and fuck knew that Ronan wasn't the brightest bulb in the chest. And the Greenmantles were the sort of people that were so buffoonish you didn't realize they were fucking psychopaths until it was too late.

Take it from Kavinsky.
Take it from Prokopenko- the one he hadn't been able to protect.

He fucking wasn't going to let that happen to him again. And he wasn't going to let it happen to Ronan. He'd wanted- he'd wanted him to come with him. He'd planned a different finale, but it had been fine, in the end. It had hurt, in ways that he thought he'd never get to tell him, but it had worked. Kavinsky made himself the center of attention, dreamt it so that no one really noticed Ronan, no one really remembered. There had been one dreamer, and he had died on the asphalt under the fire and bitterness of his own creation.

Coma-Proko crashed dramatically, to really sell it.
An easy story.
End of.

Except that it wasn't, of course. Kavinsky took off with Prokopenko, and while he wanted to give him a life better than cruising across the country Thelma and Louise style, it was still a life. They still had something, and they had it together. Kavinsky couldn't give him back the one he'd lost, but he could give him this one, at least.

But Ronan doesn't fucking know how to keep his head down- and maybe there were a few pieces of the puzzle Kavinsky hadn't been aware of- but whatever. He is dead now; body in the morgue and all that shit. He wonders, vaguely, what his mother will do for a funeral, but be doesn't stick around to find out. Any lingering bullshit with hitmen and insane assholes is not his mess to clean up. So he wishes Ronan luck and leaves him in the rearview mirror, even if his heart breaks a little, and the other dreamer's name forever lingers on his heart.

But he drags Proko to some shitty matinee and goes down on him in the back of the theater, and he feels a little bit better. It's been a little bit over a year, and he thinks he could have done that forever. Proko at his side, against the world. The boy that had loved him enough to die for him, and Kavinsky just wants whatever they can take. He tells fortunes or sells drugs or trinkets, but mostly because he can't stand to not keep his hands busy; his mind dreaming.

They never stay too long.

There's a faint voice in K's dreams, sometimes, when they're staying somewhere the energy runs thick, like tonight as they leave the pleasure of Miami summer behind them. Sometimes he thinks it sounds like Ronan, but it's different than that. He almost doesn't believe it, because it feels too much like what he wants: someone to change the world, that wants to protect dreams and dreamers. What else had he asked from Ronan back in the beginning? He calls bullshit but Bryde just gives him a challenge: the Fairy Market. Kavinsky hasn't been since he faked his death, but if there's even a chance--

So they go. He leaves Proko behind, because... there's just too many ways it could go wrong, that he could fuck it up. So he leaves him in a motel room in a part of town where people will call the cops if they hear gunshots, and he leaves him a dreamt gun so it'll kill anything that comes after him. He leaves him a car, too. A VW Golf, although it's in a more muted color than his old one, it still feels like an apology.]

I'm not leaving you.

[He murmurs into his hair as he kisses his temple just before dawn. Given how their skin almost smells like each other these days, he hopes that he trusts him. But when has he not?

Hours later and somehow Kavinsky ends up here, staring at Ronan Lynch across the closing doors of an elevator, because his life is always a fucking mess.
This time, Kavinsky lets them.
He doesn't even know if he wants the other boy to try and stop him. Or at least that's what he tells himself, even if it's a fucking lie. But honesty has never been his best quality. And it's been so long, and it still hurts so much. He looks disinterested, like he's looking through him, like he isn't a ghost standing there in the flesh.]

[devilofaboy]

[Ronan had thought the Fairy Market alone would be enough. There were all kinds of things, from the relatively benign to fucked up shit, and he really wasn't cut out for this kind of scene. He didn't belong here. He was a stranger to this place similar to how he'd never really belonged in Aglionby. And yet there was a pull to it, too. Magical and mystical and mysteries rolled up into one not-so-neat bundle.

And yet the biggest mystery and the most fucked up thing he saw was- a boy. It was impossible not to recognize Kavinsky, and the double-take Ronan did had more to do with not believing what he was seeing than an issue with recognition. He froze. Completely still, staring for one second, two. Then, on pure adrenaline and instinct alone, on the need to know what was going on, he darted forward, pushing anyone who might have been in his way between him and that elevator.

Brazenly, without a second thought for his own wellbeing, he reached forward, intending to swipe a hand between the elevator doors to trigger the sensors. But he was a second too late and the doors closed in front of his face. He wasn't going to let that stop him; his gaze flickered up to the display, just long enough to figure out what floor the elevator was going to, and then he pivoted, heading for the stairs.

He slammed the door open, driven by- what? What was he going to do when this ended up not being Kavinsky? When it turned out there was a doppelganger or Ronan was losing his mind? A smaller voice asked what if it IS Kavinsky, what would Ronan do then? It was impossible, of course, he reasoned as he took the stairs two at a time; he'd watched Kavinsky die. He'd been to his funeral. But Ronan himself was something impossible, so who was really to say what was real and what wasn't?

Bursting out of the stairwell door on the appropriate level, he looked one way and then the other, head on a swivel, before catching sight of Kavinsky's familiar figure. Or his twin, as it might be. Ronan didn't know what he was going to do. He didn't have a plan. He just- he headed in Kavinsky's direction, catching up before he could disappear again, maybe for good this time. Ronan caught him by the arm-]

Wait.