Ronan Lynch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
devilofaboy) wrote2022-01-10 09:25 pm
devilofaboy) wrote2022-01-10 09:25 pm
Entry tags:
Open RP Post
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Two weeks go by with no parties, and the dream pack are quiet, surprisingly scarce. The strangest part is that Kavinsky's texts stop rather abruptly. He doesn't respond even if the other boy tries to reach out -- it's two weeks of silence.
No Mitsubishi in Ronan's rearview, or pulling up next to him at a stop light with a sultry glitter in his grin as he watches the other boy through those sunglasses. No filthy suggestions about his relationship with Gansey. No gifts. Even at their worst fights, most venomous remarks hurled at one another, the silence could be measured in hours, sometimes days, not weeks.
When Ronan finally runs into Prokopenko, finally gets to ask, he gets punched in the face. But he also gets the story, clipped down to a sentence- that Kavinsky had tried to kill himself, and only just gotten out of the hospital.
When Kavinsky hears a knock at the door, he's expecting Skov or Jiang. One of his boys, the fact that they hardly leave him alone for more than a few hours right now. But he finds it hard to blame them. But he opens the door and stares into the face of Ronan Lynch, and his heart twists. He doesn't know if he's glad to see him, or if it hurts.
He looks different if you pay attention. Like he put on a few pounds, he's not as jittery, not twitchy, doesn't have that edge like he can't stay still, can't stand his own skin. Instead he just looks... drained. Exhausted. A little sad, but maybe like it's the first time Ronan's getting to really see the boy under all the pretenses and the substances.]
Lynch.
[There are still bandages on his left arm. He looks caught off-guard, unsure.]
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So he decided to take matters into his own hands. He'd fucked up before but- he couldn't imagine a Henrietta without Kavinsky in it, no matter how often they fought. They might not have always seen eye-to-eye, but- it hurt to think of losing him, even if Ronan didn't realize the full meaning of that yet.
There was a lump in his throat when Kavinsky answered the door. Reflexively, Ronan looked him over, gaze lingering on the bandages on his arm. Gaze flicking back up to the other boy's face, Ronan hesitated. It wasn't a purposeful silence; he wasn't trying to be a dick. He was just trying to think.]
I thought you could use some company.
[He said finally. Not are you okay or you look like shit or even I'm sorry, but there was a chance for anything. He felt...guilty. This was his fault; it had to be. He'd left Kavinsky standing alone in the dreaming field without so much as a second thought and- he sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his head.
After a moment, he added-]
Prokopenko told me what happened.
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[Would he ever refuse Ronan? Just seeing him again- it prompts all sorts of complicated feelings, things he knows he should say, but still doesn't have the words for. Not when Ronan's rejection still feels hot and raw, the memory of the way it felt like the whole world fell away without him in his life, by his side. He winces a little bit when Ronan says that Proko had told him what happened, though.
Kavinsky had... he didn't fucking know. He thought that he could keep it quiet, he guesses. He was erratic and temperamental, it's not like he couldn't have shrugged off going missing for two weeks. Or so he had thought. Proko telling Ronan about it doesn't sound pretty, but well- Ronan's alive and doesn't look particularly worse for wear. Nothing worse than he's had before, anyway.]
Fuck.
[It's all he can manage to say but he steps out of the way, kicking the door so it yawns open wide- clearly an invitation for Ronan to come inside. He'll talk about it, but he isn't going to do it on the fucking sidewalk. He doesn't know how he feels about him now. He wants to put his hands around his neck, he wants to worship every inch of his skin, he just-- he wants Ronan Lynch. Complicated, and maybe still a little bit destructive, but there all the same.
He can't help the fact that his heart twists just at the thought that he's here, that he gave a shit.
It wasn't like he'd learned some great life lessons or anything. Mostly it had just been getting through the drugs, and getting him to where he didn't want to jump off a fucking cliff every time his eyes were open. And he was- he was doing better anyway. He needed the company more often than not, and he promised his boys that he'd ask for it. Although it wasn't like they left him alone much at the moment anyway.
He'd thought that after Ronan's rejection, that he could just- that he could convince himself he didn't need him. But he wants his arms around him the same as he ever has. He drags a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he curses under his breath.]
C'mon.
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Stepping inside at the clear invitation, he reached behind him to shut the door, reaching out with his other hand and- he hesitated. Then rested his hand on Kavinsky's shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze like everything was normal, like everything was alright. He knew what it was like to hate yourself so much, to be so unhappy with the world that you wanted to end it all, even if his own attempt hadn't exactly been on purpose.
Stupidly, he almost asked if Kavinsky wanted something to drink, a glass of water or something, as if Ronan wasn't the guest in this situation. Shaking his head at himself, he sucked in a breath. What did he say? Silence between them had never felt awkward before, but it did now. Ronan was a master at silence, letting it stretch on and make others uncomfortable, and yet-
He swallowed, letting his hand fall away from Kavinsky's shoulder.]
Was it because of me?
[He had to know and he trusted Kavinsky not to sugarcoat it.]
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He doesn't say anything.
K just lets the silence linger, lets Ronan come up with what he wants to ask, what he needs to know. He's already bled for him once, he can't quite bring himself to tear his heart open without at least knowing that Ronan needs to know. It used to be that silence between them was the easy part. It was when they filled it with words that things were strained, but now it seems reversed.]
Yeah.
[He isn't going to lie about it, he doesn't try to sweeten it or try to make it easier to swallow. And for a moment, there's that same flicker across his face that there had been back in the dream field- hurt. But this time he can't quite choke it down, and it stays in his eyes as he tries to articulate it.]
I helped you because I thought it would mean something to you. I thought- I thought that I would mean something to you, that you cared. And you just left me standing there with my dick in my hand, and then you wouldn't even text me back. It felt like you used me.
[He shakes his head, blinking slowly as he tries to casually drag his hand across his eyes. Like Ronan might not notice that he's still wrecked. Talking about it still hurts, and his lashes are damp when he looks at Ronan, meeting his eyes, raw and hurt. But he's not angry, he doesn't say it like he's trying to hurt him so much as just explain so he understands what it meant to him.
He wishes he could be; anger would be easier.]
It's not your fault, though. I'm a fucking mess, Lynch. And I guess the drugs weren't the best way to cope. You were just.. it felt like without you I couldn't breathe. And I couldn't handle it.
[He doesn't quite say it, even if he knows he should. What the fuck does he have to lose now? But he can't do it. He can't give him his heart just to make a point, if it's just fucking academic. He can't tell him just so that Ronan understands, if it's not because it means something.]
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Ronan took another deep breath, dragged a hand over his scalp. The truth was painful. It wasn't pretty. But he had to say it.]
I did. I- [-used you.] I didn't think about how you'd feel. I thought everything would go back to how it'd been before.
[But Kavinsky hadn't wanted that. Ronan saw that now. His- not callousness, really, but his...lack of understanding where Kavinsky had been coming from had almost caused terrible, irreversible things. He'd only been thinking about fixing the Pig so he could bring it back to Gansey, through any means necessary. He hadn't meant to use Kavinsky, but the other dreamer had presented an undeniable opportunity. Just because he hadn't meant to though didn't mean he could shove the blame onto someone else.]
I didn't think I was going to hurt you. You're- [He gestured vaguely with one hand. Kavinsky seemed like he'd be around forever, untouchable, always there.]
I do care, though.
[He was just shit at showing it, especially with Kavinsky. But if he didn't care, he wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation.]
I'm- [God, did Kavinsky love him? Was that what this about? The realization made his chest feel tight. Ronan could hardly look him in the eye, but he forced himself to.] -I'm sorry.
[If he'd known, if he hadn't been so stupid, he wouldn't have left the other boy standing there in the dreaming field that day. At least, not the way he had. There was no reason Ronan had to be against him. They weren't- fuck, they weren't enemies. It wasn't like they'd pledged to hate each other. Kavinsky hadn't wronged Ronan in some way. It was the opposite, if he was being honest.]
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You'd think nearly killing himself over the other boy would be enough to get him out of his veins, steal his heart back. But K wasn't the only thief in Henrietta.
He can't help huffing a laugh when Ronan says that he didn't think he was going to hurt him. He doesn't say it, but he can hear it in the silence, in the way that he gestures at K, like Ronan had though he was untouchable, indestructible, as strong as he pretended. But Ronan's right: he hadn't wanted the way that things had been. He'd always wanted more. But then he says I do care, though and K hesitates, looks at Ronan, unsure of what to say.
But he knows that it means something that he's here, that they're fucking-- that they're talking about it. Neither of them were good at it, but Kavinsky is trying, and Ronan seems to be, too. He meets his eyes, and his breath catches at the words. They're simple and stupid, really- what was I'm sorry after everything he'd been through? Except that it does mean something, because K knows that they aren't words that come easy to him. He knows that he wouldn't say the words if he didn't mean it.
Kavinsky loved Ronan. Still loved him. And god, but he felt like an idiot for it. The fact that even after he put a switchblade to his wrist for home emptied out he felt without him that he still just wanted Ronan's arms around him. But if nothing else, Ronan saying that he cared was at least- it was enough for Kavinsky to be able to say it, even if he's almost worried that it'll be too much]
I'm sorry too. I still shouldn't have- fuck. I just didn't.. I thought you were walking away from me forever. I loved you.
[He doesn't say I still love you, but it's in his eyes. It's in the way he has to curl his hands to keep himself from reaching out to him. He flinches, looks away from Ronan and his blue eyes, shrugging his shoulders as he rubs a hand over his face. Fuck. But as much as he hates how this feels, the uncertainty and feeling like with one wrong word Ronan will vanish from his life all over again-- he's handling it better than he would have before, at least.
Not that he wanted to admit that the cocaine might have been making things worse, even if it got him through the day.]
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Ronan didn't want to admit that this was the first time he'd been this painfully attracted to a boy, but it was. He was so drawn to Kavinsky that the intensity of it frightened him. He'd ran and left the other boy, thinking things would go back to how they'd been before, that he had all the time in the world to figure shit out. But he'd almost lost him. Time was not infinite. Lives were not infinite. Every day he spent trying to ignore how he felt was a day wasted.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, heat creeping along his cheeks and the back of his neck. He couldn't imagine what anyone outside of his family saw in him, as far as loving him went. Even then, that was a vastly different type of love. His family was almost obligated to care about him. This was- his chest felt tight again and he couldn't fathom how Kavinsky felt in this moment.]
I'd never- [He took a breath.] Do you think we could take it slow? [He knew he wasn't the best person to be talking about taking anything slow, but-] You and me. If you're not completely done with my shit. [If he hadn't fucked shit up beyond fixing. He wanted to make it up to Kavinsky, but it was about a lot more than that. Ronan wanted him. He just hadn't realized it until it was almost too late.]
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It had been easy to pretend that he hadn't needed to hear it. But he couldn't help feeling foolish in hindsight. Everything had just hurt so much.
When Ronan starts and then catches his breath, Kavinsky steels himself and tries to brace himself. So when Ronan asks him if they can take it slow, it knocks him off balance, has him looking at the other dreamer like he can scarcely process what he's hearing. He thinks he forgets to breathe, but this time it doesn't make him hurt, an ache like his ribs will crack from the weight. Instead he feels almost swept off his feet, unsteady on his own legs.
He'd been so worried about Ronan pushing him away, he hadn't stopped to think what he'd do if he said yes.]
Of course we can take it slow. I just want you. Whatever you need, I... Ronan.
[He runs out of words and so he just crosses the distance until they're standing close, until Kavinsky is in his space, almost nose to nose. But he doesn't try to kiss him, doesn't even suggest it. Instead he just slides his hands down to rest against his waist, just a light whisper of a touch. Maybe it's not entirely chaste, but he's trying his best. He trembles just to touch him, just- the idea that Ronan might want him, might really want him.
In better days, he'd have grinned and echoed that no, he wasn't done with his shit. But it felt too cavalier for everything that had happened. So he just leaned in close, and hoped it wasn't completely obvious that he wanted to just curl himself into Ronan's chest, wanted to fucking cry for how much he needed this. Not even to kiss him, or have his clothes off, but just- to have him here with him. To have someone that understood, that cared.
Trying to kill himself, the hospital, coming off the drugs- all of it had torn his walls down. And he hadn't had the time to pull that indifference back together. But maybe letting Ronan think he was unshakable hadn't really helped, even if vulnerability was always a struggle.]
Is this- okay?
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Seeing him now, like this, Ronan knew he'd been wholeheartedly wrong. Kavinsky was strong but he was strong like Ronan was; there was still a limit, maybe a lot of his was bravado too, covering up the hurt he felt with sharp words. Sometimes that was easier than letting people in.
Subconsciously, he held his breath when Kavinsky approached, eyelashes fluttering. His heart thudded in his chest and- he half expected the other boy to kiss him. Ronan was half tempted to do it himself. Instead, he nodded, sliding his arms around K, hands pressing against his back, and buried his face in his shoulder. His throat ached with the struggle of holding back tears, but he refused to cry. It wasn't that he was trying to be strong for Kavinsky, but it was hard to be vulnerable.]
I wouldn't be able to stand it if you were gone.
[Mumbled and muffled against the other boy's shoulder, thick with emotion.]
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Ronan's arms slid around him, and it feels... Kavinsky doesn't really have the words for it. He'd say that it felt like home, but that's never been a place he associates with comfort. But it feels like his heart stops racing, like the world stops scraping against his nerves, wearing him raw. He feels like he can breathe, like he could stay here like this forever. Ronan's face presses into his shoulder, K's fingers sliding up along the line of his spine, curling lightly against the stubble of his skull, just rasping his fingertips softly against his head.
He leaned into Ronan, his other arm curling around him, fingers clutching in his shirt; needy and almost desperate. Because all of a sudden, Kavinsky's suicide attempt was terrifying to himself, too. Not just because of how he'd hurt people he cared about, and could have done worse. Or because of the assurance that he could get through this, and had thrown it away for a boy. Which are all valid, and true.
But it suddenly hits him that he never would have known, never would have had this chance.
It might have been the fact that he'd tried to kill himself that they've been talking about, but it was because he was alive that they could. And that was harrowing in a way that was new and different. But he couldn't have explained it, couldn't have said it outloud, so he just nuzzled softly into the side of Ronan's neck even as he pulled him into his shoulder. Holding onto him like Ronan was holding him together.
So when he finally responds to Ronan, his voice is rough and strained.]
I'm still here.
[He says it like he needs to hear it himself, as much as he says it for Ronan. His eyes feel damp, but he's trying to not seem like a total wreck. He wants to kiss him, even just once. And maybe cuddle on the couch and maybe try and convince him to stay, just for the night. Even if they keep their clothes on, just to have him close.]
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He held onto the material of Kavinsky's shirt tightly like he was afraid the other boy would disappear if he let go. He wasn't sure what was worse; the fact he would have never known how Kavinsky felt if he'd been successful or the fact K'd tried to kill himself at all. Kavinsky deserved better in life than being pushed to this.
Tears burned Ronan's eyes, and for a moment he let them fall, sliding down his cheeks or seeping into Kavinsky's shirt. It wasn't especially obvious; he wasn't sobbing, his breath was just- a little uneven.]
I don't want you to feel like that again.
[When he'd tried to kill himself. Ronan would do anything he could to keep it from ever happening again. He didn't know how, he wasn't good at this kind of thing, but- he could try. He'd figure it out, one way or another. Maybe it wasn't as complicated as he worried it was or maybe it was every bit as difficult. He didn't know how to save a life. But he knew how to pick up broken pieces. Maybe that was a good enough place to start.]
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He hadn't said it wasn't Ronan's fault just to make him feel better, less guilty. K had come to recognize that his own hand was in how they'd ended up there, too. Being cruel to each other had hardly been anything new. So he could forgive him for not seeing how deeply it would cut. The fact that it clearly hurt the other boy made it easier. Not because K wanted him to suffer, but just- he could tell that he cared. In a fucked up way, his tears felt like love.
His words are soft, and Kavinsky almost- he almost tries to flinch from it, from being that honest, that undone. He already feels all raw edges, but with Ronan in his arms, his tears in his shirt and his own smothered into the other boy's neck -- he can't. Pretending like death was meaningless, like he hadn't scared himself would be too much like lying.]
I don't either. I'm- trying. I don't feel like that now- with you.
[Saying it was almost as embarrassing as it was painful. And he knew, from far too many group therapy sessions that he'd unceremoniously dubbed fucking bullshit, that hanging his life on one person wasn't fair. Either to himself, or to them, or the people that cared about him. And he wanted to be fair to Ronan, to his boys. They deserved that. Not that he was going to say that outloud.
But he thought that maybe- maybe if it wasn't too much, he could at least hold onto Ronan's hand while he tried to figure this shit out.]
Can you stay?
[It's a soft question, not tinged with sexuality but just quiet longing. He just wants to keep him close for a while. He wants to hold onto him until he can convince himself this is real, until he can memorize his heartbeat. He just wants to keep his arms around him for all the time that he can steal.]
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He wanted K to be okay on his own two feet and to not need Ronan, but he also- he wanted to be there for him for the time he did need someone. It was complicated, but- he didn't want all of K's mental health hinged on him. Because he couldn't trust himself not to be an asshole in the future and ruin things. He'd already done it once, after all. He wouldn't do it on purpose, though.
Swallowing, he took a deep breath. Then another. It was a wonder he'd caught Kavinsky alone, probably. Where were his boys? From how hard Proko had punched him, Ronan would've figured they wouldn't stray too far.
Doing his best to conceal a sniffle, he nodded.]
Yeah, I can.
[He didn't have a curfew, he didn't need to be home before a certain time or risk turning into a pumpkin. No- that was wrong. It would've been his car that turned into a pumpkin. Either way, he was in no hurry to leave. He couldn't imagine just walking away again now, even if it would be far less devastating than before. He wanted to hold Kavinsky and touch him and just exist in the same space with him.]