[Things have been strange since last weekend, since Ronan realized Kavinsky had slipped a collar around his throat and he didn't mind the weight.
Some drunk asshole had been hassling Kavinsky; couldn't find his drugs or something. You drinking anything decent? Ronan had asked, stealing Skov's plastic cup and taking a drink. As if he wasn't paying attention to the red-faced idiot who was dangerously close to trying to put his hands on the boy that certainly wasn't Ronan's boyfriend -- neither of them would use the word, anyway.
Anyone that knew Ronan or had seen him around Kavinsky in the last few months, would know better. But so much of him was pretense- brittle lies he told himself. Ronan couldn't help but notice the tension, the way the other kid pushed into K's space. Taller, broad shoulders, held himself like the typical Aglionby entitled dickhead. He thought he'd been on the Crew team with Gansey, but wasn't entirely sure. Not the sort of person he thought was worth remembering.
Ronan's never really hurt someone for Kavinsky before, but he always watches when things start to escalate these days, white-knuckled and his jaw tense. Recently he simmers as fast as the other boys, as defensive as everyone but Proko, or maybe Skov when he's spoiling for a fight. But K's dream boy had raced Swan in their twin Golfs, and they were still out front of the fairground, drinking on their cars and watching the collisions. And tonight, Skov seemed more interested in the potential fireworks.
So Ronan stepped up to Kavinsky, Skov's stolen drink still in hand, close enough it looked almost carelessly intimate for a moment. Close enough to put his body between a kid with something to prove and the other Dreamer- but he only looks at K, like he's drunk enough to be oblivious. But Ronan's smile is dark and vicious, the apples of his cheeks flushed with fury and the other teen with his sharp but delicate Slavic features just smiles back.
There's a moment where they look into each others' eyes, and it says more than Ronan could ever put into words. If he's anyone's dog, it isn't Gansey's anymore. And Kavinsky doesn't see the need to keep Ronan on a leash, to pull him back from the edge. To make him play nice and civilized, retrain him as Adam had said to Blue one afternoon as he walked in Ronan's dreams.
Skov's drink is nothing but a dirty lie, a cheap excuse. The Aglinbro jostles into Ronan from sheer proximity as he pushes K, spilling whatever it was Skov had been drinking into Ronan's ripped tee-shirt. It was clumsy but colorful; something he'd spray painted with Jiang when they were particularly high one night. A spilled drink is an easy excuse for the way that Ronan pivots with a snarl, bared teeth, his fist like a spring sprung as it slams into the boy's face, bloody knuckles yielding a bloody face.
Ronan gets a few swings in before it clicks that no one is going to drag him back, click a leash around his neck, say the magic words. So the kid stumbles back, and makes the decision to leave rather than go another round. Kavinsky seems like he rides a high that isn't just chemical, and later he slowly bleeds the adrenaline from Ronan's body; pulling a different sort of prayer from devoted lips.
The next morning Ronan vanishes. He stops answering K's texts. The realization finally catches up to him, but later than for everyone else- as usual. It's not the fight the night before that hits him. Instead, it's something about the sight of his BMW parked neat next to the Mitsubishi, in a line with the Supra and the rest of Kavinsky's pack of dogs. Like he was one of them.
Ronan had never thought of himself as one of Kavinsky's pack before. He doesn't even quite know when it happened... but it dawns on him that he belongs with them more than he does back at Monmouth. Going back, juggling his two worlds, was becoming impossible- and Ronan was losing track of reasons why he wanted to try. Even if he wont say it out loud, he knows which one burns anticipation in his heart.
There's no cruelty to how Ronan disappears though, and Kavinsky knows Ronan's mercurial moods -- he'll show at the party, at least. The fact that Gansey and Adam stop by the Barns, all disappointed looks it just makes him long for it that much more. When Skov texts, Ronan still almost throws his cell into the wall, but it's more reflex than true aggravation. The fact that it only takes him a few minutes to answer is the true sign of how he feels about it.]
no the fuck do you want anyway?
[Which is actually sort of cordial, by Ronan Lynch standards. The truth is that he's glad to see his name.]
ohmygosh im sorry ive meant to tag this for too long and it festered and this happened
Some drunk asshole had been hassling Kavinsky; couldn't find his drugs or something. You drinking anything decent? Ronan had asked, stealing Skov's plastic cup and taking a drink. As if he wasn't paying attention to the red-faced idiot who was dangerously close to trying to put his hands on the boy that certainly wasn't Ronan's boyfriend -- neither of them would use the word, anyway.
Anyone that knew Ronan or had seen him around Kavinsky in the last few months, would know better. But so much of him was pretense- brittle lies he told himself. Ronan couldn't help but notice the tension, the way the other kid pushed into K's space. Taller, broad shoulders, held himself like the typical Aglionby entitled dickhead. He thought he'd been on the Crew team with Gansey, but wasn't entirely sure. Not the sort of person he thought was worth remembering.
Ronan's never really hurt someone for Kavinsky before, but he always watches when things start to escalate these days, white-knuckled and his jaw tense. Recently he simmers as fast as the other boys, as defensive as everyone but Proko, or maybe Skov when he's spoiling for a fight. But K's dream boy had raced Swan in their twin Golfs, and they were still out front of the fairground, drinking on their cars and watching the collisions. And tonight, Skov seemed more interested in the potential fireworks.
So Ronan stepped up to Kavinsky, Skov's stolen drink still in hand, close enough it looked almost carelessly intimate for a moment. Close enough to put his body between a kid with something to prove and the other Dreamer- but he only looks at K, like he's drunk enough to be oblivious. But Ronan's smile is dark and vicious, the apples of his cheeks flushed with fury and the other teen with his sharp but delicate Slavic features just smiles back.
There's a moment where they look into each others' eyes, and it says more than Ronan could ever put into words. If he's anyone's dog, it isn't Gansey's anymore. And Kavinsky doesn't see the need to keep Ronan on a leash, to pull him back from the edge. To make him play nice and civilized, retrain him as Adam had said to Blue one afternoon as he walked in Ronan's dreams.
Skov's drink is nothing but a dirty lie, a cheap excuse. The Aglinbro jostles into Ronan from sheer proximity as he pushes K, spilling whatever it was Skov had been drinking into Ronan's ripped tee-shirt. It was clumsy but colorful; something he'd spray painted with Jiang when they were particularly high one night. A spilled drink is an easy excuse for the way that Ronan pivots with a snarl, bared teeth, his fist like a spring sprung as it slams into the boy's face, bloody knuckles yielding a bloody face.
Ronan gets a few swings in before it clicks that no one is going to drag him back, click a leash around his neck, say the magic words. So the kid stumbles back, and makes the decision to leave rather than go another round. Kavinsky seems like he rides a high that isn't just chemical, and later he slowly bleeds the adrenaline from Ronan's body; pulling a different sort of prayer from devoted lips.
The next morning Ronan vanishes. He stops answering K's texts. The realization finally catches up to him, but later than for everyone else- as usual. It's not the fight the night before that hits him. Instead, it's something about the sight of his BMW parked neat next to the Mitsubishi, in a line with the Supra and the rest of Kavinsky's pack of dogs. Like he was one of them.
Ronan had never thought of himself as one of Kavinsky's pack before. He doesn't even quite know when it happened... but it dawns on him that he belongs with them more than he does back at Monmouth. Going back, juggling his two worlds, was becoming impossible- and Ronan was losing track of reasons why he wanted to try. Even if he wont say it out loud, he knows which one burns anticipation in his heart.
There's no cruelty to how Ronan disappears though, and Kavinsky knows Ronan's mercurial moods -- he'll show at the party, at least. The fact that Gansey and Adam stop by the Barns, all disappointed looks it just makes him long for it that much more. When Skov texts, Ronan still almost throws his cell into the wall, but it's more reflex than true aggravation. The fact that it only takes him a few minutes to answer is the true sign of how he feels about it.]
no
the fuck do you want anyway?
[Which is actually sort of cordial, by Ronan Lynch standards. The truth is that he's glad to see his name.]