post for psls;

[threesecrets]

 

✞ m/m only
✞ no invitation needed

✞ feel free to just drop an idea
✞ if you wanna do adam & ronan chat me up first
✞ safeaslife#0150 or PM, at your leisure

Comments

ohmygosh im sorry ive meant to tag this for too long and it festered and this happened

[threesecrets]

[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.]

This tag was worth the wait

[obedientdog]

[Maybe Skov had been wrong about thinking Ronan wouldn't want to hear from him. He was wrong plenty of times, after all--usually in World Hist. Maybe someday the combined power of Swan and Jiang studying with him could get him to remember the right shit. Or maybe he'd just fail out of Aglionby. He was sure that would make his family proud. They already thought he was a loser.]

u want to hang out or something?
Swan's around too
we cud have a ménage à trois

[Look at him putting his French classes to good use. Actually, he'd never been taught that in class. He'd learned it on his own. He was also joking about that part, though he might have been the only one who found it funny.]

i've got weed
or we cud do something else
break some shit

[He knew an abandoned old shop in Henrietta where one of the windows in the back wasn't boarded up as well as everyone assumed it was. But also just getting high sounded good, too. Anything that would help pass the time until K's party.]

[threesecrets]

[At least this way when Ronan fails, he'll have company -- even a matching set of disappointment.

He considers the questions. He also considers how inebriated he is -- mostly hungover, he decides. Not nearly as intoxicated as he'd been on some nights he'd driven back home, and he wasn't going to lie to use it as an excuse. Driving to Henrietta was hardly a problem for him, if arguably ill-advised.

He didn't know what he wanted.

But company sounded better than not. And weed wasn't a bad idea- a little bit, anyway, to kill the headache. Better than getting black out drunk again out of frustration with the idea of losing things. That he had to make choices, decisions. No one to take responsibility for them except himself, and that was the fucking worst thing.]

yeah count me out for spin the bottle
you two can go for it tho

but fuck
sure
bring your weed
and i guess swan too

ive got drinks and stuff

[Declan would probably punch him for this idiot idea hard enough to make his face snap- it'd be one of the rare moments when Ronan remembered he was a Lynch. But Declan was in DC, and it was Wednesday which gave him plenty of time to clean shit up before he showed up for church on Sunday. Of course, Ronan's brother scarcely needed to entertain the idea of other people being involved for Ronan to have made a wreck of things. What Declan really wanted was for Ronan to clean himself up, and that wasn't happening any time soon.

He wasn't expecting Matthew to stop by, and he wouldn't honestly be as fond of the boys as he is if he thought they'd do anything too much worse for the kid's health than Aglionby dorm life achieved already.

There's something happening here, even if Ronan isn't the sort to put a label on it or spell it out. An attempt at something. His fingers twitch and he wants to text Kavinsky, but instead he sends Skov a GPS ping for the Barns.]

[obedientdog]

[Careful what you said, Ronan; Skov didn't have any shame. Swan was...marginally better, at least, but he could easily be convinced to go along with whatever his boyfriend Skov wanted.]

gr8!
i'll bring plenty
and Swan

[A few minutes later, Skov texted again-]

he'd probably get jealous if i left him out

[Which wouldn't surprise anyone who actually knew Swan; the blonde was incredibly jealous when it came to other people and Skov, sometimes even when it was just hanging out. Way back when he'd first introduced Skov to Kavinsky, it'd taken him the longest time to get over being jealous at the mere idea of the two of them fucking around. Or anyone and Skov fucking around. It didn't help that Skov didn't seem to be easily bothered by the jealousy, like he knew that Swan was wrapped around his finger no matter what he did.

A reasonable amount of time later, Skov and Swan arrived at the Barns in Swan's Golf; it'd been easier than driving separately, and it'd allowed Skov to play navigator for Swan. Besides, one of them had a habit of getting blackout drunk at the drop of a hat and it wasn't Swan. If Swan was around, at least, maybe Skov wouldn't get completely hammered before K's party later.

Sliding out of the car, Skov blinked up at the house. It seemed like way more of a home than the place his parents had, but maybe that had more to do with how he got along with his family than the house itself.

He wore a pair of cargo shorts that showed just a hint of the matching tattoos on his thighs. There were also bruises and scabs on his knees and one shin from a recent wipe out when he'd been skateboarding. A tattoo of roses spread across the left side of his neck, and more tattoos adorned his right hand fingers and left wrist. A silver hoop was pierced through the left side of his nose and he wore teal gauges in his ears. His shirt proudly proclaimed 'sinners are winners'.

In comparison, Swan looked almost respectable, except for how ripped his jeans were. They weren't even designer ripped jeans; they were ripped from how old they were and all of the shit he'd gotten into. He glanced over at Skov as he closed the car door, shrugging when Skov returned his glance with a questioning look.

Scuffing his sneaker in the dirt, Skov double-checked one of his pockets for the beat-up tin he kept his weed and joints in, then headed for the front door. He trailed his hand along the railing as he walked up the porch steps, then knocked on the door when he reached it. Swan lingered a few steps behind him, tall enough that he was almost looming over Skov. He was tall--taller than Kavinsky, than Proko, maybe even taller than Ronan. Of course, the image wasn't helped by the fact that Skov wasn't the tallest person himself; out of the pack he was only taller than Jiang, though that wasn't much of a feat.]