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

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[dreamedboy]

[Prokopenko's arms were bruised and there were patches of stickiness on his skin from the various machines he'd been hooked up to. He was surprisingly healthy besides that and he looked good, bruised arms aside. It was a miracle, according to the doctors and nurses; they'd expected him to never wake up. The real miracle was the simple hooped earring he had in his pocket. He was going to have to get his ear pierced, he figured. It would be a better alternative than worrying about losing this thing. He didn't understand how it worked but he didn't have to for it to do its thing.

It didn't feel like a miracle. He felt...he didn't know how to put it into words. He was told months had passed, a year, more or less, but it felt like literally just yesterday he'd been at Kavinsky's Fourth of July party. He could remember the dragon and the bird thing, he remembered the flames and the crowds and the fighting. And then he remembered nothing.

He knew without being told that Kavinsky was gone. That was the part he didn't know how to put into words. It was the single most crushing feeling he'd ever experienced. It wasn't just that Kavinsky was a dreamer or that he was his dreamer, it was that they'd been best friends first. Kavinsky had literally brought him back from the grave; Proko'd never had to question how much Kavinsky'd cared about him. Just like Proko's loyalty and friendship had been wholly unwavering. Without Kavinsky- Proko almost wanted to take the earring out of his pocket and hurl it away from him so he'd fall back asleep.

What was the point of living?]

What happened to him?

[They were barely out of the hospital, still in the parking lot, but Prokopenko had to ask. No matter how much he knew the answer was going to hurt. Not knowing hurt more, leaving his imagination to run wild, thinking up all of the worst possibilities. At least the truth would quiet his rampaging thoughts. It felt like a snarl of thorns in his chest, like it hurt to inhale too deeply and it had nothing to do with his physical health.

The idea that Kavinsky had done this to himself hadn't even crossed his mind. Not on purpose. Proko wanted to find whoever was responsible for hurting Kavinsky and beat them until- he shuddered, raking his fingers through his hair. He knew he wasn't the most morally upstanding person but he didn't think he was really capable of murder, either- but this concerned Kavinsky and that made it different.

He just wanted things to be okay. He wanted to know that his best friend was waiting for him somewhere, in that familiar car, for the two of them to get up to some trouble. And speaking of cars, Proko's was not accessible right now, considering how long he'd been asleep. He was at Ronan's mercy as far as transportation went.]