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[threesecrets]

un: greywaren

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[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky poured him some whiskey, then some for himself. He was even kind enough to take Ronan's empty glass from him after the other boy had downed his drink to put it to the side on the night table again. He sipped his own a little slower, but still almost inhaled some when Ronan said his mother fell asleep after his dad died. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together, not that Kavinsky was stupid, but- the point was, he felt dread and shame creep over him as he thought of Prokopenko sharing the same fate. If he'd known- would he still have been so selfish?

When Ronan picked his head up to look at him, Kavinsky rubbed circles across his back. He didn't have the faintest idea what the black shit could be, but he had a feeling he knew what direction this was going. He knew Ronan had a completely different relationship with his parents, and just because Kavinsky's mom and dad were horrible douchebags didn't mean he couldn't relate to the deep pain of losing a loved one.]

Shit, man, that's- I'm sorry. I couldn't imagine- [He shook his head.] You shouldn't have had to see that.

[Downing the rest of his drink, he put the glass aside so he could wrap both arms around Ronan.]

I know I'm a fucked up asshole, but no one should have to find someone they love like that. Or something- your bird thing, too.

So this unmaker...

[He hesitated, and when he continued, his voice was softer.]

Did it kill you?

[threesecrets]

[God, Ronan couldn't say it, didn't know where to even fucking start -- but there was something about the way that Kavinsky wrapped his arms around him. It made it easier, somehow, made him feel less like some fundamental part of him was coming unglued. He never would have imagined this as something that was possible. Not for them, anyway. Before, he'd have said that they were too sharp, too damaged, too broken to be able to stand it, to be this vulnerable and offer this sort of comfort without one of them slipping a knife in somewhere.

But he'd been wrong. So wrong.

He doesn't say thank you, but he murmurs appreciatively, breaths a sigh in the space between them as he leans into him, like he needed him even more than he'd known. Like he'd had to get this second chance in order to be able to see just how much he'd lost before. And then there's that question, and before, he'd probably have laughed it off, made some quip about how something was always killing him. But more important, just for a moment, is the fact that he saw Kavinsky flinch.]

For what it's worth, he's alive. I mean, he's asleep, but.. the Unamker didn't get to him or anything. He's at the hospital. His grandmother visits. They think he's in a coma from when his car crashed. But it doesn't matter if they take him off life-support, he wont die. I know it still sucks, but- he's alive. For all I fucking know, after I die Skov and Swan and Jiang figure out how to wake him up and they... I dunno. They find a way to be happier than we were in that world.

[He smiles, but it's bittersweet, looking up at Kavinsky, holding onto him. He's unwilling to let go, but he's trying. To give him something to hope for, to try and make the burn of what had happened to his best-friend not cut so deep. It's not something he's ever been good at, but he wants to help, and he's trying. Maybe in part because it means times to catch his breath before talking about dying.

He almost asks Kavinsky for another drink first, but he knows it'd be mostly cerebral -- it wasn't like it'd hit him fast enough for him to feel it. So instead he just sighs.]

I'm definitely gonna need another drink after this.

[But it's not bitter, not like he's agitated that Kavinsky asked -- he knew the question was coming, after all.]

So I was connected to Cabeswater, somehow. Not like it was dying so I was dying or something like that. But- the Unmaker reached through Cabeswater to get to me. Everything was fucked. Gansey is supposed to die to kill it. And his girlfriend was.. I dunno. Going to kill her true love with a kiss or some bullshit. Anyway. Gansey's going to die and I was literally the fucking last person to know.

[Yeah, he's still kind of frustrated about it. He can understand it from Gansey; talking about your own death was bullshit. And he's always been the type to push his own shit down so that he could worry about Ronan. It was Blue and Adam who had known and not told him that they knew his best-friend was going to die.]

Apparently the only way to kill the fucking thing is a sacrifice on the ley line. Old magic. Gansey dies and so it dies. Or that was the theory, anyway. But it happened too fast. It was like... whatever was fucked up in Cabeswater was spilling over into the waking world. We were driving, trying to get to Cabeswater, because Adam had this idea that if Gansey did the sacrifice there, we could bring him back before he was really dead.

[There's a sound in his throat, somewhere between a sob and laughter, but bitter all the same, and it catches in his throat, and his eyes are rimmed in tears. Because obviously Ronan hadn't lost enough already, had he? And this is both why he hadn't brought it up, because if he didn't talk about it, then he didn't have to face Gansey's death, didn't have to think about it being real. And, well. It's why this takes trust -- because ]

But the street was flooded with blood, and Gansey was trying to figure out what to do but-- it started pulling me apart. I was bleeding black from my face, so he freaks out, of course. I had to-- tell them not to fucking touch it. It dragged me under, into... nothingness. Fragments of time, nothing at all. And all I could do was try and grab a dream, a piece of light to push it back from unmaking me and bringing it back in the instant of being awake, before it would grab me again.

And my phone's ringing the whole fucking time, because it's not just unmaking me, it's... Chainsaw, Orphan Girl... Matthew. So Declan's going to pieces and there isn't shit that I can do about it because I'm losing. [His voice quiets, sad and melancholy and heart-broken.]

It was happening so fast. And all I could throw at it was -- reflex. Flowers and a crown of fire, stars and music, and it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. But I fought it. I tried. After you died, I-- Fuck. There were more than a few nights where I don't know if I would have.

But I did. It wasn't even for a good reason, really. But it was my birthday the night before, I'd dropped out of Aglionby, I kissed Adam Parrish, and it turned out that Declan was only seventy-percent as much of an asshole as I'd assumed. For the first time in months it felt like, I dunno. Like there was-- something, you know?

[He tries to be quiet, to not be obvious, but his body shakes, and he's crying.]

[burnyoudown]

[It took him a moment to realize Ronan had picked up on his reaction to figuring out what must have happened to Prokopenko, but when he did- people didn't usually try to reassure him. They didn't try to comfort Kavinsky. So the fact that Ronan was making this attempt- it made him want to fucking cry. He could feel his throat tighten and the tears burn, but he refused. He blinked them back and cleared his throat.]

So there's hope for him. Maybe someone'll figure something out.

[He had to believe that because the alternative was unbearable.

He listened quietly to Ronan as he spoke after that, eyebrows raising at the fact Gansey had a girlfriend. The girl who'd been at the Fourth of July? He'd already made the joke that came to mind in this moment, so he didn't repeat it. As much as he was tempted to.

It was easier, instead, to be bitter and feel a little lonely that Ronan had had this group of friends who were totally in on all the weird shit in his life, when Kavinsky had only had Prokopenko--and then Ronan. And things with Ronan hadn't gone so well.

He didn't even know who the hell Orphan Girl was, and he didn't particularly care (right now, at least), but the idea of everything Ronan had created being unmade through him was- it made him hold the other dreamer a little tighter.]

I'm sorry. [His throat was tight again with unshed tears and his voice was a soft murmur.] I didn't- I never wanted you to fucking die. It's not fair.

[But life wasn't fair, and Kavinsky was well aware of that. It didn't stop it from feeling especially cruel that the boy he loved had been killed, though. Especially not when his life had just been looking up again.]

Nothing is going to lay a hand on you here. Someone hurts you, I'll break their fucking fingers.

[threesecrets]

Yeah. There's hope.

[He says it as pointedly as he can, smiling at K like he can force that sentiment into his heart if he believes it enough.

But then he's talking about dying, and it's difficult for Ronan to remember that he's just been thinking about there being hope in the world given how black everything feels. Like it's inside of him. And he feels-- he doesn't know. There's a desperation that beats in time to his heartbeat, a need that he doesn't know how to put words to, even when it feels like a coil tightening inside of him.

There's this mix of relief and something unpleasant for having said it, having the weight of it off of his shoulders, so the question isn't hanging in the air between them. But none of it was pleasant to say, even if it did answer why Ronan had been so intense about retrieving Chainsaw. Because he'd thought that she was gone, that he'd lost her, and then she was here. Of course, given who Ronan is, he knows that its possible he dreamt her, but he thinks that he'd be able to tell the difference. And Kavinsky just hugs him tighter, and Ronan clings to him, his cheeks wet and he doesn't even know what he wants.]

I know. I'm just- I'm glad that I'm here with you.

[It sure beat the fucking alternative. Maybe it meant that he never got a chance to see if he could have made things work with Adam, but it also meant not having to figure out what to do with himself. He didn't have to find out if there was a life in the waking world that Ronan could tolerate, or if he was only made for dreams. He didn't have to see what he could tolerate pushing himself through without wanting to throw himself into the sea, and try not to feel like a loser.

Kavinsky says he'll protect him, that he'll break someone's fingers if they hurt him, and it makes Ronan-- fuck, he doesn't know the words. He just knows that he wants him. It takes him a few moments to catch his breath, to try and scrub the tears from his face. So that when he looks up at him, when he smiles at him he can at least try and aim for something sensual -- although his eyelashes are still wet and his blue eyes are glassy.]

What if I want you to put your hands on me?

[He says it like he means it, not like a secret. Here there was no reason to hide it, to feel bad about it -- if there ever had been. He thinks it's the closest he's ever come to actually asking for something he wanted, needed. Where it was words and not just kissing Adam, not just the other boy answering in kind. He couldn't explain the details, but he can feel it. Something to anchor him, to make him feel real and alive. Asking for something because he needed to believe that there could be good things like this, too. That dead didn't have to mean hopeless.]

--Kavinsky. I need you more than the alcohol. I should've asked for it before.

[He slips a hand under Kavinsky's shirt. Not enough to be lewd, not groping against his chest, but he touches him all the same. His fingers tentative and exploratory, drifting up against muscle and then fingers splaying against the other boy's ribs. Ronan sucked in a breath, sharp and shaky, his heart racing, so alive and awake and coiled up inside of himself that he couldn't imagine ever sleeping again. But it was okay, it was fine: did he really need dreams when his body felt charged like this? There existed the potential for pleasure and euphoria, like he could feel good if he let himself.

He forgot. He always forgot. Kavinsky made him remember.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky swallowed. Ronan was here, in his bed, beautiful and miserable and he wanted him and Kavinsky--he almost wasn't sure if he should. Not because he didn't want Ronan, too, but because he was a touch worried it might--cheapen the moment or something. Fuck. He didn't know. He wanted to be good to Ronan, and usually he'd say he wasn't entirely sure he knew how to be. But right now it felt like their walls were down and they were being open and vulnerable with each other and- maybe the moment wasn't exactly romantic, considering what they'd been talking about, but Kavinsky wanted to give Ronan something good to soothe the hurt.

He wanted to love him- not just fuck him, but love him.

Smiling, he cupped the side of Ronan's face in his palm.]

Okay. [His breath came in a little shaky, and not just because Ronan was touching him, sweet and soft.] You know, all the bad shit that happened between us before is behind us.

[He slid down farther into bed, which was easier said than done really, but he managed it all the same, so he could kiss Ronan. He deserved all of the best things in life; Kavinsky could still give him those things. He could still shower him in affection and wealth and material things. And sentimental things, too. He just- he wanted so much but all he needed was Ronan.

Skimming his hand down Ronan's back, fingertips tracing over his spine, he pushed under his shirt. He rubbed small circles across Ronan's lower back, skin-to-skin, and did his best to pretend he didn't want to rush anything. More important than that was the want to treat Ronan sweetly.]