PSL/Meme Continuation

[kingseeking]

for PSLs and meme continuation/overflow

Comments

don't let it in with no intention to keep it, jesus christ

[kingseeking]

[There was a point at which things had "started" with Kavinsky, and that was relatively clear to Gansey. But at which point things had "become" with Kavinsky was less clear. That is to say, what had "started" as an occasional visit to Monmouth had "become" more a matter of a fixture than a guest. Something about Gansey wanted to resist this at first - that "something" was that Gansey didn't like Kavinsky. But Ronan had spoken his camaraderie into truth, and Gansey was no one to deny him of it. So Kavinsky had "started". But when had he "become"? When did perpetual feather-ruffling turn into something Gansey expected, brushed off, even laughed at? When had it become Kavinsky who stayed up with Gansey late into the early morning hours while he perseverated on whatever he happened to be perseverating on. And when had Gansey come not to mind it?

[The implication of either sex, drugs, or both isn't lost on him, but it doesn't bother him either, because Kavinsky said it, and that's just what he does, and Gansey doesn't find it offensive anymore. It's familiar. It's within the walls of Monmouth, among the tiny cardboard streets, sitting in his desk chair, chewing on his mint leaves. Just like Ronan when he plays music loud enough that you can hear it through his door, or like Adam when he's finishing his homework on the other side of mini Henrietta, or like Noah when he sits on the floor with his back against the wall, or like Blue when she snarks about his boat shoes.

["Right-ness" creeping up on him so slowly that he doesn't even place it.

[Gansey doesn't look up from where he's gluing a roof tile in place, but he does furrow his brow a little bit. His voice is a little idle when he speaks, his focus on rebuilding the cardboard town, and on Glendower, and on staying upright.]

What's that one? "Dimochka". Something vile?

[dreamforger]

Of course. Nothing but the most vulgar for you.

[But his tone is soft, a little bit sly in that sweet way he has sometimes, in these quiet moments where he seemed to think that no one would call him on it. The words sound more like a sort of veneration than the insult he's supposedly implying. His mouth tingles faintly with the mint leave he crushes between his teeth and slides against his tongue and he lets himself watch him without worrying about if he'll catch him at it.

It's this undone side of Gansey that captivated him, not that he'd ever say so outloud. Studious and yearning and reaching for things bigger than himself, so caught up in his own head it was almost painful to watch. But maybe that was just redirection, trying to ignore his own ragged edges. He lets the chair rock to settle flat on the floor, body shifting so he perches on the edge. He's not quite willing to brave the space between them, when this has become safe and comfortable. But he shortens it with how he shifts, the body language in how he leans forward, dark eyes bright, even as his fingers tap against his knee with nervous energy and the fact that he's craving a cigarette.

All the cute lines about Henrietta's two kings were bullshit, in the end. Not that Gansey ever asked or offered. It was just that one day Kavinsky realized that as much as he still had his own spaces, that some piece of him belonged here. It wasn't that K was ditching Proko and his boys, it was just that- well. It was this. He thought that he'd been following Ronan, begging for his attention. But the other dreamer was off making out with Adam, and Kavinsky was still ensconced here within the walls of Monmouth. It was comforting, even when that rejection burrowed a hole in his heart.

Technically, Ronan hadn't even quite rejected him- he'd just picked Adam instead, but it was still a wound. He isn't quite sure if the low hum of interest he feels for Gansey was always there and just obscured by his insecurity, or if it's just the hurt. Because he hadn't even considered Adam a threat. He'd been so sure that Gansey was going to be the one that stole Ronan from his fingers. And now Ronan was beyond his reach and he couldn't stop looking at him.

If he was a different- better- person, maybe he'd say something about it, try to commiserate, to talk--]

If you'd rather something sweet, I can do that too. Malko kote, seks ima li?

[Which is not actually sweet, of course. The rough meaning comes out to something like wanna fuck me, kitten, and he doesn't even try to hide it. His tone says pickup line and it also says filthy. But it's with a sort of laser-focus, something like purpose and intention in the slow way he rolls the syllables off of his tongue, smooth as silk. He knows he's pushing, likely to ruffle the other boy's feathers.

Kavinsky just can't help himself sometimes. But he doesn't actually want to upset the other boy, doesn't want to go back to before, but he does want to blur the lines. Remind Gansey that whatever they are it isn't friends. But that's mostly just because he wants to kiss him, or let his fingers find out just what varsity rowing team did for his body under the hideous clothes he puts himself in.]

[kingseeking]

[“Seks” sounds enough like an English word that Gansey turns to shoot Kavinsky a look, but like before, he isn’t actually offended. It’s nothing worse than something Ronan might say in Latin, probably.]

That was more so, surely.

[Back to his gluing. This is indeed the version of Gansey that lives trapped in his own head. He won’t admit to himself what really has attention right now, and that it’s the boy he likes off with another, and that the other his best friend. Somehow, he’d misread all the signals, and he and Kavinsky had been left in the same boat. That bothers him. He isn’t quite used to being rejected, even if it wasn’t really a rejection. And maybe it bothers him more than he’s ready to acknowledge that he’d been wrong about the two people he thought he knew best in the world.]

Doesn’t it take the fun out of the joke a bit when the other person can’t understand it? I don’t even know what you’re saying at my expense.

[dreamforger]

What makes you think it was at your expense? I told you it was the sweet one, didn't I?

[He grins under the look that Gansey gives him, his eyes brightening, green that flickers like he's feeding off of it, the exact thing he wanted. And Kavinsky he lets his attention settle on him like something intentional, gaze sliding over his shoulders, like he wants to see how much of this the other boy will allow him. Something about these strange hours too far after midnight and too far from dawn, like the distance feels less than real.

K isn't really good at sweet, and both of them know it. At least, he wasn't good at being sweet with the things he said outloud, where he had to acknowledge it where people could see. Where there was vulnerability and exposing himself in a way that history said was always pain. So much of who he is was built on being all sharp edges.

There were pieces that fell away once in a while though, the closer he ended up snared in this strange mess of friends. Much like with Ronan, there small gifts when they seemed to need them: pieces dreamt for Gansey's model town or a globe of glitter for Noah. For the ever-prickly Adam they were SAT study materials and gloves when his old ones started showing holes in October. For Blue's birthday Kavinsky bought a grove of trees in her name to restore a national forest damaged by wildfires; a gps address and photos tucked into a carefully patchwork paper envelope.

There's something soft to the bonfire of a boy, but he says it better in anything but words, always like something that needs to be peeled down to reach. His mouth is always sharp, like he's hiding himself behind the things he says.]

It was more of an invitation, Gansey Boy. I'll say it again in English for you, if you want me to.

[He says it like something he's stealing, a flash of sharp white teeth under the plush red of his mouth. But there's something implicitly soft to it: if you want me to. Like an offer and asking permission all at once, even if he doesn't quite know why he does it. He's different when they're alone like this, but he's only just started noticing.

He doesn't make offers he doesn't mean, isn't willing to follow through with. It'd mean risking backing down and that isn't Kavinsky's style. Not that he thinks Gansey will say yes, but the implication under the playful heckling is that the slender Bulgarian teen would.]