[Ronan wanted this god-awful shirt off, too, but it wasn't as much a priority as kissing Kavinsky was. He wrapped his arms around the other boy, fingers sinking into his dark hair. He was only mindful of his sore knuckles when something brushed the broken skin and reminded him how sore they really were. If it was the price to pay for this moment though, he didn't mind. It was a small price, all things considered.
He chased Kavinsky's mouth when he pulled back, but let him speak, throwing in his response of an-]
Uh-huh.
[-that was more of a grunt than actual syllables. He should have done this months ago. He should have realized how much Kavinsky wanted him that day in the dreaming field. He'd never wanted to see Kavinsky die but he hadn't thought things would come to that, either. Kavinsky was strong and stubborn and never let anyone tell him who he was. In hindsight, maybe he wasn't as strong as Ronan had always thought.
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as they kissed, forgotten about with the other boy's mouth on his. How could he think about anything else except K? Holding onto him was like a balm that soothed some of the worst of his fears and worries. How many dreams and nightmares had he had about K after he'd passed? How many times had he wished he'd done something more? He didn't want to fuck up again.
no subject
He chased Kavinsky's mouth when he pulled back, but let him speak, throwing in his response of an-]
Uh-huh.
[-that was more of a grunt than actual syllables. He should have done this months ago. He should have realized how much Kavinsky wanted him that day in the dreaming field. He'd never wanted to see Kavinsky die but he hadn't thought things would come to that, either. Kavinsky was strong and stubborn and never let anyone tell him who he was. In hindsight, maybe he wasn't as strong as Ronan had always thought.
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as they kissed, forgotten about with the other boy's mouth on his. How could he think about anything else except K? Holding onto him was like a balm that soothed some of the worst of his fears and worries. How many dreams and nightmares had he had about K after he'd passed? How many times had he wished he'd done something more? He didn't want to fuck up again.
God, don't let him fuck up again.]