mitsubishievo | (no subject)

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Time moved. He'd been married for a month now, nineteen for a handful of days. He hadn't turned into a girl this year, and that was, Kavinsky wasn't sure, an improvement or not on last year. The days were long, and cold; if it wasn't snowing, it was raining. If it wasn't raining, it was windy as hell. Kavinsky was done with winter. He was over it.

He and Jack still talked, texted mostly, and Kavinsky wasn't entirely sure if the distance was just because Kavinsky had been busy with work and Jack had been busy with classes, or if Jack was making a conscious effort to stay away from him, like Kavinsky might not respect that Jack had put up a roadblock on whatever they were--had been--doing.

He didn't like the roadblock. He supposed he didn't have to like it. That wasn't the point. Kavinsky was just tired of one of his best friends being sort of inaccessible.

So, Kavinsky was sitting at a light when he called Jack. He picked up, which meant he probably wasn't in class, but Kavinsky said, "Are you in class right now?" anyway, and then followed it swiftly with, "Play hookie with me, if you are, bitch. I'm way more fun than color theory."

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"Colour theory was yesterday, asshole," says Jack, rolling his eyes. "But I'm out for the rest of the day so...come get me. I'll wait."

And he does, leaning back against a wall with his beanie pulled down over his hair. He pushes away and wanders over towards the curb when he sees the Evo coming down the street.

It was a quick drive from the light he'd been at to the campus. Kavinsky pulled up to the curb and rolled the window down, turned the music down low and thumping, as he grinned at Jack from inside. "Hey there, sailor, how much for an hour?"

"You couldn't afford me," says Jack, grinning as he walks around the car and slides into the passenger seat. He rolls his eyes. "C'mon. Your place or mine?"

"Yours," Kavinsky declared. They had a consistent oath that Jack's place was something like neutral ground, that it was always just friends there. So Kavinsky didn't feel weird about suggesting it at all. He let Jack settle and then pulled away from the curb.

"How're classes this term?"

"Pretty okay," says Jack, settling in the seat. "I'm actually taking a class on the history of graffiti, which is pretty cool. Lecturer's mentioned the gold artwork around town a couple of times." He grins.

Kavinsky snorted a little bit, shaking his head. He was, unconsciously, heading toward the apartment building that Jack and Poison and the girls had been in. "Congratulations on your anonymous celebrity status, dude. Is the lecturer trying to make claims on what it all means, yet?"

"Wrong way, man," he says. "We're out near you guys now, remember?" He laughs, shaking his head. "Not yet, but the way he's talking, I wouldn't be surprised if I have to go through a lecture of him trying to interpret it all. Hey, man, my sister's kind of disconnected and, sometimes, she needs to feel like you're talking to her."

"Shit, fuck, that's right," Kavinsky said, breathing a laugh. He didn't point out that he hadn't really seen the place, not since the move. It was a weird situation. He left it alone. "Just tell me when and where to turn and shit."

He smiled a little, turning the music up a bit as he headed in the proper direction.

"I like her. Your sister. She's chill."

"She'd said you met her," says Jack, eyebrows raised. "How did that go? I take it she managed not to freak."

"It was good," he said, nodding affirmatively. They'd talked for a while, about a whole bunch of stuff, and carefully avoided, for the most part, talking about Jack. "Still trying to peg down what might be good for any sort of, ya know, permanent improvement? If that's what she wants. But it was good to talk to her. She's smart. Wasn't expecting her to look that much like you."

"Yeah, we're pretty much as identical as you can get with fraternal twins," says Jack, nodding. "It's kind of unnerving if you're not expecting it, right?"

"A little," Kavinsky admitted. Then he laughed and shook his head. "I was sorta worried that--ya know, 'cause you were a girl, and I was here for that? Nope. Nada. Phew, thank God, I thought I was gonna have to hit on your sister and turn in my gay card."

"That would have been really fucking complicated," says Jack, laughing a little, ignoring the uncharacteristic stab of jealousy that he feels. "I would so not have been okay with you hitting on Jillian."

"Lucky for you," Kavinsky said, but that was ridiculous. It wasn't as if they were doing anything, for all that Kavinsky missed him, wished that they were. He couldn't say those words, not when he was taping his wedding ring on the steering wheel. "I promise I'm not after your sister."

"I've been thinking," says Jack, quietly. "About us. About..." He gropes for the word for a moment. "My hang-ups. With us."

"Yeah?" Kavinsky was impressed with himself, remembering the navigation to Jack's new place. He pulled up on the curb outside the townhouse, looking at it, looking at Jack's and Poison's cars parked outside.

He turned off the car and just sat their a second. If he didn't get his hopes up, he couldn't be disappointed. That was a lie. He was disappointed in himself for wanting to get his hopes up.

"How's that been goin'?"

"I don't know," says Jack, because he really sees no point in not being honest right now. "I still haven't...I haven't figured it out? But..." He glances over at Kavinsky. "I miss you."

Kavinsky looked at Jack, trying to understand the twist in his stomach. He missed him? What did that mean? What was there to miss here, when Jack had assured that this was friends who fucked--all they'd done was take out the fucking part.

"I didn't go anywhere," Kavinsky said, almost a hiss, because he was frustrated. "I'm just trying to--look, man. I didn't go anywhere and I'm not going anywhere, so it's up to you to figure this shit out for yourself, right? I can't change it if the ring is a huge hang up for you. If it is now, it's gonna keep being, I figure. You know?"

It hurt to admit that.

"Yeah, but..." He frowns, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Poison kind of acted like he can't see what my problem is, and so did Jillie, and you....I think...I think they have a point? I don't know what my problem is."

Kavinsky quieted the ache in his chest as much as he possibly could. Just because someone didn't see it from Jack's perspective didn't mean they were more right; he knew what he wanted and, at the moment, that wasn't Kavinsky.

He let his hands fall off the steering wheel and into his lap.

"Look," he said, and then lost the train of his words for a second. "Look, you know how I feel. But that's--it doesn't matter, right? If you're not comfortable with the arrangement, then I'm not gonna make you try. And if you need more time to figure out how you feel, then that's--it's whatever."

He wanted, desperately, to kiss Jack. To remind him of the physical part of this. Kavinsky missed it. But he could be good, a good friend and a better person, if that's what Jack needed instead.

He's spoken to Poison. He knows where he stands here. He knows what he's allowed to do. He texted Poison - Poison knows he's here. He draws in a little shivering breath.

"I miss you," he says again. "I don't need anymore time to figure it out."

Kavinsky let the ache grow and chew, a maw on the inside of his ribs. He missed Jack too, more than he knew how to describe. He wasn't sure he could really handle this being on again-off again based on Jack's moods for a given day. But the friendship was crucial to him. He wasn't sure how to manage that, either.

He tilted his head back and sighed, looking at Jack for a second. Then, he offered a quiet, reedy laugh.

"Wanna go for a walk? I--I mean, I was just thinking we'd fuck around and watch tv, and now I've gotta, like. Reign my shit in 'cause we're at your place and shit's back on the table."

"We can definitely walk," says Jack, nodding. "Okay if I leave my bag and my portfolio in the car, though, until we get back? It's completely, ridiculously unwieldy."

"Yeah," Kavinsky said, flapping a hand vaguely. He got out of the car. "You wanna put it in the trunk? Not sure what you're carrying around." Not that any part of Darrow was particularly shady or crime ridden, but if it made Jack more comfortable, they'd put his things in the trunk so as not to tempt would-be thieves.

"Yeah. I've got my tablet and my laptop in my bag." Jack swings up out of the car, grabbing his backpack but leaving his portfolio in the back seat. He drops his bag into the trunk and then steps away, hands in his pockets. "C'mon. Let's walk."