mitsubishievo | Hold your breath when the blackbird flies [for Newt]

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Hold your breath when the blackbird flies [for Newt]

For a long time, Kavinsky sat in the garage. The door of it was shut behind him, and he'd turned the Evo off, but there's a terrified, sick part of him that whispered to him. He ignored it. But he sat there, staring at the steering wheel, and the wall beyond. It was late, he thought. Or dark at least.

What the fuck had he just done?

Nothing he was proud of. This wasn't like figuring things out with Jack and Peter, the little caveats that went into those functioning. This wasn't even really like what he'd done with Connor. This was just--it was the nastier parts of what he'd been back in Henrietta. Distraction and use and messing the whole thing up. But there was no hiding it, not like in the halls at Aglionby. There wasn't even anything to hide, physically at least.

Kavinsky sat behind the wheel of the car and wept. How stupid, to be upset over something so small. It wasn't, though. The act itself had been, but not the implications. Not what it could do to all this delicate balance. He felt like a heel. He felt worse than that.

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Newt knows there's something wrong the moment he sets eyes on him. He pauses in the doorway, eyes gone watchful and dark. He tilts his head and ignores the cold shiver of fear in his stomach, the memory of what things had been like last January. And he hadn't even had a ring on his finger then.

"What's happened?" he asks. Not what have you done. Not yet, at least.

Dread flooded Kavinsky. He toed off his shoes and did not play the ignorance he once had. This wasn't coming home the morning after, this wasn't touching someone he wasn't sure he was allowed to. He didn't approach Newt, though he ached to.

At least his boner had gone down during the drive. The last bit of physical evidence of what had happened.

Softly, his voice cracking a little, he said, "So. Apparently I look uncannily like someone Poison knew from home."

"Yeah?" Newt doesn't move to close the space between them, his arms wrapped around himself. He knows the boy, the man in front of him as well as he knows himself - he can imagine where this story is going to lea to. He's heard versions of it before.

Kavinsky's shoulders slumped and he looked away. There were no excuses. He'd learned the weight of apologies over a year ago, and he thought, he thought he'd learned how to behave, how to control himself.

Apparently not.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, and hitched in a breath. "I'm sorry, sugar."

"I thought..." says Newt, sounding almost bewildered for a moment, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "He was a hard no. But just for me, right? Same rules don't apply for you?"

Kavinsky scrubbed at his head. He was neither sober nor fucked up enough for this. His toes curled in his socks, and slowly, he edged toward Newt, and the couch, and sank down into it.

"No, he is," Kavinsky said, pathetically, because he felt pathetic. He kept his eyes down. "It--he is. He's a hard no."

Part of him wanted to try and explain, but all it did was sound like excuses, and he didn't want that. He'd be honest, if Newt asked, but he didn't volunteer what he'd done--that it was bad, because he should have just wrestled the keys away from Poison and taken him home, but it could have been worse. So much worse.

He turned his wedding ring around on his finger.

"but he can't be, right?" Says Newt, staying where he's put himself in the doorway. "Because this is definitely you telling me that you've done something. So how shucking far did you go?"

Kavinsky scrubbed at his face. He sniffled vaguely, trying to find the words. Honesty. There was no going back from this.

"I, uh," he began, and then floundered. He thought it would be easier if Newt wasn't standing over there, watching him, but he didn't ask Newt to come over. "I sucked his dick. In the back of his car."

"Oh."

It's a flat sound. As he says it, Newt feels himself deflate. Oh. There's none of that righteous anger that was there last January when Kavinsky came home after fucking Connor, after letting Connor fuck him. Right now, he's just hurt. "No video evidence this time?"

It's cruel. He hates himself a little the moment that it's out of his shucking mouth.

It's disappointment this time and it somehow hurts more than anger. Kavinsky didn't flinch at the oh, but he did at the question and he's left breathing in around the hurt in his chest.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, so heavily he could feel it in his bones. It didn't matter, though. He knew that. "I know that doesn't change it. I should've--I should've a lot of shit. Fuck."

He leaned over his knees. "Fuck."

In that moment, Newt could no sooner cross the space between them that he could fly in the air. He swallows, watching Kavinsky fold in over himself like he's in physical pain.

"I don't know what you want me to shucking say."

"I don't want you to say anything," Kavinsky admitted, because there was nothing that could be said.

He sat there silently, breathed, tried to think how to fix something that there was no fixing. Finally, after a long silence, he said, "I need to know how to make this right. Not tomorrow, or four months from now, or whatever. Right now. I need to know if there can...if there can be a tomorrow."

"Are you asking me to say it's okay?" Asks Newt. "Because I still want to be married to you but this is not shucking okay, Joe. I trusted you. We had rules."

"No, I'm not asking for you to say it's okay," Kavinsky said and shook his head. "You're right. It's not. It's--yeah. I fucked up. I just..."

Kavinsky scrubbed his fingers in his hair and then looked at Newt. "I want to make this better. I wanna fix this. I don't know how I do that, but you. You mean everything to me, sugar."

"You could blow me," says Newt, the words rough and bitter in his mouth. "Seems to be your shucking answer for everything else."

Kavinsky kept Newt's gaze for a moment, then slowly lowered it. He chewed on his lip stubbornly, shoving down his own bitterness because his didn't make any sense.

"What i don't understand is why the rules apply to me and not you," he says. "Why, once again, it looks like you can do whatever the shucking hell you want and hope to be forgiven."

"It's not like that," Kavinsky said, a little breathless. His chest was tight, a terrible ache in his lungs and his bones and his heart. He kept his gaze down. It was like that, though. For so long, the rules hand't applied to him, because he'd built himself like that.

"And, I--I'm allowed to hope to be forgiven," he said. "I want to earn that. I want to make this okay again. I need to know how I can make this okay, sugar."

Newt shakes his head, still trying to figure everything out. He swallows, tangles the fingers of one hand into his hair.

"I gave you everything i thought you wanted, shank. I thought I was enough, but then there was Jack and Peter and i was okay with that because. You loved me first."

He blinks rapidly, fighting not to cry.

There was something raw in Kavinsky. He had no ground to stand on, so Newt's words hurt and they let him hurt him because what could he possibly say that didn't make him look like an ass.

But he'd gotten to his feet, hands shaking, and he approached him. "I do," he said. "I do love you first. Sugar--Newt. Please. Please? Do you think I'd be here if I didn't love you? If you didn't deserve every scrap of my honesty? I didn't--I hurt you, and I know that, but I'm here."

He stood in front of him, and his voice was very quiet. "But, I'll go too. If you need me to."

"I don't want you to go," says Newt. "Were married - walking out isn't going to help anything." He lets out a shuddering with. "You just went down on him? That's all?"

A deep relief opened up in Kavinsky, but he only exhaled slowly. He wanted to work on this, wanted to work it out and make it better. He'd go, stay somewhere else for a little bit, if he needed to. Newt deserved better than this.

"Um," he breathed, and scrubbed at his scalp. "Yeah, I mean. He kissed me. We--we kissed a bit, but. But yeah, it was just me going down."

His gaze dropped a little. "Don't be mad with him, okay? He was--he was really fucked up and. And I was the one that did something wrong, so."

"Unless you held him down and took it, that's clunk and you know it," says Newt. "He's got enough shucking rules for you and Jack."

Kavinsky shrugged. He was pretty sure he was just digging a bigger hole, but he didn't know what else to do, to say, and he wanted to be honest about everything.

He breathed a helpless, slightly hysterical laugh. "Can we sit down, maybe? I--I don't have to touch you, if you don't want, I just. I'd like to sit down together?"

Newt hesitates for a moment but then he pads over and sits at the opposite end of the sofa.

"Is it always going to be like this?"

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