mitsubishievo | [for Adam; Feb 14]

Entry tags:

[for Adam; Feb 14]

It was cold as shit, and being near half a foot shorter than he'd like to be--still, two days and a fair bout of rolling about the apartment later--wasn't making that any better. Kavinsky had had to break away from Newt and Al's attention because it was getting ridiculous, and they hadn't any food in the house. And neither one of them were going to get him chocolates. So he'd just have to get them himself.

After doing the proper grocery shopping, he'd grabbed himself a box of chocolates, all fancy and branded well from a little kiosk. He was nibbling on them slowly, edges of them as he worked his way across the park.

They were awful good chocolates.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Something about the way the girl said it niggled at Adam's memory but he couldn't place a name to her face, beyond the fact that she looked like a movie star from the grocery store tabloids (The stars without makeup! They're just like us!). Copper whuffed out a half bark but neither flattened her ears nor wagged her tail, which was normal for her. "Sorry, she's shy of people," Adam said. "I think she got kicked around in the past."

It was really good chocolate. The kind that made him feel warm all the way through his belly and Adam had a hard time not smiling. God, she was pretty. Out of his league pretty.

Kavinsky hummed, murmuring in Bulgarian to the little hound as she looked at him confusedly. It was harder to tell with dogs, maybe, than with cats sometimes. But he'd been around more cats so far than dogs, and so he wasn't really sure if that was true or not.

Anyway, it was safer to look at the dog than at Parrish, it seemed. Every time he looked up at Parrish, he caught a look at his face. It was a good enough one, fairly handsome, now that he'd learned, somehow, how to ease back on his intent and fixation and cleaned himself up just a touch. It was a good face, when he smiled.

Kavinsky straightened up a bit, tucking his hair back behind his ear, trying to ignore that Adam had a good smile too.

"Not bad chocolates though, right?"

"God no, they're great," Adam said, suddenly unable to quite catch his breath. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with the need to stay there, to get to know this girl better, to try and get that smile out of her again. He was so caught up that he forgot to hide his accent, losing everything in a long, winding drawl.

"You're beautiful," he blurted. "I don't even know your name but...I gotta know who you are."

Something sank into his stomach, some warm flush of the attention and the familiar drawl of Adam Parrish's stupid Piedmont accent that reminded Kavinsky of the nearest thing he'd called to home for the past four and a half years. Some warm flush from Adam Parrish's eyes and attention on him, that he'd never wanted or needed before but it was here now--

His dog, Copper, nudged at Kavinsky's hand, jostling the grocery bag a little, and the warm flush--more in his lower belly than his face--turned into a creeping sort of guilt. He cleared his throat, ruffling a hand through his hair.

"Uh, thanks," he mumbled, thinking fast. Parrish didn't know him, didn't know who he was, didn't know--Christ. Kavinsky couldn't let that lead on, as priceless as this blackmail might be. He gave Parrish a skeptical, deadpan look, all lifted eyebrows and sharp lines. "...I'm Bulgarian mobster trash, Parrish."

"What?"

She knew his name. She called herself...Adam tried to understand the lump in his stomach, to fully comprehend what was happening. "Kavinsky?" It came out in a whisper and Adam could only stare, his chest aching. My only love sprung from my only hate. He had never appreciated Romeo and Juliet until this very moment.

"But you're..." Beautiful? Radiant? Impossible?

Kavinsky had a roiling feeling in his stomach, a too-warm feeling, and he stared angrily down at his chocolates, waiting for Parrish to finish his sentence. When he didn't Kavinsky stared at the dog. She continued to stare at him with those sad, soulful eyes, and Kavinsky let out a miserable little noise.

"Yeah, yuck it up, Parrish," he grumbled. Through the overly pleasant warmth in his belly, he just felt a little sad, couldn't look at his face for longer than a moment without wanting to touch him.

He wanted to comfort her. That tiny sound, so plaintive, so lost, made Adam's heart ache and he tried to reach out for Kavinsky. If he could just look her in the eyes, clear his head of those bad memories, they could start over. He could show Kavinsky the depth of how he felt. Already, made gestures were swirling through his head.

"You're beautiful," he said again.

The way he said it was probably worse than any punch in the gut Kavinsky had ever received, any slur or nasty rumor Kavinsky had sublimated or worn as armor in the manufacture of who he'd been back in Henrietta, because it was so utterly, completely, not something that anyone from Henrietta would have ever said.

It was, however, something that Newt said.

"I...I should probably..." Kavinsky shuffled a little, swallowed, a little nerve wrecked, clutching his bag and staring at the box of chocolates, at Parrish's hound looking up at him with those soulful eyes and finally starting to look a little less wary, and definitely, absolutely, not at Adam Parrish.

"Yeah," Adam said. He felt as lost as Kavinsky looked, his body wrecked with longing, confusion, and the same strange fluttering heat that he felt when he saw Ronan. Butterflies in his stomach, he realized after a second, because he was hopelessly smitten.

"Will I see you again?"

Even as he asked it, Adam was backing away, dejected.

Kavinsky let out a startled bark of a laugh. He squinted at Adam, hard, all sharp lines and distrust and an inability to speak for the words he couldn't say--a string of things he couldn't say, that were impossible to say.

"Tits. Right. That's the key here. Washes out everything else." Kavinsky managed to smile then, not quite looking up at Adam. "Look, you know you'll see me around at some point, Parrish. Darrow's not that big. It's whether or not you're going to hate my guts because of this or because of everything else."

He licked his lips, crouched down for a second to offer his fingers to Copper. When she lapped at them gently, Kavinsky gently ruffled the dog's ears, mumbling at her in Bulgarian gently before he straightened up and stepped back more firmly.

When she stepped back, Adam knew that he also had to. His heart felt heavy with the realization, but he knew that he couldn't just throw himself into this. No, Adam needed to think. Kavinsky had boyfriends. He had Ronan. If he loved her–and he thought he must–then he'd have to do this the right way.

"But I don't..." No, even like this, Adam knew that wasn't right. He loved and hated Kavinsky in this moment, but the love didn't take away the hate.

Tugging on Copper's leash, he walked deliberately in the other direction.

Kavinsky shuffled back a few more steps, watched Parrish move, watched all the lines of him and didn't think, didn't think, didn't let himself think. There were boys waiting for him back at the apartment; and Parrish had one of his own, one Kavinsky had tried his hand at twice and lost both times.

His stomach twisted. His mind was giving him all sorts of filthy things to think about that he didn't want or need and he pushed through them, pushed them aside, long enough to call out after him, "Hey Parrish!"

His fingers were shaking. He still couldn't look at him. "Don't tell Lynch. As much as you hate me, I'm rather a fan of my general facial configuration, even like this."

Part of him thrilled at them sharing that secret, even as the practicality needled him. They both stood on different sides of a line that had been drawn years ago in Henrietta, Virginia. None of that changed the flush, the heartache, but Adam still knew what couldn't be and, with an aching chest, he knew he had to keep walking away.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[for Adam; Feb 14]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject