[for Adam; Feb 14]

[mitsubishievo]

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.

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[mitsubishievo]

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."

[incognoscibilis]

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.