--the worst part, without a doubt, is that this is everything kavinsky has ever wanted to hear. promises to stay, declarations of fidelity, fingers under his chin and an unblinking stare. affection. maybe not as much sex as he'dve liked, but under the mess of yacht lights and bright white cocaine, kavinsky's most vulnerable and pathetic reality was that sex, just like the boats and drugs, had never been enough. had never even been the fucking point. it's just easier to talk about sex than it is the love that he was hoping to steal with it.
it's not that kavinsky has never been offered this before. it's that— the only time it was, maybe a time-and-a-half, fate snatched it out of his hands. aric disappeared into the ether, and vex turned out to be a desperate dream that might as well have been cut from an outright fucking lie. and kavinsky has enough goddamn insight to recognize the common factor.
himself. (dundundun.)
and so it's not kurt's fault, of course, it's not kurt's fault at all, when the voice climbs out of kavinsky's throat cracking like puberty.] That's the stupidest fucking bullshit I've ever heard. Whatever I decide? Whatever I fucking decide? [the traffic doesn't slow as it zooms by. panultima likely sees more than its fair share of divorce, too. he pushes kurt's hand away, his tattooed hands-- almost shaking, for some reason. some stupid reason.] You gonna fucking stand there and gloat about being my best fucking, saving my life, if I kill somebody with a Goddamn tire iron?
Put somebody's puppy in an oven. Waterboard Ronan Lynch's baby fucking brother because it's fun. [he sneers, a little belatedly. it wobbles on his face, then holds, if only barely. he aims a shove at kurt's chest. his strength is— frightening.] Be a candyass or a chump. Not both, mutant bitch.
SCREAMS I AM SORRY KURT tw homophobia etc. dysfunctional screaming.
--the worst part, without a doubt, is that this is everything kavinsky has ever wanted to hear. promises to stay, declarations of fidelity, fingers under his chin and an unblinking stare. affection. maybe not as much sex as he'dve liked, but under the mess of yacht lights and bright white cocaine, kavinsky's most vulnerable and pathetic reality was that sex, just like the boats and drugs, had never been enough. had never even been the fucking point. it's just easier to talk about sex than it is the love that he was hoping to steal with it.
it's not that kavinsky has never been offered this before. it's that— the only time it was, maybe a time-and-a-half, fate snatched it out of his hands. aric disappeared into the ether, and vex turned out to be a desperate dream that might as well have been cut from an outright fucking lie. and kavinsky has enough goddamn insight to recognize the common factor.
himself. (dundundun.)
and so it's not kurt's fault, of course, it's not kurt's fault at all, when the voice climbs out of kavinsky's throat cracking like puberty.] That's the stupidest fucking bullshit I've ever heard. Whatever I decide? Whatever I fucking decide? [the traffic doesn't slow as it zooms by. panultima likely sees more than its fair share of divorce, too. he pushes kurt's hand away, his tattooed hands-- almost shaking, for some reason. some stupid reason.] You gonna fucking stand there and gloat about being my best fucking, saving my life, if I kill somebody with a Goddamn tire iron?
Put somebody's puppy in an oven. Waterboard Ronan Lynch's baby fucking brother because it's fun. [he sneers, a little belatedly. it wobbles on his face, then holds, if only barely. he aims a shove at kurt's chest. his strength is— frightening.] Be a candyass or a chump. Not both, mutant bitch.