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Kavinsky is many things . He is beautiful , and he is grand , and he is dying . He's been dying since Ronan met him , and he never seems to pay attention to it . Never enough attention until it's the dead of night and he's finally almost sober - Not quite enough to keep himself from sobbing in the front seat of his Mitsubishi hours after he'd arrived home .
Gansey is all of that and more . He is grand , and he is beautiful , and alive . So alive that Ronan is blinded by it more often than he isn't .
So alive that Kavinsky feels safer to him , in a strange sort of way . Predictable , maybe . He doesn't want to be anything , doesn't want to go anywhere . He's so crippled by himself that he spends most of his time antagonizing Ronan anyway .
And that's why Ronan stares at Kavinsky more than he stares at Gansey . For every night spent together working on the paper town of Henrietta is another spent in the passenger side of a car he shouldn't be in taking pills he doesn't know the name of and waking up in rooms he doesn't recognize . Gansey wants him to stop .
Kavinsky feels like smoke in his bones and lava in his blood . Like a lifeline . It hurts .
Ronan likes it .
Gansey feels like a bandaid on an old wound . Like a timepiece that is worn solely for the sake of it , instead of for any use you might get from it . A beautiful piece of something .
Ronan likes that too , a little bit .
Sometimes Kavinsky hurts more than its worth to keep him placated . It's these times that Ronan disappears , back to his nearly bare room at Monmouth Manufacturing , and he can hear Gansey click his tongue at the mailed in invitations for parties that almost always end up having a death toll for their overdoses .
Kavinsky's hand rests on the stickshift in his Mitsubishi . They aren't moving , but the tension in the car grows with each passing second , so much so that Ronan almost punches him from the passenger seat just to make it tangible .
" Could be you and me , " Kavinsky suggests . Ronan watches the curve of his mouth , and stares at the crinkling next to his eyes as he finishes the sentence . It's grim , and it sounds like a final request from someone on his deathbed .
Perhaps it is .
Ronan doesn't answer - He doesn't have to . They have this conversation nearly every time they meet now . Or , to be more truthful : Kavinsky asks everytime , and Ronan doesn't have to answer . They both know it's a reality that cannot and should not exist .
But dear God if Kavinsky doesn't want it to .
Ronan takes a pill he doesn't know the name of .
Kavinsky takes three .
Sometime later that night the curves of their mouths are pressed together , their hands moving places that they shouldn't , even when they're sober . Ronan dizzily thinks about Gansey finding out about it , and just decides that he won't mention it .
He'll find out anyway . He always does .
They slot together easily . It's a routine they've both become very used to . Ronan waking up in Kavinsky's bedroom , and leaving before the guy has a chance to do anything about it . Kavinsky tries not to let it get to him . It gets to him anyway .
Cheap fucks are easy to come by .
Kavinsky is easier .
Fourth of July is always an event . Fireworks and drugs dreamed into existence by a man who spends less and less time awake every day and every night . The streets seem emptier without him breaking every traffic law known to man .
Ronan looks across the lot of cars . Matthew is in some of them , none of them , all of them at once . Schrödinger's Matthew . There isn't nearly enough time to search all the cars . Adam and Gansey are trying , though , leaving Ronan and Kavinsky in this awful standoff .
Kavinsky towers above him , standing in dirty shoes on top of the Mitsubishi he's chosen for the night . The last night , he supposes .
He grins , a maniacal , sad sort of thing that doesn't quite reach up to the burning flames in his eyes . His arms reach outward , like he's got some grand gesture to make -
" Could be you and me , Ronan . "
Ronan's mouth forms into a thin line . He doesn't have to speak the obvious . Kavinsky wilts anyway . He laughs like it's all some big game , and his arms drop back to his side , digging through his pockets . A baggie is produced , and he tips four pills onto his palm . One moves from his left to his right .
The hand extends .
" Indulge me ? "
He asks , quietly .
Ronan takes the pill and slips it in the front of his jeans , like all the rest of the lint and broken pieces of whatever he felt like shattering . Kavinsky swallows three pills , all brightly coloured and flashy . True to his style .
Kavinsky gestures to a more specific row of cars , and just before Ronan turns to sprint toward it , a hand is on his wrist . Pulling . A mouth fits over his mouth , with less passion than he's used to from the teeth inside of it . A last kiss from a dying star . It feels like something is being lost .
It's a goodbye .
Gansey shouts something from across the lot . Ronan turns away , and somehow Kavinsky melts away from his focus . The hand slips off of his wrist , and he starts running .
Ronan hears first of Kavinsky's death from Adam . Something Gansey would never have told him , and yet Adam's devotion to justice and to goodness brings the words forth . Ronan doesn't move from his bed for days .
The pill Kavinsky had given him lays on his desk , along with a couple balls of lint . Chainsaw already knows not to touch it . She never goes near anything that smells too much like a bad decision and cheap alcohol .
Kavinsky was found , discovered . He'd overdosed in public , a room full of people . It took hours before anyone noticed anything wrong . No one cared about Kavinsky like that . They cared for his drugs .
They cared for his cars , his alcohol . His status .
But no one cares about dying stars , and Ronan made the mistake just like everyone else .