kingstonoverstreet:
What Kingston finds the most interesting about chess, and all its complicated components, is that you never really know where the game will go. One can believe they have won, but then one simple move, even if it is not a misstep, can lead to an alternate ending, that one he did not even see. Maybe replying with truc was a misstep. Mentioning his name, however, in an attempt to appear kind was definitely a mistake, the wrong move, but sadly, he cannot turn back time and change it.
The truc about chess, in all its glory, is that one always has to find a way to untangle themselves from the mess they’ve walked into, correct a miscalculation they’ve made, or plainly navigate through a sudden event they haven’t expected to occur. Kingston adores that about chess, even if, at the moment, it leads to a major annoyance and inconvenience.
“It would be,” he chuckles, looking up at Andrew. His eyes quickly scan around him in order to see who is watching, and Kingston makes quick note about each person around them before focusing his attention back to Andrew, armed with one less bishop than he had before. Its space is now taken up by a queen he has failed to recognize. “Et toi? Andrew du rose? C’est pas intéressant, ça? Ou, est-ce qu’il y a un autre nom que je peux t’appeler?”
One thing Kingston observed about Andrew is that, overall, he was friendly, a people’s person, so being cold and distant is futile. Instead of deterring him, it would only raise suspicion. The ones who seem the most friendly, or naive, are usually the ones who are the most observant, analytical, and Kingston has no doubt that Andrew is one of these individuals. “Cela pourrait être tout ce que tu veux, Andrew.” He leans his head against the wall, looking up at Andrew with a soft look, and waits for him to make his next move.
If it ends up being unexpected, that’s even better.
The joke-offense met a more receptive response than Andrew would’ve expected. He wanted to caught the freshman off guards, but this one here reacted pretty well, not disturbed a bit, so it seemed, and even chuckling. That was enlightening.
And when he replied to him in the same language, Andrew felt a little overtaken. “Woow, easy there... The last time i spoke french was in my french class in high school, like, four years ago...” That was a lie, he could remember a time he tried having a conversation in french with his french friend Florian. He wasn’t ashamed though admitting that he didn’t have Kingston’s level in french. Neither did he have his accent. Andrew had got to admit he never made an effort at the frog prononciation.
He took his hand to his forehead for a few seconds, thinking about what Kingston just said to him, trying to dismantle the sentence to make sense of it, and gathering the french words, long lost in his mind, needed to answer it.
He would throw little looks at Kingston, looking satisfied leaning against the wall. What was this kid trying to do —or to prove ?
When he got the question, it confirmed his first guess. The question, he couldn’t help it, but seemed a little sexually tense to Andrew. He would’ve never imagine the conversation to turn out this way. “Tu peux m’appeler... comment tu veux...” he said finally, smooth voice with a wink and a little smirk. He didn’t want to make Kingston uncomfortable, so he chuckled a little to let him know this was purely a joke. He couldn’t tell if this knew acquaintance was hitting on him, if he was into boys, but Andrew wasn’t the type of bringing someone he just met into his bed. And he wanted the message to be clear without having to actually mention it.
“Or is it “comme” ? I’ve never quite got the difference between the two." Florian has explained it to him more than once, but Andrew just couldn't register it. "Anyway, how come you’re good at french ?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

















