i am not going to turn adam/kavinsky thing into a decent fic, so i am here today to let you see 0.9k words with no-gangsey!adam, who just happens to find his way to kavinsky, which results into both of them being disturbing freaks, except they both are fine with that. no beta we die like niall lynch, god bless.
Adam knows every inch of the blanket he is lying under in a poor imitation of the shield better than he knows himself.
It is made from a thin, washed-out green fabric. In the addition to countless threads sticking out of it, there is also a singular hole from when Robert Parrish tried to put out a cigarette on his son’s skin. And just like every other thing in this stuffed, suffocating trailer house, this blanket is not Adam’s. Nothing in this world is.
Once he finds a way to escape this house and town, he would get everything he wanted and even more. By the time he will succeed, no one would remember a son of Robert Parrish that was working as a mechanic in all his free time. But they will surely know who Adam Parrish is.
He spends another ten minutes stewing this thought within the walls of his mind, refusing to forget himself in the short nap that never feels real enough to be awakened from it, until he hears a surprisingly polite knock on his window.
Adam knows better than to make the person by the other side wait. Because otherwise he would get impatient, and things will turn ugly for them both, and Adam is, honestly, not quite in the mood to wrestle with an emotionally incompetent junkie that Joseph Kavinsky is.
So, he climbs out of his bunk bed, and leans in to crack the window open just enough to be met by a shit-eating grin on the hollowed face, and his own reflection in the colourful sunglasses that sit at the tip of the crooked nose.
“Din-dong, Parrish,” Kavinsky muses, his voice scrappy at the best, tolerable at the worst.
“What are you doing here?” Adam whispers, his words coming out more as soundless movements of lips rather than a properly pronounced sentence.
Joseph Kavinsky is the last thing in this whole town that Adam could call his, but it is not like he wants to own him, anyway.
He is more of a haunting creature, fleeting through his thoughts in specific moments, than a human. Kavinsky hangs around abandoned locations alongside his perfectly abandoned friends, and disappears every time someone real gets closer to become someone that matters to him.
Adam envies him, because he is free in every single way Adam wants to be free. All riches in the world falls to his feet, when he wants them to be, and time bends underneath him before it bows to all responsibility a one owns to themselves. Except, Kavinsky chooses to waste it all on something as disgraceful as races and drugs that keep fucking his mind more than Mister Kavinsky’s fists could. What a privileged asshole, is he not?
“Aw, can’t I just want to check how my good friend is doing?”
“Don’t see anyone fitting the description here,” Adam deadpans. “Try the next house. My prayers are with you.”
“Or I can try knocking on the next window, smartass,” Kavinsky scoffs.
The next window next to Adam’s is his parents’ bedroom. Knowing Joseph-motherfucking-Kavinsky he might just try that and come off unscathed, unlike Adam.
“Pull out that shit and your car is going to explode the next time you are in it,” Adam’s hand flies up to sink his nails in the soft skin of Kavinsky’s neck, causing him to moan unabashedly. “Is that clear, mutt?”
“God, Parrish, that was hot,” he feels Kavinsky’s laughter coming out in a vibrating buzz under his palm before he hears it. “Wanna help me down there now?”
Adam has no doubts that if he lets Kavinsky inside his room to press his naked knee between those jeans, he will be as hard as rock, ready to cling to him with a desperation of a dog in the heat.
“Go fuck yourself,” he huffs, before releasing his neck, instantly mourning the loss of bits of control he owned just a second ago.
Being wanted by the boy, who wants everything and nothing at the same time, shouldn’t feel like a compliment, and yet it does.
Because Joseph Kavinsky has a luxurious appetite, a hunger of a bastard he is. And for whatever reason, he never gets full of Adam, no matter how much they taste each other. Maybe, this is precisely why Adam lets him come back every single time.
“Can I do that on your bed, baby?” Kavinsky taunts him, leaning closer, his tongue licking his lips as a promise for a treat. “I am going to be quick, I promise.”
“Oh, man, I can bet you will be quick,” Adam rolls his eyes, though there is a ghost of satisfaction in his voice that usually makes Kavinsky go rabid.
It is a double-edged sword that they battle for, except if Adam allows himself to hold it any looser than this, then Kavinsky is going to drag them both to hell where they belong to. And Adam kind of wants to escape it, while he can. Something that Kavinsky is going to help him with, if he just teaches him how to be a good boy. Which won’t be necessarily hard — not when Adam sees his distorted reflection every time he peeks in the mirror.
“Come here,” Adam steps back from the window, beckoning Kavinsky closer.
“Aw, is my good friend wants to cum, while I am describing him how I would smear his daddy’s brains on the walls of his little trailer-house?”
But he is climbing through his window, anyway.
They both had been hungry for too long to deny it.
