TEXTS FROM LAST NIGHT

[sanjunipero]

TEXTS FROM LAST NIGHT

Have a little too much to drink last night and send that embarrassing text to your ex?

Did you party a little too hard and send pictures of the wild night... to all of your contacts?

Was 3am when you dusted off the number of that old flame and confessed how much you wanted them back?

Or simply catching up on the adventures that drunk you got into?

Just because heaven is a place on earth at San Junipero doesn't mean it's without any consequence. Be careful checking your phone in the morning, it might have some weird texts from last night.

MAY BE NSFW

Comments

[corve]

[ Hours pass and Ronan completely ignores the unread messages in his inbox. He knows who they're from and, more importantly, he knows that the second he reads them, his fingers will type out a reply and he'll be indulging in Kavinsky's little game again.

But, as the night goes on, Ronan becomes restless. He can't sleep and when he does close his eyes he can't dream -- and, fuck if that's not something he misses, like his own personal escape, a private sanctuary in a place that only a few know about. So he stares at his ceiling and thinks: about Henrietta, about Adam, Gansey, and Blue, about his BMW, about the few remaining red pills hidden away in an old Altoids container in the glovebox, about the white sunglasses hidden even further behind them.

And eventually, as he always does, about Kavinsky.

Snatching his phone up, he types only 2 words, sending them before regret can rear its ugly head and stop him. ]

you up?

[ Weakness in its truest form. How long had he lasted? Four hours? Maybe five? ]

[fucking_kavinsky]

[At first, Kavinsky is furious when Ronan doesn't text back. There's nothing that gets to him more than dismissal. He knows Ronan knows this, so that means the other boy is doing this on purpose and after all this time, after all the damn pretending, it still burns inside of him.

There are no brothers to kidnap here though, no friends he can drug, so he goes out to the back of his house and starts putting together molotovs. One after another, lining them up on the steps of his porch. What he can still do here, is burn Ronan down.

But then what? Kavinsky doesn't even know if there's any punishment here for killing someone who's already dead. Funny enough, he's never gotten to that point here. Then again, killing was never actually Kavinsky's game. Sometimes it just happened. Like with his father, like with Prokopenko.

So he ends up torching his own house instead, then sits there getting wasted while it burns. It's not like there's anything in there he wants anyway. None of it is from his dreams and everything will be right back in it's place by the time the system catches up with the fire. It's sickening.

By the time Ronan texts him back, there's a pretty decently raging fire, and Kavinsky sprawled out on the sand, watching it. As always, the small buzz from his phone catches his attention no matter what he's doing. He pulls his phone out and laughs, then takes a picture of his burning house and sends it to Ronan ]

[corve]

[ Ronan feels far more stupid starin st the screen of his phone anticipating a reply than he had when he'd sent the message itself. What was he hoping for? A pleasant conversation with Kavinsky about current events, or their few (more like many) shared interests? They were rarely ever friendly with one another back when Ronan was a teenager, but as much as he might hate to admit it, Kavinsky's the closest thing he has to a friend in this place.

And if that isn't a depressing thought in itself. The one person that he could consider his "friend" -- and didn't it make him cringe just to think of the words Joseph Kavinsky and His Friend in the same sentence -- was also someone he couldn't stand. Someone who made his skin crawl and his blood boil and his vision go red with fury.

Yet, despite all that, he's waiting with baited breath for a reply from the other.

When it finally comes it takes Ronan a minute to realize exactly what the picture is. A fire, obviously.
But... it was too big to be a bonfire and the structure itself looked vaguely familiar. ]

is that.... your place?

[fucking_kavinsky]

[Were they ever friends? No. Were they every other fucking thing? Probably. Kavinsky once thought it was going to be him and Ronan till the end. He had worked it all out in his head, down to the image of the two of them telling every single other person to fuck off and the two of them walking off into a fire together, like a goddamn sunset or something.

Clearly that did not work out, but apparently he's still trying, even if it's full on denial no matter how it goes. It has to be, this time. He's stuck here. This nightmare won't ever end.

Still, he feels utterly satisfied when Ronan keeps texting him back after telling him he absolutely won't. Small victories. ]

It was almost yours, but I decided ur place didn't deserve a fire this grand.

[corve]

[ Ronan actually rolls over in his bed to peek out of a nearby window, trying to see if he can catch sight of the blaze from. He's not exactly sure how far Kavinsky's house is from his own -- the time that he'd found himself there in the middle of the night, he hadn't paid much attention to just how far of a distance it was from his own home.

But, there's nothing more than the dark night sky, stars twinkling overhead and the dull lights of the strip a short distance away. If the blaze of Kavinsky's house was visible, it seemed like just another neon light in a sea of many.

The response earns a snort of laughter as he rolls back over onto his back, one arm folded under his head as he struggles to text with only one hand --he's not exactly as skilled in the art of is as most 21 year-olds. Ronan and technology were never really on the same page. ]

it's almost like you had a conscience for a second.
i'm touched.

[fucking_kavinsky]

[ Kavinsky hasn't checked out where Ronan's house is either (well, maybe in passing, but he was heading that way already), so he's not sure if Ronan can see the fire, but Kavinsky will be sure to send him all angles off it, in between downing more vodka.

Ronan's slow, but Ronan's always been slow and Kavinsky was always willing to wait, all up until the very end. Now he's being forced to repeat it all, over and over again. ]

yea ur fukin touched in the head.
like id waste my fuking time.

[corve]

[ A few more pictures of the blaze arrive to his phone and he thumbs through them pretty carelessly -- there's something far less adrenaline-inducing about only being able to see the entire thing burning up right before his eyes. -- the same disinterested look that he's so perfectly curated over all of these years.

It doesn't falter even when he's alone. ]

maybe. but what's your excuse then?

having a conscience or burning my house down?

[ Considering Kavinsky literally just said that was almost his plan, but now he wouldn't waste his time? The guy is pretty fucking confusing. ]

[fucking_kavinsky]

[Sucks for Ronan, being so far away from it, when Kavinsky is laying out enjoying the fire on this nice night. If he hadn't been such a piece of shit earlier, maybe he wouldn't having such a lonesome sleepless night right now. ]

sine when do i need an excuse to burn shit down???

both, bitch. but apparently 10 times a charm for u.

[Since Ronan said he wouldnt' be contacting him anymore after the 8th time. There's nothing confusing about this. He had a plan and decided it was a waste of time, waste of energy and waste of whatever shit he might get in afterwards. It's about as straightforward as it gets, unless Ronan is hoping Kavinsky will say something he wants to hear]

u learn my # by heart? how fukin sweet.