[you sound like a fucking priest, kavinsky thinks of saying. dismissive and crude. this is a waste of time. if he doesn't get to play gay chicken with kylo ren, then what's the point? what else is there between them?

ronan. whom he's only ever caused pain and frustration. them sins.]

I'd say more than half of me.

[he's not being facetious. well-- he is. but not only facetious. kavinsky gathers his feet underneath him and straightens, suddenly, standing himself full upright. it's pretty out here, because ronan made it. a ronan before this one. reminders of endings, of leaving, and nothing good stays— but that with each successive year, of each iteration, all that does remain indeed are his sins.] Depends what kind of person you are, Ren.

You get people who fuck with whoever fucks with them. And you get people who fuck with the ones who don't, because they can. Some have emotional scars, and other people have scars on scars.

[(kavinsky has never watched a star war movie, okay, or he'd be more cognizant of the unlevel playing field here.)

(but he looks at kylo, his defiance less simple or sexual now, but maybe more honest for that, his face blank in a way that means he's angry. confused, too.)]

Life is what other people dream for you. And nobody's fucking stupid enough to dream about me anymore.