[Somehow he'd known that Gansey would ask for clarification. That's just how Gansey was, always needing a direct answer, always wanting to know the how. How does a car run? How does magic really work in the world? How does Adam Parrish really feel about Richard Gansey?
And maybe what he hates the most is that he doesn't have Gansey's talent for speech, at least not when it counted. Even worse when he didn't even have the real answer in his own head. Just earlier that day, he'd been furious with Gansey, shutting the door of the Camaro fiercely with rage, the exact tone of fuck you still a clear echo in his solitary functioning ear. So how could Adam possibly know anything in regards to how he sees Gansey in this moment? How could Adam explain that in clear words when all he wanted to do to Gansey was just scream at him or punch him or ... or ....
His blue eyes burn with a new found fire, out of a simmering anger again, perhaps, or maybe it's the sequence of events that have him in a consistent encouragement to just act instead of thinking as he's always let himself do. This time, no more observing. Put yourself in there. The advice he's offered to himself these days. So maybe that's why he shifts where he sits, turning to lift his knee upon the bed, leaning up over it so he can curve his hand at the back of Gansey's neck and drag him in.
It's not as rough as it's estimated to be when Adam moves in with such ferocity. In fact, the kiss is quite gentle even as Adam's lips press firmly and frozen against Gansey's. He hardly moves because he forgets himself in those brief seconds, feeling nothing but.
Gansey.
Breathing hard through his nose, he parts barely, enough to sigh from his mouth again. Lips still grazing, like a magnet that can't be tugged away, Adam barely even whispers.] Damn it.
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And maybe what he hates the most is that he doesn't have Gansey's talent for speech, at least not when it counted. Even worse when he didn't even have the real answer in his own head. Just earlier that day, he'd been furious with Gansey, shutting the door of the Camaro fiercely with rage, the exact tone of fuck you still a clear echo in his solitary functioning ear. So how could Adam possibly know anything in regards to how he sees Gansey in this moment? How could Adam explain that in clear words when all he wanted to do to Gansey was just scream at him or punch him or ... or ....
His blue eyes burn with a new found fire, out of a simmering anger again, perhaps, or maybe it's the sequence of events that have him in a consistent encouragement to just act instead of thinking as he's always let himself do. This time, no more observing. Put yourself in there. The advice he's offered to himself these days. So maybe that's why he shifts where he sits, turning to lift his knee upon the bed, leaning up over it so he can curve his hand at the back of Gansey's neck and drag him in.
It's not as rough as it's estimated to be when Adam moves in with such ferocity. In fact, the kiss is quite gentle even as Adam's lips press firmly and frozen against Gansey's. He hardly moves because he forgets himself in those brief seconds, feeling nothing but.
Gansey.
Breathing hard through his nose, he parts barely, enough to sigh from his mouth again. Lips still grazing, like a magnet that can't be tugged away, Adam barely even whispers.] Damn it.