ｒｏｎａｎ ｌｙｎｃｈ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saevio) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lucidstrings2015-10-24 08:36 pm
saevio) wrote in lucidstrings2015-10-24 08:36 pm
for bigkanimaoncampus
[Ronan arrives first at the arranged spot. It's underneath the bleachers at the lacrosse field, secluded, away from possible curious eyes. It's also stuffy, dust rising from the sand beneath his feet. Ronan once again is reminded of how much he hates summer and why he often dresses in tank tops and ripped jeans. Unlike Gansey and even Jackson Ronan doesn't radiate money. It's his arrogance that comes with the Lynch name that gives it away.
He's smoking a cigarette he stole from one of his class-mates. Ronan doesn't usually make a habbit of it, he has far worse - and enjoyable - ones but he's on edge like an addict needing a shot of whatever poison they chose to inject themselves with. He's been good lately, gone to class, got his grades back up, studied, didn't get into fights or drank till he passed out. Too good. It's turned him into a bomb ready to explode. He needs to be defused and Jackson is it. A fight is exactly what he needs. To hurt someone, feel skin split and blood paint his knuckles red. He wants to feel the heat of his own blood trickle down sweaty burned up skin.
Ronan needs his fix and it makes him more dangerous than usual.
The greywaren inhales deeply, smoke burning a violent path down into his lungs and when he exhales he hears Jackson before he sees him. Ronan spits on the ground, flicking away the half smoked cigarette he no longer cares for.]
Thought you were going to be a no show pussyboy.
[Casually he puts his hands inside of his pockets - or so it seems. Truth be told fingers curl into fists there, nails scratching materially to prevent himself from diving right in. Ronan is wired too tightly and it shows, the tension radiating off him almost tangible.]
He's smoking a cigarette he stole from one of his class-mates. Ronan doesn't usually make a habbit of it, he has far worse - and enjoyable - ones but he's on edge like an addict needing a shot of whatever poison they chose to inject themselves with. He's been good lately, gone to class, got his grades back up, studied, didn't get into fights or drank till he passed out. Too good. It's turned him into a bomb ready to explode. He needs to be defused and Jackson is it. A fight is exactly what he needs. To hurt someone, feel skin split and blood paint his knuckles red. He wants to feel the heat of his own blood trickle down sweaty burned up skin.
Ronan needs his fix and it makes him more dangerous than usual.
The greywaren inhales deeply, smoke burning a violent path down into his lungs and when he exhales he hears Jackson before he sees him. Ronan spits on the ground, flicking away the half smoked cigarette he no longer cares for.]
Thought you were going to be a no show pussyboy.
[Casually he puts his hands inside of his pockets - or so it seems. Truth be told fingers curl into fists there, nails scratching materially to prevent himself from diving right in. Ronan is wired too tightly and it shows, the tension radiating off him almost tangible.]
no subject
How long it lasted, he didn't know. Just trading blows. Bloodied lips and hard impacts. And for those seconds or minutes or hours, however long it lasted, he felt normal. It reminded him of locker room fights. Of the lacrosse field. Just letting all of that rage and anger out through something so visceral and human. But there was no denying that he was hitting harder than he should. That his lip would split with one punch and it healed before he threw his own. It wasn't normal. It would never BE normal. Because he'd been dragged away from all that was familiar and all that was perfect. Where he was king and where there were others like him.
But here Gansey was king. And Ronan. Stupid, rough, Ronan was just a stand in for who Jackson wanted to be tearing down.
Something inside him tipped. He was over the line before he realized it, before he had a chance to pull himself back. A well placed blow sent him sprawling to the dirt. He wiped blood from his mouth the back of his hand, eyes snapping up to Ronan. They were brighter than before. Vibrant, unnatural blue. Glowing. Claws dug into the dirt as he snarled, his teeth still straight and flat.
With a roar of unhinged rage, he shoved himself up from the ground, and launched himself at Ronan. ]