Kavinsky closes his eyes and pushes his fingers into Nick’s hair as those words rattle around in his head. I protect the things I care about. His grip tightens and he breathes a shivering exhale. He wants to tell Nick he can’t - shouldn’t - say shit like that to him but he also just wants to wallow in those words, to roll around in them and dig his hooks into Nick and never let go.

“They don’t ususllt go for me,” he admits. Sometimes they do, though. Those are always the worst. “It wanted you, first.”