[ it still seems too good to be true. ronan watches adam's mouth frame the words, hears them in his voice that's tinged with the colors of a henrietta sunset, but he still doesn't dare to believe it. he makes good forgeries too; after all, he learned from the best. with the dream pills burning a hole in his pocket, ronan glances around the tiny room, from the bathroom to the front door to window over his shoulder, like he expects the real adam to reappear any second. they were touching when he woke up, so it's entirely possible he took this adam out of a dream by accident, right? and the real adam woke up hours ago, somehow without ronan noticing, and booked it to school to turn in the homework he almost killed himself over.
the thought sits like a weight in his stomach, and not for the first time he resents being the greywaren. anyone else wouldn't have to ask themselves if the boy who just confessed to liking them is real or something they dreamed up.
but ronan doesn't remember dreaming, and he always remembers, especially his greywaren dreams. he's always aware of the creating, even if he can't always control what happens after, whether it comes back with him or not. but his sleep had been blissfully blank, which probably had something to do with adam's fingers slotted between his and the smell of dust and motor oil and adam's shampoo surrounding him. for all the questions and uncertainties circling his brain as he fell asleep, he'd also felt inexplicably safe and content, because that's what adam means to him.
a little of the tension leaves his shoulders, and he relents. ]
You should've led with that, asshole, instead of making me think I wasted my first kiss.
[ ...he hadn't actually meant to say that last part out loud. heat rushes to his face, and he ducks his head like he can hide it. his heart is beating heavily in his chest, each pulsation seeming to echo: he likes me, he likes me, he likes me.
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the thought sits like a weight in his stomach, and not for the first time he resents being the greywaren. anyone else wouldn't have to ask themselves if the boy who just confessed to liking them is real or something they dreamed up.
but ronan doesn't remember dreaming, and he always remembers, especially his greywaren dreams. he's always aware of the creating, even if he can't always control what happens after, whether it comes back with him or not. but his sleep had been blissfully blank, which probably had something to do with adam's fingers slotted between his and the smell of dust and motor oil and adam's shampoo surrounding him. for all the questions and uncertainties circling his brain as he fell asleep, he'd also felt inexplicably safe and content, because that's what adam means to him.
a little of the tension leaves his shoulders, and he relents. ]
You should've led with that, asshole, instead of making me think I wasted my first kiss.
[ ...he hadn't actually meant to say that last part out loud. heat rushes to his face, and he ducks his head like he can hide it. his heart is beating heavily in his chest, each pulsation seeming to echo: he likes me, he likes me, he likes me.
and i like him. ]