They're in Cabeswater, he and Kavinsky, stretched out on the roof of his BMW and staring up at the stars. It feels like the back of a pick-up truck, no floor solid and not sloped, short walls on every side, keeping them locked in, safe and hidden like when he was five and out in the field with his brothers, his father in the cab with the music turned up.
He's hidden and safe here, hidden from the people who aren't even looking and safe from dreaming anything that could immediately harm anyone but him and Kavinsky.
It's almost fucking peaceful.
Ronan takes another drink and it tastes like Kool-Aid. He wipes at his mouth and turns his head, finds Kavinsky replaced by Noah. Noah isn't lying next to him, but kneeling. The stars are gone.
"You're still faded," he says, voice wet with sweet-tasting booze and disuse. Noah doesn't look as bad as before, at least. He isn't flickering, the smudge on his cheek isn't caving in.
His body hasn't been moved, at least. Ronan knows. He looked.
no subject
They're in Cabeswater, he and Kavinsky, stretched out on the roof of his BMW and staring up at the stars. It feels like the back of a pick-up truck, no floor solid and not sloped, short walls on every side, keeping them locked in, safe and hidden like when he was five and out in the field with his brothers, his father in the cab with the music turned up.
He's hidden and safe here, hidden from the people who aren't even looking and safe from dreaming anything that could immediately harm anyone but him and Kavinsky.
It's almost fucking peaceful.
Ronan takes another drink and it tastes like Kool-Aid. He wipes at his mouth and turns his head, finds Kavinsky replaced by Noah. Noah isn't lying next to him, but kneeling. The stars are gone.
"You're still faded," he says, voice wet with sweet-tasting booze and disuse. Noah doesn't look as bad as before, at least. He isn't flickering, the smudge on his cheek isn't caving in.
His body hasn't been moved, at least. Ronan knows. He looked.
Why is he still faded?