for Ronan

[iwasmore]

One of the worst parts about being a ghost had been Noah's inability to remain corporeal at all times. He'd hated it, fading in and out of existence. The spell, the talisman he wore around his neck, they prevented that. Now he existed at all times. He'd been grateful for it. He should, still, be grateful for it. He was. But at the moment he wished he could blink out of time and space and just not be. Just for a little while.

Breaking up with Krem had been a hard decision. Maybe the hardest he'd ever made. He'd given up the best thing in his life, when he hadn't even had to. Except that he did, because the best thing had been too much. Sharing his boyfriend was something he discovered was more difficult to do than he thought it would be. Maybe he should have known from the beginning, when Krem had told him about Thomas and it felt like his heart was being squeezed. But he thought it had only been because Krem hadn't told Thomas about him. He thought he could make it work, be whatever Krem wanted him to be because Krem had been worth it. If only Noah had been stronger, or less needy. More or less of whatever made a person able to be with multiple partners.

He wanted to be, but his emotions wouldn't cooperate.

So now he had nothing where there'd been so much, and he chose this for himself. He felt stupid, regretful, uncertain. Had he done the right thing? For himself? For Krem? But Krem wasn't willing to give up Thomas, or Hild, or his freedom to choose who he wanted to be with. Noah didn't have a right to ask it, but he thought that was answer enough. That was what Krem chose for himself, that was what he needed, and wanted. It wasn't what Noah wanted anymore, so this was all that could be done. He had tried, and he hadn't been able to make it work.

Noah pulled his necklace from under his shirt, lifting it over his head. He held it in front of his face. He'd left Prunam with Krem, and he'd almost left his necklace, too. Krem would have kept it safe, and if something bad happened, did it matter so much? It wasn't like anyone needed him around permanently anymore.

Maybe he shouldn't have tried playing at human in the first place.

Comments

[thedreamthief]

"Mmm," Ronan replies, mulling it over with another sip of his beer. It's not a bad thought, actually, something about dreaming someone as good as Noah, ghost or otherwise, sits pleasantly in his chest.

But he shakes his head a moment later. "Two problems with that," he says, reaching over to rest his hand, still holding his beer, atop Noah's thigh. "One, there's proof you existed before we met. Two, you wouldn't be a fucking nightmare."

[iwasmore]

Noah feels his throat close up and his eyes burn. He was trying not to, he really was, but before he can stop them his eyes fill with hot tears. His vision goes blurry and he blinks his eyes, taking a tiny, shuddering breath. He presses his face against Ronan's shirt to hide it, and just to feel his warmth.

"Ronan," he says, muffled and soft.

[thedreamthief]

It isn't the first time Ronan's seen Noah cry, but he can't say he's a bigger fan of it now than ever before.

He still doesn't know what happened between Noah and Krem and he's sure as shit not going to ask. Instead, he shifts his beer to his other hand so he can wrap his arm over Noah's shoulder, pulling him closer.

With a sigh, he rests his cheek against the top of Noah's head, hair tickling his nose and silently lets himself enjoy the idea of pummeling Krem's face to a bloody pulp.

[iwasmore]

Noah hates to cry. As much as he wanted to be as human as possible, before the spell, after the spell, at this moment he wishes he wasn't. If only he could turn his emotions off, the way he can physical pain. But he can't, and he thinks, for a moment, that he should just disappear, but he doesn't. His shoulders shake and he turns his face into Ronan's neck, gasping from trying to hold in his tears.

"I l-left," he says, voice wavering.

[thedreamthief]

He isn't expecting Noah to speak at all and it's more the catch and break in his voice than what he says that makes Ronan's skin prickle, stomach twisting with a confused mix of emotions. Anger, empathy, outrage. Pulling in a breath, Ronan keeps his arm tight around Noah.

"You wanna say why?" Ronan asks, but his voice is quiet and curious. Not demanding at all. "Don't have to," he clarifies, moving his hand enough to ruffle Noah's hair gently. "You know we're glad to have you around more often."

[iwasmore]

Noah shakes his head, his throat going tight, but it comes out anyway. "It j-just hurt," he says, nearly choking on the last word, feeling it deep in his chest. He stops talking, but it doesn't stop him from crying.

He sniffles a few times, sucking in a deep breath before trying to continue. "Having an open relationship," he manages, trying to explain what it is exactly that hurts. "I guess I just. I don't know what I'm doing."

[thedreamthief]

Closing his eyes, Ronan entertains thoughts of punching every single one of Krem's teeth in one by one and then forces himself to take his own breath. There's a voice in the back of his head -- Adam's or Gansey's or, hell, maybe even Noah's -- telling him that shit like that isn't going to help.

Ronan still feels like he'd sure feel better for it though.

"Fuck, man. You think anyone knows what the fuck they're doing when it comes to that shit?" Ronan replies, fingers still curling through Noah's hair. "We're all just make it up as we go."

[iwasmore]

"I-i just wanted to feel," Noah starts to say, but trails off, unsure how to finish. He doesn't know how to explain through the pounding in his head and the ache in his chest. Maybe if he hadn't moved in with Krem, maybe if they hadn't been so serious, then it wouldn't have mattered if Krem was staying the night with other people. Or maybe that would have been hard, too. He's not sure he could ever feel anything but intense love for Krem, and that just makes this hurt even more.

Noah squeezes his eyes closed and presses his face to Ronan's neck, shuddering softly and trying to calm down.

[thedreamthief]

The ache in Ronan's chest clenches tighter at the catch in Noah's voice. Stuck as they are in this fucking town, Ronan knows it's been better for Noah than anything he could've had in Henrietta. And Noah, maybe more than anyone, deserves to feel.

If only it didn't come with the shitty feelings, too.

Fucking Krem.

Noah nestles closer against him, head ducked against Ronan's neck as he shudders and Ronan holds him tighter, resting his cheek to the top of Noah's head. He's reminded of Matthew suddenly, of being ten years old and holding his brother after a particularly nasty fall. Noah's pain, however invisible, cuts far deeper, he knows.

"Feeling's are shit," he says after a few moments. "Fuck 'em."

[iwasmore]

Noah lets out a sound that's part sob, part hiccup, and something like a laugh. "If only," he says softly, blinking his eyes a few times to clear his vision, even if it is just of Ronan's shoulder.

His tears finally taper off, but he doesn't let go of Ronan, shifting until he's comfortable, snuggling close.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispers.

[thedreamthief]

There's a wet patch on Ronan's shirt and he glances down, brow furrowed. "You getting your ghost snot all over me?" he asks, but his tone is gentle and he makes no attempt to move as Noah shifts against him, getting more comfortable.

He only hums in response to Noah's question, gives the back of Noah's neck a light squeeze as he tips his head back. "Yeah, I'll keep guard," he says, glancing up at Chainsaw still perched on the high ledge of Noah's wall and then back down at the boy lying half atop him, warm and whole and hurting.

There's a familiar ache in his chest and an itch under his skin and Ronan still wants to snap every single one of Krem's fingers in half, but for now he takes another breath and whispers, "Get some rest."

[iwasmore]

"Am not," Noah whispers petulantly, but sniffles just to make sure.

He tries to think of other things, not Krem things. Instead he tries to conjure memories of what he and Ronan used to get up to at Monmouth. He wants to say it: remember when we made a bonfire in the parking lot, remember when we mixed all of Gansey's records up, remember when you threw me out a window? But he can't make the words leave his mouth. Instead his nods at Ronan's suggestion of sleep, and closes his eyes.

"Thanks," he says, fingers curling into Ronan's shirt to hold on.