Noah drops the skillet onto the stove, a loud clang that catches Ronan's attention. Looking up, he notices a similar marking on Noah's shirt, a single sentence emblazoned across his back.
Blue's right. It isn't a tattoo.
"Noah, too," Ronan says, looking to Adam again. He isn't sure what to make of Noah's, what it's supposed to mean. Or maybe he does. Maybe he just doesn't want to think about it right now. His fingers itch to reach for Adam, but he holds back, one hand curling into a fist at his side. He almost wishes he hadn't pointed it out, that no one had noticed at all. The words on Adam's back aren't for anyone else to see.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2016-05-23 06:07 pm (UTC)Blue's right. It isn't a tattoo.
"Noah, too," Ronan says, looking to Adam again. He isn't sure what to make of Noah's, what it's supposed to mean. Or maybe he does. Maybe he just doesn't want to think about it right now. His fingers itch to reach for Adam, but he holds back, one hand curling into a fist at his side. He almost wishes he hadn't pointed it out, that no one had noticed at all. The words on Adam's back aren't for anyone else to see.