Ronan doesn't know what any of this is supposed to fucking mean. Where are these things coming from and why? What the fuck are they supposed to prove? Are they secrets? Lies? Truths? Some fuckin' key or clue to some shitty-ass puzzle they're supposed to figure out?
He glares at Blue's back until she turns around and remembers Valentine's Day, remembers her embarrassment immediately afterward. Hers doesn't seem like a truth unless Ronan isn't included in the them. And maybe he's not. But the words catch on him, his eyes darting to Noah.
A wave of guilt crashes against the accusation under his skin.
"What fucking voice, Noah?" he asks, ignoring Copper, ignoring what might be written across his own back, ignoring the scrawl across Adam's that he's positive is true. He's not going to draw attention to that one; he's sure none of them will, not unless it's something Adam actually wants to address.
Right now, Ronan really wants to know what the fuck he's missing.
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He glares at Blue's back until she turns around and remembers Valentine's Day, remembers her embarrassment immediately afterward. Hers doesn't seem like a truth unless Ronan isn't included in the them. And maybe he's not. But the words catch on him, his eyes darting to Noah.
A wave of guilt crashes against the accusation under his skin.
"What fucking voice, Noah?" he asks, ignoring Copper, ignoring what might be written across his own back, ignoring the scrawl across Adam's that he's positive is true. He's not going to draw attention to that one; he's sure none of them will, not unless it's something Adam actually wants to address.
Right now, Ronan really wants to know what the fuck he's missing.