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When Noah gets back to Hywel he goes to his bedroom, not in the mood to see anyone or talk. At least he didn't tell any of them where he'd gone, who he'd gone with, so there wouldn't be a recap to give or fumbled explanations of why he was back so early. And, thankfully, whoever's home must be too busy to notice, because he spends the rest of the night undisturbed.
The next morning he wanders out into the living area, but doesn't feel like making pancakes. He pours himself a bowl of cereal instead and flops over onto the couch to stare at the TV for awhile.
The next morning he wanders out into the living area, but doesn't feel like making pancakes. He pours himself a bowl of cereal instead and flops over onto the couch to stare at the TV for awhile.
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Yawning, Ronan pads over, dropping onto the couch and resting his feet on the table.
"Got you a camera," he says, nodding idly toward the room he's just vacated. "Memory card, too. You wanna see it?"
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"Really?" he asks, muffled from the cereal he's still chewing. He quickly swallows. "Yeah, I want to see."
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He reemerges moments later cradling a digital camera, gathering the dangling strap of it in his other hand before he hands it to Noah. He perches on the edge of the table then, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Found some shit online about what you might need in class and studied a few handbooks. No reason anyone should think this baby's different than any other. Except for the memory card," he adds with a small grin. "Shouldn't have to delete anything ever. It's got more space on it than a NASA hard drive."
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"Thanks, Ronan," he says, moved by the gift and all the thought that's been put into it. When Noah had lived he wouldn't have thought twice about receiving something so nice. His family had been wealthy and generous to him with that wealth, and expensive things were taken for granted. But this is more than that. Noah knows the toll dreaming takes on Ronan. He knows about the credit card, too, and it would have been easier, probably, for Ronan to simply go to the store and buy one. But he'd dreamed it instead, made it for Noah.
Still smiling, Noah turns it on to see if it's charged. It is, of course, so he raises it and takes a picture of Ronan without warning. "Say cheese," he says belatedly.
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He just give and Noah can accept and he can smile that smile that makes Ronan feel like he really is a beautiful creature and not a monster.
His lips are twisted into a small smirk when the camera whirls and clicks and he rolls his eyes. "Better not start abusing your power with that thing," he says, though there's no real threat in his tone at all. "Also I get to see the shit you turn in for class, I don't care how pretentious."
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"We should go take pictures of the barn animals."
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He breathes a laugh at Noah's suggestion, but nods easily enough. It's not like he has anything better to do. Giving Noah a quick nudge with his elbow, he pushes to his feet. "Pretty sure Cinnamon was made for close-ups," he says, stopping back the kitchen on the way out to grab the container of orange juice straight from the fridge.
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"Are you going to give that to Cinnamon?" he asks, hurrying over to catch up.
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"Fuck no," he says, uncapping the lid and tipping his head back to drink straight from the carton. Once he reaches the bottom floor, he turns to offer it to Noah, lips curved in a grin. "Want some?"
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"Here," he says, passing it back, and lifts the camera to find a setting that seems right. "Pose with Cinnamon."
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"Do I need to start charging a modeling fee?" he says, though he's already opening the latch on the gate into the barn area and heading for Cinnamon's pen. "How the fuck am I supposed to pose, anyway? I'll just look like an asshole."
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He heads straight for Cinnamon though, smoothing his hand along her side as she swings her large head their way, blinking lazily at Noah with his camera. When Ronan takes the step closer to hear head, she turns to nose at Ronan's hand, curious of the carton of orange juice, apparently.
Smirking, Ronan lightly cups her chin, guiding her to look at Noah. "Look at this face. Made for the camera."
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"They both were," Noah says, going for teasing, but it comes out sounding more affectionate than anything. He covers it up by taking another picture.
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Ronan sticks his tongue out then as he rubs a hand over Cinnamon's muzzle and then leans in to press a kiss to the curve of her head before stepping back toward the door, holding it open as Cinnamon follows. "Come on, let's get some shots outside," he says as Hercules trots over to join their ragtag little group.
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Once outside Noah looks up, squinting against the light, standing in the summer sun in his pajamas. "This is nice," he says absently.
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Ronan crosses his arms over his chest idly, peering over at Noah as Noah fiddles with the camera.
"So what's the deal?" he asks after a long stretch of Noah's silence. "You were eating some moody fucking cereal in there."
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"I went on a date last night," he starts to say anyway, feeling like he owes Ronan that much, at least. "It didn't work out."
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"A date," he repeats, trying to settle the feeling in his stomach. "That guy you mentioned a couple weeks ago? The British prick? What happened?"
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"A combination of him not being into the date, me hearing too much as usual, saying too much as usual, and just messing things up," he finally says, a vague, but honest summation. "I shouldn't have asked him out in the first place. I don't think he was into me like that, but because of...what was going on, he just said yes to be nice, you know?"
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For the first time, he thinks maybe he gets why Noah doesn't like accidentally hearing Ronan's thoughts regarding him and Adam.
His lips twist into a deeper frown then and he shakes his head. "Fuck him, he doesn't deserve your time anyway." Ronan knows it's not the greatest slice of comfort, that it likely comes off sort of empty and insincere even if he does mean it.
And, if Ronan is absolutely honest, there's a part of him that's glad. Not glad for Noah hurting, but glad that this asshole, whoever he is, is out of the picture. And he didn't even have to punch him.
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"I guess," Noah says. According to Ronan, apparently no one deserves him. He hopes not, he'd like someone to want him for more than a night, or more than part of the time. But even beyond bad dates there's still a part of him that questions whether or not he should have that, being dead.
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"Hey," Ronan says, his voice lower as he slings his arm over Noah's shoulder. "I mean it. I know it sounds like bullshit, but it's true."
There's more he wants to say, more he probably needs to and more he probably shouldn't. But Ronan's never been any good with words anyway. All he has is the camera in Noah's hands, the weight of his arm over Noah's shoulder, this moment out in the sun with a boy who's heart is too big for him. And the lingering memory of a mistake he'd made months ago, a presumption swiftly corrected.
"Want me to kick his ass?" he asks then, partly serious but mostly just wanting to make Noah smile.
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He's about to leave it at that, change the subject, drop it and move on, but the words he keeps bottled up and to himself come out of their own accord, "Sometimes I wish I could stop wanting human things. Would it even be fair to date someone? Like, it felt okay with Cremisius because he was like me. Not exactly, but we were the same in important ways, so it felt right."
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So he keeps his mouth shut for now, swallowing it back.
"Why the fuck wouldn't it be fair?" he says instead, brow furrowed. "Because you're dead? Because you're a ghost? Like that makes you less of a person? You know that's fucking horseshit, right?"
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"I'm glad I get to be here, but sometimes I want things, and I don't know where my place is," he struggles to explain. It's difficult to put a feeling into words.
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"You can feel this," he says, voice lower, nearly accusatory. "You can eat and drink, you have emotions. So what if you're a fucking other. So am I. You're no less of a human than I am."
But that's probably not the heart of it either, not the point Noah's trying to make, but it's still shit. "You're place is here, okay?" he says, his voice just as insistent as he holds Noah's hand tight in his. "With us. Right the fuck here."
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But right now he's here, in this strange place where he's doing his best to be a person like he used to be.
"I'm trying," he says quietly, focusing on the warm press of Ronan's hand and the fire behind his eyes.
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The idea pierces somehow, hooks under his skin unpleasantly. Noah shouldn't have to work to want to be with them, to stay in Hywel, to stay in their group. Even now, Ronan remembers the few months where Noah split his time between Hywel and Krem, where it felt he was never around.
Noah was happier then, he thinks. He was happy having someone else, a boyfriend, even if Krem had been a shitty fucking choice, Noah had been happy.
He's still holding Noah's hand, his thumb pressed against Noah's palm.
Ronan knows he should ask if Noah even wants to stay, ask if he needs space from them all for awhile. But he can't. It's selfish, he knows it's fucking selfish, but he can't do it. He doesn't want Noah to go.
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"Trying to be a person," is all he says in answer to Ronan's question. He had been happy with Krem. He'd clung almost desperately to his own slippery existence, overwhelmed that someone could love him so completely despite what a strange being he was. He'd felt human, real, important. Ronan is one of the very few who makes him feel that way. Like he matters, like a person, whole and alive.
Noah moves his camera to hang like a purse at his side instead of in front so he can tuck his face against Ronan's neck to listen to his pulse and soak up his warmth.
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Instinctively, Ronan wraps his arms around him, cheek pressed the curve of Noah's head, Noah's warm breath ghosting against his neck. He's solid against Ronan's chest, as solid as anything he's ever held before, as solid as anything he's ever dreamed. Maybe it's only possible because of the talisman around his neck, but even when Noah wasn't corporeal, he'd always felt real. He'd always felt alive.
And Ronan doesn't really care how fucked that sounds.
He ducks his head just enough to press a kiss to Noah's hair and closes his eyes as he tightens his hold. "I'm fucking holding you to that, by the way," he says, still trying to calm the itch under his skin. "I'm not fucking letting you go."
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"Thank you," he says, to all of it. After a night of feeling unwanted, it means everything to be reminded he is, even if it isn't the same sort of want. "I don't know what I'd do without you here."
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Ronan closes his eyes against it, against the way it makes his blood run warm and his chest tighten. He'd felt those lips against his own months ago, made the mistake of misinterpreting. He can't do it again despite the ache.
He has Adam. He loves Adam, that hasn't changed. He won't do this to either of them.
Swallowing, he shoves it all away, buries it back down where he can only hope it manages to stay for awhile and finally quirks a smile. "Well, you wouldn't have a camera," he says, trying to lighten things up a little.
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"What are you thinking?" he finally asks.
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Warm hands cup his face, holding him in place to stare into Noah's blue eyes.
"Fuck, you know what I'm thinking," he says, his voice nearly a growl, because he doesn't know how to put this into words. He never has. Noah can hear his thoughts and, for once, Ronan almost desperately wants him to so he doesn't have to say it.
A little in love with all of them. If that had been Blue's secret than maybe Ronan's is, A lot in love with three of them.
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"In love?" he echoes without thinking, his hands slowly lowering. Love is one thing. Love is obvious. In love he isn't expecting.
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"Shit," he breathes, balling his hands into tight fists at his sides. Because it's not like he doesn't already know how Noah feels, like he doesn't remember the way Noah had yanked away from him at that stupid dance, how his face had clouded over in anger.
How he'd told Adam it wouldn't happen again.
But he can't deny it now, both because it's a fucking blatant lie and because Noah would know anyway.
"Just-- forget it," Ronan decides then, shutting it down before Noah has to be the one to do it. "It's not your fucking problem, okay? I know how this goes down."
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His mind is telling him, don't hurt Adam, over and over, but his mouth doesn't get the right message, because he blurts out, "I don't want to."
Maybe he can't have Ronan in that way, or any of them, but he can at least have this.
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He tears away before that look can turn cold, before Ronan has to see the anger and disgust as he had months ago.
Cinnamon's heading closer to the far fence, but Ronan turns immediately to head back inside. He hears Noah's voice behind him, a whisper lost in the rush of blood between Ronan's ears. Chicken feed crunches under the soles of his sandals as he makes he steps back into the barn and he's not honestly sure he's even breathing anymore. His chest burns.
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Forget it, Ronan had said, because he must be trying to. Noah understands, Ronan doesn't want to mess things up with Adam. Noah wouldn't want to, either. Noah never wanted the feelings he has, knowing they have nowhere to go, and so he thinks it's probably worse for Ronan. At least Noah's feelings can't hurt anyone, because he isn't already with someone.
He lets Ronan leave. He'll try to help him forget, too, and make himself as scarce as possible.