iwasmore | (no subject)

Aside from the nights when Ronan doesn't sleep at all, it's not uncommon for him to find Noah (or Adam or Gansey) up before him. So when he steps out of Adam's bedroom -- the bedroom Adam left hours ago for work -- he only grunts at the sight of Noah on the couch, shoulders hunched as he shovels cereal into his mouth.

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?"

Noah nods good morning to Ronan, his mouth too full to say it. He expects Ronan to sit and stare at morning television with him, but then he speaks up and Noah's eyes widen.

"Really?" he asks, muffled from the cereal he's still chewing. He quickly swallows. "Yeah, I want to see."

There's something wholly satisfying in Noah's eager response and Ronan grins, waking up further little by little as he pushes back up to his feet and disappears back into Adam's room.

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."

Photography isn't a passion of Noah's, but he can't help feeling excited by the sight of the shiny new camera. He takes it with a bright smile, his previous melancholy temporarily forgotten as he looks up from the camera at the miracle who'd dreamed it.

"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.

Ronan watches as Noah examines the camera, his fingers gliding over the screen and buttons on the back, a smile stretching wide across his face. It's not like dreaming things for Adam where he has to be careful both in the item itself as well as the giving of it. He doesn't have to worry that Noah will feel he's taking advantage or that Noah will worry about having to do something in return, something to even things out.

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."

Noah laughs, too delighted to be sarcastic or joke in turn. "Yeah, of course. Really, thanks, Ronan, this is so cool," he says and spontaneously pushes forward off the couch to hug Ronan, one hand still clutching the dream camera. It's an awkward position with Ronan sitting, so he sits down on the coffee table next to him to examine the camera again.

"We should go take pictures of the barn animals."

Noah drops down right beside him for a moment, camera cradled in his lap as he pokes at the buttons and spins the little wheel. Ronan watches him, pleased that he'd managed to bring something of this size out with little difficulty. There may or may not be a number of failed attempts in his closet, but Noah doesn't need to know that.

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.

"She totally is." Noah gets up and trails after Ronan, slipping the camera strap around his neck like a professional, even though he's still in his pajamas. He goes over to the door to find a pair of his shoes, though, because barefoot and the floor of the barn are not a good match. Slipping them on, he snorts lightly at Ronan with the entire orange juice container.

"Are you going to give that to Cinnamon?" he asks, hurrying over to catch up.

Ronan keeps a pair of sandals by the door and he slips into them before heading down the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder when he hears Noah's footsteps following.

"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?"

Noah laughs and takes it. "Gross," he says, but takes a swig anyway, stepping down off the stairway and onto the floor. Ghosts can't exactly give or receive germs, after all. At least, he's pretty sure.

"Here," he says, passing it back, and lifts the camera to find a setting that seems right. "Pose with Cinnamon."

Ronan grins when Noah takes his own sip, always happy to promote bad habits. Taking another drink for himself, he makes a sound at Noah's request, brow furrowing.

"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."

Noah watches Ronan drink from the orange juice, smirking to himself, and follows over to the stalls. Once Ronan gets in with Cinnamon he raises the camera once more. "Just...pose like normal. And smile," he says, the camera poised and ready.

"I'm not fucking posing," Ronan says, though there's no heat in his words at all. "Or smiling."

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."

Noah just starts taking pictures. He doesn't wait for Ronan to look, or smile, or do anything else. Isn't that what photographers do? They photograph life as it happens. Plus, he has infinite storage so he can just look through them and find the best ones later.

"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.

Something in Noah's tone catches, something that makes him wonder, but when Ronan glances over again, the camera's blocking his face, the machine inside it whirling and clicking.

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.

"Sure," Noah says, and follows the three of them on their slow pilgrimage outside. He won't say it, but Cinnamon, with her giant body, scares him a little. He never realized cows were so large, though Cinnamon seems gentle, whether by Ronan's dreaming or by a cow's innate nature. (He hasn't known any cows before.)

Once outside Noah looks up, squinting against the light, standing in the summer sun in his pajamas. "This is nice," he says absently.

Once outside, Ronan holds back to stand with Noah as Cinnamon and Hercules carry on, Cinnamon lowering his head to sniff at the grass like she's considering having breakfast.

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."

Noah looks over at Ronan, wondering how it is that he gleaned so much from virtually nothing. Intuition from being close? Or maybe that's just how it is when you've lived with someone for so long. Ronan being so attuned to Noah's moods makes him want to be honest, but some part of him still feels raw and humiliated, and he isn't sure he wants to bring up his own failings so early in the morning.

"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."

Ronan's smile wavers then, an ugly mix of sensations prickling under his skin. As little as he wants to talk about it, he knows he was the one to start the conversation, and he fucking hates seeing that expression on Noah's face.

"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?"

Noah exhales loudly through his mouth, looking down at his camera and pretending to mess with the buttons while he tries to think of some way to explain.

"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?"

"What was going on?" Ronan replies before he realizes what Noah's probably implying and he quickly holds up a hand to stop himself hearing any details.

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.

Noah makes a face when Ronan asks what was going on, but then Ronan motions for him not to, which is both a relief and a disappointment. It was good in a way that the teenage boy in him wants to brag about, but now with the way things have turned out he doesn't want to get into it.

"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.

There's an edge of defeat in Noah's tone, a glimpse of how much this is actually hurting him. It goes deeper than this Brit asshole, Ronan thinks, deeper than this one failed date. Probably deeper than Krem even.

"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.

Noah rests his head against the familiar spot of Ronan's shoulder, the position so natural he doesn't even have to think to do it. At Ronan's offer he laughs, a soft, almost soundless breath. "No. He didn't do anything."

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."

Ronan nearly wants to argue that Noah's fucking nothing like Krem, but he knows that's not what's important here, that anything he might say against Krem right now isn't likely to make Noah feel any better.

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?"

"It's not that I'm less," Noah starts to say, even though he is. He definitely is. Ronan won't see it like that, though, so there's no point in arguing it. "It's that I'm...other. I'm different." And he shouldn't even be here. He touches Ronan's shirt over where he knows the necklace is tucked underneath.

"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.

Ronan's frown deepens and he claps his hand over Noah's against his chest, squeezing it tight.

"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."

Noah just nods, eyes wide and cheeks warm from the quiet intensity of Ronan's reply. He knows he belongs with them, that they're all different in their own ways, but somehow he still manages to feel apart from them. An outsider, both by what he is and isn't. He won't be there in their other futures, he won't be anywhere at all.

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.

"Trying what?" Ronan asks, not understanding. "Trying to stay?"

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.

"I'm not going anywhere," Noah whispers, not taking his eyes off Ronan's. He can hear the soft thudding of a heartbeat in his ears and he wonders a moment if it's his own pretend heart, or Ronan's real one.

"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.

"You are a person," Ronan insists, but his voice is quieter now and it comes out almost like a plea as Noah steps in close.

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."

Sometimes it feels like a curse to hear others thoughts, but at the moment Noah's filled with an overwhelming amount of gratitude to know how Ronan sees him. The knowledge sits heavy in his chest like a physical ache, and Noah's fingers curl around the fabric of Ronan's shirt. He presses his lips to Ronan's neck in a single, warm kiss.

"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."

It's a light touch, a dry, gentle press of warm lips to Ronan's neck.

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.

Noah ignores the joke. He barely hears it. Instead, he leans back enough to see Ronan's face. He doesn't understand what's been misinterpreted, what's going on in Ronan's mind at the moment. Reaching up, he cups Ronan's face between his hands and searches his brown eyes for an answer.

"What are you thinking?" he finally asks.

Noah hears too fucking much. He sees too fucking much. How he can miss the storm under Ronan's skin right now, he has no idea. The spot on his neck still burns.

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.

He doesn't, but the sound of Ronan's voice and the intensity of his stare sends a shiver along Noah's skin. It's a look he's been on the receiving end of occasionally, one he's written off, ignored, but is having a hard time doing now. Especially when a lot in love with three of them broadcasts loud and clear. It's a good thing Noah doesn't need to breathe, because he isn't sure he even is anymore.

"In love?" he echoes without thinking, his hands slowly lowering. Love is one thing. Love is obvious. In love he isn't expecting.

The words feel all the more damning spoken out loud and Ronan wrenches back slightly as Noah's hands drift away.

"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."

Noah's heart is beating like a jackhammer in his chest, not from fear, but from hope. The rational part of him, the part that knows he can't have this and shouldn't want it, is set to kick in any minute, but in this moment all he can think about is how badly he wants it. He hadn't taken Blue's shirt to heart. Maybe at first, but when it never accumulated to anything, when there hadn't been further discussion, he'd written it off as a different sort of in love that he'd always been in with her. With all of them. It's a thought he doesn't often let himself entertain, knowing that it's Gansey and Blue, and Ronan and Adam, with him gone. Here, the same, only he gets to be their friend for a little longer. It should be enough. It has to be.

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.

Noah just stares at him for a long moment, blue eyes blow wide. It's a look Ronan can't read, a look that catches under his chest and twists, grabbing every nerve under his skin along with it.

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.

Ronan walks away. It was the wrong thing to say, because he leaves without a word, disappears through the doorway while Noah's still standing there with an ache so deep in his chest he has to raise his hand to it to make sure it hasn't been physically torn open.

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.