"I didn't mean it." Noah stops talking and sighs, scrubbing a hand through his already messy hair. His hand slides down and he stares at the floor for a long moment with his fingers curled around the back of his neck, realizing that isn't even what Ronan meant. He just wants to make sure Noah is okay, but there are too many variables to happy.
"Sorry, I'm being a jerk," he says, looking back over at Ronan. His gaze travels from a small curl along the bottom of Ronan's mohawk, the swoop of his eyelashes, his sharp, down-turned mouth. Everything was so much less complicated when everything was a circle and he knew his place. "No. I'm not happy."
He knows what would make him happy, but he can't have it. He should be satisfied, he should be grateful, so why does he still want more?
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2016-10-13 08:24 pm (UTC)"Sorry, I'm being a jerk," he says, looking back over at Ronan. His gaze travels from a small curl along the bottom of Ronan's mohawk, the swoop of his eyelashes, his sharp, down-turned mouth. Everything was so much less complicated when everything was a circle and he knew his place. "No. I'm not happy."
He knows what would make him happy, but he can't have it. He should be satisfied, he should be grateful, so why does he still want more?