Noah breathes against him, a quiet, stuttered sort of sob that gusts warm across Ronan's neck. It sends a jolt down his spine, has him closing his eyes and forcibly reminding himself Noah doesn't mean it the same way he does. And that it doesn't matter. At least Noah loves him at all.

Swallowing tightly, he manages a nod before pressing his lips to the top of Noah's head and breathing him in for a moment.

"How's your camera, by the way?" he asks, pulling back a little as he sinks his fingers up into Noah's hair, aiming for playful. Part of him wants to point that Freddie can't dream him up a fucking cat. But he doesn't really want to think about Noah's pseudo-boyfriend right now. Or anyone else either.