[4/28] after prom
Jun. 5th, 2016 10:15 pmAfter, Ronan drinks.
He lingers at the edges, watching Adam and Noah and Blue mingle in the crowd, watches them laugh and dance and smile with each other and others. He watches Kavinsky too, here and there, and wonders how far off he really is from being just another monster himself.
He sobers up too soon, his mind too clear by the time they make it back to Hywel. His bowtie is long gone, jacket barely hanging off his cast as he heads upstairs, aware that he's been too quiet for too long, aware that Adam knows him too well to not have guessed that something's going on.
Not that Ronan particularly wants to hide anything.
He just doesn't know what the fuck he wants anymore.
Except, that's not true.
His shoes are kicked off in the main room, jacket discarded over the arm of the couch. He tugs one-handed at what remains of the few buttons of his shirt and that's gone too before he even makes it inside Adam's room. Then he's turning, hooking the fingers of his good hand in the waistband of Adam's slacks, drawing him in close. He doesn't bother to shut the door, his stomach churning, nerves burning as he pulls Adam in close enough to kiss, the force of it almost bruising as he lets out a strangled breath.
He lingers at the edges, watching Adam and Noah and Blue mingle in the crowd, watches them laugh and dance and smile with each other and others. He watches Kavinsky too, here and there, and wonders how far off he really is from being just another monster himself.
He sobers up too soon, his mind too clear by the time they make it back to Hywel. His bowtie is long gone, jacket barely hanging off his cast as he heads upstairs, aware that he's been too quiet for too long, aware that Adam knows him too well to not have guessed that something's going on.
Not that Ronan particularly wants to hide anything.
He just doesn't know what the fuck he wants anymore.
Except, that's not true.
His shoes are kicked off in the main room, jacket discarded over the arm of the couch. He tugs one-handed at what remains of the few buttons of his shirt and that's gone too before he even makes it inside Adam's room. Then he's turning, hooking the fingers of his good hand in the waistband of Adam's slacks, drawing him in close. He doesn't bother to shut the door, his stomach churning, nerves burning as he pulls Adam in close enough to kiss, the force of it almost bruising as he lets out a strangled breath.
