[ He lets out an amused chortle at Adam calling him pretty, rolling his eyes, the quiet contemplative mood that was making his heart bleed a second ago gently ebbing away. He's been called a lot of things; sharp and cruel and handsome and 'like he was carved out of marble', even, once, by an art teacher. But he'd never been called pretty. Not when it meant something softer and gentler than Ronan had been in recent years.
He's something you can cut yourself on. Not something pretty.
Still, he looks up into Adam's eyes, and can only see fond sincerity there, in his look and in his touch, which makes Ronan's eyes flutter a little. He nods, after a while, and holds the trimmer out to Adam. ]
Do it. Shave it off.
[ Maybe, at some point, he'll be ready to have longer hair again. But he's not there yet. ]
no subject
He's something you can cut yourself on. Not something pretty.
Still, he looks up into Adam's eyes, and can only see fond sincerity there, in his look and in his touch, which makes Ronan's eyes flutter a little. He nods, after a while, and holds the trimmer out to Adam. ]
Do it. Shave it off.
[ Maybe, at some point, he'll be ready to have longer hair again. But he's not there yet. ]