[ For a long time, Ronan sits by the edge of Adam's makeshift forest, and waits. He can hear voices, music, and so he waits. He has no desire to see Adam and someone else. He has no desire for anyone to see them together.
It's... he just can't put his finger on it. It's not shame, definitely not; it's something more complicated and terrifying than shame. It's that Adam knows of Ronan's nightly activities, and Ronan knows of Adam's powers. It's that both of them like to pretend they're other people when the sun is shining. It's that they don't know who each other is outside of this patch of grass and vines.
So he waits. He sits on the ledge of a window a floor down from the roof, unseen and unseeing, until the music stops, until there's the sound of a door opening and closing, until the quiet once more reigns supreme. Then, he climbs up, his exoskeleton making tinny whirring noises as he does so. He knows Adam must know he's here, but Ronan takes his time anyway, grazing dewy vines with bloody fingers and leaning in to smell the roses, the bruises on his face starkly visible in the moonlight. He's taken a bit of a battering tonight, and he's feeling it in every muscle, aching with every step.
It's partly why he's here. As much as he doesn't want it to be, Adam is a safe haven to Ronan. A bubble of peace under the canopy of a man made forest, a New York rooftop Ronan can climb to and feel like he's home. ]
a; later
It's... he just can't put his finger on it. It's not shame, definitely not; it's something more complicated and terrifying than shame. It's that Adam knows of Ronan's nightly activities, and Ronan knows of Adam's powers. It's that both of them like to pretend they're other people when the sun is shining. It's that they don't know who each other is outside of this patch of grass and vines.
So he waits. He sits on the ledge of a window a floor down from the roof, unseen and unseeing, until the music stops, until there's the sound of a door opening and closing, until the quiet once more reigns supreme. Then, he climbs up, his exoskeleton making tinny whirring noises as he does so. He knows Adam must know he's here, but Ronan takes his time anyway, grazing dewy vines with bloody fingers and leaning in to smell the roses, the bruises on his face starkly visible in the moonlight. He's taken a bit of a battering tonight, and he's feeling it in every muscle, aching with every step.
It's partly why he's here. As much as he doesn't want it to be, Adam is a safe haven to Ronan. A bubble of peace under the canopy of a man made forest, a New York rooftop Ronan can climb to and feel like he's home. ]
Do you grow any lavender? Or sage?