[The voice that speaks is soft and hopeful, boots that are comfortably worn instead of intimidating kick off the bench and then hit the ground with the weight of a six-foot-tall teen, as Ronan stands up suddenly. He leaves his jacket-slash-pillow there, so it's just a boy in a tank top and slim jeans, one hand against a hip as his curls fall into his face and across his forehead, feathering against the sides of his jaw. He's rather recognizable even in the dim light, this place that is all ruins and shadows.
It's the curse word that he'd taught him, the sound of his voice, the stature of him that gets his attention and pulls him out of his thoughts, has a thread of jitters running through him. Out of the fact that he's not sure he trusts himself to dream when he's away from the Barns. There were reasons that Ronan had always been jealous of Matthew and Declan and their sleepovers. They never talked about Ronan's dreaming, but it was there in all the things he wasn't allowed to do, in the lies Niall or Declan claimed about his sleepwalking.
He rolls his shoulders, a lop-sided grin that blossoms across his face. Gansey is something, not just someone he knows, but a part of his life, as good as family. Familiar as the scent of hickory smoke and lemon cleaner that clings to Ronan's fair skin, like the Barns had a home in his skin as much as Ronan had a home in its hills and bowers.
They were both made from his father's dreams, after all.]
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[The voice that speaks is soft and hopeful, boots that are comfortably worn instead of intimidating kick off the bench and then hit the ground with the weight of a six-foot-tall teen, as Ronan stands up suddenly. He leaves his jacket-slash-pillow there, so it's just a boy in a tank top and slim jeans, one hand against a hip as his curls fall into his face and across his forehead, feathering against the sides of his jaw. He's rather recognizable even in the dim light, this place that is all ruins and shadows.
It's the curse word that he'd taught him, the sound of his voice, the stature of him that gets his attention and pulls him out of his thoughts, has a thread of jitters running through him. Out of the fact that he's not sure he trusts himself to dream when he's away from the Barns. There were reasons that Ronan had always been jealous of Matthew and Declan and their sleepovers. They never talked about Ronan's dreaming, but it was there in all the things he wasn't allowed to do, in the lies Niall or Declan claimed about his sleepwalking.
He rolls his shoulders, a lop-sided grin that blossoms across his face. Gansey is something, not just someone he knows, but a part of his life, as good as family. Familiar as the scent of hickory smoke and lemon cleaner that clings to Ronan's fair skin, like the Barns had a home in his skin as much as Ronan had a home in its hills and bowers.
They were both made from his father's dreams, after all.]