[Kavinsky takes his hand, uses the connection to tug Ronan in closer, and the teen follows easy. In part because for that first moment it feels a little bit like his brain short-circuits. Like he's reduced to white noise in the rush of contact -- skin to skin, fingers laced, palm to palm. His heart feels like it wants to hammer through his ribcage; an unhinged sort of thrill to the feeling. Both to the moment and to the way that it feels to reach out and touch someone. The fact that the other boy is as lost for words as he is, is almost a comfort in a strange way. The knowledge that he's not the only one with the burn of attraction in his veins.

He steps in so that they're eye to eye, Kavinsky's palm against his own feels almost like a brand, but he doesn't let go. It's like the dream makes it feel more, makes it more real, or maybe it's just the result of having someone want him, having someone's hands on his skin and knowing they mean it. He flushes, tips his head to the side, awkward with uncertainty. K asks that question and Ronan flounders, doesn't know the answer.]

I don't know. I never know what I want. I just want... A world that doesn't suck. To not be alone. Something that feels real. I want- I want everything.

[He's greedy in a way he's never been able to say outloud. Ronan's never had an actual relationship himself, either. He hasn't even kissed anyone yet. But he doesn't want something casual, doesn't want it unless it's real, unless it makes him feel alive. Right now he feels like he's burning, and that's just as good. They've only really just met, so he can't quite bring himself to say that he wants him.

But he holds onto him, and the truth is that nothing about this feels casual.]