Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in rooms,
Re: House of Strays: Ronan/Ben
[The circle of their touch, hand to shoulder to fingers to arm and the heat of their skin warming each other, it makes it so much harder to keep that connection quiet. It's practically throbbing in Ronan's head like a migraine, begging to be opened and unfurled like an umbrella's canopy above them. He has to work ferociously to stem the urge, molars gritted against the soft, sad sound Ben's closed eyes elicits from him because it's not fair for him to be inside Ben's head right now. Not when he deserves the space he needs, and room to think and process without an audience.
So Ronan's skin is practically on fire where they touch because it physically pains him, but he also savours it, so he doesn't pull away either. Settles for the slow, sedated stroke of his thumb against the place where Ben's pulse beats in his wrist.]
Shhh. [He does it without even thinking, quietly hushing in response to Ben's hiss and the turmoil evident on his features, and he can't help it - he's reaching up with his free hand to brush the backs of his fingers against Ben's cheek. Just once, and he doesn't let it linger, but it had to be done. And his expression breaks open a little more as he nods, wordless now, with just the hot drip of a tear spilling over and trailing down his face. It does make sense, and Ronan knows that he has no right to expect anything more than this. Even if it makes him feel flayed-open again, raw and bloodied on the inside, like that first night.
He wants to say it isn't fair that Ben gets to leave while Ronan has no where to go, that he has to stay and watch the dogs and see Ben in every corner of their home and fall into bouts of fitful sleep with no relief upon waking. Instead he just drops his gaze and sags against the couch, every inch of him weary, feeling the hot, shamed heat rising higher in his face.
His voice is hoarse when he manages a whisper.] I understand. I just - I don't want you to hate me.