Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in rooms,
Re: House: Ben/Ronan
[He doesn't look up from the tiled pattern of the floor when Ben strides into the kitchen, even though he's left the bathroom door open - not hiding so much as just prolonging the inevitable, he guesses, even if he's pressed his spine up against the corner where two walls meet. He can see the length of Ben's shadow reflected in a disjointed sort of way against the laminated tile, can just make out the shifting shape of his silhouette as he squats down to reassure the dogs where they stand guard on the kitchen floor.
And that's something that he can focus on, besides the heat of his bruises and shame that rises steadily in his cheeks - the warmth of Ben's touch against their heads and the gradual ease of tension from their minds. It isn't even the first time that Ronan has felt actual jealousy towards their pets, and the simplicity with which they observe the world around them, and how sad is that?
Ronan. The low utterance of his name is enough to send his stomach plummeting down around his ankles, and fuck it all if he wasn't a fool to believe that he could stay strong. Between the pulsing pain of his injuries and the spinning sickness in his head and the heartbreak that he can hear in Ben's voice, he is helpless to stem the hot spill of tears over his cheeks as he leans up and into the reach of Ben's arms.]
I'm sorry. [The whisper comes out hoarse and disjointed, sounding like a stranger, and he presses his mouth against the collar of Ben's shirt even though it hurts and he knows that he's getting blood all over the both of them.] SorryI'msorryI'msosorry.