𝘛𝘢𝘮𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘮, said Ronan, and Adam said, 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘮.
Cicero had written the phrase about Atticus, his dearest friend. 𝘘𝘶𝘪 𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘮. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
This was a thing Hennessy was learning about Ronan Lynch: He always thought he was keeping his secrets by keeping his mouth shut, but he ended up telling them in other ways.
“Nightmares are chemical,” his boyfriend, Adam, had told him once. “Inappropriate adrenaline response to stimulus, possibly related to trauma.”
“Talk dirty to me,” Ronan had replied.
He had blue eyes. People generally think blue eyes are pretty, but his were not. They were not cornflower, sky, baby, indigo, azure. His were iceberg, squall, hypothermia, eventual death.
“Oh.”
There was something about that 𝘖𝘩 that Ronan didn’t like the shape of. It seemed sad. Not as if Adam was sad when he said it. But more like something about that 𝘖𝘩 was going to make Ronan sad.
Again and again they spiraled around and through one another, not Ronan-and-Adam but rather one entity that held both of them. They were happy and sad, angry and forgiven, they were wanted, they were wanted, they were wanted.
“We don’t like your boyfriend, Adam,” Benjy said.
Adam just smiled a private smile as he deftly swept his cards into a stack. “I’m taking the winner away, you guys.”
Declan was powerless to deny Matthew a thing he wanted anyway, but it was more than that. It was that he’d given up everything and gotten nothing for it in return.