light a roman candle with me

[admemoriam]

WHO:Noah admemoriam and Ronan nightmarist
WHERE: The Meadows
WHEN: A night in March
WHAT: Boy cuddles
WARNINGS:... Boy cuddles?

Just tuck your knees in. You'll fit.

[Noah settles back against the pillows, his arms up behind his head, looking out at the night sky. The tiny room is lit with a strand of fairy lights, tacked to the walls in erratic patterns. They make the bottle of whiskey glow orange.]

Come on, you'll miss the first meteors.

Comments

[nightmarist]

For fuck's sake...

[Ronan is trying to fit. He practically curls himself into a ball, knees nearly hitting his chest as he crawls into bed beside Noah. His body feels about twice as long as the room.]

Whose quaint idea was this? This is a room for elves, man.

[admemoriam]

Yours.

[He doesn't look over at Ronan when he says it, instead focused on wiggling the window latch open.]

I asked you to dream me a room that wasn't in the basement. This is what showed up.

[nightmarist]

I guess I never thought I'd have to fit in it.

[Scrunching himself into the corner, Ronan reaches for the whiskey bottle and sucks down a gulp before hugging it to his chest. He turns his eyes up to the window, searching what he can see of the sky.]

Did it start yet?

[admemoriam]

[The window finally squeaks open, and a swirl of fresh night air ruffles Noah's hair. Their view of the sky is flawless, broad and open right up to the stars.]

Nah, not yet.

[Satisfied with the set-up, he flips over onto his stomach, holding himself up on pointy elbows. His shoulder bumps Ronan's knee.]

And I mean, you didn't have a reason to think anyone would be in here. It's not like we ever talked about it.

[nightmarist]

[Ronan makes a noncommittal noise. He doesn't like to think about his old self much. Makes a point of avoiding that line of thought entirely, as much as he can help it. He takes another sip of whiskey before passing the bottle over.]

I like the lights, at least.

[admemoriam]

I got them at Y'all-mart.

[He tips over to bump his head against Ronan, and then lifts just enough to take his own sip of whiskey. A little bit gets on his chin.]

My dad set up sleeping bags in the backyard once, so we could watch one of these. Only it got cloudy, and one of my sisters fell asleep, and we wound up just eating a bunch of marshmallows.

[nightmarist]

[Ronan reaches over, swiping his thumb over Noah's chin to wipe it off, then bringing it back to his mouth to suck off the drop of whiskey.]

Sounds like a good time, anyway.

[It warms Ronan, hearing these stories from Noah's life. Back home, Noah had never been able to really remember enough to say much about what it was like before he died. And Ronan wasn't one to press for details, either.]

We used to climb up on the barn roofs and stargaze when it was warm out. I guess we could do that here, too, once summer rolls around.

[admemoriam]

Yeah, it was. I miss them.

[Noah heard about the stargazing from Matthew, but he doesn't mention that. Curled up on his bed isn't really the place to bring him up.]

You just indirectly licked my chin, man.

[nightmarist]

[Not the way Ronan would have described that action, but he laughs anyway.]

Are you complaining because I didn't do it directly?

[admemoriam]

I wouldn't have minded it.

[Chin licking, totally seductive. He's half joking.

Then, with a little gasp, he leans forward and sticks one finger out the window.]

Oh, hey, I think that's one!

[nightmarist]

[Only half-joking. Ronan will keep that in mind.

He flops onto his back when Noah points at the window, looking out and up toward the sky.]

I missed it. Where am I supposed to be looking?

[admemoriam]

Over the barn, above where that oak is.

[He thinks it's an oak. It might not be an oak at all. Blue would be disappointed.]

See? Right there.

[nightmarist]

[Ronan cranes his neck to look. He's an absurd sight, all long and awkwardly-angled limbs bunched into a knotted pile.]

...Oh. Too late.

[He can't say whether it's an oak or not. He hasn't paid that much attention.]

[admemoriam]

[Noah watches with a fond, impish smile, and then-

He climbs on top of Ronan.]

Here, you can stretch your legs out now.

[Consolidation. Building up, not out. He settles in like a cat, chest-to-chest, short legs sotting in between Ronan's long ones.]

[nightmarist]

[Look at that. Ronan just went from alabaster pale to bright red.]

...Um.

[Yes, he can certainly stretch his legs out now. It just takes him a second to remember he has them, and by then he's not sure he wants to unfurl his body, because he suddenly feels incredibly exposed. Here. Underneath Noah.]

[admemoriam]

[It's not that Noah doesn't know what he's doing. He's seventeen, he's done all this before, and he's been alone for ages. But right now, it's none of that driving him. Right now, this room is warm and comfortable, and he wants to feel another heart beating next to his own.]

Maybe it's not an oak. Oaks have acorns, right? Do we have acorns?