[ things that scar you that deep never leave - that's what andyr knows. that's what being on the moira has taught him. maybe it's in the past, maybe you're far removed from it, but it's still in your head, on constant replay. all the worse for ronan, whose mind is so much more vivid and real than andyr's. no, there aren't words to make it better, or to erase it.
but ronan's hardly useless to him - no, he can't fix what's happened, but he's giving him reprieve now. He's put a bright, soothing light into and otherwise dim and violent life, and it's a memory that'll keep andyr warm and strong for years to come, he thinks. Just knowing he had Ronan once. That this beautiful, gift of a boy cared for him and loved him, once. Somewhere in the multiverse, he'll know this was true, and feel a little less alone, and a little less empty. Just that small piece of something could be enough to save him, some days.
what ronan tells him about his reality, about what paths his mind has taken and where he's left now - not particularly wanting one thing or the other, but knowing an obligation, is a sad truth, that Andyr can understand all the same. lifting his head, Andyr's hands caress over Ronan's cheeks again, pushing back over his hair, and repeating the motion, as he kisses his forehead, and then over his eyelids, and finally, his lips. ]
You're good, Ronan Lynch. [ he tells him quietly, holding him like something sacred and precious. ] You're noble, and kind, and caring, and brave. You're a nurturing creator, and a devoted protector, and no matter what's coming for you, or what you might fail to do, you will always be good.
[ Their foreheads press together, and Andyr aches to be able to do something for him, even knowing he can't. it's a fight he doesn't have the power to butt into, but so fucking help him, he'll be here to hold onto him and remind him that he's loved, and that he's done right, to the bitter end of it. He kisses all over his face - his cheeks, his temple, his lips - murmuring to him in a too honest whisper. ] You're good, you're good, you're good, and I'm so goddamn proud of you.
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but ronan's hardly useless to him - no, he can't fix what's happened, but he's giving him reprieve now. He's put a bright, soothing light into and otherwise dim and violent life, and it's a memory that'll keep andyr warm and strong for years to come, he thinks. Just knowing he had Ronan once. That this beautiful, gift of a boy cared for him and loved him, once. Somewhere in the multiverse, he'll know this was true, and feel a little less alone, and a little less empty. Just that small piece of something could be enough to save him, some days.
what ronan tells him about his reality, about what paths his mind has taken and where he's left now - not particularly wanting one thing or the other, but knowing an obligation, is a sad truth, that Andyr can understand all the same. lifting his head, Andyr's hands caress over Ronan's cheeks again, pushing back over his hair, and repeating the motion, as he kisses his forehead, and then over his eyelids, and finally, his lips. ]
You're good, Ronan Lynch. [ he tells him quietly, holding him like something sacred and precious. ] You're noble, and kind, and caring, and brave. You're a nurturing creator, and a devoted protector, and no matter what's coming for you, or what you might fail to do, you will always be good.
[ Their foreheads press together, and Andyr aches to be able to do something for him, even knowing he can't. it's a fight he doesn't have the power to butt into, but so fucking help him, he'll be here to hold onto him and remind him that he's loved, and that he's done right, to the bitter end of it. He kisses all over his face - his cheeks, his temple, his lips - murmuring to him in a too honest whisper. ] You're good, you're good, you're good, and I'm so goddamn proud of you.