Chapter Text
Only feel alive when I'm with you.
***
He studied you for a suffocatingly drawn-out moment. There was something you couldn't pinpoint in that look. The lake lapped delicately at the shore to fill the silence.
"Did it bother you that much?" Ronin asked finally.
You stared vacantly at the water, because looking at him felt like too much right now.
"You kissed me."
"I know."
"And then you acted like it didn't happen?"
"That too."
"So what was I supposed to think?" You lashed out, finding it hard to not get angry. "You give me this look all night. You kiss me like you mean it, and then you just…walk away." Like it's nothing, I'm nothing.
"What did you want it to be?" Ronin tilted his head toward you and asked calmly.
"I'm not the one who –" You stopped to steady your voice. "You kissed me, Ronin. I don't know what you were thinking, or what it meant to you. But I've been doing this for two years. Watching you, wanting you, telling myself if I can't have you I will at least be with you – rehearsing, going on tour, etc. And I made peace with that."
The accusations were tumbling out now, unstoppable. You saw no point in hiding anymore when he'd already seen every vulnerable part of you anyway.
"I told myself tonight would be the last night, that I'd come home and move on and just be your bandmate and that would have to be enough." You laughed, "And then you decided to kiss me. What was that? Adrenaline? Heat of the moment? Some sick game?"
"I never said anything." He gave another infuriating shrug, but his eyes never left yours.
You exhaled a shaky breath. "Well, was it?"
"You were hopin' it might be more than wishful thinking, even though it's gonna end badly for you." He spoke with such awful omniscience. "You always go for what you're not compatible with."
He knew exactly what he meant to you, and that was the worst part.
You dropped onto the weathered bench at the edge of the dock, losing every will to stand or argue. The wood was cold even through your jeans, but you didn't bother to move.
"You wanted love, darlin'. What makes you think I couldn't give you exactly that?"
His voice came from behind, softer now. Ronin lowered himself onto the bench beside you, sitting down. Your knees were just about to touch.
"Close your eyes."
He shifted closer, raising a hand to cup your cheek, his palm warm against your skin. His fingers curled gently, forcing you to turn and look directly at him. You locked eyes and the world came down to just him, and the impossible nearness of his face inches from yours.
"No." You tried to fling his hand away, sounding bitter and as good as desperate. "I've trusted you for two years. Look where that got me."
"That'd be exactly here," he said, unwavered. "With me."
Ronin pressed closer, his breath already warm on your lips, that particular warmth that had been living in your dreams for months. "One more time," he cooed in an alluring voice, "Trust me, just once more."
Slowly, against every nerve screaming at you to protect yourself, you shut your eyes closed.
The dark was immediate and complete. You could hear ripples in the lake, just like your own heartbeat. Ronin's thumb began to trace your cheekbone, a feather-light motion. Up to your eyebrow, following the arch down the bridge of your nose. He traced the shape of you like a blind man reading scripture, like your face was something divine.
And then his lips followed the same path.
A kiss on your closed eyelid, as if it was a reverent prayer. Then the tip of your nose, barely there, and he hovered. You knew Ronin was waiting, giving you time to pull away.
But you didn't. And when his lips finally found yours, it was nothing like backstage, no longer feeling hungry or stolen. This was slow, a test-run and an answer all at once. Ronin kissed you like he had all the time in the world, wanting to make every second count.
His other hand found yours on the bench, fingers threading through yours, intertwining like you were born to fit together this way. You were two vines grown separately but always reaching toward the same light, finally tangled under the moon.
You blinked cautiously when Ronin finally pulled back. His forehead rested against yours, both of you needing a bit more air than usual from that exchange.
"The only reason I'd kiss you," he breathed out the words and they fell into that intimate space, "is you."
"I walked away earlier cause I didn't know what else to do. If I stayed, I wouldn't have stopped. And you deserve better than some backstage fuck from your bandmate who can't keep his hands to himself."
"I didn't want a backstage fuck," you muttered mechanically.
Ronin probably found that cute, the way you said it like a reflex. He smiled. "Well aren't ya glad you're here?"
His voice was full of something you'd spent two years convincing yourself you were imagining. Longing. You couldn't say anything profound, could barely think. It made you dizzy, like all the stars in the night sky had collapsed onto your world, and you were standing at the eye of the hurricane.
Something vast and destructive, nevertheless stunning.
Maybe that was enough. You knew what Ronin looked like in love – you'd seen him on stage, pouring his heart and soul into every note and scream. You knew that look, and now you had it right in front of you.
"...How long?" was all you could manage.
"You don't remember the first time we met, do you darlin'?"
You frowned. "The audition? Two years ago?"
"Way before." He faked a hurtful expression after hearing that.
You searched Ronin's face, confused, rifling through the archives in the back of your mind. "There's no way."
"After I ran from Angelwood, I ended up here." He said it so casually, like he was simply discussing the weather. "Jumped on a train and got off when it stopped."
Your heart was pounding too fast now.
"It was late. Was wanderin', tryna figure out what the hell I was gonna do with myself, when I heard some guitar playin'. Real bangers." He paused, staring again as the old memory flickered across your face.
"It was you. Right here on this dock, lookin' like you were the only person in the world who mattered."
All the pieces began to fall into place. After a fight with your parents, you would always sneak out with your guitar and let the music bleed out of you until you felt clean again. That must've been one of those nights.
You'd thought you were alone. But there had been a shadow once, hadn't there? Hadn’t you always dreamt of having an audience back then? There he was.
"The demo tape!" Realisation hit you like a wave, and you sat up straighter, excited despite everything. "The stuff I wrote – they were on the tape I brought to the audition!"
Ronin's smile widened. "Look at you."
"A few years later you showed up at the audition, and I knew." He gave your cheek an affectionate pinch. "Darlin', I've always known."
You couldn't help but pull him in for another kiss. This does seem addictive, you thought distantly. No amount of words would be able to hold the miracle of what this was.
"I don't need a god when I’ve got my muse," he whispered as your lips parted.
What language existed for a person who'd been watching you for years before you ever knew his name? Who had carried the memory of your music across time and distance, waited and wanted and never made a move until tonight? Until the stars had finally aligned.
On that day, he had watched you play from the corner behind the tempered glass panels, arms crossed, trying to look professional.
Heaven or hell knew he was doing everything to hide the fact that all the blood in his body had been simmering, and his heart was doing something dangerous in his chest, hoping.
And Ronin Beaufort thought: finally.