[The thing of it is, Ronan's had more than ample time to push his foot away, to get up, to make it all stop, but he hasn't and Kavinsky is almost positive he won't. (The same kind of positive where Kavinsky thought Ronan would end up with him, once upon a time)

Not only is Ronan not moving him away, but he's also letting Kavinsky rile him up and the way Ronan's starting to let out ragged breaths is all the inspiration Kavinsky needs to continue.]

A new leaf? And do what? Sit around this place and fucking crochet sweaters? What the fuck is a new leaf?

[He certainly has no idea. He's been this way for far too long now. He's been without for even longer, and Ronan feels so warm under him. He feels exactly like Kavinsky has always imagined he would and he wonders if that's programing as well, tapping into some sort of fantasy place in his head.

At those words, Kavinsky eyes go darker and he palms at Ronan a little harder, the hairs on his arm standing up as those long fingers travel up his arm, the fire inside of him growing stronger.]

Why? What's here, Ronan? Nothing. No one. Just us.