‘ —— @alucinored / start ’
HE SUPPOSE THERE WAS AN EERIE SORT OF BEAUTY behind the fresh purples and splatters of green that painted the other’s skin ; as vintage as adam parrish was in his features , the blemishes ( which was too kind of a word to describe the damn things ) seem to provide a sense of etherealness , like he didn’t quite fit in with the familiar antiquity of henrietta or anywhere on earth in general. ronan hates it. he hates the impossible aura that emanates from the beaten boy ; he hates the possibility of this ending in something worse ; that , one day , adam would truly belong elsewhere rather than here. dead. buried in his backyard somewhere or thrown into the back of an old blue pick-up truck. his grip would tighten around the steering wheel then ; an incoherent curse being hissed between dry lips. and just like that , ronan's foot would slam on the breaks , as his hands work to turn the vehicle around before they could reach the end of the road. “ like hell , i’m taking you to school like this. ” he’s got a new goal in mind now: find robert parrish.