RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
Ronin almost expects Remi to tell him he doesn't want to talk about it - he'd neither have blamed the musician nor pushed the matter if that was the case. So to hear Bandcamp be so frank about it all has a soft smile tugging at his lips, and he glances back across at him with a gentle nudge. And if he needs any further coaxing, Ronin reaches up to touch a hand to his cheek, turning him towards the kiss he intends to press against his lips. "A critic is a legless man teaching other people how to run," he mumbles. "I think that popped up on Instagram once, don't ask me who said it."
Another kiss to Remi's lips, and yet another against his cheek, and Ronin finally sits back. "Fuck 'em. Most of 'em couldn't pick up a guitar, let alone get on stage and do what you do." Settling back, he ruins his waxing philosophical by snorting at the prospect of learning Italian. "I'll add it to the list after you've taught me how to make coffee," he says. "How about pizza? I can pronounce that already."
Another kiss to Remi's lips, and yet another against his cheek, and Ronin finally sits back. "Fuck 'em. Most of 'em couldn't pick up a guitar, let alone get on stage and do what you do." Settling back, he ruins his waxing philosophical by snorting at the prospect of learning Italian. "I'll add it to the list after you've taught me how to make coffee," he says. "How about pizza? I can pronounce that already."
show me your darkness.
