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Love is a strong word.
Ron never really thought he felt it. He remembered as a kid, when his mom would say the words 'I love you' as they enter church, but the words never really held its meaning. As soon as they got home, Ron was always made to go up to his room and not be a nuisance while his mother cleans. He remembers his college friends, nudging his shoulder and telling him 'Love you, bro.' followed by a promise of meeting up soon. But as days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, those promises were never fulfilled.
Ron hasn't ever remembered a time when the word love was used in a genuine way.
He's okay with that. He doesn't think he can feel it, either, so he doesn't expect those around him to do so.
Ron stirs awake.
For the first time in months, he slept like a baby. The memories of yesterday come flooding back to his mind, memories of soft kisses and firm touches, and the most gorgeous girl in the world laying next to him and playing with his hair until his eyes closed against his will.
He reaches over, wanting to be near her. Whether it be a hand on her cheek, or on her waist, he just wants to feel her and remember that she's here.
But, when he realizes that she's not there, his eyes immediately open.
In a split second, his body sits up, and his head looks around to try and find her, hoping to just see her in the corner putting on her clothes.
To his dismay, that's not what he sees.
But, what he hears is someone washing dishes in the kitchen.
His shoulders immediately stops being so tense, and there's a relief in knowing that he'll get to see her for a few more minutes before she has to leave for work.
He doesn't even bother dressing up, or brushing his teeth, or anything of the sort. There's just one thing he wants to do right now, and it's to see Reagan.
When he steps outside, he's quiet enough that she doesn't even seem to notice his presence. Which is good.
Because he gets to feel her tense as he hugs her from behind, before laughing and melting in his arms.
"Good morning," Reagan says. He remembers the first time they woke up next to each other, and him greeting her, while she responded with 'You actaully say 'Good morning.' to people when you wake up?'. It's a funny story now, considering that she picked up his habits quickly enough.
"Good morning," Ron says back, smiling against the back of her neck.
"Do you want me to drop this or what?" Reagan laughs, swatting him off as she rinses the soap off of his plates.
"I want you to relax and not do my chores for me." Ron grabs the plate, drying it off using a cloth nearby.
They don't say anything afterwards. Reagan just keeps washing the plates, before handing it over for Ron to dry off. It's a small routine they formed in just a second.
Despite all his attempts not to, he starts to think about how nice it would be to wake up like this every day. This is Reagan's second day of staying over, and it's been so comfortable that he forgot that she doesn't live here. His bed is just his own. His place is just his own.
But it doesn't have to be.
He glances at Reagan, who raises her eyebrow, a silent question to inquire about what caught his gaze so suddenly.
Right. They're not really lovers, anyway. That's what you do when you're in love, you stare at people and notice everything about them. Ron isn't about that life, and he doubts that Reagan is too. Although, if you asked Ron if he thinks that she deserves a life where she's loved and cherished? He'd say yes, she would.
They put the dishes in the shelves together.
Ron sits on the bed, watching Reagan button up her clothes.
He doesn't know why, but watching her get dressed feels a million times more intimate than watching her get undressed. He physically can't look away.
"Reagan?" Before he can stops himself, he gestures her over. Reagan, who's in the middle of getting dressed, walks over with a confused hum.
With hesitating hands, his fingers move closer to her chest.
He finishes buttoning up her clothes for her.
Reagan is uncharistically quiet during the entire moment, and he doesn't know if that scares him or calms him. He misses her quips, but for some reason, he feels like she has the power to say something that will destroy him.
"Turn around?"
Reagan tilts her head, before turning around.
Ron takes the elastic band on the desk near their bed. Their bed? He meant his bed.
Trying not to dwell too much on that thought, he ties her hair up gently, trying not to accidentally hurt her by pulling too hard.
He wonders if Reagan is as nervous as him in this moment. Her tense shoulders are a sign.
Neither of them talk as he puts on her coat for her, guiding her arms through the sleeves.
"I have to go now. My dad will kill me if I'm late for the third time this week." Reagan rolls her eyes, face souring as she mentions Rand.
"It's just Wednesday." Ron comments, following her as she walks through the living room, even if he still has half an hour before he has to leave.
"And?" Reagan grins, looking at him behind her shoulder. She's out the door, while he's barely inside. This is the very, very inevitable part of hookups where they leave like they were never there. Well, thats how its supposed to go. Reagan has a way of lingering into his life. He doesn't mind it.
They're both at the door, waiting. Reagan is waiting for him to say something, while Ron is waiting for her to stop looking at him.
He wonders what he could say.
Stay for longer next time. Maybe you should stay over again tonight, actually. Falling asleep would be a lot easier if you were beside me every night. I think I lov—
"I think you should go, you're going to be late." Ron says a lot quicker than he meant to, gently pushing Reagan away so he could close the door without hurting her. "Stay safe!"
The last thing he sees is Reagan's eyebrow raising, and her mouth opening as she's halfway through starting a question, before he slams the door on her.
Shit.
Ron puts his back on the door, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
Shit.