[Jiang gives Ronan a box, not much bigger than a photograph, just before he leaves. He tells him to open it later, when he's alone, because it's special. He kisses him, loving and adoring and like he could kiss him for hours. But eventually he pulls away, brushes a touch of his lips against his cheek and his temple. And then he's getting into his Supra and driving back to the dorms.
The box is wrapped in black chromatic paper that turns into rainbows as you shift it in the light. There are a half dozen black and white photographs, Ronan the focus of them all. But it's Ronan through Jiang's eyes: dangerous but loyal, wicked and sharp, unbearably sexy, soft hearted and kind, just happy--
And then the last one was in color. Ronan in the sun's light, a sliver of shadow on the edge of his face- his smile unself-conscious and pleased. He was leaning against the BMW as sunrise turned into a late spring morning, car stopped by a roadside that left whether they'd continue to school or blow it off entirely a question that felt unanswered even if memory knew the truth. But it's the sort of photo that demonstrates the difference between taking a picture and something more. Because the picture is somehow more true than memory. The edges softer, the colors brighter, and the picture feels: it yearns, it loves, its focus undeniably on the boy that it captures. There's a truth in the pictures, but it's in the feelings.
Under the photographs is a leather bracelet, the sort that would blend in with the others that Ronan wore, almost indistinguishable. But it was printed with the words amor est lux; love is light. There's a small note folded inside the bracelet that says just: I thought it might be easier for you like this. I hope it's less awkward than flowers. He signed it with his name, and a small heart. He doesn't ask the question in words, he leaves it there in between everything else.]
love and light;
The box is wrapped in black chromatic paper that turns into rainbows as you shift it in the light. There are a half dozen black and white photographs, Ronan the focus of them all. But it's Ronan through Jiang's eyes: dangerous but loyal, wicked and sharp, unbearably sexy, soft hearted and kind, just happy--
And then the last one was in color. Ronan in the sun's light, a sliver of shadow on the edge of his face- his smile unself-conscious and pleased. He was leaning against the BMW as sunrise turned into a late spring morning, car stopped by a roadside that left whether they'd continue to school or blow it off entirely a question that felt unanswered even if memory knew the truth. But it's the sort of photo that demonstrates the difference between taking a picture and something more. Because the picture is somehow more true than memory. The edges softer, the colors brighter, and the picture feels: it yearns, it loves, its focus undeniably on the boy that it captures. There's a truth in the pictures, but it's in the feelings.
Under the photographs is a leather bracelet, the sort that would blend in with the others that Ronan wore, almost indistinguishable. But it was printed with the words amor est lux; love is light. There's a small note folded inside the bracelet that says just: I thought it might be easier for you like this. I hope it's less awkward than flowers. He signed it with his name, and a small heart. He doesn't ask the question in words, he leaves it there in between everything else.]