It had always been ironic how all the boys had their own brand of insomnia. Noah could sleep just fine so long as he was sleeping with someone else, which was why people tended to find them in their beds upon morning.
His own bed was made, untouched, but he had left a sweatshirt on the foot of Ganseys on their way out for snacks and whatever Gansey needed to do. Noah was a good passenger most of the time. Most of it.
This trip he landed a bag of sour gummi worms, nachos and a little bottle with glitter in it. He was shuffling his items when they walked up the steps and Gansey paused. Noah peeked around him and noted the broken glass. That was odd. They lived in a good neighborhood and everyone around them seemed decent enough.
The house sounded quiet, and Noah reached around to urge Gansey to unlock the door before he slid in front and pushed it open. Almost immediately, Wingnut, his sugar glider terror peeked out of his pocket and took off, obviously sensing something.
"Come on," he whispered to Gansey, set his bag of goodies down and pulled him inside, following the path of his trusty little munchie brat. It was quiet save for the snoring, and Noah actually arched his brow when he paused in the doorway to Ganseys room.
"Huh..." Smirking softly he looked back at Gansey, "Gansey, are you aware you have a Lynch in your bed?"
On said bed, Wingnut was scrambling up the comforter and poking its little wiggling nose against Ronan's, making little noises. A dream always remembers its maker.
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His own bed was made, untouched, but he had left a sweatshirt on the foot of Ganseys on their way out for snacks and whatever Gansey needed to do. Noah was a good passenger most of the time. Most of it.
This trip he landed a bag of sour gummi worms, nachos and a little bottle with glitter in it. He was shuffling his items when they walked up the steps and Gansey paused. Noah peeked around him and noted the broken glass. That was odd. They lived in a good neighborhood and everyone around them seemed decent enough.
The house sounded quiet, and Noah reached around to urge Gansey to unlock the door before he slid in front and pushed it open. Almost immediately, Wingnut, his sugar glider terror peeked out of his pocket and took off, obviously sensing something.
"Come on," he whispered to Gansey, set his bag of goodies down and pulled him inside, following the path of his trusty little munchie brat. It was quiet save for the snoring, and Noah actually arched his brow when he paused in the doorway to Ganseys room.
"Huh..." Smirking softly he looked back at Gansey, "Gansey, are you aware you have a Lynch in your bed?"
On said bed, Wingnut was scrambling up the comforter and poking its little wiggling nose against Ronan's, making little noises. A dream always remembers its maker.