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Aidan has this ring. It's small and silver and crafted from the handle of an old piece of cutlery, embossed with the letter "O" in fancy cursive script, belonging to an ancestor and handed down through the O'Gorman family for generations.
Aidan has this ring. It's tiny and tarnished and the most precious thing he's ever owned. Dean gave it to him, placed it on his pinky finger the night before he was to leave New Zealand, with Dean firm between his thighs and the promise of "we'll meet again" whispered hotly against cooling skin.
Aidan has this ring. It's timeless and telling. He doesn't wear it during the day, but at night and alone he never takes it off. It travels with him, to locations, auditions, events. It rides in his shirt pocket, forged metal always close to his heart.
Aidan has this ring. It's cold and constricting, and sometimes he wonders if actually this ring has him.
Aidan has this ring, and the memories attached to it, delicate and dear. He knows by rights it should go to her, stay in the family, be handed down through generations to come. But years on it's the only tangible thing he has left of his time with him, and he knows he'll never part with it.
She has Dean. But Aidan has this ring.