#but also. the job market [gestures exhaustedly]

[morvantmortuary]

late last night, I figured out how to compile my scrivener drafts to epubs (finally)

it is. immensely surreal to see your own work show up like a book in your ereader for the first time, let me tell you that.

[crookswithbooks]

Never the Favorite

Day Five - Declan has always hated the holidays but when Ronan brings a new person into the chaos of their lives he finds himself learning to finally appreciate them.

Declan had never liked the winter.

For as long as he could remember, the entire winter/Christmas season served only to be a nightmare and constant reminder of how estranged their family truly was. When they were younger and Niall was still alive, things had gone smoother but there will still small little inordinacies that you would find if you were willing to look close enough. Whether it was the tree that lit up despite having no visible lights, or the way he was often called away for “business reasons”, there was always something that gave away how different they really were.

Then, after Niall had died, Christmas had only worsened. Ronan was angrier now, less manageable, and Matthew would question why they didn’t have so-and-so decorations that year, or why whoever’s present showed up weeks after the actual date of Christmas. Pulling their family together for the holidays felt more like a chore than a vacation nowadays, and on top of school and dealing with Niall’s messy seconds from the fairy market, Declan didn’t have the energy or time for it. The return of January was always a relief.

This year, however, they had Adam with them. Declan had planned on just Matthew and him for this year, deciding he would skip the obligatory invite that Ronan had ignored for years. Instead, it was Ronan who approached Declan, asking about what their plans for Christmas were. 

“I figured we would just have a small celebration,” Declan had replied skeptically, unsure where this was going but not foolish enough to get his hopes up. “Just family.”

Even as he had said the words, they had been hollow in his mouth. “Family” really meant Matthew and him, something that had been understood for years now. Now though, he decided to stick with the vague term.

“I’m going to bring Adam,” Ronan said as fact, ignoring the fact that Declan had said just family and that Ronan didn’t come to Christmas anymore. He had already walked away before Declan could even attempt to reply.

Now Declan found himself standing at the kitchen counter of the Barns, a tray of cookies on one side of him and hot chocolate that burbled in a pot on the stove on the other. He had been up since five in the morning preparing the abandoned space for guests, and now, five o’clock on Christmas Eve, he exhaustedly finished the last of the tasks he had set for himself. Matthew had been recruited to help out at first until it was revealed that Matthew’s method of helping out was singing Christmas carols and undoing all the work Declan had put time and effort into. He had quickly been removed from helping after that.

Ronan was on Adam duty and was currently picking him up from Stanford. The two should be on their way home about now. Declan had been skeptical about Adam at first, the one person aside from Gansey and Matthew that Ronan had chosen to let into his heart. He had been worried that Adam would break the shakily taped together pieces that made up Ronan and that Declan would have to put him back together after Adam left as he had when Niall had died—not that he had done a very good job of it then. Once he saw the way Adam looked at Ronan, however, like a starving man gazing upon an unexpected feast, he allowed himself to relax a little. Adam loved his brother, that much was clear, and he made him happy. Declan hadn’t seen Ronan happy in so long that he almost hadn’t recognized it when it surfaced.

Now he wasn’t worried Adam would break Ronan. He was worried he would destroy him.

The knock at the door signaled the arrival of the couple in question. Declan smiled, knowing that the courtesy of knocking was Adam’s doing; Ronan hadn’t knocked on any door since he was five. He smoothed out his suit, a gentle gray that Matthew said made him look like a corpse and Ronan said made him look like a douche. He turned off the heat on the stove, whirling around the corner and opening the door.

One of Ronan’s hands was placed securely on Adam’s hip, the protective curl of his fingers a warning sign to anyone who would raise an objection. Adam’s head was turned partway towards Ronan, his lips open on an unspoken sentence, but he cut himself off when he noticed Declan.

“Oh,” Adam said, the word perfectly formed. “Hey.” He glanced up and down at Declan, an involuntary action, and frowned a little. “I didn’t realize it was a formal occasion.”

“It’s not,” Ronan interjected before Declan could say anything. He himself was dressed in a rumpled jacket and jeans that were torn from years of Gansey and he’s excursions. He was wearing neither a hat nor gloves, though Declan noticed the near imperceptible shiver caused from their absence. Adam was wearing a leather jacket that, instead of dwarfing his small frame as it would have a year ago, fit snugly around his torso. He seemed almost more grown-up than when he had left for college, and Declan could see from the way that Ronan stared at him that he had noticed too.

“Matthew’s upstairs,” Declan said, stepping aside to let them inside. “I’ll go grab him. Dinner should be ready soon, I’m just finishing up the last little touches. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“It is my home, dickweed,” Ronan muttered, only to have Adam’s elbow dig gently and discreetly into his ribs. Ronan elbowed him back, but the gesture was affectionate without any real malice. The two made their way into the kitchen, bickering all the way.

Upstairs, Matthew was staring out his window. His attention was held by the snow falling in soft spirals to the ground, some of it pasting against the window. He held his hand up to it, so that each one of his fingertips was touching a different snowflake. Declan watched him for a moment before coughing, knocking on the doorframe. “Adam and Ronan are here.”

Matthew didn’t look away from the window, though his hand fell limply onto his lap. “I don’t want to have Christmas this year.”

Declan paused. Since the moment he was born, Matthew had been Declan’s to look after, a precious new baby brother, a dream in the form of a boy. Whenever Matthew had a problem it was Declan who fixed it, quickly and unquestionably because the reality of Matthew’s pain was one he never wanted to face. When Niall died, Declan had been there to curb the storm. When Aurora came back, Declan was content to sit back and let Matthew have a mother again. When Aurora was gone he was also the first to come to his side. He gave Matthew everything he wanted because when Matthew was smiling he was happy and when Matthew was happy Declan could be okay.

Now though, he felt his stomach clench unpleasantly and he dropped his hand from the doorframe. He sat down next to Matthew, the mattress creaking under the combined weight, and stared out the window with him. “Why not?”

“Because I’m a lie,” Matthew said, and with those simple words the world shattered around Declan. “I don’t even know if I like Christmas or if that was just something that was programmed into me. What if all the happiness I’ve felt with you and with dad and with Ronan was just a fairy tale that you guys let me live? What if none of it was ever real?”

The only one who hadn’t known Matthew was a dream had been Matthew himself, and it was a secret that the two brothers had kept for seventeen years. Both of them had agreed that the information was something that Matthew was better off not knowing—it was about the only thing they did agree on. Unfortunately, secrets are only kept for so long, especially when they relate to the person in question. Declan had never seen Matthew as desolate as he had been that day on the dock when he first found out about his true identity, and he had promised that he would never let him look that way again.

It was a promise that he realized now, looking at the pinch between Matthew’s eyebrows and his bitter frown, that he had failed.

“None of it was a lie,” Declan said after a moment, unable to look at Matthew as he spoke. “Ronan can’t influence your decisions. He only brought you into creation, like a mother would.”

“But that’s not how his dreams work,” Matthew protested. “A mother doesn’t get to choose her child—Ronan chose me. He…” He struggled for a moment to find the right words to explain and Declan waited with a growing sense of unease. “He picked my eye color and the shape of my hair and the fact that I’m happy and that you’re not and that I love him and that you don’t—”

“I love him,” Declan interrupted, Matthew’s words hurting more because he could tell he meant them. “Why would you say I don’t love him?”

“You’re always fighting,” Matthew muttered, picking at a scab on his arm. “And yelling at each other. The only time you ever talk to each other is because of me. I know that. I’m not that dumb. And I say I love him all the time. You never say that you do—not once.”

From downstairs, Declan could hear the clattering of plates that meant Ronan and Adam had started to set the table, and the soft murmuring of voices. He forced himself to look at Matthew, needing him to understand him, needing this Christmas to be a good one because if it wasn’t it meant that they truly could never be normal and Declan didn’t want to have to deal with that fact.

“I do love Ronan—and you. I love you both because you’re my family. And just because you’re a dream doesn’t mean that you’re not a person. Ronan’s dreams don’t always do what he wants them to. They evolve and they grow into something more than just a dream, in the same way that people do. You’re just as real as any of the rest of us. You’re just… different.”

Matthew glanced up at him shyly, a child uncertain at the love of a parent. “Do you… do you really think that? That I can be a real person?”

“You are a real person,” Declan assured him with a confidence he wished he could feel. “Now let’s go have dinner with the others. I’m sure they’re wondering where we are.”

Adam and Ronan were kissing when they finally came downstairs, though kissing was a polite word for what they were actually doing. Evidently the two had figured that Declan and Matthew wouldn’t be joining them for quite a while, as Adam’s body was pressed against the corner of one of the living room walls, Ronan’s body bearing down on him. From the looks of it, Adam’s tongue was halfway down his brother’s throat and Ronan’s hands were unaccounted for under the other boy’s shirt.

Declan opened his mouth to announce his presence, but before he could diffuse the situation delicately, Matthew bounded into the room oblivious to the scene, and starting serving himself up mashed potatoes. Adam jerked back from Ronan, the tips of his ears burning an embarrassing shade of red. Ronan simply leaned back, seemingly uncaring of the two new people in the room with them.

“Table’s set,” Ronan said, shark teeth flashing, a dare for Declan to say anything.

“Thank you,” Declan said coolly, not rising to the bait. “Matthew and I were just having a talk. Sorry to take so long.”

“I’m sorry—that wasn’t—” Adam blustered through a couple more half-sentences before Declan’s smile assured him it was nothing he wasn’t already aware of, knowledge that did nothing to help Adam’s already mortified state.

Dinner, usually a quiet affair for such events, was unusually lively. Ronan and Adam fell into easy conversation with Matthew joining after a moment, the boy seeming to have no end of things to talk about. Even Declan himself managed to get a sentence in or two without having his head chopped off, mostly due to the inclusion of Adam who defused most of Ronan’s snarky remarks.

In fact, as the evening went on Declan found himself having a genuinely good time. Adam and Matthew softened Ronan’s sharp edges, the presence of two of his favorite people together serving to curb his usual anger. There were even moments in the night when Ronan would laugh at a joke Declan made or respond to one of his questions genuinely without being his usual asshole self.

They ate cookies and drank hot cocoa that Ronan had apparently spiked with something, a fact Declan didn’t learn until the warmth in his gut was too pleasant for him to be sincerely angry about it. Matthew was the first to fall asleep, the unexpected alcohol being too much for him, and Ronan and Adam quickly followed pursuit. Ronan’s rested on Adam’s collarbone, their two bodies intertwined on the couch that was to be a makeshift guest bed, and Declan listened to their breathing slowly even out into a gentle hum.

Declan stood up, drawing a blanket over Matthew and going about the process of cleaning up and wrapping presents to put under the tree. Half an hour later, he stood over the pile of bodies in the living room and wondered at the people who had slowly become his family, his real family. Never before had Declan felt like he belonged, always seeing himself as a protector to his brothers and merely a colleague to his parents. Throughout the years, Christmas after Christmas had gone by, and every time Declan only found himself feeling worse as the night went on. In that moment, however, with Matthew’s face smiling and serene in sleep, and the sight of Ronan and Adam curled protectively about one another, he realized he had finally discovered a family that he could not only care for but that might care for him back.

He decided to join them in the living room instead of going to his bed like usual, and as he lay besides Matthew’s gently snoring body, he found himself content for the first time in his life.