#matthew punched declan in the face and adam and ronan love each other again. i am content

[emmerrr]

What did you think about greywaren?

the thing about greywaren is that my expectations were really low in the first place, but because i love the characters and the writing style so much i was already predisposed to forgive it for all manner of sins. (and there were a lot of sins). ultimately, for me, this book was always going to be about how it made me feel rather than how it got to whatever conclusion it got to, if that makes sense.

and i thought a lot of it was dumb! i never really liked the moderator plot anyway, and it got even stupider in this book. i guess we know now why nathan (i think that's his name i can't remember lmao) was mentioned so often as he's the Big Bad, but his motivations still don't make that much sense to me, and to be honest i already can't even really remember what they were? i didn't like that ronan was like, asleep, for over 80% of the book. didn't like that ronan is not, in fact, human (it makes sense and i knew it was coming, but i still don't like it). didn't like that there was no real resolution for matthew. didn't like that declan never apologised, or even really seemed to reflect all that much, on his treatment of matthew (i love declan but come on). i did like that matthew punched declan in the face and then stole his car.

for a book that was about the lynch brothers the brothers lynch, we really didn't get enough of them on page together to justify 'on the seventh day the lynch bros became friends again' or whatever the line was. all the adam scenes broke my heart into a million trillion tiny little pieces oh my god. i liked ronan and adam's dreamscape reunion but i wanted a real-world conversation as well. i'm glad that they forgive each other and everything but i think there's maybe a lot they need to talk about? idk!

i could go on, but this would get too long and it's probably nothing that no one else has already said. but despite all of my issues - and there are many - i couldn't put it down. i thought the writing was exquisite. it made me anxious, it made me sad, it was funny in surprising ways (matthew and bryde, anyone? where's their spin-off??), i lovedddd the carmen and hennessy situation (hennessy was such a delight to read i love her so much), and whilst i didn't love how all of the niall/mor stuff was resolved or explained, i did like getting an insight into their lives at the barns and baby declan and all that. but it was a messy read all in all, a lot of loose ends either tied up too neatly or forgotten about entirely.

the most important thing, though, was that i cared. i never, for one second, stopped caring about the characters and what was going to happen to them. ronan and adam in particular are so very important to me, characters that feel like old friends. and so all i really wanted from greywaren, in the end, was to know that my friends were going to be okay.

and they are <3

[snorlaxlovesme]

They were happy and sad, angry and forgiven, they were wanted, they were wanted, they were wanted.

SCREAMING SO LOUD MY THROAT BLEEDS

[crimeronan]

Ok so I’m into the dreamer trilogy and haven’t read the Raven cycle...what is Declan’s characterisation/journey there?

THIS MIGHT BE THE BEST ASK I’VE EVER RECEIVED. IMAGINE I’M STANDING WITH MY ARMS SPREAD USING DIFFERENT VOICES AND HAND GESTURES TO REENACT THIS STORY FOR A RESENTFUL CAPTIVE AUDIENCE

also declan’s TRC storyline is like. equal parts horribly fucking sad and unbelievably fucking hilarious so. i will try to strike a Balance

FIRST OFF.  there is exactly one (1) declan POV chapter in the entire series. it happens toward the end of the last book. up until then, everything we know about him comes from the observations and narration of others.

he is also a very minor character.  his importance grows throughout the series, but almost all of his actions happen offscreen.  it’s not until the last book that we know exactly how much he’s been dealing with the whole time.

when he’s introduced in the first book, he appears as a plot device.  here is a two-dimensional horrible controlling hardass who doesn’t give a shit about anything but his future political career.  look at his fake, smug fucking grin.  how did someone like ronan end up with a brother like him??  doesn’t matter.  it’s a convenient excuse for ronan to live with his best friend in a drafty warehouse, which means more room for YA hijinks!

declan’s introduction scene is Embroiled in Capital-D Douchebaggery. according to the narration (from gansey and adam), he loves to fuck women and then never call them back, cozy up to powerful people, and bitch about how ronan’s ruining his life by being sad about their dead parents.  SOME people can just get over their dead parents, ronan!

this intro scene is also Extremely Funny i 100% recommend reading it even if u don’t read the actual series.  ronan makes a nasty comment, declan goes “why are you the way that you are” and tries to salvage his date, gansey utters the phrase “man whore”

then later that night things go like. actually bad.

declan shows up at the same pizza place where ronan is with his friends.  this scene is gansey pov.  gansey runs out to the parking lot to find the two of them Very Literally Trying To Kill Each Other.  you don’t see that violence in cdth - there’s only the TINIEST shadow of it when declan confronts ronan over matthew - so i Cannot Express Enough that someone is going to end up hospitalized at BEST. ronan’s already slammed declan’s head on the car, declan’s already grabbed ronan and beaten the shit out of his face, like.

you do not get good old-fashioned Declan Lynch At His Actual Worst in cdth. u might be thinking, THAT guy???? doing THIS????

oh yeah. things are real bad between declan and ronan.

after gansey breaks up the fight (and gets punched in the face for his trouble, albeit accidentally), declan tells ronan that their dad would be fucking ashamed to see him now & that he’s washing his hands of it & basically if ronan wants to go off and fucking die, he can.

this is like. just a couple months after the magical suicide attempt referenced in cdth

in the aftermath of that scene it becomes clear that ronan absolutely unequivocally 100% will kill himself if he has to live with declan. hence. why he’s living with gansey instead.  gansey spends that whole night petrified that the declan altercation will lead to another attempt, and for Good Reason

so like, that’s how we first meet declan. he’s an uncaring wannabe corporate asshole who does not give a fuck and who only exists to exacerbate ronan’s mental health issues.

but then the opening of book 2 gets real interesting.

book 2 is where we start learning more about the lynch family.  we learn that ronan’s father was a dreamer who sold his creations on the black market, we learn that that’s why he was murdered. we learn that ronan’s a dreamer too. we learn that there are very powerful people looking for the greywaren, an artifact that takes objects from dreams. those powerful people just don’t realize it’s a person, yet.

so here’s the assassin who killed niall lynch.

he goes to declan’s dorm.

with everything we know about declan, the kid should be completely unprepared.  he can box, but the assassin knows that, so there’s no real advantage.  he’s alone, and he doesn’t have an escape route.

declan pulls out a gun.

this is an unexpected turn of events.

unfortunately he ends up getting beaten half to death with the butt of said gun, because he loses the ensuing physical struggle for the weapon.  the assassin is like, i need the greywaren.  declan is like, i know it exists but i don’t know what it is.  i’ll find it for you.  i’ll get it to you.  then you’ll leave me the fuck alone

now with everything we know of declan at this point - his attitude toward ronan, his general demeanor, and this new knowledge that he knew about the black market - there’s one obvious question.

will declan sell ronan out if he finds out about the dreaming.

and like, okay. their relationship is antagonistic in cdth but it is NOT what it is in trc. believe me when i tell you that at that point, when you’re reading, you can pretty reasonably go, “oh, god.  oh god.  oh god please no one ever tell declan what the greywaren is.  oh god.”

declan has some other interactions with ronan and the gang throughout the book, mostly where he’s just a hardass who tells ronan to stop causing trouble.  adam’s the only one who notices that declan is scared.  like bone-deep shaking to the core petrified.  about Something.

probably getting beaten to within an inch of his life by the man who murdered his father.  that’s the reasonable reader conclusion.

so imagine how everything changes when you find out that declan already knows.  that declan’s known about ronan’s dreaming for longer than ronan has.  that declan knew exactly what and who the greywaren was, and he lied to a man who was ready to torture him for information, and he got away with it.

suddenly a lot of things recontextualize.

“keep your head down and stop making trouble”? people are gonna NOTICE your magic bullshit, ronan, we do not have time for this!

“stop hanging with that loser druggie friend of yours”? you mean the loser druggie friend who sells on the magic black market and doesn’t care about protecting himself or anyone else?

“i got super weird for no reason about ronan sleeping close to adam”? i don’t have fucking TIME to be homophobic i’m busy with your POTENTIAL TO MANIFEST NIGHT TERRORS IN FRONT OF WITNESSES IN BROAD DAYLIGHT

“i’ll find out what the greywaren is and bring it to you”? i’ll die. i’m making a bargain to die. i’m never giving you the greywaren and i know you’re going to kill me about it and that’s fine as long as my brothers are safe

ronan doesn’t know that he dreamed matthew.  declan knows.  he’s known the whole time.  declan tells ronan in book 3.  and then things recontextualize even further, because ronan’s death is also matthew’s, and matthew IS close to declan in trc.

but declan never tells the goddamn truth unless it’s his last option.  he doesn’t tell ronan that he knows about the dreaming and he doesn’t tell ronan what specifically wants to hurt him and the lack of communication fucking destroys both of them.

in the last book, ronan realizes declan loves him.

more than that, he realizes declan’s loved him the whole time.

this is when declan finally tells the truth.  things are getting bad, plot-wise, and declan is scared, so he comes clean.  he tells ronan that niall specifically tasked declan with protecting ronan from the market.  he begs ronan to run from the danger.  “let’s pour gasoline on everything dad left and start over.”

this is also when ronan realizes that declan’s childhood was very different from ronan’s own.  and that niall and aurora lynch were not the same people to declan that they were to ronan.  and that their father’s decisions are what’s driven the wedge between him and declan all this time

(he’s still struggling with the cognitive dissonance of this in cdth. i don’t think he knows how to adjust his perception of declan to fit this new information.)

aaaaand the final scene with declan makes me cry every time i read it so instead of summarizing, here’s the important part:

Ronan delivered a sharp tap to the object, and a small cloud of fiery orbs sprayed up with a sparkling hiss.

���Jesus, Ronan!” Declan jerked his chin away.

“Please. Did you think I’d blow your face off?”

He demonstrated it again, that quick tap, that burst of brilliant orbs. He tipped it into Declan’s hand, and before Declan could say anything, jabbed it to activate it once more.

Orbs gasped up into the air. For a moment, he saw how his brother was caught inside them, watching them soar furiously around his face, each gold sun firing gold and white, and when he saw the spacious longing in Declan’s face, he realized how much Declan had missed by growing up neither dreamer nor dreamt. This had never been his home. The Lynches had never tried to make it Declan’s home.

“Declan?” Ronan asked.

Declan’s face cleared. “This is the most useful thing you’ve ever dreamt. You should name it.”

“I have. ORBMASTER. All caps.”

“Technically you’re the orbmaster though, right? And that’s just an orb.”

“Anyone who holds it becomes an ORBMASTER. You’re an ORBMASTER right now. There, keep it, put it in your pocket. D.C. ORBMASTER.”

Declan reached out and scuffed Ronan’s shaved head. “You’re such a little asshole.”

The last time they’d stood on this roof together, their parents had both been alive, and the cattle in these fields had been slowly grazing, and the world had been a smaller place. That time was gone, but for once, it was all right.

The brothers both looked back over the place that had made them, and then they climbed down from the roof together.

[willowbird]

Your pynch kiss drabble was so lovely aaa!! Could you do 31 and 32 for pynch too if its no trouble?

Weak sweaty kisses because it's too damn hot + whispered words of love against their lips!

Okay so this got away from me a liiiiiiittle bit. I don’t know if this is what you had in mind but I hope you like it!

-----

“This... fucking... sucks... dirty -- fuck! -- hairy... monkey balls!” Ronan grit his teeth around each word, panting as he fumbled around for the next apparent hand-hold and hauled himself up another few feet.

Maybe eight or so feet below him, Adam huffed out a breathless mockery. “You realize... that this... was actually... your idea,” came his half-grunted, half-growled response a few moments later. Despite the obvious strain in the other man’s tone from the effort of dragging himself up the side of a rocky cliff in the middle of August, there was no actual ire behind it. In fact, Ronan was familiar enough with Adam’s voice and how it shifted depending on his expression that was pretty confident that he was actually smiling. 

As they were currently about half a mile up along the side of a jaggedly sloped cliff face, though, he was less than willing to look down to be sure.

Also, Adam wasn’t wrong. It had been his brilliant fucking idea to climb up the side of a fucking mountain in the hottest fucking part of the day. Granted, he had a good reason, and he still thought it was going to be worth it, but hot damn fucking fuck this sucked ass. 

“Should’ve.. fucking... taken the.. fucking helicopter.” Now that was where he’d gone wrong. He’d thought it would be better climbing on their own. Then it could be just him and Adam, and it would make the moment... just... better or something. Plus, he knew that Adam didn’t like flying and he didn’t want to fuck it all up by making Adam do something he didn’t like. Besides, Adam had seemed excited about the idea of hiking to some secluded spot in the mountains. Granted, neither of them had realized that they’d have to scale a fucking cliff because the bridge across the river on the other side, where there was a path up to the summit, had gotten wiped out in a flash flood last week. 

They could have decided to turn back at that point. Honestly, when Ronan suggested that they climb up from the other side, he’d expected Adam to tell him he was fucknuts crazy and that would be the end of that. He’d just have to rethink his plan or try again another day. But Adam hadn’t written it off like he’d thought he would. Adam had looked at the steep but not vertical incline of the peak, then he’d grinned at Ronan and... well... 

Ronan had just sorta fallen in love all over again. 

So they’d climbed the cliff. Well, they were climbing the cliff. It was an in-progress sort of thing. Ronan was hating his life, but not actually -- because even though it was too damn fucking hot and he was soaked through with sweat and his arms hurt and his hands hurt and his everything fucking hurt... he was here with Adam and every now and then from below him he heard the other man laugh or huff with triumph and each time it gave him a shot of energy like espresso laced with lightning. 

Like now -- Adam laughed at his whining and it was like a punch to his pulse and suddenly he had the energy for another ten feet of climbing. 

“Nah...” Adam panted. “I definitely... have a better view... this way.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, but even with the heat of the August sun bitch-slapping him every time he looked up, he still felt his cheeks burn at the words. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to Adam openly flirting with him. They’d been together for fucking years now, and hopefully... 

Well, point being, it always made him feel like a twelve-year-old meeting one of the Backstreet Boys in person (look, they were fucking COOL okay?) and getting an autograph with a wink at the handoff. 

“Fucking asshole,” he grumbled, but even he heard the baring of a grin in his own voice. Adam continued to snigger from below, and Ronan shook his head, pushing onward. It was only a few more feet now, and seeing the promise of the top had Ronan feeling both more energized and more tired than he’d ever felt in his life. 

With an extra push and a grunt for emphasis, he dragged himself up and over that final lip, which was about four feet of a straight drop. His arms shook, but that didn’t stop him from pushing up to his knees and instantly turning around to offer his arm to Adam. Long, strong fingers curled around his forearm and he did the same as he pulled the other man up, losing balance and falling back with a groan of discomfort, because the pack he was wearing was not exactly a down fucking pillow. 

Adam chuckled above him and gave him a light shove so he could roll onto his side. This was less for Ronan’s benefit as much as it was so Adam could get to the canteen strapped to the pack. With considerable effort, Ronan at up and swiveled around as Adam drank. He didn’t hesitate when the canteen was then offered to him and gulped down the cool salvation with greedy intent. Only when the worst of his thirst was quenched did he drop the canteen and sigh, looking back over at Adam. 

But Adam wasn’t looking at him. 

Adam had shifted up to his knees and was staring out over the canopy, the winding river, and the deep valley beyond. Robin’s-egg eyes were wide with beauty-tinged wonder and Ronan could see the way his breath caught, the way his throat tightened at the sight. 

“Ronan...” Adam said. 

Ronan screwed the top back onto the canteen and set it aside, shrugging out of his pack and feeling instantly lighter. It was still too damn hot. He felt sticky and half-suffocated with the heat not only pressing down on him but radiating out from his overworked muscles after all that exertion. Sweat had soaked through his shirt and every other bit of fabric on his body and his eyes were stinging from the salt of what had been dripping into his eyes for what felt like hours, even though he’d thought to wear a bandana. All of that was forgotten as he looked at Adam, as he thought about Adam, as he pushed up to his knees beside him and touched his hand. 

All he thought... all he knew in that moment -- was that he was doing the right thing here. There were no regrets, no doubts, no second thoughts. 

“Adam,” Ronan said. And maybe there was something in his voice, because when Adam looked over at him he had the look in his eyes like he was still seeing something so beautiful it astounded him. Then his expression softened, warmed, and it was the look that Ronan knew best -- the one that greeted him in the morning, the one that was often the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes before he went to sleep. 

“Adam,” Ronan tried again, and his voice caught, but fuck it if he was going to let something stupid like emotions fuck up this moment so he bared his teeth and pushed through, quickly catching up both of Adam’s hands in his and gripping them tightly. “Look. I brought you here because. Shit fuck. I brought you here because it’s supposed to be the most beautiful view in the state. And I wanted to show you something of home and something of... of somewhere else... that is so beautiful it hurts. Because you... That’s you. You’re home, and you’re somewhere else. You’re new and you’re so familiar. You’re like a limb. My favorite limb. Some vital organ that makes it possible for me to breath right or think right or... or just... You’re the organ that gives me love and I don’t ever want to do anything without having you there where you can keep that.. that power running through me.”

Adam’s eyes were wide but Ronan couldn’t let himself focus on how the blue of them had gone hazy with the mist of tears. He couldn’t let himself see the tremble of his lips and the flutter of a smile. He pushed through and looked down to where they were clutching each other’s hands in shaking, trembling grasps -- both of them white-knuckled and numb to the palms. 

“For a man who can literally make dreams reality, can have anything I could ever fucking want -- nothing... nothing would make me happier than if you...”

His voice cut off with a surge of emotion. He thought of having this. He thought of Adam. He thought of his mom. He thought of the Barns and of Matthew and Declan and Opal. He thought of everything and everyone he had ever loved. He thought of his dad. He thought of the nightwash and the terrible things that lived beyond the realm of the waking mind. 

And he thought of Adam. 

Adam’s voice. 

Adam’s smile. 

Adam’s touch as he brushed his fingers over his hair, whether it was shaggy or freshly buzzed. 

He looked up and met Adam’s eyes, and even though the other man was already nodded, his breath coming in soft hitches around the way he bit just slightly into a his lower lip, Ronan pushed through. 

“Adam, will you marry me?”

Adam made a soft sound and Ronan didn’t understand it the first or second time, but by the third he recognized the curve of the vowel and the hush of the ‘s’. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes yes yes yes...”

There was no point attempting to hold back the grin that broke across his own face as the answer fully registered. So he didn’t bother. He smiled. He smiled with all the volume of a shout. Then he was pulling Adam close and kissing him. And fuck, he was so tired from the climb and the energy of all those damn words that he could feel the way his own lips were trembling. Weak, sweaty, giddy with dazed relief, but he couldn’t not kiss him. 

“I love you,” he murmured against his lips -- or maybe it was Adam speaking to him. “I love you I love you I love you...”

Forehead to forehead, their sweat and breaths mingling, Ronan clutched Adam, pressed their joined hands to their heart, and he smiled. 

“Tamquam,” Adam said, his lips just barely moving against his own. Still smiling, and the both of them crying now. Just a little. 

“Alter idem.”

[91percentpynch]

the raven cycle x all for the games crossover part one - ronan and the ravens

i dedicate this to leni, as she sent me fanart of ronan lynch in a raven uniform and we started to talk about this. you probably won‘t see this, but this is for you. trigger warning: mention of abuse, mention of scars, mention/ hinting of rape, description of physical abuse at the end!! if i should add any warnings let me know!!

ronan joined the ravens because niall fucked up the moriymas and it was giving them one of their sons or dying

well we all know niall is a narcist so obviously he chose a son of his instead of his own death

declan figured that out pretty fast and immediatly volunteered so that niall would let ronan and matthew live in peace

but niall had other plans - he chose ronan: attitude problem and dreamer? he would surive the cruelties of the nest

declan told ronan, promised him to keep him safe, to not let niall take him away

declan tried to save him, really did try, but in the end he was just a teenage boy and their father? well he was their father, powerful dreamer, narcistic asshole, stubborn without limits

one night when declan and ronan go to bed, declan in ronan‘s room like every night since they heard from the deal, their father came in their room and got ronan

declan didn‘t notice, he slept too deeply - one of niall‘s dreams, so he would get ronan without declan noticing

when declan noticed however he screamed and cried and woke the entire house up

matthew didn‘t understand why his older brother cried in the room of the middle child every single day since the day ronan mysterically disappeared

riko tries to break him, because investments don‘t have feelings, they aren‘t human

little does he know that ronan doesn‘t have feelings, he doesn‘t have a heart you can break

besides that he lived with niall lynch long enough to know what pain feels like - after all their father gave them boxing/ fighting lessons and taught them how to handle pain

ronan is a backliner, he is jean‘s partner

jean and ronan grow really close

ronan promised to keep jean safe and unless declan ronan masters and sticks to his plans

he does everything to get riko‘s attention - disrespecting him, not showing up to practise, not doing as he was told

riko tried to use jean against ronan only ONCE - one of the only regrets the king of exy had in his sorry life

when riko tries to use that against him, ronan protects jean by fighting riko

this ends in riko torturing him

ronan doesn‘t mind

ronan is a dreamer in this universe

only jean knows about him

ronan dreams jean and himself things against the pain

ronan is actually super good at exy

almost as good as kevin

kevin has a crush on ronan

ronan doesn‘t care, because kevin is not his type

his type is adam parrish - starting dealer from the palmetto foxes

when they marked him, he tried to get a feeling of what the color is like, so when he went to bed he got himself a tattoo of his own

on his back, a maejestic raven, two boys kissing, surrounded by the forrest in his dreams

he hides it as good as he can from riko - for jean‘s sake because yes he fought him once and he might have left him in peace but you never know with that psychopath, do you?

and so he goes through the days, pain blurring them all together, jean always waiting for him in their room

„you don‘t have to do that, you don‘t have to take all the pain for my mistakes“, jean whispers in french once again.

„jean, moi soleil, i promised you to keep you safe. i‘m not my fucking brother. i never lie. i keep my promise, i will keep you safe. and if that means that i have to entertain our favourite dickhead, i will gladly do that“, ronan replied softly.

„i don‘t want you to be in pain“, jean admitted quietly.

„jean, you idiot, i am always in pain. either in my dreams or in this hellhole. but at least seeing riko furious is fun, unless my dreams“, ronan‘s eyes slowly wandered to his scars on his wrist.

jean just takes ronan‘s hands and holds them - their secret promise to never leave each other‘s side

eventually they fall asleep, jean‘s head on ronan‘s shoulder, ronan‘s head on top of jean‘s dark brown curles

they get woken up by a furious riko

ronan wasn‘t able to hide his tattoo fast enough, riko already saw it

„how dare you? how dare you disrespecting your master you piece of shit?“, riko yelled.

„which master? all i see is a little dickhead with a napoleon complex“, ronan replied calmly, looking riko right in the cold, dead dark brown eyes.

riko didn‘t take these words well and went straight for jean

„i would think about touching him twice if i were you. i don‘t know how you see it but i‘m roughly a foot taller and i know how to box. I wouldn‘t take my chances there. one more step towards him, one funny look and we‘ll find out“, ronan said calmly, „whatever you want to do to him, do it to me. i‘m a lot of fun. don‘t like my tattoo because you‘re an homophobic brat? well try burn it off me. take a knife and cut it off me. i don‘t care, i‘m a big guy, i can take it. however we don‘t want the other dickhead to know i might not show up to practice because my back hurts and oh, how my exy will suffer under that. probably gonna send someone to me in the shower again, oh how creative“

riko however didn‘t listen and took another furious step towards jean, hatred and madness in his eyes, which only meant once: brutality, torture, no limits of his anger

ronan out stepped riko and put himself in front of jean „go as far back as you can. sit down on your bed, face to the wall“, ronan said to jean in french, the other boy did as he was told, not knowing what else he should do

it was one of these times where ronan asked himself what that boy did before he arrived three years ago. how he surrived so long. obviously he saw his scars and ronan blamed himself for every single one of them. technically they weren‘t his fault, he wasn‘t here. but his brain stopped working properly when it came to the people he loved, he cared about.

he took his chance, the moment of suprise on his side and punched him right in his face. when riko tripped over his own feet ronan didn‘t hestiate and kicked him in the stomach. riko was never used to abuse, he was never beaten, never kicked, so he fell to the floor, holding his stomach, trying to catch his breathe

again ronan didn‘t hestiate, he took jean and ran for it

ran without any goal, without any orientation, he didn‘t plan this through, he just knew they didn‘t have time

„run, if you can make it without me, you run! do you hear me jean? run!“, he whisper-shouted at the other boy as they made their way through an dark corridor

„i won‘t leave you behind. i‘ll go with you, or not at all. he will kill you if we don‘t make it“, jean replied, anxiety making his accent thicker

they were just about to run around the corner when kevin came into their way

„what are you guys doing?“, he asked innocently.

„oh we‘re on a romantic fucking walk, watching the sunset asshole. we‘re fleeing. from your nice little cult. we‘re going. and if i find out you tell someone what we do i will come back and murder you princess. now either move out of the fucking way or join us for all i care. but if mr dickhead king of exy finds me, he will murder you, so i would really appreciate you making your decision fucking fast shithead“, ronan whispered fastly and furiously.

„i‘ll go with you, i‘ll bring you out“, kevin says in french.

ronan knew he didn‘t have the time to question day so he followed him, jean always close, ready to fight anyone who would be a danger for him

kevin navigates them through the labyrinth of the nest fast, always in the shadows, carefully that they won‘t be seen

somehow they managed to get out of the nest, but they didn‘t stop, they couldn‘t, not if they wanted to live

„did any of you actually plan this through?“, jean asks nervously

„of course i planned that riko would walk in on us sleeping together in one bed, where my back with my secret tattoo is exposed, where i then beat and kick him, take your hand and run like my life depends on it. and while i was at it i texted day ‚hey dickhead wanna go on an adventure;)‘ with my non-existent mobile“, ronan replied annoyed

„i actually did plan that sometimes, for fun. thought i might wanna visit my dad, thought i might wanna change teams. you know, riko gets harder and harder to stan with his perfect team bullshit and bla bla bla ronan and jean are not worthy your attentin bla bla bla stop talking about jeremy knox bla bla bla i will show you how that feels like bla bla bla being forced to sleep with riko bla bla bla“, kevin said quietly, they almost didn‘t make the words out.

„i thought he wouldn‘t do that to you, asshole“, ronan replied softly, „as much as we love a good talk about shared trauma, how did you plan to get away from here“

„actually no“, kevin said.

„how long do you think we have until mr dickhead is coming out here with his shithead uncle to kill us all?“, ronan asked calmly.

„i‘d say not long? five minutes the longest“, kevin replied.

ronan could physically feel jean‘s anxiety

„jean, it‘s gonna be okay, give me two seconds“, ronan replied. „i‘m gonna lay down now. if they come, jean you run. run as fast as you can. take them down. don‘t let them catch you. day? help him, i swear to god if i hear you didn‘t i will come visit you and i will not be as nice as riko“, ronan sadi to kevin, with a cold smile on his lips

over the years ronan learned how to control his sleep, how to fall asleep fast and dream something fast, this would work

ronan carefully lays down, closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe. he repeats this a few times. quickly he falls asleep and thinks of the car his father owned. a black bmw. the memories might not be nice ones, but they need a car and this was the only one he knows by heart. carefully he touches it, checks if everything is alright and when he is sure it is, he wakes up, holding on to it like his life depens on it - which in this case it literally does

just in time to furious shouts he wakes up

the car next to him and he quickly gets in

„i recommend getting in if you don‘t want to you know get murdered by the japanese mafia shitheads“, he says calmly.

„you- you“, kevin tries to say.

jean just gets in the car and forcefully pulls kevin with him

„we have time to talk once we have some miles between these psychopaths and us day, so shut your pretty mouth and get the fuck in“, ronan says.

when the doors are closed ronan goes for it

he obviously does not know how to drive, but this was one of his dreams and his dreams never failed to suprise him

the car goes the moment he puts his foot down on one of the pedals, it doesn‘t have multiply gears, just one and it works

„to make this short: i am a dreamer. that means i can take shit out of my dreams. that‘s why jean and i could play. well, i don‘t know how you two losers surrived so long without me, but i will keep you safe. i don‘t lie. i‘m gay. you are not my type, so don‘t even try to hit on me. if you hurt jean i willl murder you, i don‘t who you are, i don‘t care what you are, hurt my family and die“

„i‘m your family?“, jean said, his voice barley more than a breathe.

ronan doesn‘t have to turn his face around to see the silent tears running down the face of the french boy

once again ronan wonders how jean deserved this life, this beautiful, sarcastic, yet kind soul

„of fucking course asshole, you‘re the only motherfucker who can handle me“, ronan replies.

„okay enough sentimental bullshit and emotions, day where are we going? have we planned that as well?“

„palmetto state, to my father. well he doesn’t know he‘s my father, but i guess he‘ll love two backlliners and a kevin day - second best striker in the united states“

„palmetto state it is. hope they‘re ready for the mafia to come visit to get us“, ronan replied, a small smile on his lips as he thinks about all the new possibilities and hopes he now dared to dream for

[whenimawakeandwhenimasleep]

Pynchweek 1: Something old, something new, something borrowed

Ronan marries Adam in early September. Surrounded by friends and what remains of Ronan’s family. It’s one of those autumn days when light stays really low and golden and shatters through the forest as pillars.

The lawn at the back of the main house is big enough to accommodate the few dozen of them. Good food and lanterns and fireflies for the night. Adam had voted down a show wrestling, but they had agreed to pizza. Just them and the people they love. Nothing big, nothing showy, no fuzz, no nerves. Ronan had been so highly strung in the morning that he vomited between shower and putting his suit on.

Traditions were trivial to them, in a monumental way. There was very little room for we-should-do’s and it’s-always-been-this-way’s in their relationship when everything about them was new and untried. Someone else would have called Ronan and Adam adrift and rootless, but they had more history in each other than most people spanned in their entire lifetimes. Too much magic to hide away to pay attention to long-established conventions. No extensive families to appease, not people left to judge them. Their whole life together had been a ritual. Reconfiguring it to please others would have been a forced mock-up - and Ronan Lynch did not lie nor did Adam Parrish yield to the will of others.

They had woken up together and had decided to spend every single moment that led to the ceremony that way. No jinxes about seeing your spouse in the wedding attire before the wedding. What were curses for impossible boys? What were curses after being possessed and almost unmade? So, they had dressed up together and Adam had done his tie. He, on his part, had ruined Adam’s styled hair by running his fingers through it.

Just before the ceremony, there is a shift in the reality. Like time starts slowly picking up speed. It moves and weaves and leaves Ronan completely winded, but he hangs on against the current. The whole noon becomes a series of shots in his mind, beautiful minutes that suspend in front of him. Adam’s calm smile as they say their vows. Their hands together when the justice of peace has spoken. Adam’s hands. His hands clammy. Adam’s soft lips. So many people looking at them that if he doesn’t hold on tighter to Adam, he might lose his breath. The extra cream wedding cake that he insisted on having, in hindsight a problematic choice considering that it’s impossible to cut without the cream bursting around the piece. Adam’s laugh, shockingly clear, chimes inside him.

It’s only when they dance that Ronan seems to be able to pull the brakes. They’re turning with the rhythm of the music and time slots itself in the right gear around them. He doesn’t want to look around and Adam makes it so easy for him. A couple of inches shorter than him, Adam tilts his head up and leans against Ronan’s cheek. Strong fingers stroke against his hairline and between the soft skin and rougher hands, he has no other choice but to keep his eyes on his husband. After some time, he feels how other people join them on the dance floor. Henry and Blue waltz by them, the first channeling his inner Astaire, while the latter flashes them a crude gesture. Ronan’s chest inflates gratefully and he blesses the short fucker. He takes the lead back in their dance for a second, just to bump into to the other pair. In his periphery, he can see Declan and Gansey shaking their heads in unison.

Dusk settles into the valley. Most of the pizza is gone and the cake is on the verge of crumbling down because their guests have decided to eat most of the base layer. Matthew is, if possible, even more exuberant than usual, but Declan has taken away his punch cup. The witches are getting on well with the Ganseys and Ronan can’t decide which of the clans has done more humbling.

He is sitting at their table and watching as Adam dances with Opal at the other end of the dance floor. Oddly mismatched dance partners, his husband in a crisp, well-fitted white shirt and their kid in a wispy, uneven tulle dress that billows around Adam’s waist as he holds her up in his arms. She shrieks loudly every time Adam spins her around, completely off beat. After the justice had married them, Ronan had foolishly thought that his heart couldn’t be crushed into smaller pieces than it was then. But watching his two people twirling and laughing, he feels how his chest falls into amazing stardust that flies to his lungs like gun powder and sets his throat burning.

To push back the burning so that it won’t reach his eyes, Ronan plays with a piece of cake on the plate in front of him. It’s half-eaten and doesn’t have whipped cream on it. After Opal emerging, they haven’t taken any cake or cookies themselves; she tends to open Oreos and lick the filling or peel the cream of the cake and then dump the rests unceremoniously in front of them. He complains a lot about it and Adam never complains about it, so no wonder why the kid hasn’t learnt not to do it. What would he really do? Ronan has a sneaky feeling that  the rests are Opal’s own way of expressing love.

He is startled out of his thoughts when a firm arm entwines around him from behind.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Adam rests his chin on his shoulder and watches, just like him, as Blue and Calla dance their wild version of Salty Dog Rag. The air is warm and a bit humid and Ronan can feel how Adam’s sweat clings on his skin. He tries not to think how good it would feel like to trace it away with his tongue.

Instead, he leans back against his husband.

“Don’t get fucking desperate, not with your pay grade”, he retorts back and loosens his tie with his free hand.

“Gansey wanted to talk to you. He was beckonin’, but you didn’t look.” Across the floor, Gansey picks up his cardigan from the back of his chair and looks at him with fire in his eye. Sappy-happy occasions tend to bring out the younger, boyish Gansey out. “Suppose he wants to give brotherly advice to you and take you for a last ride before our trip.”

Whatever advice there ever was to give to him, Gansey gave it when they lived together. After his decision to quit school, Gansey stopped giving him advice and started asking him questions. No, this is Adam giving him a breather, a moment to gather his thoughts with his bestman.

Ronan gets up and turns around. He married a man who understands him wholly, who knows how overwhelming these things get to him, recognises when he needs to count to zero. He couldn’t have gotten luckier than he did and so he leans down against Adam’s lips and whispers: “Thanks, asshat.”

“Don’t stay away too late. We’ve got to say goodbye to these people in good time. And we’ve got a date tomorrow.”

“Jesus… Didn’t I just marry you so that I don’t have to date you?”

“Well, you should’ve picked someone who’s not so high maintenance”, Adam says with a dry smile and scratches Ronan’s sides gently through his shirt.

“Thought you’re the maintenance in this relationship.”

“Mmmm, am not, if that leaves you in charge.” With that, his husband pushes him towards their friend and taps his watch as a reminder. They move closer to where the cars are parked, him backing and Adam strolling slowly forward. Distance is nothing but a force between them, an unbreakable cord that resonates with each step. It’s been tested and tried a thousand times when they were younger. There’s a decided, calm authority in Adam that ignites the dust inside him.

“You didn’t tell me where we’re going tomorrow”, he shouts as he climbs into Blue’s car. Before he slams the door closed, he sees Adam shrug slightly with a winning smile. What an asshole.

Next day, he gets to drive them all the way to countryside near Charlottesville. Adam signs him to pull up to the side of the road and they switch drivers. Their night and morning had been unhurried, but filled with evident desperation. Still he feels a tight, hot pull in his insides when Adam floors the pedal cocksure and steers them to a smaller road.

The last town was miles ago and they’ve passed very few cars on their way. Guess they are the only ones dumb enough to get up so early. None of the fields or the forest look familiar to him, but then again, Ronan never drove this route north when Adam was studying.

“Care to tell me now where we’re going”, he says as he looks from the forest to his husband. To anyone else, it would seem like he is concentrating on driving. Keeping his eyes on the road, one hand languidly on the steering wheel and one leaning bent on the window. The problem is that Adam doesn’t need to concentrate when he drives. There’s not much difference between their ways of driving. He takes risks, while Adam calculates and then takes risks. All the same, the speed meter whines miserably every time either of them has an open road ahead.

“Nope”, his husband says and pops the final sound, just to annoy him.

Adam is nervous. As a rule, Ronan doesn’t want to face anything that makes a man like Adam nervous.

After thirty minutes, they pull up to a parking lot in front of a church. ‘Parking lot’ is stretching it, as the lot is mostly just gravel and patches of grass here and there. The building itself is small, dirty white, constantly apologising to the empty countryside surrounding it. Catholic, Ronan’s mind adds helpfully. Catholic, despite Ronan’s many problems with the institution, still mean family to him. Home. Faith. His faith and the faith of his parents and brothers.

“Take your jacket”, Adam says shortly when they get out. Ronan’s mind has yet to move forward from the thought of religion. In all honesty, he had thought they would drive to a bigger city to spend the night, but Adam had only told him to take his suit with him. Opal stayed behind at the Barns with Declan and Matthew.

As they climb the few steps to the open church door, Ronan sees that the father is already waiting for them. Adam greets him warmly and politely, so much like Gansey in his pleasantness, so much like himself in his frankness. Ronan takes the hand the older man offers, feeling helplessly puzzled.

“Well, then, Ronan. Would you like confess before we move to the blessing and the communion?”

There is nothing but stillness in him. It’s a sleeplike daze, the feeling he gets when he tries to wake up but he’s taking something with him from the dreams. They had asked the local parrishes for a Catholic blessing, but all of them had turned down a couple like them. It had hurt like hell, but Ronan had put it all in driving and working. Didn’t want to keep mourning it, because there was nothing to be done. It wasn’t even Adam’s religion, and his religion had rejected him.

Now here he is, in a quiet church, on his way to a confessional. He looks back at Adam who sits calmly in the pews and there’s a lightness inside him. It was there yesterday, when he said “I do” in front of the justice, but this feels refined. Collected. It’s not picking up speed, it lulls, swells. Mary looks upon them from her altar behind his husband and Ronan thinks of his mother.

The confession goes as it always has gone. There’s a lot to tell and he has to give a director’s cut of it, mostly because there’s too much magic and petty sins involved. He doesn’t need to confess any impure thoughts anymore, hasn’t done it in years and now confessing feels like it should feel. It’s a burden being lifted off, secrets poured out. It’s strange how Ronan has been finding his way back to his faith after he and Adam happened.

Afterwards, Adam confesses as well. It takes more time, which Ronan spends lying on a pew. The priest walks his husband through the process but the extra time spent in the confessional is no doubt due to Adam’s pedantic “leave no stone unturned” mentality. Once told to confess, there’s not a small filing cabinet he won’t open. There are vaults there, inside Adam’s head, that are only privy to Ronan; steel-walled and tucked nicely behind a system of locks that have been opened one by one over the years. Some of them, the most vulnerable ones, are still behind mazes and Ronan looks up the serene face of Mother Mary and promises that he will spend all his life guarding those.

The blessing, just like the confession, goes like it always goes. Just like the communion. But this time Ronan is present. He sees not only minutes, but seconds of it. Hears every word he says and hears every word Adam says. There’s no current, just him and his husband kneeling on the altar, the warmth of it all washing through him. The body of Christ and the blood of Christ are heavy on his tongue. Adam looks at him, a bit unsure, over the brim of the cup. To ask if this is what he wanted. If Adam had read him correctly. If this was what was missing. Ronan wants to scream out all the warmth that’s nestling next to his heart.

Outside the church, they thank the father, Ronan now more talkative than what he was when they arrived. The father tells Ronan to visit the mass despite his differences with the local church and wishes Adam to take part in the tradition of weekly mass, as well. Adam smiles sweetly and politely, even though that Ronan knows Sunday mornings to be Adam’s own time which won’t be spent worshipping God.

They look at each quietly as they get in the car.

“Where did you find out about him? That he was cool with, you know?” Ronan says and he feels how his throat begins to constrict shut around the vowels. There’s a lot inside now, has been since yesterday and he just hasn’t got it out yet.

Adam looks down and plays with his wedding ring, with Blimblim as Opal fondly refers to it after mishearing Blue’s name for the dream-made band.

“Well, there’s internet, you know?” Adam’s words get a longer quality, a hushed nasality that emerges when he is doubting or sad or angry. Ronan is so full of love for the man in front of him that he can barely take full breaths in. It’s like there’s no vacancy and his body is choosing Adam over oxygen. That hardly surprises him.

Adam leans  forward to turn the key in the ignition, a faint ashamed blush on his cheeks and his neck, but Ronan throws his jacket and tie on the backseat and himself at his husband. They smash against the driver’s side door, hands desperately grasping each other’s sides and neck. There’s a low murmur that escape Adam’s lips and Ronan can feel how they turn into a smile against him.

“We’re not going to make out in front of a priest”, Adam tells him breathily and shoves him away. Ronan leans in to give him one last peck and kicks the door open.

“Why not? We’ve done worse in a church. Now let me drive to the Barns.”

Ronan burns most of his adrenaline away when he drives them back. When he slides their car to an abrupt full-stop in front of the main house, he’s settled down and ready to talk when the time comes.

The time doesn’t come straightaway. In fact, it takes many hours and a family dinner until they’re left alone. Opal wants her time at the center of their attention and Declan and Matthew stay the night to eat yesterday’s leftovers. Between pizza and old cake, Ronan tells Declan quietly where they spent the better part of the day. It’s a sobering emotion, having that talk with his older brother. They have had their share of fights and animosity and distrust, a youth spent in raw misunderstanding. But when it comes to this, there is no one else Ronan would want to talk to. Declan understands the importance of what happened in the church. When Adam, Matthew and Opal commandeer their strangely private conversation, Declan lays his hand on his neck. It’s heavy in pride and feels home, just like the communion wine. Ronan will never tell his brother this.

After everyone else has gone to bed, Adam and Ronan stay outside on the porch. And that’s when he can begin to explain it.

Ronan talks of his disappointment and shame when the priest in Henrietta had turned them down and his silent desperation when the priest in the next town over had done the same. How he had visited his old thoughts that made him sick sometimes. Thoughts that told him that loving men was wrong. Adam lies in his arms on the couch and squeezes his hand.

Then he also reaches inside himself and brings out everything that went through his head in front of that priest. How it fits together with everything that happened in front of the justice. And how nothing would have been worse if Adam had not arranged that, but how it would have been different for him. How happy he was yesterday and how happy he is today. It’s more talk of emotions that he is usually capable of but after all the trouble, Adam deserves to hear it.

In his turn, Adam tells Ronan how he is a damned idiot for thinking that Adam wouldn’t see the hurt. How he looked and reached out to the gay communities in the state to find a Catholic priest who would bless their marriage. He didn’t do it in the fear of Ronan being unhappy with the wedding and he didn’t do it so that he could be reassured of his importance to Ronan. Those days are long, long gone. No more fear, no more uncertainty. He did it because it means a lot to Ronan.

Being known and being understood has always been synonymous with being loved in their relationship. Sometimes it requires work, a conscious effort to decode actions and put words in the right order. But Ronan knows it’s what they vowed to do for the rest of their lives.

Adam’s hand burn on his arm, like an echo of those vows. A hum that arises from their bones and core. Ronan bows down to kiss his husband and breathes in that sound, knowing it will never stop resounding.

Their wedding song:

Heal / Tom Odell

[ravenvsfox]

Hiii the story you wrote about Andrew and Neil that I asked for awhile ago was awesome even though I know it was a hard one. I was wo dering if you can do 98 about Ronan and Adam?

(that is SWEET and also I bastardized your prompt a little >:))

98: “I want to thank you for putting up with me. I know that I’m not the easiest person to get along with.” 

He’s locking up the repair shop with his arms full of backpack and keys clamped between his teeth when someone honks behind him. He startles so hard that everything landslides down onto springy wet grass.

“Sorry!” Gansey calls, head popped outside of what must be the pig, if Adam could see past the dizzy glare of the headlights. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. You’d better come sit down.”

Adam breathes deep, mentally slicing his evening into pieces like he always does when an expensive car rolls up and his name is called. He stoops over to gather the textbooks spilling out of his bag, the scatter of his few precious pens and his bike lock.

When he looks up, Gansey’s switched on his high beams to passive aggressively hurry him along. He slows down a little out of halfhearted spite.

Adam tucks his backpack through the headrests to the backseat and then leans into the front of the car to look at Gansey expectantly. He’s making a face that’s about as close to a grimace as a Gansey can get.

“Ronan ran away.”

Adam blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Gansey breathes. Adam feels his newborn worry ebb and blink out.

“Well he’s at home, then. He’s not going to run far from the Barns.”

“That’s what I’d imagined, but he’s nowhere on Lynch property. Blue and I went on a merry hunt all afternoon.”

Adam feels his chest kick and fight and try to make a scene. “And you didn’t tell me until now?” He hates that his voice sounds like the raw insides of undercooked meat, like he’s delicate and bloody.

“Well we thought it was fixable, and you were at work—“

“I’m always at work, Gansey, and it’s never deterred you before. If my— if Ronan really did disappear—“

“He did,” Gansey says emphatically, and Adam frowns.

“Opal—“

“Knocked on my door at 6 am this morning holding this.” He produces a sheet of torn off looseleaf from his breast pocket and hands it to Adam gingerly.

Adam unfolds it.

Tell Adam I’m sorry.

He looks up, swallowing. Gansey’s watching him closely, obviously trying to gauge a response.

“At least he’s started apologizing,” he says weakly, a thin needle of hurt pinning his words together.

“It doesn’t seem like he’s starting anything,” Adam says, his anger and worry taking each other by the throat. “He’s giving up.”

“I think,” Gansey says, “that he’s very bad at grieving.”

“No one’s good at grieving. Not that you’ve ever had to know.”

Gansey recoils. He has a flighty look on his face like he would very much like to abandon this conversation if it weren’t taking place in his most prized possession. “I’m not the one that left, Adam,” he says pointedly, and Adam swears, apologizes, and climbs into the passenger seat.

“Take me to the Barns.”

Gansey looks at him sideways, and Adam would have the pity in his eyes for a punching bag. “He really isn’t there.”

“I know,” Adam says impatiently, “I’m going to steal his car.”

_____

It’s an apparently old thing that’s never known the taste of rust or grime, nestled in the Barns’ garage under a gauzy tarp. Adam unveils it and Gansey whistles — probably because he heard it done on a television program — and lays a hand on the hood. Adam swears he hears the engine stir under his palm, for a second.

“Adam,” Gansey starts, voice low. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Funny,” Adam says, inspecting the car for faults. “That’s what I said when I started dating Ronan.”

“That is not funny,” Gansey says, though he’s smiling grimly. “He could be hurt. Or lost.”

“Ronan doesn’t get lost by accident,” Adam says absently, and Gansey makes a tiny, choked noise.

“How enigmatic.”

“Hmm,” Adam agrees, and touches the steering wheel gently so that it sighs and turns over and comes to life for him, no keys required. “Sort of takes the joy out of stealing it,” Adam muses, stroking along the dashboard and hearing the car purr in response.

Gansey makes to get into the passenger seat and Adam stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry man. It’s got to be me and him.”

Gansey looks down and then smiles slowly. “Funny. That’s what I said when you started dating him.”

Adam can’t quite bring himself to roll his eyes when everything about his relationship is so far up in the air that he’s afraid to look down.

“Ronan will be back tomorrow with an apology for driving you to yet another early grave,” Adam promises. He glances at Gansey’s harried expression, orange and shadowed by bare lightbulbs. “I’m not letting him do this. He can quit and fuck up his life as much as he wants but he can’t— I know he doesn’t want to leave.”

He’s been fixing the house up one squeaky hinge at a time, and sometimes he asks me to name any colour I can think of and the next day the kitchen will be that colour and he thinks I don’t notice the pictures of us in the office and the way he smiles sometimes is the way the water swallows its temper tantrum and guides a ship home and he loves it here the same way I love him here.

“Where are you going to look?” Gansey asks, almost too serious to look at. Adam knows he resents the way Adam’s slipping off to find Ronan like he’s been waiting to do it, when Gansey himself has failed another search for something that matters to him.

“I don’t want to say in case I’m wrong,” Adam says quietly. If it were Blue she would say I don’t want to jinx it.

“Call me from his phone?” Gansey asks. “Tell him—“ he twitches a sad smile. “Tell him I’m furious.”

“Gansey.“ He looks up. “You know you’re his hero,” he says, because he thinks he might need to hear it, and it’s been true since they were at least sixteen.

Gansey looks away like he doesn’t believe it. “Tomorrow?” he asks.

“Tomorrow,” Adam confirms. He bumps knuckles with Gansey, considers, and then hugs him over the steady warmth of the car. Adam’s unnerved to find tears burning his eyes, and he can’t quite look at Gansey when he pulls away.

_____

He drives the strange little sports car hybrid straight to D.C., trusting the fuel source to be as improbable as the rest of it. He spends the time cranking bad trap music and seething, resenting the 6 hour round trip chewed from his sleep schedule and distractedly desperate for Ronan to be there.

It’s very nearly impossible to imagine something spooking Ronan enough for him to abandon his closest friends or his dependent little gem of a dream or the home that is actually his heart.

It’s conversely easy to imagine Ronan afraid, Ronan retreating, Ronan, Lynch, with the only other people who know how to be Lynches.

It might be a stretch if you’d watched Ronan and Declan box each other half to death last year, but it’s obvious to Adam. Declan is Gansey if Gansey fought his problems instead of swallowing them.

Ronan ran because he needed to be punched and he knew his friends wouldn’t do it. He ran because he was starting to heal and he wanted to look at some wounds up close and get the taste of his pain back. He probably didn’t even have a plan beyond setting fire to their bed and finding something that wouldn’t feel so much like a dream.

Adam shuts the music off, lets himself sob a couple of times, and scratches the leather steering wheel with his jagged thumb nail, just enough to feel terrible.

That note. The stupid cop-out note. Tell Adam I’m sorry. Tell Adam I’m a coward. I can’t because I know how wrong and cruel this is, another loss to notch into the wall of Adam’s cell.

He rolls into the outskirts of D.C. and swallows mouthful after mouthful of trepidation with headlights in his eyes. The traffic is orderly and thick for 1 am, and it wakes Adam up.

He finds Declan’s address from vague memory, like feeling around where you know a light switch must be in a stranger’s house.

Adam parks down the street where it’s free after 6 pm, and walks up to the towering rich brown apartment block, more obviously expensive than the buildings on either side of it. He hurries to catch the door inside from an apartment patron with cigarette smoke trapped in their leather coat.

He holds the door open with his foot and scans the neat last names of the occupants lined up next to buzzers and room numbers. He finds Lynch, touches it with his index finger and feels an unexpected rush of emotion suck his bottom lip in and fold his lungs up.

He allows himself to take the elevator to the eighth floor, and closes his eyes the whole way, letting sleep tug him down, an ever impatient child.

He steps out into the overly air-conditioned taupe-carpeted hallway, fancy sconces set out every few steps. 843 is almost directly outside the elevator, likely planned for Declan’s convenience. He swallows, considers how humiliating it will be if Ronan isn’t here, and knocks on the door.

No one replies for a couple of minutes. Adam listens very hard and knocks again, as sharp as he dares. Something moves behind the door, and Adam steps back to stare down the peep-hole. The door cracks, and Declan peers blearily out, the silken collar of a robe snug at his neck.

“Parrish? Why are you here?”

“Ronan,” Adam says, and swallows. He’d been expecting Ronan’s insomnia to bring him to the door. “I’m looking for Ronan, and we thought he might have come here.” He’s not sure if the ‘we’ implies Gansey’s influence the way he wants it to.

“He’s not here,” Declan says simply. His eyes are a single shade away from Ronan’s, just as dark and exposing.

Adam’s heart sinks and keeps sinking, the waste of it all dawning on him slow and ugly.

“He was earlier today,” Declan amends, opening the door a little further. “He was here when I came home, talking to Matthew like—“ he pauses. “I would’ve thought it would be Gansey, to come.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Adam says hollowly.

Declan eyes him shrewdly, not quite apologetic but not pleased. “I guess I should’ve known,” he says vaguely, and Adam narrows his eyes.

“Adam.”

He whips around. Ronan’s there, of course, like some sort of scowling, half-crying mirage. He’s a strange blot of dark where the hallway is pristine; he’s never going to belong here.

“A note,” Adam says immediately. Ronan looks away, back towards the elevator with its doors still open. “You’re a real dick.”

“Yeah.”

Adam feels his whole body try to collapse itself at the hinges, exhaustion on top of relief on top of anger. The way Ronan looks like he’s been in a bar fight with himself isn’t helping. The sweet flush of exertion on his neck is making Adam want to break a light fixture in half.

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Declan asks, and Ronan snaps a look at him, a little more himself.

“I wasn’t planning on kidnapping our brother, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Declan look a little pitying, so Ronan glares at him.

“I was leaving in the morning.”

“Leaving for where?” Adam asks, and Ronan’s demeanour rips through, like caught fabric.

“I was still deciding,” he says.

“Was home one of the options? Was I?”

Adam can tell that Ronan’s deadly close to tears because he’s focusing too hard on keeping them in to say anything.

“I’m going to—“ Declan starts awkwardly, and Adam gestures for him to go, sparing half of one glance to the closing door before looking back to Ronan. He steps forward unevenly.

“I was trying to sleep in my car. I saw you go by and I thought I was dreaming.”

“Still feel like a dream?” Adam hisses, and Ronan’s mouth pulls.

“Nightmare.”

Adam tries to breathe evenly and fails. “You scared the shit out of Gansey.” Me, you scared the shit out of me.

“He has Blue,” Ronan says quietly, like he’s thought it through.

“And me?” Adam asks, voice curdling.

“You have both of them. Plus Opal fucking worships you, and the witches, and the Vancouver whatever. And you could’ve had the Barns, I left it all to you.”

Adam’s head spins. “So you—“ he kneads his temples. “So you just disappear, and you think I’m gonna live in your house with your dreams like that’s— normal?”

“Normal?” Ronan says, frustrated. “Obviously not, Parrish. I left you that shit so it wouldn’t have to be normal, so you could have something magic of your own.”

“How generous,” Adam says and Ronan curses.

“I don’t know what else I could’ve done. I was letting you go, because I sure as shit wasn’t making things easier for you, and I know things haven’t been easy for me.”

“So things aren’t easy.” Adam steps closer and clenches his fists before he lets his nervous, sleep-deprived energy get the better of him and shove Ronan or shake him or pull him close. “Obviously they’re not easy. We know this. We live this.”

“If I can find a way to make things easier don’t you think I should?” Ronan asks fiercely. “If I wake up and you’re gone for work and everything’s normal but I feel like dying, like actually dying without you, isn’t that a problem?”

“Ronan,” Adam says, hushed.

“What? Are you uncomfortable? Me too. All this shit in my head makes me real fucking uncomfortable, actually. Sometimes I’m in the middle of laughing and then I remember seeing my mom’s intestines draped over tree roots like litter.”

Adam stays silent, mouth pinched. He knows that people in neighbouring apartments must be able to hear but he can’t— think about caring.

“It’s not like I’m trying to be an asshole here, Adam, for once in my fucking life I’m actually really trying to be better and find a way to reel in some mental health before I try this with you.”

“You’re already ‘trying this’ with me though,” Adam says slowly. “You can’t date me for five months and then decide that I deserve better. You’re only using your half of the variables and you think you’ve solved everything?”

“We’re not testing a fucking hypothesis, Adam, I’m not going to stop hurting if I think a little harder about it.”

“Maybe not, but if you actually communicated with me, maybe we could tear apart your bullshit illogical ideas before they hatch. You’re not going to cure yourself by sweating it out in a desert somewhere. Your plan was going to be living in your car so that you can feel a little reckless and connected to your dad, and then you were going to drink until you felt better, felt less, and then you were going to miss home and realize that all you ever do is miss things, and then—“

“Adam, fuck, stop—“

“And then you’d come home and realize that you’d been gone for too long, that I’d been pissed for too long because you hadn’t bothered to explain yourself. And all you would’ve done is lost me. Lost Gansey’s trust, again.”

Ronan palms both of his eyes and stumbles back into the wall, and Adam feels his throat go very small.

“Talk to me.”

Ronan drops his hands and inhales, quick, almost a sob. “I don’t— I don’t know what to say.”

Adam shakes his head. “How about: ‘I want to thank you for putting up with me, Adam’. ‘I know that I’m not the easiest person to get along with, and you’re constantly working to—‘”

“I don’t want to be the thing that you have to put up with, though, fuck,” Ronan interrupts. “I love you for doing it but I’m such an asshole for letting you.”

Adam sighs heavily, letting himself reach for the front of Ronan’s shirt and feeling his mouth wobble when Ronan’s hand comes up to his wrist.

“You can’t honestly think that I just put up with you.”

Ronan thumbs his pulse and Adam closes his eyes. “You said—“

“That was a bad joke, clearly. I love you, you know this. I tell you all the time.”

Ronan pulls him in the final step and Adam lets himself be hugged like slipping under fragrant bathwater and hearing everything work, letting the warmth soften your muscles. He slips his hand up to his jaw. “It’s harder than I thought,” Ronan says. “Believing someone when they say it.”

“I’m not lying,” Adam says indignantly, and Ronan presses his face into his hair.

“Yeah,” he says. “But what happens when you come to your senses? I’m shit difficult to be with.”

“We’ve been friends for years, and I was a bit convinced we were enemies before that. I already know that you’re difficult, that’s what I’m saying. You’re work. We’re work. Work is the only thing that makes anything matter. We’re not destiny perfect like Gansey and Blue, and I don’t want to be. Do you understand?”

Ronan kisses him so fast that Adam doesn’t have time to kiss back, and then he puts his face down in Adam’s neck and rocks them back into the wall. It’s all so endearing that Adam wants to cry again, with his hands buried in Ronan’s in the pockets of his jacket. It’s so immediately gratifying to be safe like this, to have extinguished a fire before it could burn anything down. He can almost forget how late it is or the now-familiar devastated look on Gansey’s face or the way there was a fork in the road and he chose Ronan over everything that made sense.

“Take me home.”