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abarbaricyalp · 4 years

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To Be Seen As We Are

@pynchpromptweek

Pynch, Prompt: Hurt/Comfort, Rated: M

Warnings: Discussions of canon typical abuse/self harm/violence, vomiting before the cut

Not quite NSFW, but mature discussions and intimate touching

AO3 Link

By some ungrace, Ronan and Adam hadn’t gotten much further than making out and holding onto each other’s fingers or face or hair by the Christmas break, hadn’t gotten to slip under shirts and cling to shoulder blades and trace ribs, too afraid that wandering hands would find the weak spot in this happy mirage. That, plus the fact that Adam still spent most of his time in the Aglionby uniform or coveralls, two of the most difficult outfits for Ronan to get his hands under. But over the break, while Adam half moved into the Barns and suddenly disregarded his uniform for a whole month, they, and their hands, had gotten braver.

Adam supposed he should’ve said something instead of just tensing up .2 seconds before Ronan's calloused hands found the raised line of skin scarred over. And then another and another and another. All the way down his back, crisscrossing and becoming each other. He froze. Adam froze.

"I-um-I..." Ronan started, but had no words. Gently, he moved Adam out of his lap, into the soft downy of Ronan’s bed, the blanket that had kept him warm and safe for ages before he’d left, for the same years Adam was… He made a dash for the bathroom. He didn't make it to the toilet, but the sink worked just as well as he heaved back out whatever take out they'd dug out of the fridge.

Adam stared off at the wall the bathroom door was set in, unable to bring his eyes to Ronan’s shaking back. He knew should’ve said something, at least mentioned it, but he hadn’t expected Ronan to react with such revolusion to one of Adam’s darkest secrets laid bare like that. Ronan, who had taken everything in such stride--an angry scowl when Adam showed up with a blackened cheek, the quiet deliberate revision of his behavior if he ever caught Adam flinching when he spoke too loudly or moved too quickly--had suddenly found his limit with how broken Adam was.

He had to let go of the blanket when he realized the seams were beginning to pull apart. When he heard the water turn on in the bathroom, he slowly stood up. Every part of him wanted to run out the door and never look Ronan in the face again, but Ronan was still coughing in the bathroom and he went to him instead.

“Wash your mouth out,” he said as he stepped behind Ronan, running his hand over the other’s back and then fixing the tank top he’d rucked up a few minutes ago.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Ronan snarled into the sink bowl.

Adam blinked and some part of his traitorous heart that didn’t want to be the victim loosened. “Wash your mouth,” he repeated.

Ronan’s knuckles went white on the edge of the faux-marble countertop and Adam quickly placed his hand over Ronan’s. “If I ever see that shitstain in public, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

He straightened up suddenly, sending Adam almost stumbling backwards, and then pulled him into a tight hug. For a moment, Adam was so lost and confused, his arms didn’t come up to Ronan’s waist. But slowly his body at least decided that it knew this. It knew pressing close to Ronan’s chest and taking heat and love from him.

“Adam, we knew for so long what was happening. I think about what we allowed to happen, what happened because we didn’t speak up, all the time and it makes me sick,” Ronan muttered into Adam’s hair.

“Are you sure it’s not me who makes you sick?” Adam asked quietly, muffling against Ronan’s neck.

Ronan physically jolted away, hands up coming up to Adam’s shoulders to keep them close. “What? What the fuck, Parrish? Of course it’s not you. Why would it ever be you?”

Adam brought the heel of his hand up to his eyes and quickly wiped away at the tears he was gearing up to deny. “I’m not an idiot. I know scars aren’t nice to look at. And you’d look at scars on my back a lot.” Eventually. Hopefully. God, what was wrong with him, talking about that kind of thing right now?

Ronan continued to stare at him, jaw a little loose, eyes very bright. “Are you kidding me?” he asked and reached for Adam’s hand, folding his fingers firmly over the scars that cut across his forearms. “I’m the last person who can say shit about scars. I mean, God, Adam, you let me hold you all the time. You hold my arms every night we fall asleep. I don’t mind scars.” They had more than enough between them for a lifetime, and those were just the ones they could see.

Adam had never considered Ronan’s scars the way he thought about his own. Ronan’s scars were just a part of him, a story he missed by a few months. Sometimes he thought about whether or not things would’ve been different if he’d started at Aglionby a year before he did, and sometimes at night, he stared at Ronan’s face and tried to decide if he was still dreaming of a way out, but those were the few times Adam actively even noticed the scars. The rest of the time, it was just Ronan and his body. He didn’t like to think he almost didn’t get Ronan.

Ronan brought his hand up to Adam’s cheek, holding him like he was something worth taking care of. “I care about you so much. A few scars aren’t going to drive me away. I’m just...so angry at everything about your situation.”

“It’s done, Ro,” Adam muttered, quiet and serious. He felt a little foolish, but it was drowned out by how raw he felt, ready to flinch at every word that sounded like goodbye. “There’s no going back and changing things. And I’ve...made peace with it. He can’t hurt me again.”

Ronan shook his head and hugged Adam again. “I’m angry at everyone. You dad, Gansey, the cops, the jury, but mostly me. I’m sorry.”

Adam contemplated that. Telling Ronan there was nothing for him to be sorry about would do no good. Instead, he said, “Wash your mouth.”

And Ronan finally listened, spitting mouthwash mostly anywhere but the sink. “Can I look at them?” he asked softly, looking suddenly younger, like a boy Adam only heard about from Gansey.

Adam nodded and brought Ronan back to the bedroom, kneeling on his bed. Ronan followed after him, knees pressed against Adam’s, and he reached for Adam’s hands. Adam pressed his fingers under Ronan’s bracelets.

“When I first started dreaming about guys, y’know, in a hot way, I could never see the guy’s face,” Ronan said softly, looking at where Adam’s fingers were tracing over his skin. “And I always covered his eyes, like I didn’t want him to see me. It wasn’t right. He wasn’t right.” He looked up at Adam’s face, at the hurt and hope there. “I want you to see me, Adam. All of me. And I want to see you,” he said.

Adam shifted to crawl into Ronan’s lap, thighs hot and tight around Ronan’s hips as he reached for the hem of Ronan’s tank top. When Ronan’s fingers found the hem of Adam’s shirt, he looked at him seriously. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Parrish, if I don’t get my mouth on the rest of your freckles right now, I’m gonna go mad and you’re gonna have to put me in a hospital,” Ronan said and finally the corner of Adam’s mouth tilted up. He pulled his shirt off and Ronan met him immediately for a messy, clashing kiss, fingers burning against bare skin and shoulders brushing shoulders.

Adam worried suddenly again, about the scar by his collarbones where it broke once and never healed properly or the small burns on his shoulders, but then Ronan’s mouth found a cluster of freckles at his armpit and a birthmark on his sternum and he traced his collarbones without even pausing at the scar. Adam had never considered that there were things to love in his skin too.

Ronan’s hand found the small of his back, pressed flat over a pile of scars, and he slowly lowered Adam back into the bed, moving to straddle him at the same time and then getting his mouth on his chest again. “I wanna memorize you,” he breathed and the huskiness of it went right through Adam like a lightning bolt. Ronan’s mouth continued down the flat line of Adam’s sternum, following the curve of his pectoral muscles, coming back to experimentally lav his tongue over Adam's nipple. He needed to stop. He was getting light headed with want and adoration. Probably, he thought, there was no blood left in his head at this point.

“Turn over,” he finally said and Adam did. He could feel the bed shift as Ronan sat back and a few seconds later, his hands were tracing the old lines of belts and cords that had cut across his back years and years ago.

“It was only a few years. Around when I started high school. I don’t know why he picked it up, or why he stopped,” he explained softly, pillowing his arms under his head. “He’d make me count until I couldn’t anymore. And then he’d keep going in case I was faking it.” He remembered the nights vividly. They were loud and endless. A neighbor confronting him was probably the only reason he stopped.

Ronan’s fingers curled around Adam’s ribs and the bed shifted again before Ronan was suddenly dragging his lips over the scars, tip to bottom for each one, slowly and entirely. Despite the nerve damage under the scars, the skin between them sang with pleasure as Ronan’s warm breath and warmer mouth touched on it and eventually he dragged a whole moan from Adam’s throat, stifled though it was.

“One day, I’m going to have you laid bare and I’m gonna learn every secret you have to tell,” Ronan murmured, pressing his face to Adam’s ribs, where he could feel his stuttering breath.

“How many secrets do you think I have?” Adam asked, though he knew they were both still brimming with them. “I don’t want to keep anything from you, Lynch,” he murmured honestly.

Ronan nodded, skin brushing skin--an acknowledgement, an agreement--and leaned up to kiss Adam deeply over his shoulder. “Want a secret?” he asked, like they were actually bartering in gossip and stories.

“A Lynch secret?” Adam asked.

“My secret,” Ronan said. “I’m so in love with you, Adam Parrish.”

Adam turned back over, not hiding the scars on his back, but exposing the cage of his erratic beating heart and all the beauty and hurt of it. “I see you, Ronan Lynch. I see you.”

#pynch #fanfiction #adam parrish #ronan lynch #hurt comfort #prompt #writing #otp: in more than his lips #cw: abuse #cw: self harm #cw: vomit

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overcompensate · 5 years

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home is just a room full of my safest sounds

It’s the third time this week that he’s found himself gripping the ceramic of the sink countertop in the bathroom/kitchen/laundry of Monmouth Manufacturing. It’s not morning yet and not really night anymore, and every breath he takes sends pain down his spine. Ronan Lynch is misshapen words and broken bones and anger meshed into a skin that doesn’t fit quite right.

Most days he fills the emptiness gaping in his chest with alcohol and pills and the squeal of rubber tires against asphalt. It’s the third time this week that he’s found himself retching into the toilet; the world outside him still, silent. Chainsaw pecks at the one of the metal bars of her cage and he can feel the sound ringing in his mind.

Third time this week, Gansey stands just outside the bathroom/ kitchen/ laundry, forever awake, forever standing one door away from Ronan, his hand the shape of a knock, his lips the shape of pity. Outside, Gansey leaves. Today, he will let Ronan fight his own demons. He will let Ronan drink himself to death if that’s what he wants to do. Inside, Ronan passes out on the floor.

***

Sixteen was the age that he went to too many parties. His mother was alive and worried. At sixteen he made out with girls he didn’t like and watched boys he liked from far away. At sixteen his mind was too loud and the lights in the room were too damn bright, and he had to get out, damn it.

He ended up on the roof. It was cold and the wet air whipped at his face. Ronan thought he might kill himself that very day, jump off the roof and let himself be carried far off. At sixteen he felt that kind of itch often, it was always easier to leave before things got too hard.

The priest had dedicated last week’s sermon to afterlife, and Ronan thought about the devil in his backyard and felt himself slipping further from heaven. And then, because he was scared and his ears were ringing, Ronan pulled out his phone and called Gansey.

It was Adam who picked up.

Ronan felt cold slide down his spine.

“Ronan? There better be good reason to this.”

“I- fuck.” Ronan checked the caller’s ID. He had accidentally called trailer-boy. Ronan thought sand eyelashes and freckles. He thought wrists and bruises and greased overalls. The devil smiled, Ronan slipped more. “I’m at Kavinsky’s place.” Silence. Ronan felt himself jumping off the roof. “Please.”

Adam arrived soon after. He was out of breath. Blue-green spread out from below his right eye to his nose. Downstairs the party raged. Now that Adam stood this close, Ronan felt stupid for calling him.

“Why’d you call me?”

Ronan grinned, wild. “Why’d you come?” The air whipped, wilder. Neither of them spoke. Adam shifted his weight from one foot to another, uncomfortable. That had shut him up.

It was Ronan who spoke next. “How long are you gonna let him do that?”

Adam’s fingers went to the bruise staining his face, Ronan watching closely. “However long it takes for me to graduate.”

“However long it takes for me to graduate.” He snickered. “However long it takes for him to kill you, more like.”

“If you called me here just to be a condescending brat, I’ll be on my way. I have work early.” Adam crossed his arms, a timid impersonation of anger.

Ronan leaned back at the railing. “Get your head out of your ass, trailer trash. If you must know, I called you here because I was contemplating jumping off. As in killing myself. As in not caring about your dickhead of a father and how you refuse to let yourself leave,” Ronan spits out. He said it more for the dramatics, because everything he says has to be one big ha-ha joke, a punch or a smirk. He says it before anyone can catch him caring, makes it a snide remark before it becomes serious.

Adam tensed and Ronan knew he had hit a nerve. Downstairs, the song changed to a slower one.

“Fuck you, Lynch,” Adam spat. He stormed past Ronan.

Ronan smiled wider.

***

“Lynch. Lynch. Ronan. Calm yourself, princess.”

The lights keep flashing. Blue. Red. Blue again. Fourth July can go fuck itself, Kavinsky was celebrating himself tonight.

Kavinsky with all the bravado of a drunk seventeen year old hit Ronan across the face. “You done being a fuckin’ pussy now?”

For about twenty seconds Ronan stared at his hands, which he noticed were shaking. Ronan shook his head. His cheek throbbed. “Not yet.” He brought his fist down on Kavinsky’s nose, smirked like he had done him a favor. “You can continue now,” he said, the picture of nonchalance, as if he hadn’t come stumbling and stuttering Joseph Kavinsky’s name like a prayer. His father’s brains painted the driveway to the Barns red. Ronan didn’t know what to do with himself at nights. He tried to remember why he came here.

“Goddamn. Goddamn.” Kavinsky put his fingers to his nose, licking the blood that had flown onto his lips. “Goddamnit Lynch, did daddy not give you your pills today? Damn, that hurts, goddamn it.” And then, like he only now realized that words other than various combinations of god and damn exist, he shoved Ronan by the shoulders. “I’m gonna put a fuckin’ ban on you man, why’re you coming to my parties and punching me in the goddamn face?”

Ronan merely shrugged.

“Yeah, Lynch, act like you didn’t come in here sobbing like a fuckin’ baby. Gansey, oh Gansey, wherefore art thou Dick? I wish to hop on it. Or is it trailer-boy you’re fucking these days?” He snorted unattractively. Yeah. That’s why he came here: Because Kavinsky simplified everything to a few incorrectly quoted lines and an innuendo, because Kavinksy was superficial and idiotic and. And.

And he had drugs.

“Ha- fucking- ha. Take a medal for you’re a-grade Shakespeare skills, Joseph.” Kavinsky flashed him a smile. “You know what I’m here for. Give me the stuff so I can leave.”

Ronan passed out that night with his clothes off on Kavinsky’s floor, his nose burning.

***

They lay in Ronan’s parents’ bed in the barns; skin sticky and hearts thudding, coming down from the high but not enough for the world to make sense yet. In these moments of unguarded love Ronan would admit he wants to kiss every freckle on Adam’s shoulder. Ronan would let himself look at Adam’s eyes, his lips, his hands, at Adam without red-hot shame running down his spine.

Here was Adam; skin glowing golden in the setting sun, head back, neck arched. Here was Adam; fingers running lazy spirals across his tattoo, eyelashes brushing cheekbones, mouth parted. Here was Adam unwary, Adam perfect and peaceful and—

“I don’t deserve you.” The words are out before Ronan can stop them. His neck goes red.

Adam laughs, slow and easy. “Yeah? Why d’you think that?”

“Just do.” The red travels to his shoulders. “You want a fucking essay?”

“I’m good. Just strange for you to say that, that’s all.” Strange of you to say that. Ronan toys with the words in his mind: strange as in Adam disagrees? Strange as in Adam might even say the same for him?

He shifts to press his mouth against Adam’s skin. “You’re just too damn perfect, that’s all.”

Adam lifts his head up just enough to look at Ronan through half-lidded eyes, his eyebrows raised. He laughs, quietly, and falls back with a thud. Ronan flushes three shades darker. “So are you, you know,” Adam says. “Like I can’t ever tell you properly, but you really are.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty dang great.”

Adam laughs again. Ronan crawls up till his head is on Adam’s shoulder and falls asleep like that; fingers buried in his hair, his cheek warm where it touches Adam’s skin.

***

They fall into patterns after the Second Death. There’s mornings in the barn where Adam would be gone to work or school before Ronan even had the time to blink the sleep out of his eyes. Some mornings Adam would stay back and they’d sit on the porch steps while Opal would run in the knee high grass of the fields. In the evenings those who went to school would do their homework on the floor of Monmouth. Ronan would sit in his bedroom and let it all wash over him.

He told himself it was comfort, this everyday normalcy. That it’s okay they weren’t talking, even if they were fucking traumatized, and that it’s okay Adam pulls away from him and wears seventy layers of clothing every day and that they all have the same ghost look in their eyes. They are fine. He chants it to himself like a mantra. Fine. Fine. Fine.

One night they’re lying there on the couch: Ronan on one end, Adam on the other. Adam’s doing that thing where he watches his hands for hours on end, flexing and unflexing them, turning them one way and the other, reminding himself that these are his hands, and Ronan’s doing that thing where he watches Adam for hours on end trying to remember when he got replaced by this skeleton.

The clock ticks from the hallway. Ronan snaps. “Can you fucking stop?” His voice comes out harsh. Adams backs away from his own hands, blinking.

“I’m—I’m sorry. Sorry.” He puts his hands on his lap, and then on second thoughts, he sits on them instead. “Sorry.” He looks small, pitiful. His eyes sunken into hollows, and from where Ronan sits he can count about three sweaters on him even though it's just the middle of September.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Goddammit, why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?” He reaches forward and touches Adam on the shoulder, a ghost of a touch, but Adam snaps backwards like he’s been punched. “See what I mean? Why can’t I touch you anymore, Adam? Why don’t you just leave if you hate me so much?” Ronan’s voice is pleading and his eyes are wet.

“Because I almost killed you, that’s why. Don’t you remember? Or did you make yourself forget that part?” Adam’s words come out in heaving sobs and he’s rocking himself back and forth. “I almost killed you Ronan, I’m a monster, I almost killed you, I almost. Fucking. Killed. You.”

They’re both crying, and it’s all a mess and really, Ronan at any other point in time and history would have just gotten up and left, but he needs to fix this. He reminds himself he’s fine, and he breathes even though he’s still crying.

Ronan Lynch is a creature of great wonder and bad chosen words. He walks towards Adam and kneels to where he’s sitting, takes both his hands in his and places them on his neck. Adam’s fingers tremble against Ronan’s throat, and Ronan can barely get words out between all the tears but he keeps saying it again and again to Adam. “I’m not afraid, it wasn’t your fault. I love you. I love you. Iloveyou.”

#this is a mess #i am a mess #i love trc #crits appreciated but pls dont roast me #trc #the raven cycle #the raven boys #the raven king #blue lily lily blue #the dream thieves #ronan lynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch's hand kink #or at least if you squint #pynch #someone kill me before gcses #maggie stiefvater #trc fanfiction #fanfics

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dreamersscape · 5 years

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The Raven Cycle: A Liveblog (Part 4)

(Let’s just pretend the gap since my last installment was a much shorter and more reasonable period of time than it has actually been, shall we? I tried to make up for it with the length of this edition. Suuuuuper long post under the cut.)

Me, reading TDT’s opening quotations: Okay, yes, good. Taking things out of your dreams into the waking world. Got it.

Me, reading the last quote: ‘I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.’?

YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING OF MY PEOPLE, AUSTIN STRINDBERG. GET THEE HENCE.

‘He always returned with gifts, treasure, and unimaginable amounts of money, but to Ronan, the most wondrous thing was Niall himself. Every parting felt like it would be the last, and so every return was like a miracle.’ RONANNNNNNN. (Is it weird that it feels like Ronan is supposed to be my favorite bc he seems closest to my type and goodness knows I can relate to the grieving-a-father feels, but that’s not really the case so far? I love him dearly, but it feels like I should love him more. Weird? Not weird? I dunno.)

*carefully takes notes about the alleged details of Ronan’s birth because I know now every minor detail is actually Very Important*

‘Theoretically, Blue Sargent was probably going to kill one of these boys.’ Oh, good, it’s only a theoretical death. Glad we got that sorted out. Guess I can stop worrying about it now, right? :P

'Adam’s hand glided over her bare elbow. The touch was a whisper in a language she didn’t speak very well.’ I really like this line! Also, somewhat sadly, relateable.

'It had five tiny white buttons: four arranged in a cross shape, and one off by itself. To Blue, that fifth button was like Adam. Still working toward the same purpose as the other four. But no longer quite as close as the others.’ Oh, so we’re going to make my heart hurt over Adam Parrish in the first ten pages of the book. Fine.

'In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them. Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness. Her raven boys.’ Aw, those lines sound familiar. ;) And we’re all right there with ya, Blue.

'The dorms were emptier than they would’ve been during school term, but they were not empty.’ Whoops unrelated-to-TRC-but-nevertheless-on-brand feels ahoy.

So it’s been long enough since I read TRB that I can’t recall if I had any particular feelings about Declan then, but definitely feeling pretty sympathetic towards him now, what with his father’s seeming dismissive attitude toward him and the assault from this Gray Man. Also, have I read the word Greywaren before? Not sure.

Oh. So Ronan is the Greywaren, then. Guess that answers that.

’Mom is nothing without him’? Woooow, Declan. Wow. A bit less sympathy, now. (Maybe there’s something about their mother I don’t know yet, but still…)

’Creature was a good word for him, Ronan thought.’ Oof. He’s gonna make me eat my words, isn’t he? I already said I love you dearly, Ronan!

And now he’s gonna divert himself from his unpleasant thoughts with an external distraction. Oh good. That doesn’t mirror any of my other favorite characters at all.

'Back then, it had surprised Ronan; he hadn’t realized yet that Gansey could persuade even the sun to pause and give him the time.’ [drags a hand slowly down my face] Don’t do this to me, Maggie. Haven’t you already put me through enough with Adam and Gansey?

'His thoughtless expression was one of wonder or of pain; with Gansey they were so often the same thing.’ Well that–that’s a sentence.

’“Ronan, there’s no reason for that,” Gansey said sternly, as if Ronan had hurled a toy on the floor.’ Gonna start listing all the mom-friend!Gansey moments, 'cause I gotta.

'He laughed enough that Chainsaw abandoned her paper shredding to verify he wasn’t dying.’ This is cute, other than the implication that Ronan genuinely laughing is a all-too-rare occurrence.

’“So what you’re saying is you can’t explain it.” “I did explain it.” “No, you used nouns and verbs together in a pleasing but illogical format.”’ Hee!

I half expect tired-of-potential-and-only-being-useful-needing-something-more!Blue to break out singing ’I want much more than this provincial life/I want adventure in the great wide somewhere/I want it more than I can tell’ and I don’t say that at all in a disparaging way, that’s just what it made me think of. It’s a very understandable desire on Blue’s part.

’“Jane!” Gansey said joyfully.’ I will never tire of this. :)

'When she returned, she leaned on the table beside Adam, who touched her wrist. She didn’t know what to do in response. Touch it back? The moment had passed. She resented her body for not giving her the correct answer.’ So! Freaking! Relateable!

'Kavinsky headed directly to the large table in the back, and the postures of the other boys all changed drastically….Gansey stood, leaning against the table, and there was something threatening rather than respectful about it.’ I live a protective!Gansey appreciation life.

The Gray Man is quite a character.

Ummmm so chapter eight just hurt my soul a whole lot? Here’s a list of the culprits:

'He’d spent just two hours at the easiest of the jobs — Boyd’s Body & Paint, LLC, replacing brake pads and changing oil and finding what was making that squeaking noise there, no, there — and now, even though he was off, he was ruined for anything else. Sticky and sore and, above all else, tired, always tired.’

'The only rub was, Blue was another troubling thing. She was like Gansey in that she wanted him to explain himself. What do you want, Adam? What do you need, Adam? Want and need were words that got eaten smaller and smaller: freedom, autonomy, a perennial bank balance, a stainless-steel condo in a dustless city, a silky black car, to make out with Blue, eight hours of sleep, a cell phone, a bed, to kiss Blue just once, a blister-less heel, bacon for breakfast, to hold Blue’s hand, one hour of sleep, toilet paper, deodorant, a soda, a minute to close his eyes. What do you want, Adam? To feel awake when my eyes are open.’ (This hurt less than the 'to go home, to go home, to go home’ passage, but ONLY JUST.)

'He’d already seen the ignored, unopened envelope emblazoned with Aglionby Academy’s raven crest. For two days he’d been stepping over it, as if it might disappear if he failed to acknowledge it.’ (Ah, hello avoidant coping skills, my old friend.)

’[Adam] ached inside.’/'He still ached.’/'his spine aching, shoulders aching, soul aching’

'They stared at each other, both hurt.’/'He tried not to let it sound like he was still hurt, but he was, and it did.’/'She tried not to let it sound like she was hurt, but she was, and it did.’

’What do you want, Adam? He didn’t even know.’ (T.T)

'His wide eyes and gaunt face peered back at him, troubled but not unusual.’

I’m so done, he thought. No more. Please, I can’t take any more.’ (SAME.)

'The difference in tuition between this year’s and next was twenty-four hundred dollars. That number again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.’ (SERIOUSLY THOUGH, I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE GANSEY/ADAM TENSION/CONFLICT/FIGHTING. WHEN DO WE GET TO THE GETTING BETTER PART?)

'They couldn’t hurt Gansey. Nothing could hurt him; people who said money couldn’t buy everything hadn’t seen anyone as rich as the Aglionby boys. They were untouchable, immune to life’s troubles. Only death couldn’t be swiped away by a credit card.’ (Oh Adam honey, you don’t even knooooow. :()

Adam! Some people show and feel love through acts of service! It’s not an inherently bad thing! Concern and the desire to help are not the same thing as pity!

Also, Blue’s “Then don’t be pitiful!” response was kinda strange, even for an impulsively perturbed remark? Just felt weird.

'She was looking at the box that served as his nightstand. Somehow it had moved several feet away from the bed. The side was badly dented, its former contents scattered violently across the floor. Only now did he remember the act of kicking the box, but not the decision to kick it.’ (Crap.)

'He calmed enough to remember that if he waited long enough, carefully analyzing how it felt, the emotion would lose its inertia. It was the same as physical pain. The more he tried to mentally decide what made pain hurt, the less his brain seemed able to remember the pain at all.’

'He’d never escape, not really. Too much monster blood in him. He’d left the den, but his breeding betrayed him. And he knew why he was pitiful. It wasn’t because he had to pay for his school or because he had to work for a living. It was because he was trying to be something he could never be. The sham was pitiful.’

'Some nights he lured himself to sleep by imagining how he would word the favor for Glendower. He needed to get the words exactly right. Now he rolled phrases around his mouth, desperately reaching for one that would comfort him. Ordinarily, words would tumble and lull through his mind, but this time, all he could think was Fix me.’ (On a related note, I’m dead.)

'He had a strange, disconcerting feeling that he couldn’t trust his senses. Like he was tasting an image or smelling a feeling or touching a sound. It was the same as just a few minutes before, the idea that he’d glimpsed a slightly wrong reflection of himself. Adam’s previous worries vanished, replaced with a more immediate concern for this ragged body he was carting around in. He’d been hit so many times. He’d already lost his hearing in his left ear. Maybe something else had been destroyed on one of those tense, wretched nights.’ (*Spontaneously revives to continue worrying myself to death over Adam Parrish* WHY CAN’T I TAKE CARE OF HIM?)

'Ronan, Noah, and Gansey were at the Dollar City in Henrietta, loitering. Theoretically, they were there for batteries. Practically, they were there because both Blue and Adam had work, Ronan’s shapeless anger always got worse at night, and Dollar City was one of the few stores in Henrietta that allowed pets.’ These stupid codependent teens.

“Hello? Oh, hey,” Gansey said to the phone, touching a notebook with a handgun printed on the cover. The oh, hey was accompanied by a definite change in the timbre of his voice. That meant it was Adam’ [tries to feel the joy I deserve at this past my intense anxiety about the probable clashing over the tuition thing]

'Ronan rested his forehead on the topmost shelf. The metal edge snarled against his skull, but he didn’t move. At night, the longing for home was ceaseless and omniscient, an airborne contaminant. He saw it in Dollar City’s cheap oven mitts — that was his mother at dinnertime. He heard it in the slam of the cash register drawer — that was his father coming home at midnight. He smelled it in the sudden whiff of air freshener — that was the family trips to New York. Home was so close at night. He could be there in twenty minutes. He wanted to smash everything off these shelves.’ He and Adam both want to go hoooome and I wish I could provide that for them and turns out I am actually Gansey.

'“Glitter,” whispered Noah reverentially, giving it a shake.’ Truly Noah is their light in the darkness. I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH.

'Farther down the aisle, Gansey suggested to the phone, “You could come stay at Monmouth. For the night.”’ Like I said. Also, I really, really wish I could hear both sides of this phone conversation.

'Sometimes Ronan thought Adam was so used to the right way being painful that he doubted any path that didn’t come with agony.’ I mean, fair. And heartbreaking.

'Gansey’s back was turned to them. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ramirez? I didn’t talk to anyone at the church. Yes, twenty-four hundred dollars. I know that part. I —”’ Oh no. It’s happening.

'But one of the marvelous things about being Ronan Lynch was that no one ever expected him to do anything nice for anyone.’ I would hug you Ronan, except there is now more Adam 'n’ Gansey friction and I’m really bad at handling it!

'Abruptly, Ronan’s entire body went cold. Not a little chilly, but utterly cold. The sort of cold that dries the mouth and slows the blood. His toes went numb, and then his fingers….Then Noah reappeared in a violent sputter, like the power crackling back on. His fingers clutched Ronan’s arm. Cold seeped from the point of contact as Noah dragged heat to become visible.’ Oh, so Noah can do that with Ronan too? Because of his greywaren-ness?

'“I lost …” Noah struggled for words. “There wasn’t air. It went away. The — the line!” “The ley line?” Gansey asked. Noah nodded once, a sloppy thing that was sort of a shrug at the same time. “There was nothing … left for me.”’ Not allowed. Just saying.

'He didn’t say, Or maybe something terrible happened to Adam that day he sacrificed himself in Cabeswater. Maybe he’s messed up all of Henrietta by waking up the ley line. Because they couldn’t talk about that. Just like they couldn’t talk about Adam stealing the Camaro that night. Or about him basically doing everything Gansey had asked him not to. If Adam was stupid about his pride, Gansey was stupid about Adam.’ Yes, we know. :)

'From Ronan’s room, he heard Noah’s laugh. He and Ronan were throwing various objects from the second-story window to the parking lot below. There was a terrific crash.’ Having witnessed my younger brother doing basically the same thing once, I can vouch for the authenticity of this teenage-boy activity.

'Once, he had dreamt that he found Glendower. It wasn’t the actual finding, but the day after. He wouldn’t forget the sensation of the dream. It hadn’t been joy, but instead, the absence of pain. He couldn’t forget that lightness. The freedom.’ Yeah, don’t we all dream about the absence of pain. *buries face in hands* OH GANSEY BOY.

’“Do you want me to talk to her?” This was something he definitely, 100 percent felt certain in his guts that he had no interest in doing. “I’m really bad at talking, Gansey,” Adam said earnestly. “And you’re really good at it. Maybe — maybe if it just comes up natural?” Gansey’s shoulders collapsed; his breath fogged the glass and vanished. “Of course.” “Thanks.” Adam paused. “I just want something to be simple.” So do I, Adam. So do I.’ This right here? This A Whoooole Lot. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for Adam if he asked, Gansey?

'Noah slouched in. In a wounded tone, he said, “He threw me out the window!” Ronan’s voice sang out from behind his closed door: “You’re already dead!”’ OH. MY. GOODNESS.

’"You should come over.” “Not tonight,” replied Adam. I’m losing him, Gansey thought. I’m losing him to Cabeswater. He had thought that by staying away from the forest, he’d keep the old Adam — put off the consequences of whatever had happened that night when everything started to go awry. But maybe it just didn’t matter. Cabeswater would take him regardless.’ I dream of the absence of pain!!!

'His skin shivered and crawled, and he realized it was crawling with hornets, the ones that had killed Gansey all those years ago. There weren’t many this time, only a few hundred. Sometimes he dreamt cars full of them, houses full of them, worlds full of them. Sometimes these hornets killed Ronan, too, in his dreams.’ Oh, Ronan.

’Arbores loqui latine. The trees speak Latin. “You’ve done this before,” she said. Time was a circle, a rut, a worn tape Ronan never tired of playing.’ Huh. Has Ronan been dreaming of Cabeswater for years and years?

'Curled on the mattress, [Adam] covered his face with his summer-hot arm. Sometimes, if he blocked his mouth and nose, just this side of suffocation, sleep would overthrow him.’ THAT DOESN’T SOUND HEALTHY, MY BOY. :(

'He was awake enough to think of the invitation from Gansey. There might be an internship in there. Adam knew it was a favor. Did that make it wrong? He’d said no for so long that he didn’t know when to say yes….He hated the careful way Gansey had asked him about it. Tiptoeing, just like Adam had learned to tiptoe around his father. He needed a reset button. Just push the reset button on Adam Parrish and start him again.’ I am sad. (But maaaaybe he’s starting to reconsider the idea that he can never accept hep of any kind?)

'After he had exhausted this line of thought, Ronan gave in to the brief privilege of hating himself, as he always did in church. There was something satisfying about acknowledging this hatred, something relieving about this little present he allowed himself each Sunday.’ Oh, Ronan.

'“Hey, pal,” Matthew whispered. He was the only person who could get away with calling Ronan pal.’ Awww. :)

'Matthew Lynch was a bear of a boy, square and solid and earnest. His head was covered with soft, golden curls completely unlike any of his other family members. And in his case, the perfect Lynch teeth were framed by an easy, dimpled smile. He had two brands of smile: the one that was preceded by a shy dip of his chin, a dimple, and then BAM, smile. And the one that teased for a moment before BAM, an infectious laugh. Females of all ages called him adorable. Males of all ages called him buddy. Matthew failed at many more things than either of his older brothers, but unlike Declan or Ronan, he always tried his hardest.’ Whoops, I’m attached.

'Ronan had dreamt one thousand nightmares about something happening to him.’ *rubs heart*

'A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work.’ Once again: Awww. :)

'Blue very much liked having the boys over to her house. Their presence at the house was agreeable for several different reasons….And the third reason was that it suggested permanence. Blue had acquaintances at school, people she liked. But they weren’t forever. While she was friendly with a lot of them, there was no one that she wanted to commit to for a lifetime. And she knew this was her fault. She’d never been any good at having casual friends. For Blue, there was family — which had never been about blood relation at 300 Fox Way — and then there was everyone else. When the boys came to her house, they stopped being everyone else.’ THEY’RE FAMILY NOW. <3

'Crossly, Blue realized that Gansey had now called her Jane so often that it felt strange to hear him say her real name.’ Embrace it, Blue. Embraaace it. :D

'He hid the insatiable wanting well, but now that she’d seen it once, she couldn’t stop seeing it. But he wouldn’t be able to explain it to Maura. And he would never really have to explain it to Blue. It was his something more.’ Awww. :)

(Sorry this liveblog is devolving mostly into either EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE or But this is cute! and if that is starting to become boring…)

’"What did they die of?” “Mom always said ‘meddling.’ Gansey completely forgot they were being secretive and let out a tremendous laugh. It was a powerful thing, that laugh. He only did it once, but his eyes remained shaped like it. Something inside her did a complicated tug. Oh no! she thought. But then she calmed herself. Richard C. Gansey III has a nice mouth. Now I know he has nice eyes when he laughs, too. This still isn’t love. She also thought: Adam. Remember Adam.’ 1.) I hope this line of rationalization works out for you, Blue. ;) 2.) I am still feeling torn, though. Blue and Adam are cute together. 3.) I’d be okay with a Blue-Gansey-Adam OT3 though.

'Maura frowned. In a low voice, she said, “I think I need to have a conversation with that boy.” “Someone does,” Calla replied, heading up the stairs. Each stair groaned a protest for which she punished the next with a stomp. “Not me. I’ve outgrown train wrecks.” Blue, alarmed, said, “Is he a train wreck?”| Her mother clucked her tongue. “Calla likes drama. Train wreck! When a train takes a long time to go off the tracks, I don’t like to call it a wreck. I like to call it a derailment.” From upstairs, Blue heard Calla’s delighted cackle. “I hate both of you,” Blue said as her mother laughed and galloped up the stairs to join Calla. “You’re supposed to use your powers for good, you know!” After a moment, Adam said to her, without lifting his eyes, “I could hear y’all, you know.” Blue hoped fervently that he was only talking about Maura and Calla and not about her kitchen conversation with Gansey. “Do you think you’re a train wreck?” “That would mean I was on the tracks to start with,” he replied.’ I would just like to say that I am miffed by this passage on Adam’s behalf. Thank you.

The chapter where Mr. Gray comes to 300 Fox Way was… interesting.

'Gansey, a furious sun, glowed from the other side of the universe, his gravitational pull too distant to affect Adam.’ WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME MAGGIE I CAN NEVER RECOVER.

So yeah, I just read the part where Adam is thinking back to how he and Gansey became friends and I think my heart just burst from emotional overload.

'Sometimes Adam wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped that day. What would be happening to him right now?’ Sometimes, Allan wondered what would’ve happened if Robin hadn’t stepped out of the trees that day. What would be happening to him right now? SORRY, I HAVE A PROBLEM.

Also, it only just occurred to me that Allan and Adam are A-names and Robin and Richard (even if that’s not what Gansey goes by) are R-names. This makes me so unreasonably happy!

'Gansey was giddy now that they’d decided to go back to Cabeswater. He hated nothing more than standing still. He ordered Ronan to put on some terrible music — Ronan was always too happy to oblige in this department — and then he abused the Camaro at every stoplight on the way out of town. “Put your back into it!” Gansey shouted breathlessly. He was talking to himself, of course, or to the gearbox. “Don’t let it smell fear on you!” Blue wailed each time the engine revved up, but not unhappily. Noah played the drums on the back of Ronan’s headrest. Adam, for his part, was not wild, but he did his best not to appear unwild, so as not to ruin it for the others.’ REEELATABLLLLE!!!

'Adam felt like he was watching it all from outside. He felt like he was about to catch another image, like a flick of the tarot cards he’d looked at earlier. Was that someone standing by the side of the road? I can’t trust my eyes.’ Leave him aloooone. :(

'Gansey leaned back, head thrown to the side, drunken and silly with happiness. “I love this car,” he said, loud to be heard over the engine. “I should buy four more of them. I’ll just open the door of one to fall into the other. One can be a living room, one can be my kitchen, I’ll sleep in one …” “And the fourth? Butler’s pantry?” Blue shouted. “Don’t be so selfish. Guest room.”’ He’s adorable.

Huh. Cabeswater’s gone!

'Adam felt that the Pig’s status perfectly encapsulated how he felt. It was not really dead, just broken. He was held inside the question of what it meant for him if Cabeswater was gone. Why can’t things just be simple?’ While this is a legitimate concern, Adam, to be fair, just a few moments ago you were worrying about was going to happen when you returned to Cabeswater for the first time after your sacrifice. Poor guy’s anxious over everything. :/

'Ronan leapt out of the car and slammed the door. The thing about Ronan Lynch, Adam had discovered, was that he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — express himself with words. So every emotion had to be spelled out in some other way. A fist, a fire, a bottle. Now Cabeswater was missing and the Pig was hobbled, and he needed to go have a silent shouting fit with his body. In the back window, Adam saw Ronan pick up a rock from the side of the road and hurl it into the creeper. “Well, that’s helpful,” Blue said tersely.’ 1.) [Fond but exasperated] Oh Ronan. 2.) I appreciate your reaction, Blue. You’re not wrong.

'“I’m calling Declan,” Gansey said. “And telling him to bring a battery.” Ronan told Gansey what he thought of this plan, very precisely, with a lot of compound words that even Adam hadn’t heard before. Gansey nodded, but he also dialed Declan’s number. Afterward, he turned to Ronan, who leaned his cheek hard enough against the top of the window to make a dent in his skin.’ Please stop dealing with difficult emotions/situations by causing yourself pain, Ronan, honey.

'Gansey rounded on Adam, clutching his own headrest and looking behind him. “Why is it gone?”’ Why is my mental picture of this so endearing?

'Declan’s Volvo glided up, as quiet as the Pig was loud. Ronan said, “Move up, move up” to Blue until she scooted the passenger seat far enough for him to clamber behind it into the backseat. He hurriedly sprawled back in the seat, throwing one jean-covered leg over the top of Adam’s and laying his head in a posture of thoughtless abandon. By the time Declan arrived at the driver’s side window, Ronan looked as if he had been asleep for days.’ Oh, Ronan. What am I going to do with you?

'And as he sat there, observing the set of Declan’s shoulders and the way his eyes looked, he realized something startling. Declan was afraid. Probably it wasn’t apparent to Gansey, who was fairly oblivious, nor to Blue, who didn’t know what Declan looked like ordinarily. And Ronan’s feelings about his older brother were like blood in the water; he wouldn’t be able to see through the bilious clouds. But to Adam, who’d spent a fair amount of his life afraid — not only afraid, but trying to hide it — it was obvious.’ [Gansey voice] I am right to have Allan feels here and I will not be made to feel bad about it! (Also, in blast-from-the-past news, I’m really close to finally done with putting my anxiety-and-Allan thoughts into words and I’m excited for that.)

I love when Noah senses one of the other boys is in distress and goes to them and does his ghostly best to comfort or assist them. <3

'He thought about the day he’d been stung to death by hornets and lived anyway. Gansey ran over the memory until he no longer felt the thrill of hearing Glendower’s name whispered in his ear, and then instead gave himself over to feeling sorry for himself, that he should have so many friends and yet feel so very alone. He felt it fell to him to comfort them, but never the other way around. As it should be, he thought, abruptly angry with himself. You’ve had it the easiest. What good is all your privilege, you soft, spoiled thing, if you can’t stand on your own legs? ’ OH HONEY :( (But Noah does try!)

'“It’s not just the blood,” Ronan said. His chest moved up and down with his breath. “Something else got out, too.”’ Uh-oh.

Phew. They dispatched the nightmare creature while remaining mostly unscathed. Although they needn’t go around asking each other, "Are you murdered?” with the reply, “I think so.” anymore, please.

'“There was another one,” he said. “It got away.”’ Well, that’s not good!

'“It’s for the distasteful thing,” Gansey said. He plucked at the T-shirt with deprecating fingers. “I’m rather slovenly at the moment, I know.”’ [Fond, amused sputtering]

Oh, they’re going to the Barns!

'Gansey, a bit of the gallows in his voice, advised, “Poke its eye.”’ [Confused, taken-aback sputtering]

'“It feels the same as when you guys lived here,” Gansey said finally. “It seems like it should be different.” “Did you come here a lot?” Blue asked. He exchanged a glance with Ronan. “Often enough.” He didn’t say what Ronan was thinking, which was that Gansey was far more of a brother to Ronan than Declan had ever been.’ Brothers <3<3<3

'Ronan loved it so much. He nearly couldn’t bear it. He wanted to destroy something.’ That’s…one reaction to profound love. (Yes, I know. Profound love for something that’s been stripped away from you.)

'“Ronan Lynch,” he said. It was the voice Ronan couldn’t not listen to. It was sure in every way that Ronan was not. “Stop this right now. Go see your mother. And then we’re leaving.”’ More Mom-Friend!Gansey.

'Ronan walked directly up to her, close enough to see that she had not changed a bit since the last time he had seen her, months and months ago. Though his breath moved the fine hairs around her temples, she didn’t react to her son’s presence. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes stayed closed. Non mortem, somni fratrem. Not death, but his brother, sleep. Blue whispered, “Just like the other animals.” The truth — he’d known it all along, really, if he thought about it — burrowed into him. Blue was right. His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch’s dreams, and his mother was just another one of them.’ Huh.

'My soul’s in enough peril as it is.” At this, Gansey’s face turned to a genuine frown and he looked as if he was about to say something. Then he just shook his head a little….“She didn’t try to see the future. It’s not something she became; it’s something she is. I could just as easily say that you’re evil because you can take things from your dreams!” Ronan said, “Yeah, you could.” Gansey’s frown deepened. Again he opened his mouth and closed it.’ Same, Gansey. Same.

'Ronan looked at him. That look, Blue thought. Ronan Lynch would do anything for Gansey. I probably would, too, she thought.’ If only he knew it. *rubs heart*

'Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue’s look said, I’m so, so sorry. Gansey’s said, Am I the pretty one?’ Bless his cotton socks.

'Ronan thought of what Declan had said all those months before: Mom is nothing without Dad. He’d been right.’ Okay, but does Declan know about this stuff and how it works?

'Ronan interrupted the silence. “Cabeswater. Cabeswater is a dream.” Calla stopped rotating. “You don’t have to tell me I’m right,” Ronan said. He thought of all the times he had dreamt of Cabeswater’s old trees; how familiar it had felt to walk there; how the trees had known his name. He was tangled in their roots, somehow, and they, in his veins. “If Mom is in Cabeswater, she’ll wake up.” Calla stared at him. Silence was never a wrong answer.’ Okay then.

'But those words of Declan’s needled Ronan: She’s nothing without Dad. It was like he knew. Ronan wanted badly to know how much Declan knew, but it wasn’t like he could ask him.’ No, that would be too easy.

'“Says you and Dad were both dreamers,” Matthew said, “and you’re going to make us lose everything.” Ronan sat very still. He was so still so quickly that Chainsaw froze as well, her head tilted toward the youngest Lynch brother, purloined tuna sandwich forgotten. Declan knew about their father. Declan knew about their mother. Declan knew about him.’ Curious. Very curious.

The Gray Man is going to Monmouth Manufacturing!

'He had spent forty-eight hours more or less awake and restless and then, on the third day, he had bought a side-scan sonar device, two window airconditioners, a leather sofa, and a pool table. “Now do you feel better?” Adam had asked drily. Gansey had replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Hey, man,” Ronan said, “I like the pool table.” The entire situation made Blue apoplectic.’ Tag yourself; I’m Adam with a dash of Ronan. Pool tables are cool.

’"You are still wearing those incredibly stupid boat shoes, and of all the things that you have bought, you still haven’t replaced them!” Gansey, bewildered, observed his feet. The movement of his toes was barely visible through the tops of his Top-Siders. Really, in light of recent events, these shoes were the only things that were right in the world. “I like these shoes.”’ Update: he’s still adorable.

’[Gansey] exchanged a glance with Adam, because it had to be done’ 1) What does this mean? 2) I love them SO MUCH!

'In some parallel universe, there was a Gansey who could tell Blue that he found the ten inches of her bare calves far more tantalizing than the thirteen cubic feet of bare skin Orla sported. But in this universe, that was Adam’s job. } He was in a terrible mood.’ Oooooh. 👀

'So these were the people Greenmantle had warned him about. Fellow seekers of the Greywaren, whatever it might be.’ Curious and curiouser.

'Blue cheerfully spit a mouthful of brown water on his boat shoes. It pooled in the canvas over his toes. “Good God,” he said. “Now they’re really boat shoes,” she replied.’ Blue’s crusade continues.

'He knew what it was. He just didn’t know why it was. He said, “Well, that’s a wheel off the Camaro.” And it was. It looked identical to the wheels currently residing on the Pig — except this wheel was clearly several hundred years old. The discolored surface was pocked and lumpy. With all of the deterioration, the elegantly symmetrical wheel didn’t appear that out of place beside the shield boss. If you overlooked the tattered Chevrolet logo in the middle. “Do you remember losing one a little while ago?” Ronan asked. “Like, five hundred years or so?”’ Aggressively the Most Curious.

'Blue held his gaze, unflinching. Crisp, she replied, “None at all.” And it was a lie. It should not have been, but it was, and Gansey, who prized honesty above nearly every other thing, knew it when he heard it. Blue Sargent cared whether or not he was interested in Orla. She cared a lot. As she whirled toward the truck with a dismissive shake of her head, he felt a dirty sort of thrill.’ Oh, you kids.

'“Hey, Noah.” He was too busy being ghostly to attend to her, however. Currently, he was engaged in one of his creepiest activities: reenacting his own death. He glanced around the tiny yard as if appraising the forest glen containing only himself and his friend Barrington Whelk. Then he let out a terrible, mangled cry as he was struck from behind by an invisible skateboard. He made no sound when he was hit again, but his body jerked convincingly. Blue tried not to look as he bucked a few more times before falling to the ground. His head jerked; his legs bicycled. Blue took a deep, uneven breath. Though she had seen him do it four or five times now, it was always unsettling. Eleven minutes. That was how long the entire homicidal portrait lasted: one boy’s life destroyed in less time than it took to cook a hamburger. The last six minutes, the ones that took place after Noah had first fallen but before he actually died, were excruciating. Blue considered herself a fairly steadfast, sensible girl, but no matter how many times she heard his torn-up breath seizing in his throat, she felt a little teary. Between the twisted roots of the front yard, Noah’s body jerked and stilled, finally dead. Again.’ I feel w o u n d e d.

'They wandered to the door like that, a pretzel of dead boy and not-psychic girl.’ Don’t even look at me!

'Gleefully, Noah said, “There’s a pool table now! I’m the worst at pool ever! It’s wonderful.”’ THIS SWEET CHILD IS GIVING ME EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH.

'Gansey, pacing next to his ruined miniature Henrietta, set his eyes on Ronan. There was something intense and heedless in them. There were many versions of Gansey, but this one had been rare since the introduction of Adam’s taming presence. It was also Ronan’s favorite. It was the opposite of Gansey’s most public face, which was pure control enclosed in a paper-thin wrapper of academia. But this version of Gansey was Gansey the boy. This was the Gansey who bought the Camaro, the Gansey who asked Ronan to teach him to fight, the Gansey who contained every wild spark so that it wouldn’t show up in other versions. Was it the shield beneath the lake that had unleashed it? Orla’s orange bikini? The bashed-up remains of his rebuilt Henrietta and the fake IDs they’d returned to? Ronan didn’t really care. All that mattered was that something had struck the match, and Gansey was burning.’ #JusticeforMiniatureHenrietta

'“Don’t say anything stupid to him,” he told Gansey.’ Did I read that right? Did Ronan really just advise Gansey to be careful?

'The Gray Man recalled the buzz of his phone and patted his pockets. His phone was missing, however. Maura Sargent had stolen it while they were making out. In its place was the ten of swords: the Gray Man slain on the ground and Maura the sword driven through his heart.’ Interesting. Sorry that always seems to be my reaction to the Gray Man, but there it is.

#emily reads the raven cycle #status: tdt pg. 230 #jammeke #exlibrisfangirl

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thewarlocksbitch · 6 years

Text

I will be your: hands, eyes, heart

prev - chapter 9 - next

word count - 3.7k

thank you to chloe for beta editing

read it on ao3

The next morning Ronan raced down highway I-90 in the BMW, the windows down, radio blasting, his cuffed and pressed sleeves pushed up to the elbow, his tie discarded to lie forgotten in the backseat until next Sunday.

Church had been long, made longer by Declan’s asshole-ism but somewhat more tolerable by Matthew’s taming presence. Ronan hadn't been able to sit still.

The BMW growled and shuddered under him, and he let it. He was on his way to get Adam. God, he felt good. Everything felt so good. He would never want for another life again.

Adam was waiting for him in the Starbucks parking lot away from the crowded campus, always insistent on not being an inconvenience. Ronan pulled up beside him and parked. He could see Adam’s face through the window. His pulse sped up. Adam knocked once on the hood of the car before opening the door and getting in.

Ronan grinned at him. “Parrish,” he said.

Adam looked at Ronan, and then at his outfit. The corner of his mouth turned upwards. “Lynch,” he replied.

Ronan backed out of the parking lot and got them on the road. “Gansey laid out all his suits for you.”

Adam ran his hand along the seam of his pants. “I hope one will fit.”

Gansey was confident that one would, and he had already told Adam this. Ronan decided it was best to not acknowledge Adam’s nerves.

He tried to be quiet, but being quiet let him think too much about too many things. Just last night he had been kissing Adam, and today neither of them were talking about it. He didn't have much experience with these things, but he knew enough from Gansey that this was usually how they went until one party gathered up enough courage to discuss the occurrence with the other.

“I have a theory,” Adam said, his voice hesitant, “about fixing the ley line.”

Ronan looked at him. “About Glendower?”

“No,” Adam said. His hands were loosely joined in his lap and his gaze was steady on the road in front of them. “It doesn't involve Glendower at all.”

This was not what Ronan had expected. “I’m guessing you haven't told Gansey,” he said.

“I haven't,” Adam admitted.

“Well, magician,” Ronan said haughtily. “Lay it on me.”

“I think,” Adam said, slowly like he was considering each word, “the only way to save the line is to kill the faeries’ source of power.”

“The line is their source of power.”

“No, it isn't. The line is just another thing they want to control. All of their power comes from the ring.”

“So we go kick over a few mushrooms,” Ronan said, “and the problems fixed?”

“No, Ronan,” Adam said, in the same tone he would've said “no, asshole”. He pulled a piece of paper out from his pocket and unfolded it. There was an illustration on it. Ronan dashed looks at it out of the corner of his eye; Adam had drawn a perfect circle, surrounded by a much larger perfect circle.

“Shapes,” Ronan said, feigning excitement, and Adam frowned.

“When I was scrying,” Adam said, “I saw a lot of things that connected and fell apart, and I didn't understand what it meant until I went to the library and looked up more about faeries.”

They had reached the apartment. Ronan parked but neither of them left the car. Gansey was waiting inside.

Adam put the piece of paper on the dash where they both could see it. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face Ronan, his expression suddenly intense.

“There's another ring,” he said. “I don't know where it is yet, but I know it's huge. Thousands of miles long.” His eyes were fervent on Ronan’s. “It goes around more faerie rings than the one we know - it connects them all.”

“So we break this giant ring,” Ronan said.

“And the faeries lose all their power,” Adam finished.

“Okay, Einstein,” Ronan said, too impressed to make the name sound offensive, “how do we find this big ring?”

“I don't know,” Adam said. His eyes flicked towards the apartment. “Gansey’s coming.”

Ronan did not move. He could tell Adam had more to say and was struggling to. “Spit it out,” he said.

“I don't want Gansey to know yet,” Adam said.

Ronan put his hand on the door. “I won't lie to him,” he said.

“It isn't lying,” said Adam hastily. “I just- I don't know if I’m right. I don't want to tell him that Glendower isn't the answer until I know for sure.”

Ronan looked at him. “When will you know for sure?”

Adam stared back. “When you and I break the biggest ring.”

“Fine,” Ronan said. Gansey waved at them from the door. “Come on.”

Adam could not stop messing with the sleeves of Gansey’s suit jacket.

He didn’t fidget for a lack of comfort. The suit fit him as perfectly as if it were tailored specially for him. The expensive silk of the button up shirt underneath was cool against his skin and the tie around his neck snugly and formally held him together. His new glasses fit perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

He did not suffer from any lack of physical comfort, but his fragile pride, formerly pushed away, had begun to rear its ugly head ever since he’d gotten dressed in Gansey and Ronan’s cramped bathroom.

Come on, Adam, Gansey had said through the door, as Adam stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He'd felt sick. Ronan had said something outside the door that Gansey had scolded him for, and Adam had tried not to listen. Putting on Gansey’s clothes had felt too much like he was giving a part of himself away and stepping into Gansey’s skin instead.

“It'll be fine,” Gansey was saying now, his voice light and reassuring.

Adam hated how obvious his nerves were. He wanted - no, he needed - this internship. Badly. He was trying hard to not think of the possibilities: exchanging his TA job for much needed sleep; only going to the parlor for apprenticing, and having enough money to not need to go for any other reason; enjoying his summer hours away from the bustle of campus in a modestly wealthy apartment.

Called in by a favor from Gansey’s father, two lawyers in expensive suits would soon be waiting for him in the nearby Starbucks. They were almost there. Adam had to talk about something else. Anything else.

“What if,” Adam said, “Glendower isn't what you think he is?”

Gansey was quiet for a moment. “Do you mean to say that you think he isn't alive?”

“Even if he is,” Adam said, “What if he isn't powerful enough to save Noah?”

Gansey tapped his fingers on the Camaro’s wheel, pensive. “He is. I know he is.”

Adam looked at him. Gansey did not think Glendower would be enough, he knew. He knew without hearing the line, without scrying, without being a ghost. He had more faith than any of them without having even the smallest bit of definite proof.

This unwavering faith made Adam’s chest warm with something like admiration. It also gave him a headache.

“You can't know that,” he said, not unkindly. “You don't know for sure where he is, or if he's even alive. There's no solid evidence.”

Gansey took a deep breath. He did not look at Adam. “I know he's alive because I’m alive.”

Adam waited for Gansey to explain. His eyes were big with excitement as they always were when he was about to tell a story, but something in his face was unhappy as well. Adam felt suddenly uneasy.

“I’m allergic to bees. Badly.” Gansey said to the road. “When I was four I went to the hospital for one sting, and of course after that first sting it only gets worse.”

Adam thought of how often Gansey ventured outside, not only straying from the path but poking at and messing around with things as well. “Do you carry an EpiPen?” he asked.

“No point,” Gansey said, his tone flippant and impersonal in the way it had been when Adam had first met him. “The chances of me surviving even one sting are very low.”

“Okay,” Adam said. “Go on.”

Gansey sighed. “When I was nine or ten I attended a dinner party with my parents. A fancy one, with finger-foods and expensive champagne. All of the adults were discussing politics and I was bored out of my mind. Some kids asked me if I wanted to play hide-and-seek, and I said yes because I had nothing better to do. There was a forest at the edge of the backyard. It was huge, with trees wider than I would be able to fit my arms around even now. I went in and I loved it. I couldn't see the house, and I knew no one could see me. I was triumphant.”

Gansey's voice was peculiarly even. He continued in a monotone, “I stepped on a hornets nest, and at first I didn't realize. At first I thought I was being pricked by a thorn, because it didn't hurt very much. But then there were more. Up my legs, on my arms. By the time I looked down I couldn't see my skin. I knew I was dead.”

Adam clutched at his own arms, imagining that there were deadly insects covering them. He felt like he was there with Gansey, as Gansey, all those years ago in the woods. The reality of the story, the weight to its message, made him feel that the time he was in now was not so significant compared to others that had already passed.

Adam cleared his throat. “Did you try to get help?” he asked.

Gansey shook his head. “There was no point,” he said. “There were hundreds of them. I fell down and felt my heart stop.”

Now Gansey looked at Adam, for the first time since beginning the story. “Now’s the part that Ronan told me not to tell you. He knew you wouldn't believe me. But now I think you have enough reason and experience to consider it.” Gansey let out a shaky breath. “I heard a voice, Adam. I’ll never forget what it said. It said: ‘You will live because of Glendower. Someone else on the ley line is dying when they should not, and so you will live when you should not.’”

“Glendower saved you,” Adam said. Gansey was right; he couldn't not believe it, not after everything that had happened in the past few weeks, not after hearing the chilling calm of Gansey’s voice. “That's why you're looking for him.”

“I told my sister. I told my parents. They told me it was a hallucination.” The muscle in Gansey’s jaw tightened. “It was not a hallucination.”

Adam looked away from Gansey as he considered this. He would have dismissed the story right away if it had been someone else telling it. But because it was Gansey, and because of the past few unbelievable weeks, Adam could not simply dismiss it.

“What if we don't find him in time?” Adam asked.

“We have to,” Gansey said. “We’ll keep searching along the ley line, and doing whatever else we can to find out more. Blue is going to ask her psychic family members for advice. Ronan is-” Gansey faltered. “Helping me,” he finished lamely.

Gansey sounded so certain that he was in the right, that there was no other way. Adam thought back to his slowly-forming plan of tracking the ley line activity until he could find the larger ring. He had faith in his plan because he had a basis of scientific proof backing it up: the voices of faeries in his ear, the hundreds of miles long stretch of roots underneath the ground connecting like synapses or electrical wires, the ever-present energy inside him. He wanted to have faith in Gansey's plan, in Gansey, but the only faith he could muster would be from Gansey’s faith itself.

He could not trust in something so blindly.

“I want to go back to the faerie ring as soon as possible,” Gansey said, unbothered by Adam’s silence. “We can discuss it in the apartment after this.” The Camaro stuttered to a stop. Gansey unbuckled and gestured grandly to the Starbucks in front of them. “Here we are.”

Adam's throat closed up for a half second. He busied his hands with unbuckling himself. “You’re coming in with me?”

“Of course,” Gansey said, killing the engine. “This is a very informal meeting.”

“Okay,” Adam said. “Okay.”

They went inside.

Gansey first went to the counter and ordered a latte. The barista asked Adam what he wanted. Adam stuck his hand into his pocket. He needed to pick up some extra shifts soon.

“Plain black coffee, please,” he said.

Their drinks would be brought to their table, they were assured. Adam paid in exact change and then followed Gansey to a circular table already occupied by a large man in a grey suit and a stern looking woman with long fingers wrapped around a coffee.

They stood, and nervousness threatened to consume Adam as he was introduced. Genius, he heard Gansey say. Straight-A student. Adam watched his hand as it shook the man's, and then the woman's. Who was Adam Parrish? He was not a genius. He had no gift, nothing that aided him in where he was trying to get in life. He was here because he was a hard worker, a meticulous perfectionist, someone who knew better than anyone that the only way up was out. A scared little boy that couldn't go for more than an hour without checking the underside of his fingernails for dirt.

They sat. Gansey said no more, so it was Adam who answered the questions, Adam who told tales of his achievements. He felt ridiculous, like he was bragging, but the looks on the faces of the lawyers opposite him were not ridiculing. They were eager.

Something in Adam flipped. He realized, with a titling of reality, that they were badly impressed. That they wanted him, more of him, more of his youthfulness and vitality. His drink was brought to the table. He thanked the barista graciously and turned back to the lawyers . He felt a strange kind of confidence in him, powerful and encouraging where there had been so little before.

The ley line, he thought, and then, no, me.

He took a sip of his coffee. He was not sure if there was a difference between the two, and he was not sure if he cared either way.

Time slipped from Adam as the interview wore on. He didn't feel like much had passed at all when the lawyers thanked him for his time and stood.

They shook hands again. “It was a pleasure,” the woman said. “You'll be hearing from us soon.”

Adam smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Adam should have more thoroughly thought through the implications of wearing Gansey's suit to the parlor, but there hadn't been enough time between the interview and his shift to stop by the apartment and change.

“Hey, business man,” one of his coworkers said. “What's with the suit?”

Adam tried to smile with humor but could feel very acutely that the outcome fell short. He pulled his tie loose, tucked it into the suit jacket pocket, and tucked both safely away beneath the table.

After that he could breathe a little easier.

He worked slowly through his shift. It was an empty day, the hours passing by each other with no ceremony. He was free from class, free from pressing fees and bills, free to think as much as he wanted about Ronan with little consequences.

Some time later, though, Adam reevaluated his analysis of his consequenceless thoughts, because Ronan stepped through the parlor door just minutes before closing, half-hidden in shadow like an apparition.

“Hey,” Adam said.

Ronan came up to the counter but not close enough to touch it. He didn't exactly look at Adam. “How was the interview?”

“Good,” Adam said. “I think.”

Ronan tugged at the bracelets on his wrist. “Gansey told me you killed it.” He looked away from Adam and around the parlor. One of Adam's coworkers looked up from a magazine. She quickly averted her gaze when she noticed Ronan’s attention.

Ronan looked back at Adam. “I need to talk to you.”

Adam tried to read Ronan’s expression for hints of what he wanted to talk about but couldn't definitively discern any. A considerable amount of anxiety started to form in the pit of his stomach. “Okay,” he said. “Talk.”

Ronan looked around himself again. “Not here,” he said. “In the car.”

“Are you taking me somewhere?” Adam asked.

“No,” Ronan said. “Just… I’ll drive you home.”

“My shift ends in a few minutes,” Adam told him.

Ronan nodded stiffly, his head jerking up like it was moving on rusted hinges. “I’ll wait in the car.”

Adam could not focus at all for the last few minutes of his shift. Luckily, no clients came in asking for him. He grabbed Gansey’s jacket and tie and left the second his time was up. Ronan peeled out of the lot as soon as Adam closed the car door.

He waited for Ronan to say something. Ronan did not. There was a tension in the car that kept Adam from speaking first.

Ronan parked the BMW near Adam’s dorm and killed the engine.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

Adam waited.

“But not here,” Ronan said.

This did nothing to ease Adam’s nerves. “Then where?”

“Back home. In Henrietta.” He unbuckled and turned in his seat to face Adam. “Tomorrow. At the Barns.”

“A trip to Henrietta on a Monday?”

“There's something there I need to show you.”

Not counting the time actually spent in Henrietta, the trip driving back and forth would take over four hours. Adam wasn't scheduled to work tomorrow, but he'd been planning to go in for some extra money. He'd be missing that, along with studying time and brainstorming how to find the largest faerie ring.

But Ronan obviously needed to tell him something. Adam knew some of how much Ronan’s home meant to him. He knew Ronan wouldn't ask this of him unless it was important.

“You'll have to pick me up after my Chemistry class.” Adam said. “A little after eleven.”

“Okay,” Ronan said. He was still for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned forward over the gearshift to touch Adam’s face.

Adam startled but leaned into the touch, a newly learned response. Ronan’s palm was cool against his flushed cheek. Adam closed his eyes.

Ronan kissed him. Just for a few seconds, just for long enough that Adam’s pulse began to trip. Then he released Adam and leaned away.

Adam watched the jut of Ronan’s throat bob as he swallowed. He ran his hands over the wheel, unsteadily, before dropping them to knot together in his lap. “I’ll meet you here,” he said.

Adam nodded. “Okay.” He left Gansey’s suit jacket and tie on the seat in his place. He didn't look back as he walked into the dorm building, but it wasn't until he reached the door that he heard the BMW slowly peel away.

The dorm was half-alive with activity, which wasn't unusual for a late Sunday night. Adam let himself into his and Noah’s room, quietly, in case Noah was there at all.

All of the lights were off. Warily, Adam flicked one on before closing the door behind himself. He'd been too nervous to eat before the interview. He grabbed a protein bar and went over to his bed.

Noah was sitting there, his arms tight around Adam’s pillow, chin buried in it. He didn't say anything to Adam as Adam sat down on the bed beside him, mattress creaking faintly.

“Hey,” Adam said.

Noah hugged the pillow harder. “Hi, Adam,” he replied.

Adam unwrapped his protein bar. He looked at Noah. “Do you eat?” he asked.

Noah shook his head. “No.”

“So you just-” Adam was going to say bought, but he wasn't sure where a ghost would get money. “You got all of this food for me?”

Noah smiled at him, bashful. Half his face was crushed into the pillow; it looked almost blurred where it rubbed against the fabric. “Yeah,” he said.

It was not charity, Adam knew; it was Noah being his friend. Because that’s what friends did for each other. They communicated with other-worldly beings and gave advice on whether to purchase a new bike and stole nutritional snacks. Something primal and important inside Adam warmed at the thought that Noah cared about him, and that he cared about Noah, too. “Thank you.” he said.

Noah shrugged. “It's okay.”

Adam finished his protein bar and pulled his homework out. Noah didn't seem to want to move from the middle of the bed, so Adam moved to the desk. He turned the lamp on and bent it over his notes.

“You and Ronan are going to fix it without Gansey,” Noah said.

Adam tried very hard to not be weirded out at the fact that Noah could read his thoughts. “I don't know yet,” he said. “We need to learn more about it.”

“Do you think Gansey will be upset?” Noah asked.

“I don't think Gansey being upset matters very much when we're looking at the bigger picture."

“He thinks Glendower can help,” Noah said, spelling it out like a little kid would. “And you don't.”

“I think my plan is surer," Adam said carefully.

“Okay,” Noah said. Adam looked over to see him smiling. “I trust you.”

#pynch #pynch fanfiction #trc fanfiction #pynch fanfic #trc #vv #i hope u guys like this one aaaaaaah #the next one is gonna be WILD

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