#taking pynch away from us is just CRUEL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spiltscribbles · 5 years

Note

11 for pynch please and thank you! 💙

~Notes: TYSM sweets!!! I hope you enjoy this! A reblog is worth a thousand stars

From this List | Send Me A Prompt

Ronan wakes up unceremoniously on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon to the sound of muffled footsteps and clacking pans in the kitchen below.

No, not an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, not exactly. Not when Adam’s here, in the barns, with Ronan. It’s the first time in months that he’s been here for longer than a night or two at a time, and Ronan can hardly believe that the fall semester is finally over and he gets to actually stay here with no real time limit that makes everything feel like it’s entirely too fleeting.

Ronan feels his heart swell at the thought of finally having him here till at least mid January. Of them spending their second Christmas together as a couple, of getting to exchange champaign soaked kisses on New Year’s Ee, of just getting to exist in the domesticity of it all.

He shuffles closer to the warmth of Adam’s conspicuously vacant side of the bed, plunges his head in the pillow that still smells like him— like lemons and sunlight and something distinctly Adam’s own, tries his best not to get lost in the memories of what they’d done only a few hours prior. Ronan lies there for a moment more, waits for Adam to exit the bathroom or come back from studying in the den (where Ronan had left him before taking a lazy midday nap). But the noise from downstairs is really getting at him. He knows full and well if he allows Opal to act like a complete heathen, with this much noise now, that she’ll just take it and run.

So with a long suffering sigh, Ronan rises from the warm duvet, slips on a pair of sweats and black tank before marching downstairs, a tongue lashing poised to pounce just as soon as he catches Opal making a muck of things…. The only problem is that once Ronan gets to the kitchen, it’s not Opal’s ratty old skullcap and impish smile that greets him.

Ronan is face to face with a child, a little boy to be exact. He’s got a mop of sandy blonde curls that nearly covers his deep set, blue eyes, and a dusting of freckles dotting the tops of his cheeks and nose. The child’s nothing more than skin and bones, at least fifteen pounds underweight. He’s trembling in what must be some sort of fear, the spout of a teapot in one hand and the rest of it in another.

Though if Ronan’s being honest, he can’t really spare a single fuck over that— his eyes are laser focussed on the too big, painfully familiar sweatshirt that he’s wearing— wearing is the wrong word, it’s more like he’s being swallowed up by it. It’s crimson colored and has got the word Harvard splayed out in large letters.

Ronan knows that sweater, had watched his boyfriend slink it back on only a bit ago before kissing Ronan and retreating back to look over his books and shit in the den.

Wholly fuck.

Ronan is definitely insane. He knows this. Ronan is insane which is literally the only reason why he’s even about to utter this name, but he needs to just get it out of the way. Speak it, confuse the kid, and then figure out what in actual hell is going on.

Ronan is fucking insane, which is why he’s opening his lips and actually speaking the name out loud.

“Adam.”

The kid shrinks back, eyes winced and shoulders clenched.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it! I, I was just trying to get a glass of water and it slipped.”

It’s like Ronan feels it when his gut shrivels up and his chest plunges down to his stomach. He literally can’t process a thing.

“I’m sorry,” is all the kid says. No not kid… Adam. No, that’s still not right because if this was his Adam he would’ve just tossed it in the trash and probably buy Ronan a knew one— even if Ronan curses at him that he doesn’t need it. This Adam, this kid— he looks terrified— like he’d be punished for it.

“Adam… Do you know who I am?”

The kids bottom lip starts to tremble, and their’s a distinct sheen to his big eyes.

Ronan feels helpless.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t tell my dad, I didn’t mean it.”

Ronan doesn’t give himself the time to curse a thousand more deaths— painful and twisted— towards Robert Parrish, instead he just shakes off the steaming hot fury, and kneels down in front of the kid— of Adam.

Jesus fucking Christ what is his life.

“Hey, it’s fine, you’re okay.”

Ronan reaches out to cup his shoulder reassuringly, but Adam just shutters back, terrified.

Okay fine, Ronan spares himself one curse.

“Where, where am I? Who are you?”

Ronan reminds himself that if this is truly a kid Adam that it’s far before they ever met. Of course he doesn’t know who the fuck Ronan is. It’s not Ronan’s fault, and Adam— his Adam— Will be back soon. His Adam had loved him, that just doesn’t go away. This is only temporary.

God please let this only be temporary, Ronan can’t imagine it not. Can’t imagine finally having him and then forced to let go, to lose him in a new, cruel way. More inventive than the death of his parents, because this would mean that Ronan doesn’t have the right to mourn him, only what they had. He would have to watch Adam grow up and become a man and Ronan would be absolutely nothing to him.

A voice whispers in Ronan’s ear that he’s being a fucking selfish prick, that maybe this is a blessing, a second chance for Adam. A chance where he doesn’t have to grow up with fucking Robert and Claudia Parrish. That he could be safe and tended to and appreciated like he deserved by some new parents. He never has to know what it feels like to be taken over by some dream forest or discover one of your best friends is dead and another is destined to die a second time before actually coming to life. A chance that he could meet someone better than Ronan, someone on his level.

God damn it.

Ronan crinkles his fingers to a fist and keeps it to his side, looks straight into the kids eyes.

“I’m Ronan, I’m a friend.”

The kid frowns now, brows pinched and chin jut out.

God, he is Adam isn’t he.

“A friend? The Parrishs don’t have any friends.”

“Sure you do, not your parents, but you do Adam. You’ve got friends.”

The kid’s eyes scan Ronan’s face, studying him for a tell. Ronan has no idea why he feels so unnerved.

“Did Mis Maguire tell then? Did they take me away from my parents like my ma said they would?”

Ronan doesn’t lie, so he just averts his gaze, gnaws on his bottom lip.

“Are they okay?”

“They’re fine kid.”

He purses his lips, spindly arms crossed against his chest.

“I’m scared. I don’t know you.”

“I know,” Ronan tries not sounding so utterly helpless. “But I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Okay…”

“He smells like Adam,” Opal announces, blunt.

“I am Adam?” The kid replies from where he’s curled into a tiny little ball on the couch, eyeing Opal like she’s a completely new species— thank god she’s still got on her boots, Ronan can’t imagine the kid’s reaction to seeing a set of hooves on her.

By the time Ronan got him to change into some of Matthew’s old clothes, and had called Blue— demanding her to come over and bring whatever fucking voodoo books she and the witches of Fox Way study, Opal had come in from a day of exploring around the barns— mud splattered and preening, curious as all get out once she spotted him.

“You’re too small,” she tells him, making Adam’s face go a furious red.

“You’re barely taller than me!”

“Adam’s nearly as tall as Kerah,” Opal sniffs, head tilted imperiously.

“Who is Kerah!”

Before Ronan is forced to get between that brawl, the doorbell mercifully rings.

“Ronan, I’ve missed you,” Gansey— as glimmering as always— greets while walking in, a stack of pizzas in one hand and the other used to give Ronan a one armed hug.

“We were having a movie night,” Blue informs him. “Considering it’s Adam’s first day back we thought you two were gonna spend at least a week catching up on lost time… Though that is unless your stamina isn’t up to par?”

Ronan bares his teeth at her and Blue just cackles ebulliently.

“Speaking of which, where is our darling Henrietta prince?” Henry asks, setting down the soda on the coffee table and looking around the room confusedly. “Thought at the very least you two would be attached at the hips.”

“When I show you pricks, you can’t make a fucking deal out of it in front of him, got it.”

“Oo,” Henry beams. “Mysterious~”

“What did you do,” Gansey asks worriedly.

“Fucking nothing— or something. I don’t know, just don’t make him frazzled.”

They chorus their agreement, and Ronan takes a deep breath before leading them into the other room, met by Adam and Opal arguing over something about Adam being too skinny— both pint-sized and loud as all hell.

“Lynch what the actual fuck—“ Blue marvels, causing both Adam and Opal to swivel their gazes around to the foursome.

Adam’s face goes flushed at the sight of Blue, and Ronan kind of hates everything.

“I brought more friends.”

Adam stays quiet, just nods at Ronan and focusses on how he can knot his fingers together.

Gansey’s the first one to step up, crouching in front of him. Ronan would like to say it’s all because of his intellectual curiosity, but knows full and well that the slightly broken look to his features is the same sort that Ronan’s been sporting for the past hour.

“Adam?” he asks, adjusting his wireframe glasses with a nervous sort of tension.

The kid nods.

“Seriously Lynch the fuck did you do?” Henry skewers him with a look, but Ronan can’t help but feel like he deserves it.

“Nothing! I’m telling you! One moment he’s leaving our bed to go study and the next, boom. I wake up and he’s, he’s—“

“I’m sorry, is the first thing Adam says in front of everyone, voice small and self deprecating. “If I’m being too much trouble, I can go home now. It’s okay.”

“Hey!” Ronan very nearly barks. “Don’t be ridiculous kid, I told you I’m gonna take care of you, right?”

Adam doesn’t answer, but Blue swats at his arm, glaring. “Chill, won’t you.”

“Figure this out!” Ronan counters, desperate. “Won’t you.”

aggrieved, Blue just rolls her eyes heavenwards before taking a seat besides Adam.

“Hey hon,” she starts nice and slow. “You’re not any trouble at all. But can we just ask you a couple questions?”

Adam gives her a one armed shrug. “Sure thing.”

“God he’s so adorable,” Henry gushes. Ronan feels totally justified when he elbow checks him in the stomach, hard.

“Okay,” Blue smiles kindly. “So what’s the last thing you remember?”

Adam starts shaking again, hands clenched tight.

“M—My dad, he was mad.” One of his hands inch towards his forearm, and Ronan hates the thought that there’s a mark there— a bruise. “B—But I don’t remember much of it, when he’s like that it’s helpful to think of other stuff, like school and the cookies Ms Edna down the street makes sometimes… It helps me not feel anything totally.”

Ronan feels fucking sick.

He wants to drive into Henrietta proper and beat that bastard to a pulp all over again. He wants to not stop either.

“Is that the last thing you remember?” Blue asks, voice equal parts sad and quiet.

“I think I fell asleep, and then someone must’ve brung me here,” Adam says. “Was I s’pose to come?”

“Yes, positively Adam. You’re meant to be here,” Gansey tells him immediately.

Ronan wants to ensure Adam that he won’t ever have to go back to that place, but if this really is just a temporary blimp in the cosmos, that would be a lie. And Ronan could never lie to any version of Adam.

He thinks that Gansey and Blue feel much of the same way if the fraught look in their eyes is anything to go by.

“Gansey, Henry, why don’t you take Adam out to the back. Show him the cows and chickens and sheep.” Blue suggests in an obvious ploy to get to talk to Ronan alone.

“I’ll show them the way,” Opal says, chest puffed out and marching ahead like a general leading her troops.

Ronan doesn’t miss the way Adam rolls his eyes at her.

“So what! The fuck is going on!” Ronan asks once they’re gone.

“I’m not sure,” Blue tells him, biting down on her lip and reaching for the large, dusty looking book she had brought. “He was fine after we separated when we got back from that eclectic shop in DC, right?”

“He was perfect.” Ronan sits besides her, tries to feel like his world isn’t tilting off orbit and speaks out loud the fear that’s been squirming in the back of his mind. “What if this is part of that circular time shit you witches are always talking about? Like Cabeswater and all that?”

Blue shakes her head, doubtless, and Ronan’s suddenly, acutely thankful that she’s here with him, figuring it out. Blue’s always a grounding presence, she cuts out all the crap and figures out the black and white of the situation, they’ve always been alike with that practice. “He’s still deaf in the left ear, I could tell by how much he was toying with it. And he’s still got that cut on his upper lip from—“ She doesn’t have to finish the sentence, they’re still all too raw from it, unable to think of those hellish hours even now. “So, ah, yeah. He hasn’t like switched places with his younger self, it’s more like he’s been transformed back to that state. Did he ever tell you how old he was?”

“Seven and a half,” Ronan answers mechanical.

“Jesus, a small ass seven year old.”

Ronan doesn’t respond, and Blue swallows down the thickness in her throat.

“Okay, so he’s most likely only got the memories up to that age also.”

“Then what!” Ronan almost screams.

“I don’t know!” Blue actually does shout, and he can finally take in the wetness to her eyes and how she’s shaking so much that one of the sleeves of her sweater has slipped off to expose one brown shoulder. She’s just as scared and confused as him, all of them are.

Ronan bows his head, a silent apology, and Blue nods her own, excepting it.

“You sure nothing weird happened?” Blue asks, and Ronan rattles his brain for any innocuous thing that might’ve caused this.

“No, no, we got home, fooled around a bit and then….”

“Okay, before that then.” Blue presses. “Nothing strange when we were in DC?”

“No,” Ronan repeats emphatically. “We stayed away from all that weird mojo killing shit like you said.”

“Are you sure!” Blue asks again, shrewd.

“Yes! We were just looking at the normal, drugstore shit they kept in the back.”

“What normal shit?” Blue wrinkles her nose at him, scathing.

“I dunno,” Ronan toots. “Those cheep ass plastic stars you can stick on your ceiling, the ones that glow up. I told him how Niall had dreamt me and my brother up some that were literal consolations.”

“And what did Adam say to that?” Blue asks critically.

“I don’t fucking remember what he exactly said!” Ronan harrumphs, helpless.

“Ronan, please for the love of God, if you ever want our Adam back, stop being such an ass and figure it out!” Blue scolds, looking like she might literally fume— as if she were a Disney cartoon or some shit.

Suitably scolded, Ronan sifts through his memories of the morning. Of Adam’s radiant smile, and husky laugh, and the way the sunlight turned his pale brown hair tawny in the light of day. Ronan remembers feeling so inn love with him, and so utterly sad when Adam had just shrugged, blasé, when saying that Robert’s never done anything like that for him. That he’s never had any real childhood.

Ronan and Blue figure it out at the same exact moment.

“Oh fuck.” They chorus.

“Do you think that was enough?”

“Probably!” Blue scrambles up, calls for Gansey to give her a ride back to Fox Way. “I told you guys that it wasn’t a place to screw around in!”

“How was I suppose to know!” Ronan shouts back.

Gansey races in, wearing one of Opal’s pink bows in his hair and eyes frantic.

“I’m gonna ask my mom and Calla if they have the shop owners number, maybe they’ll know what to do.”

“Um, yes, spot on. But darling what did you two figure out.”

“No time,” Ronan and Blue say in unison, both of them practically shoving him out the door.

“I’ll call if we figure anything out.

“Fucking hurry,” Ronan shouts after her.

It’s been at least a quarter of an hour since Blue and Gansey had raced out, probably half way to Henrietta with how Gansey drives, and Ronan feels like their’s an itching squirming beneath his skin. He can’t sit down or do anything but compulsively check his phone, heart lodged in his throat and the memory of Adam’s— his Adam’s— thin lipped half grin directed at Ronan. Soft and splendid and glittering.

Ronan has no idea how to keep that memory forever in his mind’s eye if it turns out he’ll never get to see that warmth directed at him again. Knows in his heart that he’ll never want to feel that same sort of devotion for anyone else, that he can’t ever feel anything akin to what he felt for Adam.

Speaking of which….

Ronan hear’s the backdoor open with a clack, and gets up to find the kid— sweaty and smiling in a way he knows in his heart he’s never smiled while in the trailer park.

“Hey kid.”

“Hi,” he blinks up at him, suddenly a bit reticent. “Opal and Henry are still in her tree house having a tea party, but I got thirsty for something real.”

Ronan quirks up his lip humorously.

“The fridge’s water is filtered, let me get you a glass pipsqueak.”

Adam’s face glows ten fold just as Ronan hands it to him with a pack of cookies, (oatmeal and raisin the weirdos favorite.)

“Thank you Mr.”

Ronan can feel the blood drain out his face with how weird that is to hear.

“Ronan, just call me Ronan.”

Adam just shrugs with a nod, inhaling a third cookie, ravenous. Ronan offers to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich too, reckons that he can at least start to get some meat on his frame.

Adam nods giddily, probably accustomed not to be passing up food when it’s offered.

“So is this place all yours?” Adam asks, owlish.

“My family’s, yeah,” Ronan tells him, pretends not to see the wistful look in his eyes. This place must be a fortress to him, who’s only ever known the doublewide.

“It’s really great.”

“Thanks,” Ronan snorts, caps the jelly before tossing it back in the fridge and cuts up a banana next to the sandwich.

“Where’s your family then?”

Yeah, Ronan supposes he should’ve seen that one coming.

“Ah, my parents aren’t around anymore,” he swallows down the thickness in his throat, concentrates on pouring a glass of milk.

“I’m sorry,” Adam says, nibbling on a fourth cookie.

“Don’t ruin your appetite kid,” Ronan reproves with no heat, sets the meal in front of him.

“So it’s just you in this huge castle?” Adam asks, feet kicking up and down in the air.

“Yeah, pretty much. My brothers are in the city, so it’s just me and Opal and…. Ah, my boyfriend.” Ronan isn’t sure why he says that, but is glad he did.

Adam is regarding him curiously now, big eyes peering up at Ronan while he takes a swig of the milk, and fingers tapping an unbalanced staccato on the counter top.

“Cool,” Adam says and Ronan feels a ridiculous amount of relief by. “I’m gonna live in a castle someday too.”

“Oh yeah?” Ronan smiles at him, elastic and charmed.

“Mmhmm, my dad’s gonna be so proud. Ma too.”

Ronan frowns now, heart sinking.

“You don’t have to make them proud Adam, you’re great.”

Adam reddens, and Ronan slowly realizes that he’s probably never heard that from anyone before. So he repeats it.

“You’re great kid.”

“Thanks,” Adam mumbles before stuffing another banana slice in his mouth, effectively cutting the conversation short. Already a pro at diversion.

Ronan feels his phone buzz, sees a message from Blue.

Maggot: We figured it out

Maggot: Headed ur way rn with a cure

Ronan thanks God, Jesus, and the Wholly Ghost above.

Adam races towards blue once she and Gansey walk in, and she kisses the top of his forehead, a ginger hand carding through his hair.

Ronan is not petty.

She sends him to get the final ingredients of the freaky spell, drink concoction that Calla had brewed, (a piece of his Adam’s clothing for the kid to wear while he’s asleep, and fucking Olive Oil of all things). And when Ronan gets back, Blue is preening and the kid isn’t looking straight at Ronan.

They give him the drink to swallow and tell him to change before he’s off to sleep.

Adam rubs his eyes with a yawn.

“I don’t wanna go back to the doublewide,” he tells Ronan while they all tuck him into bed.

“You won’t go back,” Ronan says with conviction, ruffled his disheveled locks before picking him up and placing him in the center of Declan’s old bed— it felt to skeevy to put him in the one they ordinarily share as partners.

It’s Henry who blankets him in and Gansey reads him an old fairytale from Aurora’s favorite storybook till he’s fast asleep.

“He looks like such an angel,” Henry croons.

“I know,” Blue beams.

“Get the fuck out before you wake him up too early!” Ronan gripes.

They all decide to just stay the night at the Barns, to ensure everything’s alright with Adam in the morning.

“You know Lynch,” Blue preens like the cat that’s gotten into the cream. “You put a number on that kid.”

“Shut up,” Ronan huffs, passes over her cup of tea before pouring his own.

“It was so cute!” Blue insists. “When you were upstairs getting that old T-shirt, you should’ve heard him talk about you. Even admitted to me he had a little crush, asked if your boyfriend was just as pretty as you.”

Ronan’s heart does a stupid, hiccup, and he feels his skin burn red. Fuck his pale Irish ass.

“What did you tell’m?”

“I mean the truth, that your boyfriend is leagues ahead of you, but hey the kid wasn’t convinced.”

Ronan tosses her the bird, tries to tempt down the ridiculously gleeful grin that threatens to tear his face in half.

He must look like such a lune.

Ronan wakes up the next day with the sensation of someone stepping on his diaphragm.

“Oh shit,” Adam— still sleep drunk and groggy, says apologetically. His tuffs of hair spread out every which way and delicious mouth set in a pout.

But it’s him.

It’s his Adam, beautiful and whole and there.

Ronan leaps off from where he was lying outside Declan’s door and crashes into him, squeezing Adam as close as physically possible— them pressed chest to chest and Ronan plunging his nose into the hallow of Adam’s long neck, taking him in completely.

“Ronan?” Adam asks deliriously.

“God fucking damn it Parrish, don’t ever leave again.”

“Where did I go?” Adam asks, confused, is surprised when Opal, from out of no where, pops up and takes him by the hand adoringly.

“You smell like Adam,” she grins.

“Erm, I am Adam?”

#PYNCH #Adam Parrish #Ronan Lynch #The Raven Cycle #Spilled Ink #churlaloo #SPILT INK

52 notes · View notes

human-trash-fire · 4 years

Text

Beautiful Disaster: Ch. 4 (Pynch Soulmate-AU)

I realized I never posted Ch 4 for my Pynch AU! So here it is, for anyone interested, HERE is a link to my masterlist where you can find the first 3 chapters. (THIS WILL NOT MAKE SENSE WITHOUT READING THE OTHERS) I’m also on Ao3 as glam_reaper2 <3

Anyways, this fic is the writing I’m most proud of, and I can’t wait to drop Ch 5 this week!

TW: Adam’s Dad/ mentioning abuse, graphic depiction of violence, mention of suicide attempt.

Adam Parrish woke in the early hours on the third day after the alley. The pre-dawn glow streaming through the crack in his curtains cast shadows on the plants and books covering his shelves. Eyes heavy and throat raw, Adam took a deep breath. In through his nose, oxygen flooding his lungs, battling to release the weight that had long since laid claim on the space behind his ribs. He held it until he thought he might choke. Vision blurring, heartbeat hammering in his ears, a pulsing reminder that he was still here; then in a rush, he released. The momentary weightlessness was a small reprieve.

The tiny arm slung across his abdomen a reminder that, at least for now, he wasn’t alone. Blue had crawled into his bed the afternoon before and stayed with him through the long night. Adam moved her arm off and slid as carefully and quietly as he could from the bed, he didn’t wish to wake her. She needed sleep, the exhaustion evident on her face even now.

He moved toward the window, reaching out to open his curtains, allowing the morning light to flood in. And there he stood, hand still holding the curtain, eyes trained on the horizon. He remained unmoved, watching the sun crawl from the earth bathing everything in its path in colors Adam had never seen. They were fresh, warm, soft. They stole his breath and for a moment, a lifetime, he stood frozen and allowed that hopeful warmth to settle in his bones. In awe of the majesty of nature, swallowed whole by the gift of color, broken by it.

His breath stuttered.

The man in the alley would never see a sunrise, or a sunset. He had given Adam this gift and left mere hours before Adam could have reciprocated. His thoughts spiraled, fingers tightening on the curtain, eyes burning. The sunrise moved from photographic clarity to an impressionist painting, and salt kissed his lips.

“Adam…” Blue breathed from his side, reaching out and pulling aside the second curtain to allow a full view.

“It’s-” Adam choked on a whisper, “It’s magnificent, and he’ll never see.”

Adam spent the rest of the week coping in the only way he knew how: throwing himself into his jobs and school work. Blue and Henry had closed ranks, showering him with their own personal versions of love.

For Henry, it was distraction, mindless conversation, a steady companionship during hours in the library. Henry Cheng, though initially someone Adam never saw friendship potential in, was more than most gave him credit for. On the outside, he was loud. From his clothes to hair, he was unabashedly himself: caring, vibrant, loyal. Adam appreciated the effort, never pressured to talk about what was clearly tearing him apart.

Blue was the opposite, in a very Blue way. She brought him coffees and hugs, asked him about his mood, and made highly unsubtle references to “healthy coping mechanisms.” She was kind but stern, pushing him towards what he knew logically was the next step. But this trauma was too big, too heady to file away in the closet in his mind marked “DANGER.”

It had been a little over a week since he watched his first true sunrise when Blue decided to take off the kid gloves.

“Look.” Her voice was as unwavering as her eye contact, sitting next to him on the chipped-white metal bench in the alley beside Nino’s Cafe where they took their break. Nino’s was his second job, and Blue’s “fun money/ free caffeine” job, covering the hours she wasn’t working on her photography portfolio.

Adam held her gaze, and his breath. Her tone brokered no room for argument, and he knew he had spent enough time avoiding answering anything truthfully… Her forcing a “talk” on him was inevitable. He nodded once to indicate he was listening, and waited for her to continue.

“I know you aren’t ready to talk, and that is completely fine. I won’t bullshit you and pretend I have any idea what kind of pain you’re in. No- no,” she held up a finger to cut off Adam’s rebuttal. “Don’t shake your head and feed me you’re ‘i’m fine’ because we both know you’re not. That being said you’re a grown ass man, who makes his own decisions and I respect that. But, Adam?”

He cocked his head to the side, and made a noncommittal grunt.

“You need to do something. You know I always advocate therapy, but -don’t scoff asshole- but, I’m also aware that it’s ‘not your thing’ so I had another idea. Here,” Blue thrust a bag towards Adam. It was a recycled paper shopping bag, rolled at the top and lighter than he expected.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Open it.”

He unrolled the bag skeptically and peered inside. His right eyebrow hitched as he looked away from the bag’s contents and towards Blue. “The fuck?”

“Letters. That’s my idea. Something I never told you but, when my dad left I had all this rage and I had no one to direct it towards. My mom got me a pack of envelopes and blank paper and told me to try writing a letter to him. She told me I didn’t ever have to send what I wrote to him if I didn’t want too, and I didn’t. The act of venting everything in a direct way really helped me, it was more than a diary, or whatever, because these were shots at an intended target. I could be mad and then seal it in an envelope and the weight in my chest lifted a little. I thought maybe…” She motioned towards the bag with a crooked smile and a shrug.

“Letters…” Adam repeated. “To a dead guy?”

“Yes.”

“Blue, I don’t know.”

“Look, just take the damn bag. Do it, or don’t. I can’t and wont force you. But at least consider it.” Then she rose to her full height, the most intimidating 5 feet he had ever seen, giving him what could only be called a “mom look” and sauntered back inside.

That night, weighted down by grief and half delirious with exhaustion, Adam opened the bag. He pulled out the box of white envelopes, cracked open the pack of college-rule paper, and grabbed a black pen from the cup at the right of his desk. This is so stupid, he thought as he put his pen to paper...

i. You, I never knew your name. You left before I ever had the chance to ask. I wish more than anything that I knew your name, at least then I’d be able to grieve a person instead of a stranger in an alley. You were… Exquisite. Even floating in a pool of your own life, you were beautiful. You were. Past tense. Gone. I dreamed of knowing you. The idea of you, in abstract my whole life. I didn’t know who you’d be, but, still I dreamed. It was my secret. The odds of finding your soulmate are so slim these days, and yet… In the quiet hours of the night, bone tired and barely standing at work, or when the hunger pains threatened to cripple me, I’d pull you out of the careful place in my mind, and dream. It’s dangerous to dream. I know better now. You fucking left me. How dare you? It’s probably a good thing you’ll never read these letters. Blue, my best friend, suggested I write them to help me “find closure.” That’s very Blue. She’s all about self-care and talking through feelings. Henry, my other friend, agrees with her. So here I am, attempting to vomit my heart on a page in hope of finding some semblance of peace. There is so much I wish I could have told you, and so much more that would have terrified me to admit. That’s one benefit to your never knowing me I suppose... Honestly, it was probably for the best that, in the end, you never had the chance to try knowing me. I’m a disaster. I’m unknowable. And that’s, fine. Ya know? I’m okay, I think. Holding onto that which sets me apart, and working my hardest to fix everything else that’s in my power. That’s how I got here, Georgetown. I did it myself. That’s something I would have told you, because it’s something I am proud of, though I’ll never say. I worked 3 jobs through highschool, made straight A’s, volunteered, and slaved away. I saved money in a shoebox under a loose vent in my trailer to buy books. My dad would have killed me, literally, if he’d ever found that. I was supposed to give them everything, but I hid that. I hid so much. I got really good at hiding in that place. Henrietta… What a fucking shit show. Anyways, I saved and pushed myself. I think I ate maybe once a day for those years, if I was lucky? I know I barely slept. But it was worth it the day the acceptance letter came in the mail. Georgetown. 3 hours away. A world away. A full ride. I was so fucking happy that day, I even allowed myself to dip into the shoebox to buy a coke fom the gas station by the autoshop I worked at. That was my life then, and still is now, to some extent. Small rewards, focus on the bigger picture. Work, work, work, and then one day have the power and money, the status, the ability to fight for people like me. I had barely put the box back when my dad, Robert, saw me holding my acceptance letter, and a $20. I wasn’t allowed to have money in my room, even if I made it myself. It was “for the family” he always said. “Do you want us to starve?” “you think you’re so fancy at your charter school don’t you?” always the same. Always cruel. So I’m standing there, money and letter in hand, smiling like an idiot when he comes in. I’ll never forget that day. I’d taken so many beatings from him by the time I was 17, it was second nature really. But this one? For some reason it surprised me. I thought for sure that he would be capable of some sense of joy. I got into college, for free. But Robert wasn’t like that. I could smell the beer on his breath. Keystone, always fucking Keystone. It smells like piss. It still makes me gag. “What the fuck is that?” he asked. And I didn’t know how to respond. I remember stuttering. I was always stuttering, mumbling, hiding, lying. Anything to avoid the inevitable. “I asked you a question, boy.” I panicked. “Its, uh, a letter, sir. An acceptance letter. From college. I-I got in.” Apparently it wasn’t the right response. I don’t remember much after that, I know he told me I had no right to hide money because I “owed him.” I always owed him. For breathing, for having the audacity to live. That night was the worst I can remember though. He wouldn’t stop. He was screaming about how I wasn’t allowed to just leave. I took more hits than usual, but I could have handled it. I’m no stranger to broken bones and bruises. But I was so scared this time. I knew, somehow I knew that this was it. If I didn’t get out he was going to kill me. Kill me because of a $20 and a full ride. I tried to run. I did. I never made it very far though. He caught me, and the last thing I remember was a screaming pain in the left side of my head. I don’t know why I’m even writing all this, maybe Blue and Henry were right? I’ve never even told them all of this. I really doubt I would have told you this had I been given the chance. I would have stuck to the barest details: Deaf in left ear. Accident. Long time ago. I don’t talk to my parents. Or maybe I wouldn’t have hid…Soulmates are a safe space right? Through whatever magic, or science, or God (if you believe in one of those, I don’t- hope you wouldn’t have cared) we are supposed to be able to share it all. A balance. A quiet place. A home. I wonder what you would have said if I told you? I hope it wouldn’t have been pitying. I don’t do pity. I’ll never know that though, which is maybe a relief? I don’t know. I hope you would have been proud though, that I did get out. Of what I’m doing with my life now. I haven’t even told “you” have I? I got a double Bachelors in Political Science and Conflict Resolution. I’m currently taking a Masters in Public Policy. I know, most people see “Georgetown” and “Politics” and think “Here’s another white guy with dreams of power.” But it’s not that. I’m going to change things, my thesis is on Domestic Violence: prevention and programs. I’m going to fight for the kids like me, in the homes like mine. I’m going to fight for every time I didn’t hit back. Every bruise and broken bone. I’m going to change the world for the Adam Parrish’s. I’m going to bring an end to the Roberts. That’s what I’m doing now. I guess I’ll be okay without you. I’ve always been better at work than relationships anyway. If we’re being honest you probably would have hated me. I’m terrible with making time for anyone. I have goals though, I don’t have the luxery to fuck around. I’m not conducive to a partnership, and I’m not even sure I’d be capable of love. I would have tried for you though. Maybe you needed that. Maybe if you’d had it, love, you wouldn’t have ended up in the alley. I don’t know. I wish I could ask you why. I just… fuck. This letter is getting severely out of hand. It doesn’t matter why you did it. You did. And that’s that I suppose. Forever a mystery, the man with the beautiful face and ice blue eyes. “I used to build dreams about you.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald, Benediction That’s all you are now. A dream.

He folded the pages in thirds, slipping them in an envelope, and sealing them away. On the outside he wrote the number one, then slid the envelope into a crack between one of his potted plants and a row of books on his window sill. Then Adam crawled into bed and finally slept; for once it was a dreamless- restorative sleep.

Shattered heart hanging heavy in his chest, Adam looked up when the bell above the door to Nino’s chimed the arrival of a new patron. The young couple made their way towards the counter. The smaller man leaning lovingly into the side of his partner, while the taller man looked down lovingly, arm draped across the first’s shoulders. It was a quiet moment, something so personal and beautiful Adam looked down, he didn’t want to intrude. His hands were shaking, a bitter jealousy crashing like waves in a storm through his entire being. He took a steadying breath, trying to quell the rage, and uncapped the black marker, grabbing a cup to prepare to take their order.

“Hi,” he bit out through his customer service smile. He looked up from the cup in hand, allowing a little of his Henrietta lilt to color his words into something close to friendly. “Welcome to Nino’s, what can I get started for you today?”

“Hi! Can we please get a- Oh, wow!” The shorter man had stopped mid-sentence and leaned close to Adam across the counter. “Your eyes are so blue! Babe, have you ever seen eyes so beautiful?” Adam wanted to fucking snap. The larger man leaned in as well and hummed in approval.

“No I haven’t, sorry. I know this is probably so inappropriate,” he leaned back, tone placating. “We don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, this is just all new for us-”

Adam didn’t fucking care.

“-Anyways, can we please get two Americanos, and a a slice of apple pie with two forks?”

Of course, Adam nodded. He finished the order and made the drinks with shaking hands and a barely controlled rage burning him from within, blooming pink across his cheeks.

He couldn’t breathe.

When he returned home, he slammed his door and flew to his desk; practically tearing a lined sheet from the pile of supplies from Blue and began to write. Pen pressed so hard small tears formed in the paper as he purged…

ii.

You.

Fuck you for what you did. For what you did to yourself. What you did to that man in the alley. Screaming. Begging. Holding you together.

For what you did to me.

I hate you.

I hate that I love you. The idea of you. Because you couldn’t even wait for me. I never got the chance to love the real you, and I loathe you for it.

You fucking left me alone.

All this goddamn color, all these beautiful things, and I’m still living in black and white.

I’m drowning.

You were my hope.

You were my end game. Sometimes, I fear you’ll be my end.

I can’t get away from the idea of you.

I see your face every time I close my eyes.

You’re haunting me.

You’re ruining me.

Fuck you.

I hate you.

Fuck, You.

You…

Why did you leave me all alone?

When he finished his breath was ragged, chest rising and falling in heavy swells. Angry tears drying splotches across the page before him, turning certain words into a blurry but still legible watercolor. He threw his pen across the room, shoved the letter into the envelope marked 2, and placed it alongside the first.

Adam spent the remaining days of September numb. He had taken to carrying a few sheets of paper and envelopes in his messenger bag in case he ever needed them.

It was on one particular afternoon -two days before September ended- as he sat in Nino’s sipping coffee and staring blankly at the textbook in front of him, that he wrote his third letter. He felt untethered, unbalanced, the sky outside was such a pale blue that his mind began to wander. With a sigh, he pulled out a sheet of paper, and an envelope marking the outside with the number three.

iii.

You,

I’m so lost…

I can’t fall asleep without seeing your eyes.

Unfocused.

Unblinking.

Ice cold.

Fathomless.

Broken.

I wonder how they looked when you were happy… I hope you were happy, truly happy. At least once there before the end.

I bet they were beautiful.

Come back.

Please…

Adam stayed staring at that plea, that unanswered wish, until his coffee was cold. He wondered if this would ever end, he wasn’t unfamiliar with want. Adam had wanted more than anyone he had ever known. He was accustomed to the pain, the resentment that came with wanting that which you cannot have, but unlike all the other times this was wholly unattainable. No amount of extra shifts, A’s on homework, perfect test scores, hard-work would ever give him this particular want.

He packed his bag slowly, tossing his coffee in the trash by the door and waving half-heartedly at his coworker behind the counter. The bell chimed his departure and he made his way out into the chilly September afternoon. The walk from Nino’s to his apartment was blessedly short. As he rounded the corner at the end of the block he was assaulted by the acrid smell of smoke.

Adam looked up, chill already forgotten, for the source and his eyes landed on a peculiar sight: A handsome man, in a nice crisp peacoat and cashmere scarf. Standing, hands clasped behind his neck, staring into the open maw of a smoking, Candy-Orange, ‘73 Camero.

“Hey!” he half shouted, making his way towards the gentleman, his greeting had clearly disturbed an emotional crisis. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, did you maybe need some help?”

“Oh, hi. Yes, Hello. I’m, no thank you. I’m alright. I’ll give someone a call, The Pig is an auto-shop frequent flyer I’m afraid. Though, I’ve never seen it smoke quite so heavily.” The man half laughed, and shook his head.

“I don’t mind, I’m actually a mechanic down at Boyds. I can take a peak and see if I can do anything here if you’d like? Save you a trip.”

“Are you sure? I’d be more than happy to pay y-”

Adam shook his head fiercely, “No need. I’m Adam, by the way.”

He held out his hand towards the man, who grasped his in kind. A vibrant smile lit his face, “Lovely to meet you Adam, I’m Gansey.”

#pynch #pynch fic #Adam Parrish #ronan lynch #ronan x adam #blue sargent #gansey #gangsey #bd au

4 notes · View notes

charactersoverkisses · 6 years

Text

Pynch week 2018, Day 4: Getting back together

Hey guys, I’m back again with my insomnia filed drabble that is a perfect visual representation for my unfortunate inability to use punctuation correctly.

This one was the one I was actually the most worried about writing because of the prompts, but I actually had a lot of fun with this one.

Warning: Adam has some pretty dark thoughts in this about his inability to be a good parent because of his father. I want to clearly state that the thoughts he thinks are purely fictional and that you shouldn’t try to apply them to yourself if you happen to be in the same situation. Please remember that they were created by me, a fanfiction writer, with limited knowledge of psychology. Furthermore, there is some strong language (swearing).

...

Pynch week 2018 day 4: Getting back together

Adam was stuck in that weird haze between sleep and wakefulness. He was floating on the edge of reality desperately trying to pull himself under the safe, lulling cloud that was sleep when there was a sharp rap on the door of his apartment. He huffed, pulling he covers over his head he proceeded to wiggle his way right down to the bottom before pulling his pillow over the head.

The sharp rap sounded again followed by the unmistakable disgruntled noise of Ronan Lynch shifting around outside his door.

Ha, he definitely wasn’t moving now.

Him and Ronan has been fighting all week.

It had all started when instead of Opal addressing him with her usual ‘Adam’ she had softly called Dad when asking him to lift her onto the kitchen cabinet. Adam had -for lack of better wording- absolutely freaked out internally while smoothing his features into a blank slate as he’d lifted her onto the counter. Unfortunately for Adam, Ronan knew that blank slate face and had followed him as he’d stormed onto the garden. What had she been saying, she couldn’t see him as a dad could she? God only knows that his own father had messed him up enough that he would never be able to be a good dad to her. He had studied psychology; that childhood had basically been a free tarot reading depicting what his own parenting would be like. What the hell had he been thinking. He was 18! His.boyfriend.had.a.kid. A kid that he was going to fuck up royally if he didn’t get out of there.

Of course in his state of panic he hadn’t seen Ronan coming up behind him with those ‘you better not be freaking out because I will if you are’ eyes and so jumped about a foot in the air when Ronan had placed a hand in his shoulder.

Body tensed like boxer getting ready to take a hit, he turned. “Yeah” he said aiming for nonchalant and Landon somewhere around strangled.

“Why the hell did you suddenly become a brick wall when Opal called you Dad back there, it was just a slip of the-“

“I can’t do this”

Ronan gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I’m... I’m sorry. what?” He finally gasped

“ I can’t do this. I.. she, she can’t call me dad I’m not her dad” he chuckled darkly.

“Hell, I’m not even her family” he said, a cruel smirk clawing it’s way onto his face

Ronan just looked at him, slack jawed, before the words looked as if they had hit.

“Fine then, what the fuck are you still doing on my property. Get your stuff and fucking leave if you don’t consider yourself family. I don’t want you near my fucking daughter. Get out!” He snarled, eyes turning cold. Heels snapping, he turned back towards the house only pausing at the door to throw Adam’s keys and shoes at him before slamming it shut behind him.

So yeah, suffice to say he definitely wasn’t moving from his very important task of slowly become one with the mattress to open the door for Ronan goddamn Lynch.

Well he wasn’t, until Ronan started trying to break his door down with how hard he was knocking, and Adam really couldn’t deal with getting evicted because the Nuns thought he was too loud. He threw back he covers matching up to the door with bravado not so usually well maintained by someone only clad in boxer shorts. He opened the door, cracking it just enough to peek his head out to see no less that Ronan Lynch surrounded by literally every type of flower Adam had ever seen.

Resigning himself not to react, he intoned “what hell do you want Ronan”

“I came” ronan said sweeping his arms around himself “to apologise, but also to talk”. Ronan held his stoney glare with a softer look of his own before quietly saying “may I come in?”

Adam didn’t reply. Walking back to his bed to sit down in a huff, he let the door swing the rest of the way open. A silent invitation which Ronan took with an even softer smile than before. Seriously when had the guy learned to look soft, and why the hell couldn’t he wipe that stupid look off his face.

Ronan coaxed the flowers in, spilling them on every available surface. He then settled down on the floor in front of Adam’s bed to begin speaking

“I think I understand now” he started slowly, as if trying not to set Adam off and held up a hand when Adam took a deep breath; a sure sign that he was going to start an argument.

“I did some thinking and I came to apologise for the way that I reacted. I had such a harsh reaction to the little that you actually said and didn’t stop to think about what you weren’t saying to me. I didn’t stop to ask you if that was what you were really upset about, I just threw you out of the house without a second thought and that’s not cool”

Adam gaped, when the hell did Ronan of all people become the level headed one.

“And so I came to ask, if there was anything you wanted to say”

Adam drew in another angry breath, ready to start a fight about how he had said exactly what he had meant, and then it caught in his throat.

He hadn’t said what he had meant, had he.

“I...” Adam started in a whisper, “I don’t want to hurt her” his voice cracked on the last syllable.

The look in Ronan’s eyes said that he already knew that. “You won’t” as Adam went to protest ronan crawled forward until his hands were resting on Adam’s thighs. Pulling himself up onto his knees he looked Adam in the eyes and said in complete and utter seriousness “you are not your father.”

“You aren’t going to make those same mistakes and I know that because I get to see you every single day of my life interacting with Opal and you are the softest, most caring, loveable sap I have ever laid eyes on. You are so ridiculously attentive to her it’s like your own special brand of magic. I created her, literally pulled her from my dreams and she still doesn’t respond to me the same way she does to you. You’re great with her and she loves you so much. Sometimes I look at you when you’re watching he ramble about the not-so-interesting stick she found outside today, or whatever, and all I can see is the complete and utter look of protectiveness in your eyes. I think you would rather take out a thousand men than lay a single hand on her, and I think you know that too, so start treating yourself the same way that you treat her”

Adam let his head fall forward to rest on Ronan’s shoulder.

“I love you” he sniffles, tears drying.

“I know” Ronan cooed, pushing Adam’s sepia-coloured curls away from his face.

“I know”

48 notes · View notes