Chapter Text
Ronan was staring at the spot where the blood from his father’s fatal gunshot wound had long been scrubbed away from the cement beneath the BMW. With a lethal edge to his gaze that slowly washed over the rest of his face, Gansey witnessed the moment his best friend shifted into someone he no longer recognized.
“Ronan,” Gansey began from where he was crouched beside Ronan, their positions mirrored. He reached out to Ronan who roughly shoved his hand away.
“Don’t,” Ronan said.
Ronan still hadn’t looked at Gansey. He hadn’t moved from this spot, even as Declan ran around the Barns making various calls in an attempt to salvage what they could for their lives. Their mom, Aurora, hadn’t been responsive since they heard the gunshots, and their younger brother Matthew had been upstairs with her all morning.
The screen door slammed open, the family’s lawyer being rushed out by a fuming Declan.
“Declan, it was written in Niall’s will.” The lawyer did not sound pleased by this information, but he looked glad to be out of that house. “There’s nothing I can do. Y’all need to be out--”
“How long?” Declan asked through gritted teeth.
Gansey immediately felt like he shouldn’t be there for this conversation, but refused to look away from Ronan who had become even more closed off when hearing Declan’s voice, the blue of his eyes turning icy. This was far too private, and the person he was here to comfort didn’t seem to notice his existence, much less want him to be there.
“Three days.”
“Go. I will call you,” Declan said, and Gansey noticed his attention turning to his brother. Christ.
“You only have three days, I think we should discuss this--”
“ Go . I will call you.”
The lawyer tipped his head, muttering his condolences before getting into his Buick and driving down the long road out of the Barns. Gansey’s gaze followed the car until it disappeared behind the thick trees hiding this place. As he was turning back to speak to Ronan once again, he heard a body slam into the car in front of them.
Declan had Ronan on the ground with a swift kick, and it took Ronan a moment to fight back. His face was a combination of hurt and confusion as Declan landed a punch right to his eye. Ronan let out a snarl, his fist swinging up to connect with his brother’s face.
“This is your fault,” Declan said at the same moment Ronan said, “Fuck you.”
Gansey rushed over to pull Declan off Ronan, but he was pushed back onto his ass. Ronan used Declan’s thrown off balance as leverage to get himself up and take the upper hand. His fist connected with the same spot above Declan’s cheekbone until his knuckles were red with blood. Declan was scratching at his face, aiming especially for the eyes and mouth, a mixture of blood and spit now coating Ronan.
“Stop,” Gansey was shouting, trying to pull the two boys apart. The Lynch brothers were never known to talk it out, but now was not the time for this. “ Ronan ,” he said in the firm tone that always managed to reach Ronan. The two of them made eye contact as Ronan got hit again.
When Ronan was back on the ground, Gansey got in front of him and pushed Declan away. He landed on the ground and quickly scrambled to his feet again, heading back for his brother, fists curled into balls at his sides.
“Move,” Declan said as he reached around Gansey, but he was pushed back again.
“You both have too much to do right now, and you can’t do it if you both beat each other senseless. You’re family. You’re brothers, ” Gansey said.
Both boys spit at each other at once, narrowly avoiding Gansey.
“He’s not my fucking brother,” Ronan spit out as Declan shouted, “He doesn’t know how to be a family.”
“Just go back inside. Call the lawyer,” Gansey said, sounding tired of this awful day. Declan spat at his brother one last time before he walked inside, rolling out his shoulder. Gansey still wondered how both of the Lynch brothers managed to look so right after a fight. Declan still looked put together, while Ronan looked razor sharp like the blood was meant to be there.
When Gansey turned back to Ronan, he was sitting on the ground, his elbows resting on his knees as he pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes. Gansey sat beside him, looking over Ronan’s face. He had known the Lynch’s for a few long months, and the boys had always fought. It was never like that, though, even though their father had always encouraged them to give their all. Ronan’s eyes finally looked alive , even around the swelling already starting.
“This is the only home I’ve ever known,” Ronan said. His voice was quiet and rough.
“Move in with me,” Gansey said.
Ronan looked at him with disdain as he muttered, “Fuck off.”
“I’m serious. You can have your own room at Monmouth. That way you don’t have to figure out a way to live with…”
“Declan,” Ronan cut off. He spit blood onto the ground between them. They were both silent for a moment before Ronan said, “I can’t just leave Matthew with him.”
“You wouldn’t be leaving Matthew. He was already planning on moving into the dorms during his first semester, so his plans won’t even be changed. I know you don’t want Declan breathing down your neck every day.”
“You think I want you breathing down my neck every day?”
“Yes,” Gansey said confidently. Ronan gave him a look to make sure he knew that he sounded like Richard Campbell Gansey III. Still, Gansey didn’t back down.
“I won’t follow a curfew,” Ronan said to the ground.
“You won’t have a curfew. I’m not your parent, Ronan. I’m your friend.”
Ronan ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes.
“Fine,” Ronan said.
…
Ronan was completely moved in the next day. The only things he was legally allowed to take were the clothes on his back and his father’s BMW, so it was an easy move. Movers brought the furniture he had ordered online up the stairs, all of them looking confused by the disarray that was Monmouth Manufacturing.
Gansey was sat up on his bed, placed in the middle of the open room, unmade. The model of Henrietta and the cluttered desk caught their eye long enough for Ronan to snarl at them to mind their business. He knew how the place must look to outsiders. Hell, it was even a mess to him, but the mess was just so Gansey. It showed all of Gansey’s sleepless nights, and endless hunting for a Welsh king that Ronan wasn’t even sure he believed in half of the time. Gansey believed, though, and that was enough for him to be game for whatever plans he had.
Ronan didn’t sleep for two days after moving in. He stayed up while Noah watched him drink himself into a stupor, sobering up just in time to make it to class where he stared out the window until it was time for him to leave again.
Any time he felt numb he would just push on one of the bruises slowly healing under his skin, and the world would feel a bit more real. He would stop any time he felt Gansey’s eyes on him, making sure to look anywhere but that concerned face.
“Just tell me I’m beautiful already, Dick , so you don’t have to stare,” Ronan said, but he couldn’t get the right bite into his words.
Gansey didn’t even give him a response, he just shook his head, going back to translating his Latin homework.
TWO MONTHS LATER
Ronan couldn’t sleep. Today was the first day his healing back tattoo didn’t make him move stiffly, and he needed to go. Noah had been gone all night, and Gansey fell asleep a few hours ago on top of a book that was probably older than Henrietta.
The night felt electric with possibilities, and absolutely none of it was happening in Monmouth. Ronan pulled on a pair of jeans and his favorite boots, grabbing his keys on the way out the door. There was no quiet way to get out of this building, but he made sure to not wake Gansey, who had gotten used to his constant coming and going since he moved in.
Ronan got into the BMW, already feeling more settled as the sound of the engine and bass of his music filled his ears and rattled him to his core. He sped out of the cracked parking lot, aiming towards the highway that he knew would be empty at this hour.
He was definitely going above the speed limit, his music almost too loud as he noticed the lights flashing behind him. It wasn’t police lights, so he just kept driving. He kept up his pace, head bobbing along to the music that he knew Gansey would call atrocious. That just made Ronan love it even more.
Ronan saw a white car pull up beside him, but he didn’t look over until a long blare of a horn managed to drown out his music. He rolled down his window before shouting out, “What the fuck do you want?”
“I want to kick your ass, Lynch,” the voice from the other car called out, followed by a loud rev of the engine. It took Ronan a moment to realize that it was Joseph Kavinsky. He was alone in his car, which was a rare sight because he was so often surrounded by his pack of dogs. As loyal and vicious as they came. Kavinsky was one of the few people more despised at Aglionby than Ronan was, which had always sparked his curiosity.
“Let’s do it,” Ronan agreed. They both slammed on their brakes, a cloud of smoke and the scent of burnt rubber surrounding them both.
They counted down together. 3, 2, 1, and they were off. Ronan could barely hear over the pounding of his heart as he watched the BMW quickly gaining speed. The two cars were neck and neck until it was time to switch to fourth gear. Ronan made the transition easily, but Kavinsky managed to stall his transmission.
Ronan laughed into the night sky for what felt like years. He slowed to a stop, watching Kavinsky’s car slowly come back to life and drive up to meet him.
“Not bad, Lynch,” Kavinsky said. He didn’t sound impressed, but he was clearly amused. He leaned forward to look into Ronan’s car. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Ronan said, spitting on the ground.
“Sure you don’t,” Kavinsky said. “I’ve never seen you at one of my parties.”
“That’s because I’m allergic to dogs,” Ronan said. “I don’t party.”
Kavinsky’s smile managed to be both sharp and lazy as he said, “Sure you do. Come tomorrow, you know where. Bring your poison of choice.”
Before he could respond, Kavinsky drove off again. The Mitsubishi disappearing into the darkness of the highway until all Ronan could make out were the taillights.
He had definitely heard about Kavinsky’s parties. Never in conversation spoken to him, but it was all around him. Damn near every kid at Aglionby had been to one, and usually took a few days to recover fully from the single night. He had also heard the parties. He knew Kavinsky was a fan of pyrotechnics, and he always made sure to finish off the night with a grand display for his wasted friends.
Ronan had to go. Purely out of curiosity. He would simply drop by so Kavinsky would shut up about it, then go back to Monmouth. In and out.