Ronan Lynch doesn't believe in psychics.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't sit out in his BMW when his insomnia kicks in well into the night listening to the psychic on the radio. Granted, the host of the show – some stupid late-night bullshit from the local community college – hasn't actually called himself a psychic, but he often makes little predictions here and there throughout the hour.
And the weirdest thing is that they come true.
They're never specific, and Ronan scoffs that they can apply to literally anything if someone is gullible enough, but he can't help the shiver that runs over him whenever he encounters one of them.
“Don't take Route 40 to downtown tomorrow,” the host, a guy named Adam whose Henrietta accent is thick enough that Ronan could mold something out of it to fuck himself on, says one night and because Ronan is a piece of shit he takes Route 40 the next day as a general fuck you to the universe.
A ten-car pile-up makes him take an early exit.
But Ronan doesn't believe in psychics, so it isn't because of the little predictions that he always tunes in to The Graveyard Shift when he can't sleep. He tells Gansey one night as his best friend joins him, disheveled and disturbingly handsome in his sweats and glasses, that he listens to the station because of the music and Gansey agrees that the music is good because it is good. Calming guitars and sad indie bullshit and weird jams that have creepy lyrics, but upbeat cords. But the thing is, Ronan doesn't listen to this kind of music and the strangeness of that shows on Gansey's face when he first finds him there in the driveway of Monmouth.
Ronan refuses to admit out loud that he listens to the station solely because of the host, but privately he treasures Adam's accent, his dark humor, and mournful music taste. Occasionally he takes callers and gradually Ronan pieces together an image of this boy from the tiny bits of information he shares. He's closed-off, like Ronan, but Ronan catches the tidbits of information anyway: he's had a dog before, something happened to his parents (he always veers the conversation away from his family when it's brought up so either they're dead like Ronan's, he doesn't know them, or they're pieces of shit; maybe all three), he's double majoring in Psychology and Pre-Law, has a dark sense of humor, and loves cars.
The second he makes a joke one Saturday night about the BMW 700, Ronan has to practically shove his jacket over his lap before Noah can say anything.
And the saddest thing about the whole of it is that Ronan has no idea what this smooth fucker looks like. All he knows is that he's a student at PVCC who apparently never sleeps. It isn't until Gansey makes Ronan drive him to the mechanic's to pick up the Pig that Ronan comes face to face with his crush.
At first Ronan doesn't recognize Adam's voice because when he comes out from the back in his coveralls to greet Gansey all the Henrietta in his accent has been crushed into a flat, barely-there Southern drawl. Of course, even not knowing who he is, Ronan checks him out a little when Adam isn't looking; something about him reminds Ronan of the deer out by the Barns: a gentle face decorated with high-cheek bones and hungry blue eyes. But the more Ronan pays attention to him, the more he begins to notice that the flat accent is fake because mid-way through explaining to Gansey just what was wrong with the Pig and how, specifically (as requested by Gansey), he fixed it, Henrietta begins to claw her way through his voice.
And Ronan stares.
Because he knows that voice.
Adam catches him looking and just like that the accent is strangled again into something bland. But Ronan doesn't care if he sounds like a hick. He cares that–
“You're the host of The Graveyard Shift,” Ronan says, his words like a slap on a table.
Adam pauses mid-conversation and poor Gansey actually looks disappointed. He turns his eyes to Ronan. “You listen to that?” Adam asks and the accent returns just a little bit. Ronan hangs from it.
When Ronan doesn't reply, Gansey says for him, “It's his favorite show.” And, at Ronan's scowl, “We both have insomnia.”
“You play good music,” Ronan says with a sniff.
Adam stares long enough to make Ronan uncomfortable before he says, softly, “Thank you,” and continues to talk to Gansey about the Pig.
It's a complete coincidence that from then on Ronan begins to have a bunch of problems with the BMW – “Probably from racing,” he says to Gansey with a disinterested shrug.
It's also a complete coincidence that two weeks later Adam predicts something with his trashy tarot cards on his stupid show. Ronan doesn't believe in psychics; he kisses Adam because he wants to, not because of Fate.