[For Ronan]

[thatsallthereis]

Gansey didn't drive as far into Cabeswater as he could have. He knew the trees didn't mind the commotion, but Gansey preferred to let his insides match what was outside. Cabeswater -- a living, breathing thing with a limited means of communication -- never seemed lonely; yet, they were always happy to see him. They rustled a greeting, like a child testing their reflection. Together, they were old friends, Gansey thinking of drawn-out landscapes of the places he'd been and Cabeswater calling up little pieces of it. Gansey laughed and the hills rollicked. Gansey thought and the birds squawked protest. It was a welcome noise, less like the commotion of the Gansey day-to-day.

These two friends travelled together mindlessly. Gansey wasn't sure he knew how to get to Ronan's place, but he always found it. He wondered if it worked the same way with Adam.

The place was beautiful. It looked so very Ronan, rustic and quaint and dangerous. The chickens roosted away. Gansey was oddly glad to hear the sound. Maybe he was just so glad to see Ronan's face that he could take an hour or two of clucking. Gansey raised his hand in greeting. Once he was close enough, he called, "looks great, Lynch." It did. All of Ronan's reckless abandon drained when it came to the concept of home.

Comments

[thatsallthereis]

Since it was a job Gansey had expected, he deflected it quickly, like a ricochet off of armor: there was still a bruise underneath.

In moments like this, Gansey often found himself remembering playing in the sprinklers at the Barns, young Matthew and Declan not far off, all under the casual supervision of the not-yet-late Niall Lynch. Ronan's curls sparkling with moisture under the relentless Virginia sun. Matthew's carrying laughter. The way the cool air from the sprinklers was no match for the Virginia humidity and they were quickly boys made of soup. That kind of thing was forever. He knew. He'd seen it stretch on and rubberband back with the passing and reassembling of time.

"I don't," Gansey said, because he didn't. He sat down on a sturdy-looking ledge and surveyed Ronan's handiwork. Everything was beautiful. Ronan had an eye for aesthetic. He himself certainly had one. This place was not in keeping with the projected image, and yet so painfully Ronan that Gansey wasn't sure he would ever come back to Hywel. That was sort of where it was headed at home, too, wasn't it?

In his silence, Cabeswater did the talking. It looked like a place that might have a creek nearby, and as soon as Gansey thought it, he heard it, whispering secrets along its narrow banks and carrying impossible life through Cabeswater like the blood in Gansey's veins. These creatures were everywhere. They were in both of them.

[thedreamthief]

It was hardly an answer, or at least not enough of one to explain why Gansey was here.

A nerve in Ronan's jaw twitched and he scattered his last handful of seed before carrying the bucket in one hand and turning back toward the barn. "Well, you know your way back," he said, tone dull as he disappeared inside to carrying on cleaning up the stalls. There wasn't that much to do, in all honesty. There was only Cinnamon at the moment and she didn't much looking after.

But fuck if he was going to stay out there and stare at Dick for no reason at all.

[thatsallthereis]

The peace Gansey felt in the moment was one-sided, it seemed. Sometimes it was easy to forget that having created Cabeswater didn't mean quite the same thing as knowing how to listen to it. Ronan valued silence. For Gansey, there had never been any such thing. All that quieted was love, and here, that was disquieting. Gansey was afraid if he looked too hard, he'd find Ronan had no love left for him.

"I'd like to stay," Gansey said, pushing himself up off of the ledge. He landed on his feet with a little hop. He craned his neck to look up where Ronan was retreating. While winking away the sunlight, it was like Ronan wasn't there at all.

"I could help."

[thedreamthief]

Though he could hear Gansey behind him, Ronan didn't respond for a long moment. He grabbed the muck fork off the wall and started cleaning up the floor of the barn, grabbing the smaller bits of hay and the debris left behind by Cinnamon and Hercules. It wasn't much, wouldn't take him long, and after a moment, he glanced back over at Gansey who stood in the large open doorway of the barn.

"Don't need it," he said, but the aggression was gone from his voice, leaving only a statement of fact.

Depositing the buck in another pail, he grabbed the push broom next to polish off the floor, again not looking toward Gansey until he was finished, wiping his hands off on his jeans as he walked back. "You can go look at the house if you want. Won't stop you."

[thatsallthereis]

"I'll do that," Gansey said, inclining his head in polite thanks for the invitation. Ronan wasn't looking, but it wasn't for him. Before he was one of them, Gansey had a healthy dose of skepticism for Ronan's creations. Before he knew how much of Ronan's life was dreamed. Now, Gansey felt love for those things. A fellowship.

The farm house itself was expansive, and it comfortably housed every dreamed animal in Ronan's arsenal. The chickens bubbled laughter, Hercules cried, and no one travelled beyond the confines of Ronan's little area. Was that magic of that in the animals or in the land? Perhaps Gansey could explore the question in his next magical dissertation.

The thought turned one corner of his mouth up. He continued his self-guided tour, past a living room, over to a kitchen, and then stairs. All of the decor had a sloppy, teenage quality to it. Sometimes, a wall held up that had no earthly reason not to collapse. It all looked rough and impossible, like Ronan.

Up the stairs, he expected to find a bedroom. What he found was a hallway. At the end was a bathroom. Gansey laughed because he was surprised to see it.

The doors were closed, so Gansey didn't go in. Rather, Gansey meant to not go in. The very last door was ajar. No floorboard groaned under his loafer as he made his way down. The door didn't creak open. It just slipped forward on its hinges, letting the light from the window spill in. There was a desk. There were books. It was close to the bathroom. This was not a room meant for Ronan. Ronan had dreamed Adam a place to study. He was making them a place that implied a future: a desk, a shared bed, too, he bet.

Gansey wondered what was behind the other door.

[thedreamthief]

Without another word, Gansey slipped away, leaving Ronan alone with the animals and what little remained to be cleaned. Ronan wandered over to check on the chickens, ensuring there were no more eggs to clean and take care of and no more pecked feathers. It was a cursory examination, really, stalling for time to some extent before he finally headed back toward the farmhouse.

The main floor was empty when he stepped in, Gansey clearly upstairs, still inspecting. Ronan couldn't say that there was really any place Gansey wasn't welcome to inspect, but after everything that had happened between them, Ronan still felt uncomfortable. Exposed, even.

He and Adam had been building this place for months and it was the first time Gansey had even come out to see it. That said enough all by itself, Ronan figured.

Wandering into the kitchen, Ronan opened the fridge to pull out a beer from the bottom shelf, popping the cap off with the edge of the countertop before taking a deep drink. His muscles ached, but only in the way they always did after working outside. It wasn't unpleasant. He still had his coat on, his ears pink with the cold.

He waited.

[thatsallthereis]

The chickens clucked enthusiastically below. It broke Gansey's heart. This was a better place for Ronan. For years, he'd lived in unfavorable conditions because he hadn't been allowed to have a home. The Barns was a resting place for Aurora, for Ronan's childhood. Every bit of joy Ronan had ever felt had taken place in the Barns, from the sprinklers to his big bed to the animals that brayed their affection for him as he passed. From outside, Chainsaw squawked and swooped. Gansey watched him disappear into the house below. Even she was happier here.

When Gansey descended the stairs, he was heavy with lightness. This was all very good for Ronan. It wasn't fair to think about whether it was good for Gansey.

"You've made a great place," Gansey said, smiling a touch sadly. He couldn't help it. There was no use hiding from Ronan, anyway. "There's even a bathroom." His smile found a more genuine quality in humor.

[thedreamthief]

"Gotta take a shit somewhere," Ronan replied with an easy shrug, holding the bottle against his chest.

Gansey was clearly still taking it all in, the open floor plan without support beams and the dubiously sturdy walls with quiet disapproval, the way the shelves didn't quite meet edge to edge but still stayed up, the way some light fixtures seemed to hover and the floorboards warped. It wasn't a pristine place, wasn't perfect. But it was Ronan's.

He took another sip of his drink, eyes narrowed and locked on Gansey's.

"I like it here," he added because that felt important, like something Gansey couldn't argue. "It's quiet."

[thatsallthereis]

What Ronan read as disapproval was more like reluctant acceptance. The corners of his mouth stayed as they were, curled in contemplation. It was not entirely unpleasant -- which wasn't to say Gansey's heart was not breaking. It was. Before the events of the last year, Gansey had been entirely unaccustomed to loss. Now, it seemed they were frequent bedfellows.

There was a time Gansey liked being alone. He was used to it. No one else could understand. Ronan had changed all of that, and now Ronan was finding his own peace. That was what Gansey had wanted for him. So, how he could be so selfish when the time actually came?

"I'm glad," Gansey said, and he was. "You deserve peace." And Adam did. They all did. All, maybe, except for Gansey.