Richard Campbell Gansey III (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thatsallthereis) wrote2017-07-05 09:14 am
thatsallthereis) wrote2017-07-05 09:14 am
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[For Adam] Don't forget I'll hold your head, watch the night sky fading red
It happened early Monday. Gansey stopped by before class to catch a few minutes of Ronan-time. He brought breakfast burritos. He let himself into the Cabeswater barn like any other day. He'd stopped to close his eyes into the sunlight and felt as he willed the temperature change. Nothing happened. Cabeswater was silent. Eerie. Still.
"Hey, Lynch," Gansey called when he didn't see his friend shuffling around the ground floor. He listened for Ronan's affectionate cursing somewhere else in the house, in the barn, and he heard nothing. His mouth turned down.
"Ronan?" Gansey tried again. Something gripped him in his chest. Maybe he'd gone out. That would have been troubling by itself. Maybe Adam forgot something and Ronan brought it to him. Maybe a chicken had the plague and Ronan was somewhere else in Cabeswater trying to fix it.
Gansey rounded the couch and saw him: fast asleep. For a quick second, he was relieved. He knew people (like Henry) who could sleep through anything anywhere. Ronan was a restless sleeper at best, unless he was in a certain place. The Dream Place. Still, Ronan could be roused, grumpy as hell and still Ronan.
"Hey, Lynch, get up, it's late," Gansey said, kicking the base of the couch in Ronan-like obstinate. He felt it then: he was scared. "Ronan, stop dicking around." There was a perfect opportunity for a play on words here, and nothing. Ronan slept. His body was loose, like a person who was able to rest. Not Ronan.
He called Adam three times. The last time, he left a message. I need you to come home, he said, panic edging into his voice. He didn't have to say it was important.
For a few moments, Gansey perched on the edge of the couch and ruminated. Something was wrong with Ronan, so something was wrong with Cabeswater. Or was it the other way around? He needed Adam to get back. He needed to not be alone with Ronan so still and so many questions. His thumb slipped over his mouth. He thought.
"Hey, Lynch," Gansey called when he didn't see his friend shuffling around the ground floor. He listened for Ronan's affectionate cursing somewhere else in the house, in the barn, and he heard nothing. His mouth turned down.
"Ronan?" Gansey tried again. Something gripped him in his chest. Maybe he'd gone out. That would have been troubling by itself. Maybe Adam forgot something and Ronan brought it to him. Maybe a chicken had the plague and Ronan was somewhere else in Cabeswater trying to fix it.
Gansey rounded the couch and saw him: fast asleep. For a quick second, he was relieved. He knew people (like Henry) who could sleep through anything anywhere. Ronan was a restless sleeper at best, unless he was in a certain place. The Dream Place. Still, Ronan could be roused, grumpy as hell and still Ronan.
"Hey, Lynch, get up, it's late," Gansey said, kicking the base of the couch in Ronan-like obstinate. He felt it then: he was scared. "Ronan, stop dicking around." There was a perfect opportunity for a play on words here, and nothing. Ronan slept. His body was loose, like a person who was able to rest. Not Ronan.
He called Adam three times. The last time, he left a message. I need you to come home, he said, panic edging into his voice. He didn't have to say it was important.
For a few moments, Gansey perched on the edge of the couch and ruminated. Something was wrong with Ronan, so something was wrong with Cabeswater. Or was it the other way around? He needed Adam to get back. He needed to not be alone with Ronan so still and so many questions. His thumb slipped over his mouth. He thought.