Work Text:
“Where’s Adam?” Gansey pokes his head into Ronan’s room, and Ronan sighs as he pulls his headphones off his ears. It’s an oddity that Ronan even slept at Monmouth; he’s basically moved back into the Barns.
“I don’t know, work or something,” Ronan says. “I’m not his keeper.”
“He wasn’t at school today,” Gansey says, gnawing at his nails. Ronan sits up, lets out a deep sigh punctuated with a long string of swears. He knows exactly what Gansey is thinking; Adam hasn’t missed a day since Ronan punched Robert Parrish.
“He’s taking a lot of extra shifts. Might have made a mistake and overscheduled or something,” Ronan tries. “He’s a big boy, don’t worry.”
“Wait, why is he taking extra shifts?” Gansey asks. “Aglionby didn’t raise tuition again, did it?”
“No, but in order to graduate everything has to be paid by March 1st. Only two pay dates left,” Ronan says. “And he threatened to chop my balls off if I stepped in again.”
“He wouldn’t miss school,” Gansey reaffirms. “We should see if he’s at Boyd’s, or St. Agnes.”
“If we show up at his work, he’s gonna be pissed. I’m heading to St. Agnes after going to the Barns for a bit, and I’ll… I’ll keep you updated.” It’s accompanied with a sour face, but it’s a promise for Ronan to have his phone on, so Gansey will take it.
He leaves Ronan’s room, something still not sitting right in his stomach.
:: ::
To be fair, Adam felt fine until he woke up that morning. It’s just a headache, now, maybe he feels a little warm, maybe his stomach is flipping a little, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.
Then he stands up.
Adam barely hears his knees crack against the tile of the bathroom before he’s vomiting, bile and water and the crackers he ate for dinner the night before.
It’s probably a bug, he probably just needs to rest, probably will be fine to go to work later.
Adam calls his favorite Aglionby secretary, tells Claire that he’s got the stomach flu but will be back tomorrow.
Adam sets an alarm, and then he’s crawling into bed and falling back asleep.
:: ::
“Okay, go the fuck home, kid.” Normally, Adam would have to shove down his annoyance at Boyd, but he’s too concerned with the heat rising to the front of his head as he removes it from the bucket he’d been throwing up into.
“I can… I can finish,” Adam tries, but then he’s retching again. He’s still got an hour and a half left of his shift, and as of now he’s thrown up four times. It’s not even a stomach bug, he’s sure of it now, but ever since his left ear went deaf, whenever he gets a bad headache he gets nauseous. Adam’s head has been killing him.
“I’m sorry, Adam, but I can’t let you work like this. Go home, rest. Call me if you feel the same way tomorrow,” is all Boyd says before he’s turning away. “If you’re not gone in ten minutes I’m calling that raven boy with the Beemer.”
“That’s not necessary,” Adam says, blinking away white dots from his vision when he pulls himself to standing.
He’s not quite sure how he gets into the Hondayota, how he drives home, or how he hauls his increasingly useless body up the stairs to his apartment. Adam only thinks that he feels cold before he’s falling onto his air mattress and then he’s unconscious, again.
It only feels like seconds later that he wakes up to an ice-cold hand against his forehead.
As Adam blinks his eyes open, the only thing he registers is the blinding pain in his skull. His hand immediately snaps up to his forehead, clutching it, curling into himself. The ice-cold touch is back, trying to pry Adam’s hands away, and Adam just groans.
“Adam, I need you to open your eyes. Adam, I know it’s hard, but I need you to, okay?” That’s Gansey. Gansey doesn’t come to Adam’s apartment. Gansey gets angry about the air mattress and the lack of heat and food and everything else.
Slowly, Adam blinks his eyes open again. Gansey is holding something in his hand, his face creased with concern.
“Thank you, Adam. Okay, I’m going to take your temperature now, but we’re going to have to go to the doctor regardless.” That sets off a warning bell somewhere far away in Adam’s brain, but he can’t remember why. So Adam just opens his mouth when Gansey asks, and he hisses at the harsh beep a few seconds later. “Oh, fuck.”
“Wha…” Adam starts, but he trails off when Gansey’s hands are under his armpits, pulling him into a seated position.
Gansey is shoving something over Adam’s head, pulling his arms through something, and then pushing something on his feet. That’s when things drift just out of Adam’s reach, until a phone ringing sends it all spiraling back. Adam realizes he’s in Gansey’s car.
Adam doesn’t remember getting into Gansey’s car.
“Ronan.” Gansey breathes out the name like a sigh of relief. “Yeah, I found him, Ronan, we’re on our way—I’m driving him to the hospital.” There’s a pause, and Gansey sighs. “No, I’m not freaking out over—Ronan, his temperature is over 105 right now and he’s barely responsive.”
Adam groans, turning his head towards Gansey. “Ronan?” His voice sounds muffled, even to him.
“Yeah, Adam, it’s Ronan. Do you want to… I can give you to him?” Gansey offers, but Adam’s eyes have slipped closed again. “Fuck. Sorry, Ronan, he’s not—”
“No, gimme the phone,” Adam slurs, and Gansey is punching buttons and then Ronan’s voice is filling the car.
“You’re on speaker,” Gansey says, his voice much softer than earlier.
“Parrish?” Ronan asks, his voice sounding odd through the distance it curves through to get to Adam.
“Ro… Ronan,” Adam breathes out. “I can’t… I …”
“Breathe, Adam. It’s okay. It’s okay, alright?” Adam feels his eyes roll over to Gansey, but he doesn’t truly register the odd pitch of Ronan’s voice.
“We’re like, two minutes out,” Gansey announces, hand tapping on the steering wheel. “Adam, just stay awake, okay?”
“Ronan, ‘m tired,” is all Adam says. His head is pounding and his neck hurts and he’s not focusing enough to hear things clearly, his right ear smashed against the window. “It’s quiet.”
It takes Gansey tapping him on the shoulder to realize why. He can’t hear, not with his good ear against the glass.
“Listen to Gansey, Adam. I’m going to be there as soon as I can, and—” Adam knows Ronan keeps talking, but they’re pulling into a lot and it’s so fucking bright that Adam can’t think, can’t hear anything out of his good ear.
Everything has gone white.
Adam blinks, and there’s a rush of cold air, blinks again and the seatbelt is gone. He blinks and Gansey is hauling him up, blinks again and he’s surrounded by warm air and loud noises. Adam blinks again and there are hands touching him, blinks again and he’s laying on something soft.
The next time Adam closes his eyes, he can’t pry them back open.
:: ::
Gansey knows the second Ronan arrives. He storms in, eyes pinched with what someone who doesn’t know him would think is anger. Gansey knows it’s not that, but worry.
“Gansey, what the fuck is going on?” Ronan asks, as soon as he spots him.
“I don’t know. They took him back immediately, but they haven’t told me anything.” Gansey’s voice cracks, and his hair is rumpled.
“I saw him yesterday. He was fine,” Ronan says stubbornly, but he sits next to Gansey. “What the fuck.”
“I don’t know. This can’t be Cabeswater stuff, can it?” Gansey doesn’t want to ask; he can’t think about Cabeswater without thinking about Ronan being unmade right in front of him, without thinking about Adam’s tied hands, without thinking about hearing his own heart stop beating. He wonders if it’s the same kind of fear that Adam felt when it wasn’t his heart that stopped, but his hearing.
“No. I barely… I’ve barely begun to remake it,” Ronan says, shaking his head. “This is just… this is just… fuck I can’t call it normal.” There’s a pause, Ronan twisting his hands. “I’m worried. I’m worried about what having to take time to be sick is going to do.”
“It might be nothing, might just be a day or two of rest,” Gansey tries, but his face is creasing. “But even that… that’s a significant amount of his weekly income.”
“He’s barely making it paycheck to paycheck as it is, right now,” Ronan says, his voice quiet. “I don’t… I fucking get it, I mean, I’m not going to fuck up his shit, but—”
“No, I know what you mean. Still, couldn’t we just pay—”
“He would chop your dick off and I wouldn’t stop him. Not without talking to him. He doesn’t want that, Gansey, you know it,” Ronan says, putting his head in his hands.
“That didn’t stop you when Aglionby raised tuition last year. He’s not going to be able to pay for the hospital, he’s not going to be able to cover the Aglionby costs, or food.”
“Hospital bills have always been different,” Ronan comments, fiddling with his leather bracelets. “I don’t know what to do about Aglionby, not yet, but we’re not going to do shit when Adam is back there and we have no fucking clue what is going on.”
“I don’t care if he’s mad at me—he can be mad, but then at least I will know he has enough fucking money to eat this week.” Gansey doesn’t yell, because Gansey doesn’t yell, but it’s dangerously close.
“That’s not the fucking point, Gansey. You know it. We’re just… it’s not the fucking time. Okay? Let’s fucking drop it.” Ronan’s voice is harsh, and he folds over, hands gripping each other tightly. Gansey gives him a few minutes, watches the contours of Ronan’s face betray his worry.
“You should call the Maggot. Cheng, too.” Ronan’s voice is rough, barely above a whisper. “They’re probably worried.”
“I’m worried.” Gansey’s pinching the bridge of his nose, his elbows resting on his knees. “He was so out of it, Ronan.”
“He’s got to be okay.” But Ronan’s eyes are watching his hands fiddle with the bracelets on his wrists, and he’s never been that good of a liar.
:: ::
Close to two hours later, there’s a doctor stepping into the waiting room. Blue nudges Gansey awake, and Ronan does the same to Cheng.
“Adam Parrish?” It’s hard to tell if Blue or Ronan is on their feet first, but Gansey and Cheng aren’t far behind.
“Is he okay?” Blue asks. Her voice is hoarse; Gansey had called her, tried to explain without freaking her out, but she knew. She always knows.
“I’m Jane Spector, and I’ve been treating Adam. Let’s sit down. We can go to my office, if you prefer.” The doctor’s voice is calm, professional.
“Fuck that. Is he okay?” Ronan is digging his heels in, now. But Cheng puts a hand on Ronan’s shoulder, and with enough weight on it Ronan sits back down. They’re all facing the doctor; Gansey can feel Blue’s heartbeat through her hand. He can hear his own in his ears.
“He’s stable.” Ronan’s jaw unclenches, just slightly. “When he came in, he had a fever pushing 106°, but we’ve lowered it with strong fever reducers and ice packs.”
“Is he going to be okay? Can he go home?” Ronan asks, hands fidgeting and pulling and yanking and doing everything they can to release the pressure bomb of anxiety growing in Ronan’s gut.
“The reason his fever is so high is that he’s contracted a strain of bacterial meningitis. There was fluid build-up in his spinal column, but we’ve drained that. We’ve caught it early enough that it is likely he will avoid permanent damage, but potential complications include seizures, kidney failure, permanent or temporary hearing loss, and neurological issues such as gait problems or learning and memory disabilities,” the doctor explains. “We’ve started Adam on a mixture of antibiotics and corticosteroids, and he’s resting right now. You can come back and see him if you’ve had the vaccine, but you’ll have to wear masks and gloves regardless. We can’t risk him getting sick with something else right now. I’m sure you all have a lot of questions.”
“How long is he going to have to stay at the hospital?” Henry asks, his face a perfectly created mask of calm.
“Likely at least the next five days; he will be in the ICU for most of that time. The antibiotics are intravenous, and we need to monitor him closely for complications.”
“You said he could have temporary hearing loss. He’s deaf in his left ear… is it more likely that something will happen with his right ear?” Ronan asks, his eyes increasingly becoming redder and wetter. He bites his lip, hard.
Dr. Spector takes a breath. “It is. The cause of hearing loss with meningitis is usually fluid build-up within the ear, and draining the fluid should take care of it, should the complication arise.”
“Is he awake?” Ronan isn’t paying attention, anymore. He’s biting his knuckle, trying to hold his own tears back, because he can’t lose his shit right now. He can’t. He needs to be there, needs to hold it together enough to get to wherever the fuck Adam is and see that he’s alive with his own damn eyes.
He manages it. He manages to get the goddamn mask on his face and the nitrile gloves on his hands, manages to walk in a straight line through the maze of hallways, to get through the door. But when he sees Adam, when he sees the wires monitoring his heart and the two IV’s taped into a thin arm, when he sees the sweat on his forehead, sees Adam lying so fucking still, there’s nothine else in the goddamn universe.
Ronan is in a chair. Ronan grabs the hand not weighed down with needles and tape.
Ronan stuffs his fist against his mouth. It’s the only way he can force himself not to cry. That, and the way Adam’s hand is still warm through the gloves.
:: ::
It takes Adam a long time to realize he’s waking up. Sound is coming in waves, beeps and the sounds of someone breathing. Adam wants to relax back into it, but then he feels a pressure on his hand. It’s like he’s under Gansey’s weighted blanket; his arms are too heavy to move, and he doesn’t want to move them, anyways. But the pressure on his hands squeezes it again, and Adam realizes it’s Ronan. It’s Ronan who’s squeezing his hand, asking him to wake up. He’s the only person who would do that. But it doesn’t feel like him.
Adam wants to wake up, but it’s so hard.
Ronan’s rubbing circles on the space between his pointer finger and thumb, and eventually it’s enough that Adam can open his eyes. The room is dim, but it’s like opening his eyes reawakens the headache pounding through his skull.
“Hey,” he croaks out, wincing a little at the sound bouncing around in his skull.
“Hey, Adam.” Ronan’s voice is, somehow, rougher. “How are you feeling?”
“M’ head hurts,” Adam mumbles. “M’ thirsty.”
“Here.” Adam turns his head enough to really see Ronan, but it’s weird. There’s something on Ronan’s face. But he can’t focus on that, because there’s a cup and a straw held up to his lips. Adam drinks, relishing on the cool sensation of the water against his throat. “Thanks, Ronan.”
“I should get your doctor.” Ronan reaches over Adam, presses a red button next to his hand.
“Doctor? Oh, fuck.” It’s like the word has expanded the room beyond him and Ronan; Adam realizes he has an IV in his left arm, another in that hand, and he’s lying in a gown, in a room, in a hospital. And suddenly Adam remembers he’s supposed to be at work, that he’s missing so many shifts and acquiring so much debt and he’s never going to fucking graduate, now.
“Hey, slow down. You gotta relax, Parrish.” Ronan squeezes Adam’s hand, returning to rubbing circles steadily. “Cheng’s got it covered. You’re still really fucking sick, and it’s just going to take longer if you push yourself.”
“I don’t have time, Lynch. Aglionby—”
“Adam.” Ronan’s voice sounds wrecked. “This isn’t nothing. You have fucking meningitis, and I–” Ronan ducks his head, his hand going to his mouth. “Just… “
But it’s then that the doctor walks into the room.
“It’s good to see you awake, Adam.” She’s sitting in the rolling chair, moving close to Adam to talk. “How are you feeling?”
“Everything is… sore,” Adam mumbles, and Ronan snorts.
“That means it hurts,” he translates, his gaze scanning Adam worriedly. For his part, Adam is just watching as the doctor takes notes on the machines.
“What time is it?” Adam’s voice is no less tired than it was in the car. That sends a pang of anxiety vibrating through all of Ronan’s being.
“Almost ten in the morning. You were brought in by your friend yesterday afternoon with a high fever; that’s under control now, but you have a case of bacterial meningitis.” There’s a pause, and Adam’s breath hitches.
“Shit,” Adam says, his head going into his hands. “That’s not good.”
“We caught it early. There’s still a chance that complications and side effects will arise, but for right now it’s under control,” the doctor explains. “There will be a nurse in every twenty minutes, but if you start feeling worse you need to tell someone or press the call button.” Then the doctor leaves again.
“Okay,” Adam mumbles. His head is pounding, and everything seems more weightless the more he thinks about what the doctor said. He can feel three years of work, of being coated in sweat and oil, sum to nothing. The MIT acceptance means nothing, not without a fucking diploma.
All Adam has wanted is security. He thought, he thought he found that in Ronan, but he forgets how easily the rug can be ripped out under his feet. Right now, he doesn’t even want to be rich; he just wants to be not-poor, wants to know that if he gets sick his life won’t fall apart.
“Hey.” Ronan’s voice is soft, and he squeezes Adam’s hand. It doesn’t feel right, the glove masking anything about the touch that could possibly be Ronan.
“Why are you… what’s on your face, Lynch?” Adam knows there’s more slur to his voice than edge.
“A sanitary mask. Don’t want you getting more sick,” Ronan explains. “Everyone else is here; they’re just on a coffee run.”
“Ronan.” The way Adam says Ronan’s name is saturated with panic, weighted down with it. “I’m so fucked.”
“Adam.” Ronan scoots closer, so he’s leaning enough that his head is by Adam’s, both hands holding one of Adam’s. “Hey, you’re going to be okay. We’ll figure out a way—talk to Aglionby, do something.”
“I don’t know how… how this is going to be okay,” Adam says, his breath hitching. Ronan’s hand is on his, now, and it squeezes. It’s not a lot of pressure, but it’s there to ground Adam. “No, Ronan, I—”
“Parrish.” Adam can’t even look at Ronan. “Adam. Adam. You gotta breathe. We’ll talk about this, will work something out, when you’re feeling a little better. I promise that no one’s going to go behind your back about this, I promise that—I promise that this is going to be okay. All right? But you gotta rest.”
“I’m scared, Ronan.” Adam barely whispers the words, and now Ronan is running fingers through Adam’s hair.
“It’s going to be okay. Fuck, it has to be.” Ronan allows himself a tiny smile. “After all of this shit, it’s gotta be.”
Miraculously, Adam smiles back.
That’s when the door cracks open. In an instant, Gansey, Blue, and Henry are all inside. Blue’s balancing three different coats on one arm, is pulling on latex gloves with the other, and Henry is carrying a drink and a plate of food to Ronan.
“Oh, you’re up? That’s great,” Cheng says, distributing food. “You look a little more alive now.”
“Cheng,” Ronan warns. “If you put your goddamn foot in your mouth again, I’ll add my fist.”
“Jesus, chill.” Cheng doesn’t seem on edge, just lightly presses the bag into Ronan’s hands. “I didn’t even say shit.”
“Lynch, it’s fine.” Adam says, and Ronan can see how hard he’s trying. “Hey, guys. Sorry for the scare.”
“You should go outside to eat,” Blue comments, and Ronan scoffs. “You’re the one who—”
“Fucking fine.” And that’s it. Ronan storms out the door. At least that’s what it would look like to a nurse passing by. In reality, Ronan squeezes Adam’s hand before he goes, and that makes all the difference.
“Okay,” Blue says, staring at the door, before she turns to Adam. “Is that just normal sleep-deprived Ronan, or should I be worried?”
“It’s just Ronan,” Adam says. Blue gives him a look, eyes so wide that Adam can’t meet her gaze.
“You sound tired. We should let you rest,” Blue says, sitting between Gansey and Cheng on the couch.
“I just woke up,” Adam argues, and Gansey chuckles. Adam looks, and it’s clear Gansey hasn’t slept. Adam remembers flashes—Gansey was at St. Agnes, Gansey took Adam to the hospital—and his face pales. “Thanks, Gansey.” Adam’s voice barely mumbles.
Gansey stands, and he sits close to Adam on his bed. His voice is impossibly kind. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad you’re going to be okay.”
And that’s Gansey. Adam knows Gansey’s losing his shit internally, has watched him lose his shit like this about Ronan, about Adam’s father, but he’s masking it for Adam’s sake. And that makes guilt shoot through Adam like a lightning bolt.
Not for the first time, Adam knows he owes his life to Gansey.
“If you hadn’t…” Adam doesn’t own a phone. Adam had been unconscious. “Fuck, Gansey, if you hadn’t, I would have—”
“Hey, slow down. I was there. You’re okay, that’s all that matters,” Gansey says, eyes frantically searching behind the glass wall for someone that isn’t there. When he doesn’t find them, he turns his full attention to Adam, who’s not calming down. “Adam, I need you to relax, okay?”
Adam nods, but his hands have curled into fist. His head is spinning and it hurts but he can’t stop thinking that he would have fucking died. He would have died in his shithole apartment and never have known it.
“Adam. Try to take deeper breaths. Come on, Adam, breathe with me.” There’s a fraction when Gansey turns to someone else, and if Adam’s vision wasn’t so blurry he would recognize it was Cheng running out of the room. Both of Gansey’s hands are cradling one of Adam’s, and he gently presses it against his own chest. “Breathe with me, Adam.”
“I… I can’t…” The door bolts open, and Adam nearly jumps, until it’s Ronan in front of him. Ronan sits on the bed, pulls Adam to his chest and just holds him there until his breathing evens out. Holds him until Adam’s back asleep, then reluctantly lays Adam back against the pillows, tucks him in.
“Fuck.” Ronan collapses next to Gansey, leans against him like he hasn’t done since the day of his dad’s funeral. “Fuck.”
“He was fine, but he, uh, he remembered how he got here,” Gansey explains. Ronan doesn’t stiffen against him, and Gansey feels himself relax as a result. “He was pretty scared.”
“Yeah. He almost flipped the fuck out earlier, about Aglionby,” Ronan mumbles. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I talked to the board. They’re willing to consider his account balanced.” There’s a but, and Gansey doesn’t want to say it.
“For nothing in return?” Cheng asks. “That doesn’t seem likely.”
“If he abdicates valedictorian,” Gansey finishes, and now Ronan sits up.
“You’re salutatorian,” Ronan says. “They want him to give you valedictorian. Because they still think Parrish is trailer trash.”
“There’s no other option?” Blue asks, biting her lip. “Gansey, are you okay with this?”
“No, I’m not. But I don’t see another way around this, besides paying it behind his back.”Gansey bites his lip. “He doesn’t want that.”
“They won’t delay it? Let him pay through April. He just needs a few more weeks,” Blue says, her voice unusually small. “It’s not fair.”
“Do you think… would they listen to Declan?” Ronan hates the fact that he’s even suggesting it, the taste of the idea akin to the mornings he’d wake up after drinking and racing with Kavinsky.
“You’re willing to talk to Declan about this?” Henry sounds incredulous.
“He owes me one. I stopped Matty from getting his ear pierced last week,” Ronan mumbles. “I can call him. Would that help?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t listen to me,” Gansey says, frowning. “They usually do.”
“Not to point out the obvious, but you used up most of your gambling chips on this dumbass.” Blue says, swinging her thumb towards Ronan.
“And Declan hasn’t?” Henry shoots back.
“Do you really think Declan was gonna stick his neck out for me? After all that shit with Glendower?” Ronan scoffs. “I’ll call him, but I’m not doing it here. If it’s gonna turn into a fight, I’m not waking Adam up with the yelling.”
“I’ll go with you,” Gansey offers. “I can explain my conversation with the board.”
:: ::
The next time Adam wakes up, everything is eerily silent. He feels himself groan, as the heaviness and soreness and pain in every part of his body makes itself known, but he doesn’t hear it.
He opens his eyes. Ronan is sitting on the bed, one hand holding Adam’s. His lips are moving behind the mask, Adam knows it, but Adam can’t hear anything.
Adam can’t hear anything.
Immediately Adam bolts up, and then he sags forward, undiluted pain rocketing up his spine to his skull. His hands go to grip his head, to make it stop, but they don’t stay long before someone else is untangling them, pressing them against Adam’s chest and holding him so tight that he can’t move. It feels like fire is crawling up every inch of his body, slowly but surely consuming him.
Adam feels himself let out a strangled noise. Whoever is holding him still presses Adam’s head to their chest.
Adam can feel the exaggerated calmness of this person’s breathing, and when a hand moves to run a had down the back of his head, Adam knows that it’s Ronan. Ronan doesn’t let go, but he doesn’t press tighter when Adam struggles. He just holds Adam, ensures that Adam is safe until he finally, finally goes completely limp against him. He holds him until Adam presses his hands against Ronan’s chest and pulls away himself.
Ronan’s face has a deep-set frown, but he’s stopped trying to speak. He helps Adam lay back down, supporting his back the entire time, and then he just holds onto one hand while he pulls his phone out with the other.
Can you hear anything? Ronan had typed, and once he shows it to Adam, Adam shakes his head. Even that hurts. I’m going to call your doctor.
“Ronan—” Adam says, and he feels the familiar vibrations, but Ronan just shakes his head and reaches over Adam to press the button anyways. Ronan squeezes his hand, and his eyes are so wild and uncertain that Adam knows he’s terrified but trying desperately to hide it. It’s the equivalent of trying to smother a volcano with a blanket.
The doctor enters quickly, with two nurses behind her, and Ronan turns away. Adam can’t read lips well, even if all of their mouths weren’t covered, and he has no idea what the conversation is about, but he can guess. His doctor says something to a nurse, and the nurse is gone, and then back again with a whiteboard and a marker. The doctor quickly starts to write, before giving the board to Adam.
There seems to be fluid build-up in your right ear. We’re going to drain it as soon as possible. Adam just nods, his right hand going up to his ear. Ronan swats his hand away before it can get there, giving Adam a look that clearly tells him to fucking leave it.
The doctor briefly describes the procedure, and because it’s an uncomfortable thing to do, they’re going to give Adam some pain medication preemptively. Adam already feels heavy, and by the time the medication enters his bloodstream, Adam is dozing off. Ronan taps Adam’s hand, pulls the mask down to his chin.
“I’ll be right here, Parrish,” Ronan says slowly to let Adam lip read, sitting as close to Adam as he can, and it looks like he wants to say more, but Adam is already asleep.
It seems like Adam had only blinked, but when he wakes up, it’s muddy in his right ear, but he can hear.
“Hey. Ronan had to run out for a bit,” Henry says, his feet up on Adam’s bed. “He and Gansey had shit to take care of.”
“Get your feet off, Cheng,” Blue says, wandering back into the room. “Hey, Adam. I’m assuming the right ear is back in commission?”
“Pretty much,” Adam says, not realizing how mumbled and accented it sounds until it was too late. “Why are y’all still in the masks and shit?”
“You’re immune system is already fighting a hell of an infection. Your doctor doesn’t want another one to be introduced to your system,” Blue explains. “It’s not forever. Just until you start feeling better.”
“It’s driving Ronan madder than the Aglionby tie ever did,” Henry says delightfully. “But he fucking ripped me a new one when I walked in here without one on accident.”
Adam goes to sit up, but every movement sends a sharp round of pain across his entire body that isn’t quite smothered by whatever medication he’s on.
“Just rest, Adam. You don’t have to push yourself right now,” Blue says, moving to sit on the other side of the bed. “Do you want some water or juice or something?”
“No. Where did Ronan go?” Adam asks. The entire room feels hazy, like heat is settling deep into his bones. Logically, he knows it’s just the fever, but it’s so hard not to worry, anyways.
“He and Gansey had to take care of something.” Blue’s voice is careful, hand ghosting over Adam’s left hand, trying not to touch the IV port. “They’ll be back soon.”
Adam clearly isn’t satisfied with that answer, but he’s too busy trying to ride out the latest wave of pain to actually directly fight it.
“Man, you should probably drink something. Might make you feel a little better,” Henry offers, practically shoving the styrofoam cup with a straw into Adam’s hands. Adam’s fingers fiddle with the lid, but he doesn’t move to take a drink. “Your boyfriend will chop my dick off if you don’t drink at least half of that.”
“Not my problem,” Adam mutters. But he does take a sip, so there’s that. The juice feels incredible going down his aching throat.
“You’re a fucking asshole, Parrish.” But Cheng is chuckling. His hair is uncharacteristically flat, Adam realizes. He’s tired.
“When can I go home, Cheng?” Adam asks, his eyes half-closed. “I’m okay now, right?”
“At least a few more days, man. I know it sucks, but your fever is still pretty bad, and you can only get the antibiotics intravenously,” Cheng explains. “You’ll probably sleep through most of it.”
“Fuck,” Adam says, sitting up fully. His head is in his hands, and not just because of the new pulse of agony the movement sent straight to his skull. “Henry, I can’t. Not with Aglionby–”
“Your teachers know you’re sick. You’re excused from all work and exams until you come back,” Henry explains. “It’s all taken care of, I promise.”
“I gotta, I’m not going to graduate, Henry,” Adam says. They both can see the myriad of change across Adam’s face, as he tries to hide a volcanic eruption from showing. Blue sits next to Adam, puts a hand on her friend’s back, but Adam winces at the contact with his already hurting muscles and bones.
“Hey. It’s going to be fine,” Blue says instead. Adam feels the heat creeping up him again, burning in patches.
“I can’t pay. I can’t… I can’t…” Adam’s chest is heaving, again.
“Gansey and Ronan are with Declan at Aglionby,” Blue blurts out, and it shocks Adam into silence. Blue isn’t looking at Adam. “They were gonna consider it paid if you abdicated valedictorian. No one was okay with that.”
“Declan?” That’s the easiest part of it for Adam to address, at this point.
“Yeah. He understands that it’s bullshit. They’re working on extending the payment period, or settling the account another way.” Blue bites her lip, hoping that Adam isn’t about to explode. He’s gotten better, much better than when they were dating, at not dismissing help at the start.
“Oh,” Adam says, and, again, it’s like his face is struggling to mask whatever is happening inside. Then something abruptly changes. Adam has folded over like a spring has been released, hands over his stomach.
“Adam, what’s going on?” Henry asks, already out of his chair and partly to the door. Adam just whimpers.
It’s fire, absolute fire, crawling up his entire being. He can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything but try to breathe and pray that it somehow all just stops.
“Henry,” Blue breathes out, her eyes wide as she stares at the sudden, angry rashes on Adam’s arms, on his face. “Henry, go get a doctor.”
Henry is running. Blue sits by Adam, tries to unfurl him, but when he lets out a cry at even the lightest touch, Blue quickly scrambles back. They’re not touching, but Blue is whispering calming things, trying to ignore the gross sounds coming out of Adam’s mouth.
Not for the first time, Blue feels helpless.
When the doctor bursts into the room, Blue is immediately pushed out. Henry catches her, wraps her in his arms as she starts to lose it.
“We have to… I should call Ronan,” Blue gets out, but she’s crying so hard that if Henry didn’t know her he wouldn’t know what she was saying. Her arms are trapped against Henry’s chest, his chin resting on the top of her head.
“I’ll take care of it. We should go back to the waiting room; you don’t want to see this,” Henry says, both arms across Blue’s back, holding her tight. Henry doesn’t let go, holds her hand as they walk and puts an arm around her when they’re sitting in the waiting room. When he’s sure that Blue is calming down, Henry takes out his phone.
Henry doesn’t call Ronan He can’t face him, not with this. He had sat there when they wouldn’t tell them anything, and he had seen Ronan with his guts hanging out in the open. Vulnerable. Henry had hoped that seeing Adam would have helped, but even he admits seeing Adam that sick sends a pang of anxiety through him. Every time he wakes up, panicking or in pain, and Henry can’t do anything to fix it. He can’t be the one to tell Ronan that it’s gotten worse.
“Hey,” Henry says.
“Now’s not a good time, Henry—” Gansey starts, and Henry winces at the stress in his voice.
“It can’t wait. Adam’s gotten worse.” Henry waits a beat, just hears ragged breathing on the other end. “One minute he was fine, and then the next he had broken out in rashes and… “ Henry runs a hand through his own hair, trying to calm his own breathing. “He was in a lot of pain.”
“Why? I thought he was getting better,” Gansey all but whispers. “Shit, Ronan’s coming this way. I have to—”
“We can’t see him right now. I suspect they didn’t have him on the right antibiotic,” Henry admits.
“They had him on four different ones so that this didn’t happen.” Gansey sounds frustrated. “Oh—” There’s sounds of a scuffle on the other end of the line.
“What the fuck is happening, Cheng?” Ronan growls. Carefully, Henry explains again. “I’m on my way.” Ronan’s voice cracks harshly, but then the call cuts out.
A few seconds later, Henry’s phone rings.
“Hi,” Gansey all but sighs. “Ronan just stormed out. Declan is still with the board. Do you know anything else?”
“No. Was Ronan—”
“No. Please let me know when he gets there. Keep me updated, and I’ll be there as soon as this is over.” And then Gansey hangs up, too.
Henry takes a deep breath, opens the web browser on his phone. Blue reads his medical research over his shoulder, grips his hand tightly.
Then Ronan bursts in. He doesn’t stop, just walks through the double doors and straight to Adam’s room. Blue follows.
When she gets there, Ronan is sitting outside, back against the wall. His hands are on his head. There are tears falling, hot and fast. It’s the first time in all of this that Ronan has cried. In the room, the curtains are drawn. Blue does the natural thing. She slides down the wall, right next to Ronan.
Silently, Blue grabs Ronan’s hand. That’s all it takes before his head is against her shoulder, sobs echoing through the hallway. Blue just uses her other hand to touch Ronan’s head, hold him against her. She’s all cried out, but she holds Ronan. He starts talking, about how he can’t lose Adam, asking why this is happening after everything, cursing Aglionby eighty different ways, begging someone to fix it, words falling quick and garbled onto Blue’s shirt. Ronan tells her about how he should have checked on Adam the moment he knew he didn’t show up to school, how he felt helpless on the phone with Adam as Gansey sped to the hospital, about how he can’t close his eyes without seeing Adam pale and unmoving.
Blue just makes soothing noises and listens.
It’s the only thing she can do. It’s amazing how Blue feels exactly the same kind of helplessness sitting here with Ronan as she did with Adam when everything fell to shit. Two unknowable boys, known only to the other.
Ronan falls asleep on her shoulder. Gansey appears, sinks down on Blue’s other side, eyes red. Henry sits across, and Declan reluctantly sets himself down next to him. He looks at Ronan and sighs.
“The board caved. Adam doesn’t owe them anything else,” Declan whispers, meeting Gansey’s gaze. “How long has Ronan been out?”
“Only about half an hour. He, um, cried himself out.” Blue isn’t sure how much to share, to be honest. She knows things are better between the elder Lynches, but it’s nowhere near fixed.
“Has anyone said anything about how Parrish is doing?” Declan asks, eyes lifting to the room behind them all.
“They’ve been in there for more than an hour,” Henry says. “No one has told us anything.”
“It shouldn’t be taking that long, should it?” Declan asks, frowning. That’s when Ronan stirs, rubs his eyes and sits up. They’re still rimmed with circles dark enough to be bruises.
“The fuck?” Ronan asks, his voice wrecked and rough and hoarse and barely there.
“Go the fuck back to sleep,” Declan says dryly. “You should like a chain smoker.”
“What about Aglionby?” Ronan asks, slowly disentangling himself from Blue.
“It’s settled.” Declan stands now, smoothing his pants distastefully. “I have to be in class in the morning. Someone keep me updated on Parrish.”
But that’s when the doctor finally exits the room. She looks at the group in the hallway, and sits down with them. She takes one deep breath, then two.
“We’re doing more bloodwork to pin down exactly what antibiotic we should ultimately adjust to, but he’s on a new group of them in the meantime. Due to the degree of pain the rashes cause, we’ve sedated Adam, but once we get this under control and the rashes start to heal—”
“He’s sedated?” Ronan asks, his voice harsh. “What does that—how does that—”
“Adam needs an incredible amount of rest, in order to fight the infection. This way he also isn’t in pain,” the doctor explains, her voice tired.
Declan sits back down.
:: ::
A week later, Adam wakes up on top of Ronan. Ronan is half-sitting, half-lying on the couch in Monmouth. Ronan’s arms are tight around Adam, one hand playing with Adam’s hair.
“Hey,” Adam says. He goes to sit up, but Ronan’s arms tighten. “Ronan.”
“Uhuh. You gotta rest,” Ronan says. “You were literally released from the hospital four hours ago. And that’s only because we’re keeping an eye on you.”
“I can sit up, Ronan,” Adam argues, but he’s warm and comfortable that he doesn’t mind, exactly. He’s enjoying being in his own clothes, enjoying being able to entangle his arms with Ronan without worrying about an IV.
“Yeah, but you don’t need to.” Ronan kisses the top of Adam’s head, as Adam shifts so he’s against Ronan’s chest. “You’re still going to take it easy. No schoolwork and shit.”
“I don’t normally say this, but Ronan is right,” Gansey inputs from the kitchen. “Dr. Spector said no work until you actually go back to school.”
“I’m going back to school next week. I gotta start catching up,” Adam mumbles.
Gansey sits himself down at the other end of the couch, where Adam and Ronan’s legs are entangled. He places a hand on Adam’s calf.
“Adam, this isn’t going to be a discussion. We have specific instructions from Dr. Spector, and we’re going to follow them,” Gansey says, as he pulls out the page of notes he’d taken earlier that day while the hospital was discharging Adam.
“Gansey, I’m okay.” Adam’s voice is muffled because he hasn’t moved from against Ronan’s chest. “You don’t have to worry.”
Gansey and Ronan share a look. Adam’s eyes are still closed, so he doesn’t see that they’re both still worried, still remembering late nights with an Adam dead to the world. When Ronan had finally been able to see Adam, when everything been at its worst, he had cried. It hadn’t looked like Adam, an oxygen mask blurring everything about Adam’s face that was Adam, rashes marring beautiful arms and fingers and chest.
“Not a chance, Parrish.” Ronan’s voice is soft, and Adam hears Ronan swallow harshly. “You really scared us, Adam. Just… rest, please. Like, actually rest.” Gansey leaves at that point, probably to go experiment with his new blender; Dr. Spector had noted Adam had lost weight while in the hospital, and he had been underweight when he had arrived. That revelation hadn’t shocked anyone but Adam.
“I’m sorry.” Adam is looking at Ronan, who’s deliberately not looking at him. The rashes have almost completely faded, but Adam remembers waking up to a dark room and agonizing splotches that looked and felt more like burns than anything else. He remembers that Ronan was crying,
Adam had brushed his hand against Ronan’s, and Ronan had cried harder. He had grabbed Adam’s hand so tight that it almost hurt.
“I never… I’m sorry,” Adam says again. HIs voice is harsh, because Adam is exhausted. He’s always known the difference between sleep and unconsciousness; one leaves you more tired than if your eyes had ever closed at all. The past week and a half, Adam has been unconscious for most of it, but it feels like he hasn’t slept a wink.
“You need a goddamn phone. This can’t happen again,” Ronan responds, quietly. Adam pushes himself off of Ronan, still a little dizzy with exhaustion, but it doesn’t matter. Adam just plants a gentle kiss to Ronan’s lips, feels Ronan smile Adam’s nose when he pulls away.
Ronan yanks Adam back against him.
“Go back to sleep, shithead. Can’t let you fry that MIT brain anymore than you already have.”
Adam just entangles his fingers with Ronan’s.