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Summary
Entropy had stuck with Ronan as the only bullshit involved in chemistry that he could actually see as feasible. Not because he’d ever understood the intricacies of molecular structures or anything like that, but because of moments like this one: where the universe had decided to condense an intense amount of chaos together into a single instant and dump it on him without warning, and he was all at once spitting out his beer and tripping sideways over a to-scale cardboard model of Henrietta’s post office and listening to Gansey say “what’s wrong?” in the most Gansey voice ever used and looking—yes, looking with his own damn eyes—at a nude photo of Adam Parrish on his own damn phone.
Holy mother of God.
Oh fuck.