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Following the untimely death of Joseph Kavinsky, Ronan was thrown into a brief limbo of waiting for things that never happened.
The first thing he expected was the cops to come knocking at his door to interview him about Kavinsky's death. Ronan and Kavinsky were known to hang out together frequently, in the streets and at parties. They went to school together. Kavinsky wore Ronan's marks on his body like they were jewels. Ronan wore Kavinsky's marks on his body like the private, shameful secrets that they were.
Gansey did not know how often Ronan and Kavinsky saw each other. Nor did he know the exact nature of their relationship. It helped that when Ronan came home with a black eye and busted lip, Gansey always chalked the wounds up to fighting. Ronan knew how the bruises would look from the outside. He waited for the police to haul him in for questioning. There were plenty of people who would kill Kavinsky but police always looked to the boyfriend first.
The second of these things was waiting for a mention of Kavinsky's funeral. After waiting for a month with no word of when the funeral would be, Ronan did a little digging himself. The dream pack was dead or missing. Mrs. Kavinsky was in a coma, said to be from a prescription drug overdose. Ronan knew the truth. Without a mother and without the dream pack to plan and organize it, Joseph Kavinsky would not have a funeral. The lack of friends and family left functioning was only part of the reason that Kavinsky would not have a funeral.
It turned out that despite the number of people who attended Kavinsky's Fourth of July party, Ronan was the only person who was looking at him when he committed suicide by fire dragon. You blinked, you missed it. Ronan was the only one who didn't blink.
Rumors started around town that Kavinsky had found new hunting grounds, richer pastures, a different community to dope up. Henrietta, people rationalized, had never been big and flashy enough for a boy like Kavinsky. If you hadn't seen his demise then this was a reasonable explanation. Kavinsky gave the appearance of enjoying the big things in life. No one had found Prokopenko's ashes after the fire consumed his sleeping body and so it was chalked up that he and Kavinsky had run off together. Quieter rumors said that they ran away to get married.
Police didn't show up on doorsteps when they didn't care. Missing boys didn't get funerals.
It was a very long time before Ronan decided on what to do about it. If no one else would mourn Kavinsky, then Ronan would take up the mantle. He dreamed a simple wooden box and took the BMW to the field where Kavinsky committed suicide by fire. There was a black spot where Kavinsky had once stood. Where he'd looked at Ronan with a helpless expression. Where he'd said goodbye for the last time. There hadn't been rain to wash away the ashes. The wind hadn't kicked up the ashes. It was as though the world had been waiting for Ronan to come with his box and scoop up the ashes and dirt and small white pieces of bone.
As soon as Ronan put the cover on the box, the sky opened up and rain pelted down upon him. The ash turned damp and released a peculiar smell. It would likely be gone in a few hours. Ronan walked back to his car and drove to Cabeswater.
His cell phone rang. Ronan glanced at the screen, saw it was Gansey calling. He ignored it. By the time Ronan pulled up to the forest, there were several more missed calls, a voicemail, and a text. The last was from Adam. That caused the fine hairs on Ronan's nape to rise. He left the phone in the car, grabbed the box, and headed for the forest.
Ronan held the box of Kavinsky’s ashes with a white knuckles grip. The leaves on the trees shook with a warning. He felt Adam’s eyes on him. Ronan kept walking, hackles raised and eyes searching for the perfect spot. If he wasn’t careful then Adam would desecrate Kavinsky’s grave. Ronan just wanted him to rest.
Ronan stopped walking. “Take me someplace your eyes can’t see.” And because he was the Greywaren, the trees spoke among themselves. A vine curled around his ankle, the wind stroked his cheek. He looked in the direction they tugged him. Then he resumed his walk.
Presently he noticed the trees growing closer together, the underbrush growing in thicker. It parted to let him through before covering his path again. Brambles reached out to caress the box. They left gouges in the wood and in Ronan’s arms. Despite the blood they shed, Ronan didn’t sense any malice. This was a welcome party.
Kavinsky was, after all, a dreamer. He a child turned wrong but a child of the forest all the same. Now that blood had been paid and sins atoned for, it welcomed him back with open arms.
Ronan made a mental note to let someone know to bury him here after he died. It would probably have to be Blue.
After much walking, the canopy covered the sky and warded off the sun. The trees here were far older than the outskirts of Cabeswater and much less chatty. Their bodies creaked and groaned welcome. Ronan stopped among them when it felt right. The clearing - if it could even be called that since it too was black as night - held a pond that reflected starlight and a tree with an alcove near the base.
Ronan knelt in the dirt at the base of the tree and began to clear out the leaf matter within the alcove. When it was cleared to the side, Ronan began to dig. No one could find where Ronan buried Kavinsky’s ashes. No one, no one, no one. The hole was just big enough for the box and Ronan slid it into the earth nicely. He rested his palm on it and sent out a wordless prayer to whoever was listening.
He replaced the dirt first then arranged the leaf matter back on top. By the time he was finished, there was no trace of what Ronan had done. Ronan stood. He placed his hand on the rough bark of the tree and sent another prayer, this one directed to the tree itself: protect him.
Ronan left no footprints as he walked out of Cabeswater. The forest covered his tracks. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he came to the edge of the forest and to his friends. His pack.
They swooped in around him and bombarded him with questions and accusations. Ronan only half listened, didn’t stop walking towards his car. It was only when he caught the word ‘funeral’ that he stopped and turned towards them. “What funeral?” Ronan asked. “Missing boys don’t get funerals.”
Then he pivoted and got into his car. He drove off without waiting for them to respond. Ronan drove until he’d hidden himself among back roads and knew that only Noah would be able to find him. He pulled over to the side of the road, threw the car into park, and popped a green pill.
Ronan was back in the forest he’d just walked out of. He stood in front of the tree that he buried Kavinsky beneath. Instead of shadows and dead leaves, the spot now held a plant with a bright white flower. The dark leaves were thin and sharp like knives. It sat in a pot, looking only somewhat out of place. Ronan knelt and touched the petals. They were soft beneath his fingertips. The flower gave off a smell like gasoline.
When Ronan woke, the potted plant was in his lap. It filled the car with its scent. He brushed his knuckles against the petals once more. Then he set it on the floor of the passenger seat. Ronan would keep the plant for a while - let the others wonder where he’d gotten it - and then he would plant it over Kavinsky’s grave once his pack had calmed down.
After that, Ronan decided, he would never go back. He would never look back. Kavinsky was a missing boy to the rest of the world but Ronan knew he was dead and that while he would dream flowers for a dead boy, he would never dream him back to life.