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Blue is a chronically light sleeper, at the best of times. Sleep comes in bursts, like creativity, or like memory, or like speed on the highway when you’re just learning to drive. Often, she finds herself creeping out of the room she shares with Gansey and Henry, in search of a quiet place to think. And, there being no other place to go in this little transcendental apartment which they rent halfway between Harvard and Henrietta besides the tiny living room, which looks creepy in the dark, the tiny kitchen whose hummings are increased tenfold at night, and the miniature bathroom, Blue sneaks silently into Ronan’s room.
She is unsure if Ronan knows she does this, as he looks positively dead in his sleep, but she doubts that much passes his notice unscathed. Nevertheless, it’s time to re-shelve some of Gansey’s books, and clean up and dust the shelves a little. Adam will be there, having driven all the way from Harvard, and the least she can do is make the room nice for him and Ronan. (And, she thinks reluctantly, she hasn’t done any cleaning the past week, and is starting to feel bad about it.)
In the next room, she can hear Henry or Gansey shifting, but they won’t wake because of her. She’s only reorganizing the bookshelf that rests partially over the bed; she has a lot of practice at it, and if she works slowly, no one will ever know she was there. This shelf is full of Gansey’s academic classics, as well as possibly the entirety of the books written about Welsh history, and Blue’s few well-loved novels from her tiny bookcase at 300 Fox Way. Henry had wished to contribute, so he placed his brightly-colored plastic video game cases right in the center. A few days later, Gansey had quietly re-shelved these to a section further away from his direct line of sight while Henry was out. Several days after that , Blue found the cases right back where they had been. Now, she smiles, and with a little shake of her head, she shelves them halfway between both of their previous homes.
When he arrived at the apartment, a few days prior, Ronan had immediately claimed the room with the largest bed. This incidentally coincided with the room that held the books, and while Gansey had made a soft noise in his throat at the loss of the most aesthetically academic sleeping arrangement, Henry had led him off to the bedroom behind an adjoining wall with words that sounded like “They’re only going to be here for a few weeks, Ganseyman…” before they faded away.
So, here she sits, crouched on her knees next to a sleeping Ronan, at some ungodly hour of the night, re-shelving books. The angle and press on her knees will probably haunt her, as well as her aching arms, but she doesn’t have anything planned later, and it’s not like they’re going anywhere, anyway, so she can nap outside, maybe with Henry in the hammock in the backyard.
Sighing, she tugs the next book out of its space, and lets it fall open on her lap. To her surprise, out of the weathered spine falls an honest-to-god comic book.
In her shock, she fumbles and drops the whole book to the floor, and the resounding thud on the thin carpet makes Ronan grunt and roll over next to her. (Well, next to is perhaps a strong phrase; an ocean away might be more accurate. This bed really is huge.) He buries his face further into the pillow, and now Blue can see his tattoo peeking out around the duvet.
Gathering her scattered thoughts, she moves to lean over the bed and pick up the dropped book and its contents. When she finally pulls herself back into the light and begins to thumb through the pages, she can see that this is a stash . Hidden inside this book, every few pages (the size of which are slightly larger than the pages of the comics, perfect for concealment) are thin, crisp comic books.
Blue checks to make sure Ronan is still asleep; she is pretty sure he could wake at the mere insinuation of an opportunity to tease Gansey.
Because, of course, that’s who these belong to. They’re not Blue’s, and they’re certainly not Henry’s. Henry would have displayed them proudly on the coffee table in the living room, not hidden them away in The Collected Works of Shakespeare where he could be sure no one would ever look.
Pressing her lips together and raising one eyebrow, Blue slides the book back onto the shelf where it had been. Perhaps it’s best she leave the rest of this section undisturbed, for now.
She takes a breather, turning around to lean back against the bookcase. It’s not exactly comfortable, but the bed is soft, and the night has that elastic quality that comes to the mind when there is too little sleep and too much time to be had. Blue loves the night- she can stare at the wall for an hour and no one is going to tell her to stop. Although , she muses, if they had, she probably would just continue out of spite.
As it happens, there is no one to tell her off, so her focus wanes. Her gaze drifts around the room, catching on an unlikely shadow, --or that picture on the wall that Henry always says looks like grapes but is actually , in Blue’s superior opinion, a rabbit-- until it lands on Ronan. This is another reason she likes being awake at ungodly hours of the night: she can look at Ronan’s tattoo without being threatened.
She can see several terrible hooks, or what could be beaks, curve around his pale shoulder. Here, in the soft glow of the reading lamp on Blue’s side of the bed, they merely look like shadows, dipping to pool into the ones which cover his chest on the other side. Although she cannot see it, Blue knows that the rest of the tattoo is just as wild and interpretive. Ribbons of ink fasten around birds, knots tie together forests, which could also possibly be roses, and throughout it all, there is an urgency , a wanting so heavy that Blue is almost blown backwards. She wonders if it is a thing Ronan will regret having, a reminder of troubles he could have forgotten. But, she thinks, maybe he got it on his back for a reason.
In her fervor of secretive admiration, she doesn’t hear the click of keys fumbling the lock in the door out in the kitchen. She does hear the door open, though, and freezes, fearful, for a moment, that someone is about to burgle them. But then she remembers burglars don’t have keys and don’t close doors ever so gently . She hears the person put their bag down on the kitchen table, creak delicately towards the bedrooms, and peek their head in at Gansey and Henry before moving towards Blue’s end of the hallway.
When Adam pokes his head inquisitively into Ronan’s room, Blue cannot help the small shriek of excitement which leaves her lips. She bounds across the room towards him.
“I didn’t even hear your car how are you here already traffic must have been horrendous!” Blue whispers, her hand gripping his almost painfully.
Now, in the after years, it is easier for them. They had been awkward, and stilted around each other for a long while, hands reaching out to touch before pulling back, unsure where boundaries lay, and unwilling to cross them for fear of a fight. Where others had touched, become brave in their intimacy, Blue and Adam had circled each other, a pair of hawks, circling one another in the sky.
But they had begun to trust each other, to unfurl careful leaves, and water them in the sunlight that came after graduation. During that (admittedly non-)magical summer that came after everything.
So when Adam opens his arms tonight, Blue wraps his rib-cage in a hug so tight she can feel his heart beating, tell that he’s alive, that he’s here. His t-shirt is soft, full of the unfamiliar-but-not-unpleasant smell of a stranger’s laundry detergent. She breathes in deeply, tries to savor this moment, to send it back in time for her past self, the one who didn’t know she’d make it.
Adam’s hands press into the small of her back, and his chin rests in her hair, despite the clips. Blue knows that his eyes are tracing the bed for Ronan’s figure. She smiles, a secretive smile which she presses into Adam’s side for him to keep, and uncurls herself from him. With her finger, she outlines the shape of Ronan, tucked up against the windows on one side, and Adam squeezes her hand and crawls onto the bed.
Ronan makes a terrible and joyful noise when the bed dips and he opens his eyes to see Adam. They fall into an embrace, and Blue has to turn away. This specific sort of admiration is not for her. This is Adam and Ronan ; it is them together, raw and laid bare.
She examines the trim on the door, (someone has painted it over white, but where it has chipped away, she can see grey and a putrid sort of green before the wood is bared) but after a few more moments, gives in and sneaks a glance at the bed. She sees Adam tucked up now, almost in the corner, stroking the sharp line of Ronan’s nose, breathing in deeply. Ronan nuzzles closer to his chest, and now Blue has to go away. Seeing Ronan nuzzle at anything is too much, even for her.
In the other room, she can hear someone shifting, the mattress creaking. Perhaps Blue should go back to Henry and Gansey, now that Adam’s here. It’s a smaller bed, (which is part of the reason she’s been awake recently, despite being tucked between a dreamy combination of Gansey and Henry) but after sharing twin hotel beds and diner booths and the backseat of the Pig, she knows they can manage.
But for now, she goes to the kitchen for a glass of water. It’s full of the energetic hum of nighttime appliances, and Blue automatically checks to make sure the fridge hasn’t been left open. It’s not, but a lifetime of wincing at repair bills and the memory of the first time Henry had left the fridge open still haunts her.
Leaving the glass on the sink for someone inclined to do dishes, she notices Adam’s bag on the table. She heaves it to the floor, where it makes a loud clunk , and she begins to drag it across the small space to Ronan’s room.
She tugs Adam’s bag up and across the carpet and over to the window, next to Ronan’s suitcase. The latter is miraculously empty, but Blue knows this isn’t due to Ronan suddenly developing a desire to fold his clothes and be a decent house guest, but from his inability to let Adam think he’s become a slob in his absence. Blue just shakes her head and pushes Adam’s bag closer to the wall. From the bed, Adam gives her a little smile and an appreciative nod.
For a long minute, Blue just stands at the windows, hands on her hips, looking out at the night. They’re tucked away into a quiet little corner on the outskirts of the town. Henry had found this place, or maybe RoboBee had found this place, she’s not even sure. But it had been towards the end of their continental road-trip, and they had found it, a little town tucked between corn fields and civilization.
They had been on their way home, to Henrietta, after the year-long road trip that took them gallivanting around the country, on their own; wild and free to be whoever the day inspired them to be, when they found it. Henry and Blue had alternated between gently teasing Gansey’s taste in music and enthusiastically singing along to K-pop when Gansey had announced that he would like to stay in a place with a bed that night, thank you very much . While Blue hooted, triumphant, Henry rolled the window down and began listing directions. Gansey followed them obediently, and they whisked through the last of the dry fields and into a tiny little town.
As they rumbled along the main road, Blue was struck by an overwhelming pang of longing inside her chest, bubbling up from behind her ribs . A tiny little town tucked between hills, miles from anywhere proper. In the front seat, Gansey had gone oddly quiet, and Blue knew that he felt the same tug, the same exhalation of breathless wonder that left him when he looked at Henrietta. This was Henrietta, but it was a Henrietta they didn’t know yet. Somewhere with memories, and trees, and creeks, and secrets, all unknown, all waiting to be discovered, waiting for them.
When she had looked over at Henry in the backseat, she knew that he did not feel this, because he didn’t get attached to places, but people, and so he knew that his people felt something, and therefore was on board with whatever this new place had to offer them. He had given her a smile, one sweet and excited, but also melancholy in a way that only Henry could be.
And his words had echoed through her mind, at this moment: “ If you cannot be unafraid, be afraid and happy. ”
Blue didn’t know the half of what had made him like this , what required him to learn these truths for himself before he was half twenty, but she knew that she wanted to know.
And that was enough.
They were trundling down an old country road when they saw the place. Gansey stopped the car, and they were looking at the place that would hold them. Blue could not wait until she could hold them like this place could; cup them so gently in her hands, hold them so close to her that they would become not three, but one.
Coming out of her reverie with a start when a bird flies up out of the hedge by the fence, Blue glances guiltily over to the bed. Adam only gives her a fond, half-lidded smile, and jerks his head gently to the bed next to him.
Blue forgets, sometimes, when he is away, that Adam is so careful, so measured with his movements. Where Ronan is such a study in motion, all fluid lines and sharp angles, Adam is built of pieces which he cups carefully, in his palms. It is only in these forgiving hours of the night when he can be tempted to let his graceful exterior drop, let his guard down for a while. She still remembers the last time he almost lost the pieces of himself he’d so carefully cultivated-- it had taken him a year and then some to begin to trust himself with the job of putting everything back together. But he had managed, and they had helped him, and after a few months, he didn’t call Ronan every few days, voice shaking, to ask whether he still wanted him.
Blue climbs gratefully back onto the bed, but waits, unsure, at the foot of it. After a moment, Adam opens one arm, and she snuggles into it, lays her head on his shoulder. He rubs her shoulder with one thumb, and she can see that he does the same to Ronan, who is once again snoring quietly into his shirt.
They are quiet, at first. But soon, they begin to talk in whispers, and they remember, all at once, what it is to have a best friend. Everything and nothing, all rolled into an immediate package of understanding involving nothing but an eyebrow-raise and a quirk of the lips.
They talk about the long drive, about the apartment, and about those absolute fuckers in Adam’s economics class. Blue lets out an absolute “HEE” at this, which makes Adam break a giggle through his shushing noises.
It’s only when they’ve moved on to a discussion about the ethics of 3D-printing cars that Blue hears a shuffle outside the door. Pressing a finger to her lips, and pointing another towards the door, Blue waits.
And then they see Gansey, everlasting Gansey, ducking his head into the room from the hallway, under the pretense of being on the way to the bathroom.
Adam smiles, a wide grin that cracks his face almost in two.
“ Gansey ,” he mouths.
Gansey offers a little wave and a smile which reminds Blue of the sun, somehow, despite it still being very dark out.
Blue rolls her eyes fondly and gives an impatient little wave of her own, beckoning him to the bed.
Gansey’s eyes flick to Adam in a practiced motion, then to where Adam already has his arm around Blue, and then he steps into the room. In a moment, the bed dips and he is clambering up, carefully avoiding ruffling the sheets too close to the outline of Ronan beneath the covers.
This is a dance they have perfected, over the years. Slipping around one another, leaving space where it is needed, and melting into each other where it’s not.
He settles in on Blue’s other side, and Adam’s fingers stretches to squeeze his shoulder for a moment. Blue raises her head from Adam’s shoulder, and scrunches down a bit to lean into Gansey’s chest. He taps a palm on her knee gently, twice, and then says in a husky half-whisper to Adam--
“Do you get many ravens, then, at Harvard?”
And just like that, any tension fades away, and they giggle behind their hands to muffle the noise, fliting around each other like they have done for years, falling in and out of conversation and silence. Blue whisks in a zinging one-liner when she feels the time is right, but mostly she just holds both of them close to her and listens.
It is in this way that she is the first to hear the door creak open on the other bedroom, the first to hear the footsteps, and the first to see Henry standing in the doorway.
Gansey stills and falls silent, upon hearing Blue’s soft intake of breath, feeling her clutch his shirt tighter. Adam isn’t far behind, and they both look up to see Henry, hair mussed and a soft grin gracing his face. Only Ronan doesn’t stir. (Blue is absolutely sure he’s awake, and listening, though.)
Blue can sense the way Gansey relaxes at the sight of Henry; the way he melts like he’s just let out a big breath and Adam must feel it too, because he gives Henry a smile that Blue can hear and Henry walks into the room.
He does it tentatively, still unsure of his true place in this group, but Gansey beckons him and opens his free arm, and Henry sighs gratefully into it with a smile, only reaching forward to bop Blue’s nose in greeting.
“Good morning, Blue Lily.”
Blue grins at him. “It’s four AM.”
“Not where I’m from!” Adam crows, so enthusiastically and suddenly that they all break into a fit of giggles.
Raising his head an inch from Adam’s chest and scowling around at them all reproachfully, Ronan says, in a voice thick with sleep, “What are you doing, maggot? Budge over, leave the rest of us some room.”
The intended intimidating effect of this statement is ruined, of course, by the blankets which nest around Ronan’s face, and the rest of them burst into merry peals of laughter.
Blue regains her composure with the rest of them before replying soberly, “I’m leaving space for Noah.”
The words have an immediate effect on everyone present. They all gaze heavily at the space left on the bed, in between Blue and Henry’s legs, knowing that before, this would have been somewhat of a summons, and Noah would take shape, smudgy and disgruntled, and Blue would throw her arms around him.
Now, they look at the space, innocent white sheets, clearly devoid of any Noah-like presence.
Henry taps the sheets in a thoughtful sort of way before breaking the silence. “Well, if he really was such a- a-”
“Firecracker,” Blue supplies helpfully.
“Right, Blue Corn Chip, I think he would have been very happy with this house-- you know we call this Noah’s house-- full of all of you coming to visit.”
They hang in the air, these liquid words, and for a moment Blue thinks Adam and Ronan won’t understand, and then-
“Well, I hope he can do with a shitty dream-snowglobe for a welcoming present.” Ronan says moodily, and that’s when Blue knows everything is going to be alright.