Archive of Our Own

Adam Parrish thought himself unknowable. Unloveable. A creature of endless want, endless greed, a pit that could never be filled. A distant creature. He thought himself a child on the other side of the window to a toy store. Always looking, but never allowed inside. But, dear reader, you and I know different. You and I know how impossible it is to hate the boy made of light, and dust, and darkness, and pain, and a fire inside him like no other. So this is a story of all those that loved Adam Parrish. And the ones that loved him again and again.

Reader, you know the story of Adam Parrish. You know that when he tells it, he begins it with pain. However, you have the advantage of an omnipotent narrator, so I will begin this story before the pain, in a time Adam cannot remember.

Adam Parrish was born just outside of Richmond, Virginia. The first person to hold him was the doctor. The second was one Sarah Johnson. Sarah Johnson was the younger sister to one Ruth Johnson, now Ruth Parrish. She was a smart girl, going to a women’s college in the coming fall and planning on being a school teacher. She was engaged to a naval officer and they had plans to move the second he returned.

Sarah did not like Robert Parrish. He and Ruth had been together since sophomore year of highschool, and Sarah found him. . . slimey. He was rude, in a very big fish small pond way. He loved Ruth, she was sure, but Bobby’s version of love was pigtail pulling and cigarettes and smacking asses in public places.

So, no. Sarah did not like Bobby. Especially not when Ruth was hiding bruises under high collars and long skirts.

But little baby Adam. . . now there was a charmer. Ruth was still on the hospital bed, exhausted and tired out of her mind. Sarah hummed as she bounced the little blond boy in her arms. He hadn’t cried when he was born. The doctors said there was no reason to worry, but Sarah had still flitted about as Adam was cleaned and weighed. Now he sat snuggly in her arms, blinking up at her with pale blue eyes. His hair was a light blonde, but if he was anything like Ruth, it would probably be dirty blonde by middle school. 

“Ruth,” she said softly. “He’s gotcha eyes.”

Ruth groaned from the bed. “Gimme my son, Sarah.” 

Sarah laughed and gently placed Adam in her arms. “He’s heavier than I woulda thought.”

Ruth shrugged as much as she could with a baby in her arms. “Not nearly as heavy as you were. Big ass baby, you were.”

“You were four years old!”

“An’ I still remember how ‘eavy you were!” She rested her forehead on Adam’s. “Hi, baby. Hi.”

Adam scrunched his nose as her breath hit his face. 

“Where’s Bobby?”

Ruth ran a finger down his face. “Workin’. Can’t afford to miss a day before the move. Henrietta’s a nice place, but we ain’t gonna be able to afford a nice place down there. Good work, expensive land.”

“Well, I’ll come visit when I can. I can babysit!”

Ruth chuckled. “That’s real sweet, but I know you’re busy doing school-girl stuff. Don’t bother.”

Sarah hummed in agreement, but she was still thinking about Christmas and visiting over the summer. She wondered if her fiance would be a good uncle. Or a dad. He probably would.

Unfortunately for Sarah, and maybe more so for Adam, she hardly had a chance to visit. After she got married, she moved to Maryland, and that was just so so far away. Calls from Ruth were few and in between and lately had been whispered while Bobby chattered drunkenly in the background. She had two photos of Adam. Him as a baby, covered in soup and sitting on the floor, smiling without a care in the world, and one of him a little older. Standing already, with a look in his eyes that rang with intelligence and mischief. The letter that came with that photo was the last she ever heard from the Parrishes.

 It had been six months since Ralph Boyd’s only son left the nest. Luke was a good kid, but didn’t give a rat’s ass about school. How he managed to hold onto that fancy running scholarship, Boyd didn’t know, but he was happy he did. Didn’t make the home any less lonely. He and Annie were empty nesters, with a house too quiet and too much time to spare.

Enter one Adam Parrish, age fourteen.

Boyd was working on some soccer mom’s van when he heard a small cough behind him. He stood up and rubbed his hands on the towel he was holding. Not that it did much, oil had a way of settling into your skin.

A boy stood at the entrance of the garage. He wasn’t small as much as he was thin, gangly, in the way many young boys are but also in the way a stray dog is more bones than skin. He nearly blended into the background, beige upon beige upon beige. He held a dinged up bike by the handles.

“Hello, sir.” The boy said, voice shaking slightly. 

Now Boyd hadn’t seen a lot of runaways in his life, but he assumed this is what they would look like. “Hiya, kid. What can I do for you?”

The boy shifted his feet and looked around the garage. “My name’s Adam Parrish. I’m fourteen. I’d like to start working to. . . to, uh, to get some experience before I become an adult. You don’ hafta pay me much, sir. I can work nights, mornings, and weekends, too.”

Boyd recognized the thick Hernietta accent coating the boy’s, Adam’s, vowels. He didn’t believe his lie about experience for a single second. Fourteen was too young to be worried bout that sorta thing.

“Fourteen, eh? Where you go to school, son?”

Adam flinched at the word ‘son’.  I suppose I do not need to tell you why.“Mountainview Middle, sir.”

“Mm. My son went through Mountainview. Use ta work ‘round here a bit for some spending change, before he went off to college. We’re short a hand. Lemme see what you can do. You got experience on cars?”

Adam brightened. “Yes, sir! I’ve done some work on my pa’s truck before.”

“Your pa?” Boyd racked his head. “Bobby, yeah? Fella on the construction team?”
The light behind his blue eyes died a bit. “Yes, sir.”

Boyd stared at him. “Well, alright then.” Boyd barely knew Bobby, except inside the bar. And he’d seen enough of him at the bar to know what kind of person he was. “We gotta make sure we got coveralls in your size. You just bones at this point. I’ll have my Annie drop us some lunch and then we’ll see what you can do.”

“Oh, no, no need. I already ate.”

Boyd sincerely doubted that. “You’re a growing boy. Eat again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Richard Campbell Gansey III had been dragging Adam Parrish around with him for three months now. Unlike how many of his friends thought he was, Gansey was not oblivious. He was well aware of what Ronan called his “Dick-eyes” (which were puppy dog eyes that Gansey sharpened to perfection over the course of his trip in Europe) and he was well aware of the way he had the ability to simply make decisions and people would go with them.

Not on everything, though.

Reader, you know that life for Adam would be so different if Gansey got his way on everything.

Nevertheless, this particular day was exploring a water filled basin deep in the Virginian mountains. They’d decided there was nothing here, much to Gansey’s disappointment, but the water was clear and cool against heavy April air and really, who would pass up a chance like this?

Gansey had tossed his clothes onto a rock (Adam had folded them after) and leapt into the water. Ronan shucked everything off, and after some protests from Gansey about the fact that he sees him naked enough around the apartment anyway, got back out and put his underwear on. Adam was staring at the water like it was a puzzle he could solve. Or at least he was pretty sure that’s what he looked like. To be fair, Gansey’s vision wasn’t great without his glasses.

“Come on in, Parrish! The water’s delightful!” he cried.

“It’s cold as balls.” Ronan snarled, before dipping back under. Ronan swam like he was meant to be in the water. 

“I’m not a big fan of swimming.” Adam said, tone clipped.

“Then fucking stand. You’re not a short stack, Parrish. Water isn’t that deep anyway.”

Adam looked at the water some more. Shrugged. “I’ll just dip my feet in.”

As Adam’s foot approached the surface of the water, Ronan initiated his plan. Gansey watched as a pale hand shot out of the water and wrapped around a tan ankle. Adam yelped as Ronan dragged him in, fully clothed. They both surfaced, clinging to each other and grapplingly for dominance. Adam had a hand on Ronan’s face shoving him away while Ronan was thoroughly wrapped around Adam’s waist. It reminded Gansey of the Ronan of Before. He smiled fondly.

Eventually, Adam freed himself and hauled his water heavy body up to the ledge. “Holy fuck, you asshole.” he gasped. 

Ronan smirked. “Cold?”

Adam smirked back. “As balls.” He grabbed the edge of his shirt and twisted the water out.

Gansey saw something flash on his stomach. “Adam. What is that?” he asked, voice heavy.

Adam froze, shirt tugged down. “Nothing.”

“ Adam. ”

“It’s fine, Gansey. Don’t worry about it.”

Ronan reached over and yanked the shirt back up. Adam smacked his hand away. “Don’t—”

A bruise. Yellow with splotches of green. Old, most likely. Maybe a week. 

“Parrish.” Ronan said darkly. “Who hit you?”

“Fuck off, Lynch.” Adam hissed. “It’s none of your business.”

Gansey looked at him. “You don’t fight back, do you?”

Adam looked back, uncanny and cold. “It’s none. Of your business.”

Gansey pushed himself out of the water and reached for him, slowly. Adam pulled back, but not enough to escape. He wrapped his wet body around Adam’s boney one (thin, so thin) and held him close.

“I don’t need your pity.” Adam said, but his voice was shaking.

Gansey shook his head from where it was buried in his neck. Adam. Brilliant, witty, stubborn Adam.

He deserved so much more than this.

Persephone Poldma was not surprised when Adam Parrish graced her doorstop, trailing behind a forgotten king and followed up with a man more raven than boy. She did her best to latch onto him quickly, lest he slipped through her fingertips. She was worried, for a moment, when he and Blue broke up. She knew it was never supposed to be Adam-and-Blue, but the break seemed to be taken harder than she’d anticipated. Foresight was accurate, not precise.

Nevertheless, she got a hold of her boy. He still looks uncomfortable, wrapped in a knitted blanket, nestled into a worn couch. 

“Read the cards.” she told him over her tea.

Adam stared at his spread. “I don’t know what they mean.”

“You don’t need to. Shuffle again.” He shuffled. “Think about your question. Your path. What you wish to know, to see.” Adam’s forehead crinkled. She reached out and smoothed the creases away. “Not that hard. Knowledge isn’t forced. We ebb and follow as the winds wish us to.”

Adam’s face relaxed. “Cabeswater. I can feel it.”

“Ask your question.”

Adam’s eyes opened, pupils unnaturally dilated, eyes deep. Persephone kept a close eye on him. He laid down six cards in a circle. Clockwise, he flipped them over. Persephone watched as he simply sat there and stared at them. She felt the air begin to shift. 

She dumped her tea on his head. “Don’t wander.”

Adam jolted back. “What?”

She pat his head. “Lambs who wander are lambs who are lost. Don’t wander.”

He nodded.

“Read the cards.”

He read them. Wrote it down. Looked up at her. Looked away. “Thank you.”

“Blueberry pie.” she replied. “Come eat.”

Adam came, he knew not to argue.

She got him to eat two slices while she dried his hair.

Adam had an interesting relationship with Noah Czerny. A boy who struggled with secrets and communication took comfort to Noah’s uncanny ability to simply know and also feared it.

This time, Noah knew that it irritated him.

“Stop it.” Adam hissed.

“No,” Noah said smugly. “I don’t think I will.”

They were at Monmouth and Gansey was picking up Blue and Ronan was headed over from the Barns. And Adam, lovely Adam, was thinking so so loudly about how Ronan had paid his rent. He was picturing everything from punching him in the face and screaming to dropping to his knees. It was a chaotic mindset. Noah was, unhelpfully, providing commentary.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Adam muttered. 

“Before or after you suck his dick? I’m in your head, and I don’t think necrophilia is for you.” He tapped his chin. “Does it count if it’s me? I mean technically I’m dead, though I’m not a body. . .”

“ Noah. ”

Noah leaned his head on Adam’s shoulder. “You’re a good kisser. Just kiss him.”

Adam smacked him as best he could. “Shut up.”

“You are!”

Adam smiled, mind easing. “Thanks.”

“I’ve kissed almost all of you, I would know.” 

“Fuck off, man, I don’t want to here about you and Gansey. Or Blue for that matter.” he laughed.

Noah ran his hands (what was solid of them anyway) through Adam’s hair. He wasn’t sure when he moved, just that he did. He tried not to think about the metaphysics of it all. “You’re not mad at him.”

Adam sighed and leaned into the touch. “No.”

“Not at all. Yourself, maybe, but not him.”

“Yeah. I owe Gansey and apology.”

Noah shrugged. “It’s good for him. Knock him down a peg.”

Adam chucked and rolled his head back to look him in the eyes. “Hey. Thanks, man.”

Noah smiled. “Anytime.”

Joseph Botner used to work over at the factory, before he got hired at Boyd’s. The factory was a bit of a hike for him, and he could only work there part time, so when he got the full time gig with old man Boyd, he immediately quit.

What he didn’t expect was the same scrawny kid that worked himself to death every morning to be there as well.

“Oh, hey, Joe.” Adam said, head peeking out from under the car.

Joe blinked. “Heya, Adam. This your second gig?”

“Ah, yeah. Been here for a couple years now.”

Boyd appeared from the office. “Kid’s my best worker. Been ‘ere since ‘e was even twiggy-er than now. Fourteen years old, this boy comes round with his bike and says “I want the experience” and then fixes an engine before my very eyes.”

Adam turned red and ducked his head. 

Joe smirked. “So you my superior, sir?”
“C’mon, man. You’re twenty years older than me.” Adam groaned.

Joe knocked his hand against the boy’s shoulder. “Sir, yes sir.”

“ Joe .” Adam said. 

Joe just laughed. “Glad to be workin’ with ya still, Adam.”

Adam grinned, looking uncharacteristically young. “Me too.”

The bell above the door rang and Boyd disappeared into the front part of the building. After a second, he leaned around the door, a tight expression on his face. “Joe. C’mere.”

Joe, confused, ambled over. “What’s up?”

“I need you to look scary for a bit.”

Joe was a big man. Working in a factory for years would do that to you, on top of being a former boxer. He was familiar enough with the tone in Boyd’s voice to not ask questions.

They stepped into the front part of the building. Joe shuffled around in front of the desk and crossed his arms, glowering at the man in the waiting area. He was a tall man, but dwarfed by his presence. His cheeks were red, hair thinning, but his arms showed signs of hard work, skin leathered with sun. He looked furious.

“Where is that ungrateful bastard, Boyd?” he hissed.

Boyd slammed his hand on the desk. “I told you, Bobby. Kid’s seventeen now. Emancipated. You don’t get his paycheck anymore. Get the fuck out of my office.”
Joe did his best to keep his face in a scowl, hiding his surprise. He should have known. They had the same jaw, same nose, though Adam’s was crooked with too many breaks. Joe was pretty sure he knew why. He was no stranger to men who go too into their beer bottles and lost their love when they ran out of alcohol.

“I’m not leaving until that brat grows a pair of fuckin’ balls and comes out and faces me like a man! I raised him better than this, if he’s going to insist he can be ‘n his own he shouldn’t get his boss to do his fuckin’ dirty work.”

Joe stepped forward. “I believe he asked you to leave.”

The man flinched backwards. “Don’t threaten me. You don’t know who the fuck I am.”

Joe shrugged. “I know enough. Leave. Before I throw you out.”

The man bared his teeth, but left. The door slammed shut behind him.

Boyd let out a sigh. “Thanks, man. I know that ain’t the kind of first day you were thinkin’ bout.”

“He’s a good kid. Deserves better than that.”

“He does. Crashed here on the couch way too many times when he was too hurt to just fuckin’ bike back.”

“Better now he moved out?”

“Shit, yeah. He’s got a boy, you’ll see ‘im, beat up his pa couple months back. Helped get him emancipated. Kid gets a ride home from him almost everyday. Looks less tired.”

“Good for him. Friends do a man good.”

“Mm.” Boyd said. “Bobby comes ‘round ‘bout once a month. Keep your eye out. Me and the boys do a decent job of keeping him away when we can, but Adam can’t ever know he’s here. He’d freak and quit. We need ‘im here.” 

Joe nodded. He got it. Boyd’s was a safe place for him, having his pa show up would shatter that. They walked back out to where Adam was still working on some shiny Mustang.

“Adam! Eat the last donut.” Boyd said.

Adam shook his head. “I already had two. Thank you.”

Boyd picked up the donut from where it sat in its box at the snack station and walked it over. “You sayin’ you don’t like my Annie’s cooking? You know how she gets when I bring shit back.”

“No, sir, they’re very good donuts.”

“Then eat the last one. It’s jelly.”

“I couldn’t. . .” Adam looked around desperately. “Joe! Joe, you’re new. You haven’t had Mrs. Boyd’s cooking, yeah? You should get the donut.”

Joe, who really wanted the donut, shook his head. “Nah, man. My wife’s got me on a diet, says I’m getting too big.”

Adam’s eyes continued to plead with him as he accepted the donut.

Joe chuckled to himself.

Adam deserved the donut more than he did, anyway.

Blue Sargent could have loved Adam differently, in another world at another time. She felt awful sometimes, that she made Adam feel second to Gansey. She knew she did, no matter how much he insisted she didn’t. But they were moving past it. Moving on. And now they were here.

“Kiss or kill?” she asked.

Adam groaned. “Kill. Beard? No way.”

“Can you imagine Gansey with a beard? Terrifying.”

“He tried once, you know. Failed miserably. It was all patchy and pale.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me that. Now I’m imagining it.”

“He grows a mean mustache, though.”

Blue paused and stirred the plastic straw in her iced tea. “I. . . might be into that.”

Adam wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

She shrugged. “Back booth, left, by the window.”

Adam craned his head. “Kiss. She’s pretty.”

“Wrong answer,” Blue shook her head. “She’s wearing UGGs, kill for sure.”

“UGGs?”

“Straight girl shoes.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Just trust me on that.”

Adam pushed at the ice in the bottom of his glass. Blue watched him. They hadn’t hung out in a while, Blue spending time with Gansey or working, Adam spending time with Ronan or working. Sometimes they had time in between his sessions with Persephone, but usually only a quip or two. She missed him. 

“Are you doing early apps?” she asked.

“Yeah. Trying to get the Early Action plan. Some of the Ivy Leagues don’t offer it but . . . still trying to plan as soon as I can, you know?”

“You applying to all of the Ivy schools?”

He nodded.

“Damn.”

“They waived my application fee for almost all of them.”

“Holy shit, dude! Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

Blue tapped a nail coated in chipped polish against the sticky surface of the diner table. “What’s your top school?” she asked lightly.

“Harvard. I’m thinking pre-law.”

“Oh.”

Adam looked up at her. “What?”

“That’s. Very far from here.”

“A bonus.” 

“Right. Yeah.” She understood the need to be out . To be anywhere but Henrietta, Virginia. And for Adam she knew he needed it, needed to be free from the chains of Henrietta and a small trailer park on the east side of town. He craved the release.

But Blue wasn’t sure she’d ever leave. Not for long, anyway. She didn’t need the release like Adam did, didn’t want college the way he did.

She grabbed his hand. “I’ll visit you. I’ll crash your dorm and terrify all of your roommates so none of them will mess with you.” She didn’t tell him she would miss him. She wasn’t that kind of girl.

Adam laughed, bright and sincere.

Maybe their relationship was different, but Blue loved him just as fierceless.

This particular boy had been gearing up to ask Adam out since sophomore year. It was love at first sight, you might say. And, dear reader, this is the kind of love that could shatter a person for years to come.

Tad Carruthers had written love poems, made confession posters, and practiced speeches in every mirror in his house over the years and he just couldn't find a perfect fit. How does one tell the Adam Parrish you loved him? How do you tell him that you wish to remain by his side, to call him yours, and hold, and kiss, and maybe more, and only maybe, for though he talked big in the locker room, Tad was truly on the inexperienced side of the sepcturm. And it would be about Adam too, of course. 

Anyway.

He’d crafted a plan. Perfect? Perhaps not, but it was his best work.

It went like this.

Wednesday. After school, where Adam hung out for a few minutes before leaving because he didn’t have a shift directly after school on Wednesdays.

Step 1: Get rid of the guard dogs. 

This was the hard step. Gansey was easy enough to call away, he hated to leave Adam’s side but he was easily occupied given his status at Aglionby. Lynch was harder. Lynch was a dark and violent storm cloud that dulled Adam’s light wherever he went, if you were to ask Tad. But Tad had worked it out. It took patience, and time, and a small break into the school office and the attendance files but it was worth it. Right on cue, one Declan Lynch rolled into the Aglionby parking lot, face shadowed.

“Ronan. Come with me.”

Lynch sneered, but Adam nudged him towards his brother with a whisper Tad couldn't make out. 

Step 2: Get Adam away from seeing eyes.

An easy step. A homework assignment, a bad grade, pleading eyes, and preoccupied friends, and Adam came easily over to one of the tables in the courtyard.

“You weren’t here last Friday, right?” Adam asked, a weary accent sliding into his words.

If Adam said yes to him, Tad would get him as many speech classes as he wanted to fully rid himself of the trailer park twang.

“Nope,” Tad said. “Visited some medical schools with my parents.”

Adam nodded and sat, spreading his papers out. “So you should just be missing the section on the new z-score formula and probability to the right as opposed to the left. You’ll need the in-class chart for that.”

Tad pulled the handout out. “And how do I find the area again?”

“Here, just,” Adam leaned over the table and tapped the eraser side of his pencil to the paper. “If your preceding number is say, two, and then the decimal is point three three, you’ll find two point three on this row here and follow along until. . . yeah just over here it's the second three you need.”

“And that number is. . .?”

“Your area, yeah.”

“Oh, nice.” Step 4: Flatter him. “You’re really good at this, Adam.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re the top in our grade in all classes, right? Colleges must be falling over themselves for you.” Sounds familiar . Tad thought.

“Not Latin.”

“Pardon?”

“Latin. Lynch is top in Latin.”

Tad laughed tightly. “Well, he hardly counts. It’s just the first semester anyway, I’m sure he’ll flunk out.”

Adam suddenly slammed his notebook closed. “You have your notes, right? I think Lynch is done with Declan over there, so I’m gonna go.”

Tad tripped trying to stand up too quickly. “Wait! Wait, quick question.”

“What?” Adam raised a pale brow.

Tad cleared his throat. “Would you maybe. . . want to, uh, come over? This weekend? I’ve got this movie theater in my basement and a heated pool with colored lights, it’s fall but the water will be warm, and I have a steam room if you’re still cold. I can have the house chef make you whatever you want?”

Tad had just fucked up steps five through seven. Five through seven were about timing, pacing. Taking it slow. This was not slow.

Adam gave him an icy (thrilling) stare. “Excuse me?”

“I can always give you a ride. Your car might not make it. I have a Tesla, autopilot drive, real high-tech, you know.”

“Tad,” he said, smiling without warmth. “Fuck off.”

Tad felt like staggering backwards. Fuck off? What was that supposed to mean? What had he done wrong?

Reader, I feel it is important to note here that Tad Crutthers is not the most observant of souls.

“Parrish,” Lynch boomed across the parking lot. “Let’s go.”

Tad glared at him. “Can you see we’re having a conversation?”

Lynch sauntered up to them and didn’t respond. Instead he chose a stare that was equally as icy as Adam’s. 

“If you would excuse us for just a few more moments—”

“Actually,” Adam said. “We are done. I’ll take you up on the ride, Lynch.”

He turned swiftly and walked to the shark of a BMW without so much as a glance goodbye. 

Lynch grinned in a way that somehow matched his car and followed. Tad was frozen, helpless against them, forces of nature as they were.

Just as Adam climbed into the car, Lynch turned back towards Tad.

And though, dearest Reader, Tad tried to convince himself otherwise, Lynch winked at him before tossing himself into the driver’s seat.

Reader, there are lots of things to love about Adam Parrish. His determination, his resilience. His elegant yet shy gait, his dull grey eyes. You could love his quick wit, his ability to soak up information like he was starving for it. Or you could love his scars, the way he narrows his eyes when he can’t quite hear someone well. You could love the way he snores when the wrong ear is pressed to the pillow and you could love the way he wouldn’t hesitate to jump in front of a gun for his friends, despite his cold exterior.

If you were Ronan Niall Lynch, you loved all these things. Ronan didn’t love that Adam flinched when he closed the cabinet door too hard, no, it was more that he loved that Adam steeled himself afterwards, that he was so set on healing and would do it by force if he had to. Ronan loved the way he drove, too cautious on turns but always five miles above the speed limit. Ronan loved that Adam’s handwriting slanted to the left and his t’s looked a little like f’s.

Not that he’d said any of this out loud.

Ronan Lynch, beautiful, brave, dangerous, spiky, and soft Ronan lynch is not one for words. He told himself he won’t ever admit these feelings out loud because it will ruin their friendship. Because he was fine with what they had. He told himself it was because Adam would be at college soon and he wasn’t going to come back. He told himself it would make the group “all fucky”. 

In truth, reader, Ronan Lynch didn't think he deserved Adam. An easy mistake to make, for how can one deserve the Adam Parrish, boy wonder, genius, mechanic, magician?

The advantage that you have, is that I know that one Mr. Adam Parrish knew all of this already, he just hadn’t realized it yet.

It goes like this: It was three am on Saturday, and Ronan had to be at church tomorrow but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t be sleeping at this time anyway, and this was a better use of his time. Adam whooped as they took a sharp turn around a country road corner. The road was less of a road and more of a path that had been driven over so many times that grass no longer grew on it. Boyd had a new policy of not letting workers with a certain amount of hours work Sunday mornings so that he could force them to rest, thus, Adam was free this night.

“Change the fucking gear!” Ronan hollered over the blaring music.

“Shut up, I know what to do!” Adam yelled, changing the gear.

They tore into a field and parked so quickly they lurched a bit in their seats. Ronan was grinning, sharp and kind and Adam was breathless with laughter and excitement. 

“C’mon, let’s go.” he said, smacking Ronan in the arm. 

Ronan followed him out of the car. It rocked slightly when he slammed his door. 

“Blanket!” Adam shouted back to him. 

Ronan grabbed the blanket. “Fuck you!”

Distantly, he heard Adam laugh in response. He brought the blanket over to where Adam was standing up to his knees in tall grass. Moonlight glanced off of hair and he looked like Ronan’s own angel.

“Don’t get chiggers, shithead.” Ronan said.

Adam flipped him off and reached for the blanket. They spread it out, grass bowing around them. The moon had taken on a blue-ish tone that reminded Ronan of the jewelry his dad used to bring his mom when he was a kid. 

“My aunt called again.” Adam said. He pulled out a silver bowl and some grape juice and began to fill the bowl. He set out leaves and flowers and some random rocks.

“From Maryland?” Ronan asked, knowing full well there was no other aunt.

“Yeah. Sarah.” he responded, shuffling his deck of cards. “She wants to come see me at some point. Probably in college.”

Ronan didn’t respond. It was the kind of thing that didn’t want a response. 

“She’s got a husband and a couple of kids up in Maryland. Works as an english teacher in a middle school.” Adam said, still shuffling. “I didn’t even remember I had an aunt. The last time she got news of me was a decade ago.”

Ronan shrugged. Part of him ached for Adam to have the perfect picket fence family for himself, to have everything he ever dreamed for, parental role models that loved him properly. Part of him knew that Adam would never achieve that with his aunt, because he would look at her and think of his parents. The rest of him yearned for Adam to pick him. Him and his fucked up dream farm, and fucked up childhood, and fucked up head, and the goat child that lived in his woods. 

His words, dearest reader, not mine. 

“This is a good spot.” Adam said, palms pressed to the dirt. 

Thank you, he meant. For bringing me here. 

Ronan understood him all the same.

“Whatever, man.” Ronan said.

You’re welcome, he meant.

He knew Adam understood. 

“What witchy shit we doing today?”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna try to feel out other ley lines. Blue moon amplifies magic, so I should be able to use this one to follow other lines.”

Ronan grunted. “How long until I should shake you?”

“Dunno,” Adam shrugged. “Don’t let me die.”

Ronan stared at him. Adam stared back. Ronan nodded.

Adam turned his eyes to his bowl of grape juice and took a deep breath. Another, a little deeper, a little slower. Ronan checked his watch. Another breath, deeper, slower. His pupils flickered and then dilated.

“Ronan,” he breathed. “I’m gonna do something.”

“Parrish.” Ronan said warningly, leaning close to . . . stop him or something.

“It’ll be okay, just keep an eye out.” 

Adam closed eyes, breathed, and then opened him again. Ronan could see how far he sunk this time. He watched him disappear inside his own head and also out of it. 

Something in the air shifted. Or maybe it was the ground. Or the sky. Animals burst out of the trees and grass all around them. Birds took to the sky in furious storms and the wind tossed the grassed around them into a maddening dance. And in the middle of it all was Adam, head bowed an eyes dark, a god in his own right. 

As suddenly as it started, the phenomenon stopped. Adam didn’t raise his head.

“Parrish.” Ronan said. “ Parrish . Adam!” he called, shaking him frantically. 

Adam’s mouth opened and a hiss of a breath escaped. Ronan grabbed his jaw and shook him harder. 

“Fuck, Lynch,” Adam groaned, pupils returning to normal size. “Ow.” 

“What did you do?” Ronan growled.

Adam rubbed a hand across his forehead, as if to ease a headache. Ronan thought of the Advil in his car that he kept for Adam. He pushed the thought away.

“It’s fine. You won’t notice a change.” he said, starting to stand.

“What? Fuck no, answer me.” 

“Ronan. Leave it.”

Ronan stood. “No.”

“Ronan.”

“Suck a dick, Parrish.”

Adam gave him a tired stare. “Fine. I buried a ley line.”

“. . . what?”

“There was a ley line near here. It’s old, a lot weaker than ours, but it was gradually coming to the surface. I buried it. That much connection, even if it is weak, would flood Henrietta with too much magic to function. It’d be a hotspot for trouble, even more so than now. So I pushed the line down again.”

Ronan was startled that Adam could do that. He wasn’t even sure Adam knew he could do that before he did. 

“I want ice cream.” Ronan said instead. Adam shrugged and headed to the car. “Actually, Parrish, wait.”

Adam stopped at the passenger door and only turned about halfway before Ronan was pressed up against him. It was a brief kiss, more of an impression than an action, but it was there. Ronan felt lightheaded. He pulled away, walked around, and got into the car.

Adam stood outside for a moment before also getting in the car. They didn’t talk the whole ride to the store. Ronan tossed the car into park with more force than necessary but less force than usual. He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Lynch.” Ronan turned off the engine. “Ronan, don’t.”

He froze, hand on the door handle. “What, get out of my car?” he spat.

“Run away.” Adam said, irritated. 

Ronan bared his teeth and started to open the door. Adam reached across and slammed it shut before he could even get a foot out. “Holy fuck, Parrish! You could have crushed my foot.”

“You—” he hissed. “You’re the worst.” And then they were kissing. This wasn’t Ronan’s kiss, the shy kiss of one who thought they’d long since forgotten how to be gentle but was trying so, so hard to be. No, this was Adam’s kiss, it was forceful, it was rushed and drawn out and Ronan was aflame with it. 

When Adam finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard enough to jostle the other as their chests rose and fell. Adam’s pupils were large in a similar yet different way from how they looked when he scried. Ronan’s lips felt like they were scrubbed raw from the stubble. He found he didn’t care all that much. His thigh was awkwardly pressed to the gearshift and Adam’s knee was tucked in next to the steering wheel. He’s not quite sure when either of them got there.

Adam pat his chest in a weirdly friendly and casual way for a moment so intimate. “Okay, now we can get ice cream.” he said, climbing back over to his seat and stepping out of the car.

Ronan’s mind took a moment to click back in, I mean, dearest reader, this man just got his life fucking kissed out of him by the man he’d been in love with for years. You really must cut him some slack.

When he finally processed it, Adam was already walking across the empty parking lot. Ronan tripped over himself in an effort to get out of the car. “You fucker! Get back here!”

Adam just shouted with laughter and took off running to the store. Ronan took off after him. He caught up to him and crashed their shoulders together. Adam’s laughter sputtered as he stumbled but he shoved him back and they broke out into a battle with no clear point and no winner. 

And oh, did Ronan love him.

Reader, Ronan is not the last of the people to love Adam Parrish. No, there were many more that had been and many more to come. But we will end this entry with perhaps the most important person to ever love Adam Parrish.

Adam was in his sophomore year of college when he and Ronan got into their biggest fight. He and Ronan fought a lot, they were themselves of course, but this was different. They went a week with no contact. A week buried in anger. And when the next week came, the anger had dissipated, but they were afraid. How does one come back from a fight like that?

I’ll spare you the whole fight, reader, I’m not cruel. But I will show you the breaking point, the point at which is so terribly bothering Adam.

It was a phone call, of all things. A rarity, with Ronan, but something they tried to do. And it went like this:

“What do you mean you’re selling the Barns?”

“What’s it fucking sound like? I’m going to sell the Barns. I’ll be up next weekend to look at apartments.”

“No!”

“What the fuck, Parrish?”

“You can’t— no. Don’t come.”

Ronan paused on the other side of the line. “I thought we wanted this.”

“When the fuck did I ever say I wanted this?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Parrish, sorry you didn’t fit us into your school-boy life plans.”

“Lynch, that’s not what I—”

“No. Just. Fuck, Adam.”

“Ronan—”

“Stop.” he said. “I don’t want to hear it.”  

And then he hung up.

So you can see, reader, why this conversation might keep Adam up at night. He had some vague ideas as to what went wrong, but mostly he’d been checking his phone. Looking for an answer, waiting for Ronan to respond to his message, to call him. 

Weeks passed with no word. Not a text, a voicemail, no word from him even through Gansey. Adam tossed himself into school work, into his part-time job. He worked, and worked, and then it was spring break. And Adam, well. Adam was supposed to go to the Barns for spring break.

(sent 11:56 am) Hey. Am I still coming for break?

He’d yet to get a response. 

He was in the cafeteria, staring at his phone on the third day of break when his roommate, Micheal, found him.

“Hey, man.” he said, setting down his tray.

“Micheal,” Adam said in greeting.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry,” Micheal said, absolutely meaning to pry. “But weren’t you supposed to go to your boyfriend’s farm for break?”

Adam sighed. “Yeah.”

“Why aren’t you there right now?”

He shrugged. “We’re fighting.”

“About what?”

“I’m not sure.”

Micheal shoved potatoes into his mouth. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“It’s normal for us.”

“It’s fucking stupid.”

Adam shrugged again.

“Talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Fuck, you can’t. Just show up. Talk to him.”

“No, I. I can’t do that. Just show up.” he said, shaking his head.

“Adam, that man is more in love with you than I’ve ever seen anyone else be. You need to sort this shit out. Go.”

“Micheal. You don’t get it, I can’t just go.”

“Why?” he said, mouthful of potatoes. “Because you know you’re in the wrong but you don’t want to be the first to apologize?”

Adam bristled. “I don’t even know what went wrong! He just blew up for no goddamn reason!”
“Did he?”

“Yes!”

“You sure?”

“ Micheal .” Adam said lowly. 

Micheal raised his hands. “I’m just saying, Ronan looks like the kind of guy that has more going on in his head than you think there would be. What even started the fight?”

Adam stabbed at his food. “He wants to sell the family farm. Move into an apartment here.”

Micheal’s fork clattered against the tabletop. “Dude! That’s awesome! Congrats!”

“What? No! That’s his family inheritance, his childhood, his home . He can’t just move here because I’m in school!”

“Oh my God.” Micheal said. “You don’t think he’ll actually want to stay with you.”

Adam glared at him. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me. I have psychics that do that enough.”

Micheal ignored him, already on a roll. “No, no, I get it now. You think that without the distance, he’ll realize that he doesn’t even like you all that much and regret selling his farm. You think he’ll get bored, or tired, or disappointed.”

“Micheal!” Adam said. “Stop it. Just. Stop it.”

He paused, looking down. “Sorry.”

Adam dragged a hand down his face. “It’s not that, okay, those are things I worry about, but it’s not that. I’m,” He took a breath. “I’m not going to be enough for him.”

“Adam. . .”

“No, just. I’m not. I know he loves me, I know he doesn’t care, he thinks I’m enough as is, but I’m just not. I can’t compare to him. You don’t get it, Micheal, he’s beautiful. His head, Christ, he’s a god in his own right. And he’s so kind. At his core he’s just kindness and caring and I can’t keep up with that.”

Micheal tapped his fork against his plate. “So?”

“So?”
“So what? What if you can’t keep up? Are you going to abandon him if things get hard?”

“No!”

“Are you going to give up on him? Are you going to be angry when he’s better at something that you, when he has strengths you don’t? Are you not going to be proud of him?”

Adam gripped his fork. “Of course not.”

“Then who cares? He loves you, you love him, and you’re going to support each other. If you are so determined not to give up on him, why are you so set on giving up on yourself?”

“I’m not.” Adam ground out.

“Hm.”

“Are you high right now?”

Michael rolled his neck, which popped a disturbing number of times. “Extremely. With that, I’m going to go take a nap.”

Adam watched him walk out of the cafeteria. And, reader, you should know, that this was not the moment Adam decided to love himself wholeheartedly, mistakes and flaws and all. But this is the moment something inside him shifted, no matter how much he denies that a roommate high on weed started it. 

“Hey, Ronan,” Adam said after the voicemail beep. “I’m coming back home tomorrow. Let’s talk then, okay? Tamquam .”