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Adam wakes up with sweat caking his brows. It's not an uncommon occurrence, especially with Cabeswater living so easily inside of him- Like it was there always, something not separate from Adam himself. Adam and Cabeswater combine simply into Adam and guest, or just Adam if you had the privilege to know him well enough. He'd always been the sort to have bad dreams, chase scenes between himself and all that he feared. But after his conjoining with the forest, the dreams get a little more vivid. He gets a little more deja vu than he did before. Usually it's something nice and inconsequential. Just how he likes it.
Because if Blue is a sensible girl, Adam is a sensible boy.
But, alas, our story would not be terribly exciting if tonight were a normal night, with dreams of Gansey saying something in a specific place that Adam can guess would be on the itinerary for the day. No, tonight was a bad dream. A dream of a barely there Noah standing in his doorway, asking him in that strange sort of harried whisper escalated to just barely a real voice, to 'follow me, follow me! hurry!' and being led to a Ronan, bleeding to death on the floor of his bedroom at Monmouth like they'd seen the once before. Not in the church, with no one around, but in his home. Dead in his home, while Gansey is away on a trip to a Congress party to celebrate his mother bringing in more money that he doesn't understand the value of, more fame that makes Adam's skin crawl when they get caught in public because Gansey's face just screams 'Vote for me!'
And while usually Adam can discredit his nightmares as just that, it's a draw in his throat and a lingering on the idea that maybe, that drives Adam to push his aching bones out of bed and onto his bike, which, thank god, had decided to stay in one piece through the night. So he bikes his way to Monmouth, and for once wishes that he'd let Gansey pay for a beater car because he feels like he's going too fucking slow, Ronan will be dead by the time he gets there.
Aside from the context, it's a nice night. The air is comfortably warm, and every time it borders on just a little bit too hot, a slight breeze would whistle through and rustle his leaves.
Adam blinks.
Mentally corrects.
He does not have leaves. Perhaps there should be a 'yet' involved in that sentence. Maybe he'll eventually become some sort of spriggan and become the Parrish tree right outside Monmouth. The streetlights on the side of town he needs to be on start to dim, as there are fewer and fewer of them. It's not like the old factory is so far off the beaten path that it would be pitch black before Adam even got the chance to see it, but there is definitely a reason no one wanted to purchase it. Other than Gansey, that loves things that have 'lost their value.' He always seems to make it into something better than it was. Save for his car, naturally.
It's late, so it doesn't surprise him that there are no lights on inside the tall windows. He sees and feels no sign of Noah, which at the same time slightly dissuades his anxiety, and also spikes it. Dreams are a powerful thing, he remembered one of Blue's family members telling him on the phone when he'd tried to reach her the first time he'd had one of his Cabeswater induced dreams. Blue had been sleeping, but the house around her never seemed to stop being awake. He'd thanked the family member on the other end (who he can only guess was Persephone due to the volume and intonation, but he can never tell.)
Adam holds a key to the factory door. Gansey locks it every time he leaves, which means Ronan is either still inside and hadn't left since the night before, or he locked it behind himself coming back in. The key Adam has is more symbolic than an actual tool, considering he hardly ever has to use it. Either Gansey is home and the door is left more or less wide open since he 'loves Virginia weather,' and more than once has Ronan had to smash a wasp or three because of the habit. Adam makes a mental note that he should put in bug screens at some point. A birthday gift perhaps? Practical. 'Congratulations on not dying for one more year! Now keep doing it.'
He's getting distracted. Or, rather, he's distracting himself from the idea that he's going to find his best friend and crush if he'd only admit it to himself on the ground, dead or dying. His hands fumble with the key a little bit. Adam never can seem to keep steady after his sacrifice. It always feels like the wind will blow him over if he doesn't stay flatfooted forever. But he gets it into the lock, and turns it with much more ease. Quietly pushing into the building, he locks the door again behind him (a habit more than anything else, and also he doesn't particularly want another 'Whelk With A Gun' incident.
The walk toward Ronan's room fills him with dread. No sounds of Chainsaw making a ruckus over a pile of rotting bones displayed as Ronan's corpse, so he takes that as a good sign.
Adam pushes open the door, holding his breath a little bit, by accident.
And Ronan on the inside looks at him like he's a fucking idiot. Of course he isn't sleeping, who would be at 3am other than Adam? Adam lets out the breath he held, exhaling an almost relieved little laugh into the air. Chainsaw doesn't so much chirp at him as scream and squaw, but he recognizes the thought behind it. There is a physical weight released from his shoulders, letting them droop back to their normal posture. He crosses the threshold and sits against Ronan's bedside table, which is covered in random pieces of Ronan, a few leather bands and some sunglasses he's never worn, like a little altar to his own self.
Technically, this was against the rules. No one goes into Ronan's room.
But Ronan doesn't play by the rules, and none of Ronan's rules have ever applied to Adam. That said, he does have a question, being:
"What the fuck are you doing in my room?"
It isn't the 'in my room' piece that's the actual question. Translated from Ronan speech it looks more like 'what the fuck are you doing here right now at 3am in my room for no reason without a call or a text'. Not that Ronan would've picked up a call or a text, but it would be nice for Adam to have the excuse, damnit.
"I had a dream."
Ronan cocks one eyebrow. He needs more to work with than 'a dream.' He dreams all the time, but the difference is that everyone can see what kind of dream he had by just looking at him after he wakes up. Adam is much harder, because he always seems to have that near-death-existentialism look on his face. Much like Gansey looks middle aged and has since he was like eight, Adam just Looks haunted and always has.
"You died."
"Wow, your subconscious is a fucking dick."
Adam laughs again, that relieved little laugh, leaning his head back against the wall. After his, shall we call it curiosity, was sated, he remembered that it's 3am and that he's supposed to be sleeping, and he biked all the way from the church to Monmouth, so he's a little bit more interested in sleeping against this dresser that probably costed half of his entire apartment. That's one thing he wasn't prepared for with his impromptu leave from 'home.' Furniture is fucking expensive. Ridiculously, horribly expensive.
Chainsaw is chittering, clipping her beak at the door of her cage (which is never locked, the cage is just there because Ronan would have felt like a terrible father if he didn't potty train her and give her a bed, damnit.) The cage takes a decent fourth of his room just from how much vertical space she has to run around in. Adam could live in a cage like that, he distantly thinks. Maybe specifically if it was Ronan taking care of him, he could live anywhere.
"Are you just going to sleep on my floor and let me trip all over you?"
Ronan talks like he's about to fight someone, always. It's just how he is. But Adam can feel no venom in it, so he turns his head in the Irishman's direction. His head rests on his knees, drawn up toward his chest, and Ronan doesn't think he's ever seen a human being more beautiful than Adam fucking Parrish. He ignores it for the time being.
"What, do you want me in your bed?"
His accent slips into the sentence, your becoming yer, bed becoming bid. He's tired, and relaxed enough in Ronan's presence to not posture every second of his existence. The question was a challenge, a little bit, and naturally the Greywarren is in no place to deny it. So he moves over on his queen sized bed, (which Adam had snorted at as he put the bedframe together for him,) and makes a 'come here' gesture. Come on, then.
Adam bumbles to his feet. He's never been incredibly coordinated apart than with his hands, so Ronan doesn't immediately go to try and catch him. but he definitely watches his next steps a little bit closer than usual, just because, and his eyes involuntarily widen when Adam just. Plops down on the bed, his hearing ear towards Ronan. Not that the Irishman pays too much attention to that, or anything. (He does. He definitely does pay attention to that, always.)
His hands reach out to play with the mess of brown-blonde hair that honestly needs a trim, but he plays with it idly, just enjoying the texture. It isn't exactly soft, per se, but it feels like Adam. Adam doesn't need soft hair because Adam doesn't care to have it. Ronan likes that about him.
"You should buzz it all off," He suggests. "Like mine."
"I would, but I'm blonde. I'd look like a cue ball with tan lines."
Ronan barks out a laugh, and Chainsaw shouts a 'Kerah!' at him like she'd been betrayed. How dare he.
"Oh, don't be jealous. You know I love you too."
The 'too' is stuck in Adam's brain a little too much.
He doesn't mention it. Not yet. Never yet.