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Why do you love me?
For everything you are.
(Then what is stopping you from loving him?)
(That last part he doesn't dare say out loud, doesn't dare let the words that beat against his bones meet the light of air.)
(There's too much to lose.))
(He can't tell which is the hardest fact to swallow, so he drowns himself in everything else instead - everything that the golden light of a man lying beside him will give, which isn't enough... it's never enough... there's a hole in his soul that can only be filled by eating up the entirety of the one thing he has ever allowed himself to love.)
Ronan has a smile that could cut glass.... if that's what hearts and souls are meant to be made of.
Sometimes Adam will catch Neil looking over at Ronan, and something in his expression lights up an echoing smile, and it's like looking in the mirror or looking at his own future, or looking at a universe where he never found Ronan or Gansey and was still just a skinny little punching bag in a town where no one gave a shit.
When Adam thinks of the haunted look in Neil’s eye, when Ronan smiles his sharp smile, all Neil can see are their lips pressed together.
Adam feels as insubstantial as Noah, while all the edges, colors and knives that make up Neil cut deeper, become brighter, sharper.
Soon, there will be nothing of him left.
“You’re being stupid, you know that,” all of the words Andrew allows slip out from between his thin lips are cryptid messages Adam can’t ever trust.
Lingering cigarette smoke filtering around his lips, the breathless way his words form.
Adam knows now that Andrew’s lips are chapped and warm, that he tastes like unpleasant tobacco and dizzyingly of liquorice, and how his mouth and hands couldn’t be anymore different, one breathlessly greedy and the other a patient, that he kisses with a unknown reverence and his moans like a prayer.
Adam stands alone on the rooftop, drawing in deep ragged breaths of cold frigid air, and relearning in that silent moment how to live, now that he knows that Andrew’s body is a wicked hymn and Ronan’s body is the lythe sculpture of the only true god and there he is, in the middle, standing next to Neil , and he hopes that…
Hopes that hope remains in their hearts, even though the truth is there for all to see.
That there clearly is nothing left.
Why do you love me?
For all the ways you make me feel.
(Then what’s stopping me from loving him?)
What Andrew hadn’t said on that roof could have filled a thousand stadiums.
You’re stupid... because if Ronan loves you half as much as I love Neil, then you have nothing to worry about.
Because if I’ve learned anything? it’s that the world is full of people fighting their own wars, and if you find someone willing to stand by your side whilst you fight and fight and fight, you don’t give that up for another war you knowingly can’t win.
Because you’re looking for loss in all the wrong places.
Because you are exactly as beautiful as Neil , and exactly as deserving of the way Ronan looks at you when you don’t pay attention.
Because if all this is? is really another game of smoke and mirrors, then you just earned yourself another mirror. look at me, there’s nothing here but gain.
Because even if my lips taste the same as his, it doesn’t prove anything , anything except that trust and love are too fucking weird, and the universe is a jackass.
Because if Neil sees the darkness in Ronan, and smiles? why haven’t you figured out that I see a halo in you and am already down on my knees?
Because if Neil sees a mirror of my soul in Ronan’s sharp shard smile, then let me show you how I can see a mirror of Neil’s soul in your wide doe eyes.
Because here is my heart, you’re holding it with your mind and Neil is holding it in his hands and Ronan is reflecting it back down to us.
Because you are terrifying, and no one is more afraid than me.
Adam can evoke a sense of brooding wistfulness, with just a glance up at the sky on a cloudy day, as though he is praying up to a god no one can see or hear, or even prove is real and somehow that god talks back to him.
Neil can evoke a sense of brooding all knowing, with just a backwards glance towards the long shadow he casts behind him on the ground, as though he is praying to the earth, and sighing with the sun, like no one ever has before.
I kissed your boyfriend the other night.
Yeah, thanks for that fucking headache of an existential crisis.
He didn’t tell you, did he?
Did you?
Adam is every unassuming normal boy Neil never pretended to be.
And Adam is every echo of darkness Neil ever pretended didn’t bleed through his hereditary-dark veins.
A shadow will sometimes cross Adam’s face and a hoarse laugh will break it’s way out of his throat, and Neil will catch Ronan’s eyes filled with blackened rage.
Those eyes scream, but it’s something he can’t protect him from, and it’s like an eternal ache or heartbreak taking human form.
Neil has seen that look enough times on Andrew’s face to know how it feels to have so little power over another person.
And then he will look up and find Andrew staring at Adam as though the entire world was held oh so delicately in his hands, and Andrew would do anything to save him.
Neil dreamt of clawed ravens and bloodied knives, Adam naked and happy in Andrew’s bare arms.
And it feels as if, every day, Neil has somehow slipped back into an unknown fiction and Adam has slipped into an unknown reality, and everything else that is known and solid, is liquidising and slipping out of Neil’s wet crimson hands.
Soon, there will be nothing left of him too.
“You’re an idiot,” Ronan’s voice comes cracking like a sound in a world of greying shadows on the feathered wing of his tamed raven.
Every word that Ronan allows past his lips feels weighed and equally measured, nothing is reckless or boyishly flippant, despite tone and or evidence to the contrary.
Neil wants to have a witty response, but on that roof with Ronan feels like a desperate whirlpooling bid for a ledge for him to stand on.
There are moments and longing and questions and then there is only this: when you learn something you’d rather forget.
Neil stands on the roof breathing in desperate, large gulps of cold air, trying to learn how to just- breathe, how to live in a world where he knows that Ronan’s lips are soft and wet, that his tongue teases and his teeth bite, that his hands are calm, seeking and his fingers are pruned and cold.
That Andrew is a temple and Ronan is a cathedral, and if Neil is a priest then Adam is a prophet, and that there is nothing left for them but a god that may never listen or reply.
Why do you love me?
Because.
Is that all?
Shut up.
What Ronan hadn’t said on that rooftop could’ve echoed through a thousand forests.
You’re stupid because if Andrew loves you half as much he does Neil, then you should be more worried about Adam’s God descending down and smiting you.
Because if I’ve learned anything it’s that the world is full of people fighting their own hearts and if you finally find someone willing to stand by you whilst you fight and fight and fight, you stop.
Because you’re looking for war in all the wrong places.
Because you are exactly as inspiring as Adam and exactly as deserving of the way Andrew looks at you when you're not paying attention.
Because if this all really is, is a story of smoke and mirrors, then you just earned yourself another mirror, look at me, there’s nothing here but gain.
Because even if my lips taste the same as his, it doesn’t prove anything, except that love is fucking weird and the Trees are playing a game that sucks a little less this time.
Because if Adam sees the darkness in Andrew, and grins, then why haven’t you figured out that I see a path to salvation in you, and am already on my knees?
Because if Adam sees a mirror of my soul in Andrew’s sharp silences, then let me show how I can see a mirror of Adam’s soul imbedded in your silver scars.
Because here is my heart, you’re holding it in your mind and Adam is holding it in his hands and Andrew is reflecting it back at us; here are my lips and my tongue, let me be a sacrificial lamb to this moment.
Because you are frightening and no one is more terrified than me.
(Men fall to their knees for less than true love... imagine finding it twice… and sharing that Truth with a Mirror of your own Soul and Heart.)
(Some days, it’s far easier to believe in ancient gods.)
Why do you love him?
Why do you?
Touche.