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The rest of November was mourning given a half-life. Everyone except Ronan went back to school the next week, the rush of the semester’s end not allowing time to mourn new deaths or adjust to the new scent of Henrietta’s magic. To keep the hollowness at bay, the five clung to each other tighter than ever; they only parted when class demanded it or to sleep, sometimes. After school, they’d congregate in someone’s kitchen or living room. When one of them needed a mother, they’d file into Fox Way and drink tea and eat bread. When Ronan needed a mother so badly he couldn’t move from his bed, they’d meet at the Barns.
About three weeks after Gansey’s death, they all needed something to celebrate. So though Blue refused to celebrate a holiday that was inherently anti-Indigenous and nationalistic, she dragged her boys into Fox Way that Thursday for the ladies’ eclectic version of Thanksgiving, or what Blue had renamed “Damn I’m Lucky Day”. When the meal was over, the five of them took some leftovers and a good haul of booze up to the Barns. Everyone except Adam got drunk around the fireplace and they laughed and realized, for the first time since that first night of Gansey’s new life, just how much they fucking adored one another. Ronan laid his head in Adam’s lap and smiled tipsily at him as they watched Blue and Henry play a competitive game that involved bopping Gansey’s nose. Adam stroked Ronan’s face and soaked in every second of the first genuine smile he’d seen from Ronan since Aurora’s death. He thought idly that maybe they should keep the fireplace on for the rest of the winter; it made everything a little sweeter, sort of timeless, in a way he couldn’t place. They all kept talking about how they’d do this again at Christmas, and at New Year’s, too, hell, even Earth Day…
They all fell asleep on the carpet that night and spent the entirety of the next day dozing, sipping coffee, and nibbling on leftovers at the Barns. Friday evening, Blue went back to Fox Way to help begin Christmas decorating, and Henry dragged Gansey to do something similar at Litchfield, possibly Monmouth as well. Friday night, Ronan and Adam slept in the same bed, and Saturday morning, Adam had work. Monday, they all went back to school feeling lighter, yet less fragile. Ronan stayed at the Barns.
By the first week of December, Ronan was having a very hard time not being in school. Even if he had seldom gone anyway, it had at least given a way to see Gansey and Adam during the day; now, they were locked away out of his reach. Now, from 7:30 AM to 4 PM, he was left with Chainsaw, Opal, the cows, and his demons.
While Adam allowed Ronan’s long days in bed through the month after Aurora’s death, knowing Ronan needed time and space, he eventually decided to intervene before the grief became that dark, rotting thing it’d been before. On December third, Adam asked Ronan if he’d ever thought about fixing up the fences that had collapsed in his time away.
Ronan grunted from under the duvet. Adam smacked his hip. “Come on.” A groan. Adam leaned down to the pillow over Ronan’s head. He knew he had to take a cheap shot: “Come on, baby. Try for me?”
Adam hated how gooey-gooey he sounded, but Ronan emerged from his pile and eyed Adam consideringly.
Adam checked his watch. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you when I get back.” It was a Saturday; Ronan was annoyed that Adam had picked up an extra shift, but he hadn’t said so. Adam could just tell.
As Adam pulled out of the drive, he saw Ronan step onto the porch in his flannel work shirt, Opal skipping in circles around him.
Ronan started with repairing fences, then raking leaves (one of Opal’s favorite activities, because she could both dive into the piles and shove handfuls of dead leaves into her mouth). Then, he finally stopped avoiding cleaning his room, which had acquired a nice level of crust during his few bedridden weeks. When Adam saw his work, he looked surprised, but pleased. Even impressed, Ronan dared to think. He sat on his bed, stupidly squirming with anticipation, as Adam inspected the room from the doorway.
He finally met Ronan’s eyes with a sweet smile that gave him crow’s feet. “Very good job, Ronan. This is very good.” After that, Ronan felt more motivated to do anything than he had in years.
One day, shocking himself, Ronan went to the grocery store. He had found that being up and moving during the day had helped his appetite return and that there was basically nothing to eat in the house. So he went and got groceries that day, feeling excited--he was even thinking about maybe cooking something for Adam that night when he got done with work. Even more bewildering: when he saw the humble little holiday displays at the Food Lion in Singer’s Falls, he felt the pangs of sadness just as hard as he thought he would; but they didn’t make him want to give up, this time. Instead of wanting to run from the nostalgia, he felt he wanted to share it somehow. So he filled up his cart with the spiced apple cider in the glass jugs, the locally-raised smoked ham, the locally-farmed walnuts still in the shell--he knew he could find their old nutcracker somewhere. He went up and down every aisle and when he came to the canned fruit, he remembered at Thanksgiving when Blue had mentioned missing Persephone’s pies that year, and how they’d all felt the quiet grief settle around them. He dumped at least five cans of every fruit they had into his cart.
That Friday evening, Adam pulled into the Barns just as his eyelids started to droop. When he stepped inside the parlor, he was struck by a heady spiciness that warmed him from the inside. Immediately drained of tension by the warmth and the smell and the familiar security of the place, he shuffled into the kitchen to see Ronan at the gas stovetop.
Ronan looked up from stirring a small pot and smiled a rare smile he usually saved for between kisses and Adam melted a little more. “Cider?” Ronan asked. Adam nodded, letting a sleepy grin settle easily on his mouth, and bundled himself in Ronan’s arms. They stood there for a while, Adam letting Ronan hold him up and breathing in the smells: Ronan’s scent plus with the cozy scent of the Barns decorated with the heady smell of the spiced cider.
Later, they sat snuggled on the couch with the fireplace lit and mugs of cider in hand as Ronan told Adam about everything he’d gotten at the store. Adam couldn’t help but feel Ronan’s childlike excitement himself, especially when Adam had been worrying for weeks about if he and the others were enough to keep Ronan from hitting rock bottom again. He also felt a sharp tug in his belly at the holiday spirit that’d enchanted Ronan and the Barns; it felt like nostalgia, but for something he’d never had. It was strange and sort of painful but after a moment of deliberation, and with Ronan’s warm weight at his side, he decided to welcome it.
When they’d finished their cider, Ronan hid his face in Adam’s shoulder and said, “I think I wanna have Christmas here. Like, with everybody.”
Adam hummed. “Yeah.” He considered his words. “Wasn’t that the plan before?”
Ronan furrowed his brow and rubbed his face into Adam’s sleeve. “Yeah, but. I wanna, like. Make it Christmas. You know?”
Adam smiled, for some reason. “No, I don’t know.” He felt Ronan tense, like Adam knew he would. “However, I can sort of understand what you mean, and what’s more, I think you can show me.” Ronan tilted his face up to look at him, and Adam gave his lips a chaste peck. “You think you can show me what you mean?” Ronan smiled achingly.
“Yeah,” he whispered, almost inaudible.
They didn’t talk about it again before Ronan took on his project in earnest. The first thing he did was make a list of the foods he remembered from Christmas dinner as a little kid, then started researching recipes. He was quickly discouraged by the realization that he did not know how to cook anything that wasn’t mashed potatoes, so he set that aside for later. He instead spent the rest of the weekend cautiously going through picture albums and taking somewhat fitful naps in the living room.
Adam was more than surprised to get a text from Ronan at the garage. Barns tonight. No question mark, no explanation—Adam let himself clang around a little louder with his tools. Why was he surprised? He shouldn’t have expected Ronan to respect their agreement that the Barns was only for weekends and if they wanted to hang out alone on a school night, it’d have to be at St. Agnes while Adam did his homework and Ronan was silent. So why was Adam surprised when Ronan asked Adam to drive himself up to Singer’s Falls right after work when finals were coming up and he was picking up longer shifts during the holiday season, while he could, and—?
Holiday season, he thought then. He thought for a moment, without meaning to, how it was a little tragic that “holiday season” had only ever been a resource to Adam. An opportunity to make a little extra cash. A few days off from school—which, until this year, had been a prison sentence. He thought for a moment, without meaning to, about the spiced cider that Ronan made almost every day now, if he didn’t make that rich, creamy hot chocolate instead. He brought a few travel mugs of whatever festive beverage he’d brewed up that day to the gang’s after-school hangouts, now, every day. Enough for everyone. (But usually, a little extra for Adam that no one else had yet caught on to.)
Ronan had memorized Adam’s schedule. Ronan may not respect a whole lot of people, but he typically respected people’s things pretty consistently. Adam’s schedule was one of his most prized possessions—something he’d painstakingly curated, so fragile that one stray minute could send Adam into a spiral. Ronan was careful with Adam’s schedule; it was one thing he knew not to fuck with if he could help it. He was never careless with Adam’s time.
The Shitbox made it surprisingly smoothly up the winding hills between Henrietta and Singer’s Falls, a pleasant surprise. He parked the car carefully next to the sweeping arcs painted by the BMW and shuffled up the steps, trying not to think about if the car would make it back down the mountain in this weather. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by an Opal at his waist, chewing on a knot of some shiny, furry material. She smiled at him, and ran away coyly when he attempted a smile back.
“Living room!”
Adam dragged himself forward, sucked further into that fateful sleepiness by the warm smells and music so soft it sounded like murmuring voices. At the foot of the living room carpet, Adam blinked: a gorgeously decorated and warmly lit Christmas tree, the animated angel at the top brushing the ceiling with the tips of its gently flapping wings, stood in the corner by the fireplace. Adam realized Opal must’ve been snacking on tinsel—the tree was draped with it, giving the tree a shimmery aura. There was an eclectic collection of ornaments on display, some of them moving and some interacting with one another; Adam wondered how all the different colors and patterns didn’t clash and make the tree look tacky, but somehow made it all more complete, more right. Everything about this tree felt right, Adam thought, despite that his parents had never decorated for anything. It was that misplaced nostalgia, again—Adam wondered if Ronan could dream up a feeling.
At that moment, Adam thought that he surely looked like he could. Ronan wore that boyish grin that was at once conspiratory and pure; his skin had caught the glow of the lights on the tree, or perhaps the fire, or perhaps whatever light that had been reignited inside of him. He bounced on his toes and held his hands behind his back, like he was barely holding back all the restless energy within him. Adam thought that this is what Ronan must have looked like all the time before his innocence had been taken from him.
After a last glance at the tree, Adam stepped forward into Ronan’s arms, burying his face in Ronan’s neck, which was damp with sweat. He smelled good, though, like kisses and warm sheets. Adam took a huge breath of him that warmed his belly like hot cider.
He pressed his lips to Ronan’s pulse, too sluggish to form a kiss. “It looks amazing,” he murmured there, and Ronan let out a huge breath. Adam rubbed his back a little. “Yeah, you did really good. You did a really good job with this.” Ronan squeezed him tighter and tighter and Adam wanted to fall asleep in his arms so badly, but it was a school night, but he wanted so bad…
“It took a few tries,” Ronan said, sounding so achingly young and sheepish, Adam almost cooed. He pulled his face away from Ronan’s neck and bumped their foreheads together. When he felt Ronan’s hand suddenly touching his cheek, he realized his eyes were still closed, but he couldn’t pry them open.
“I’ll drive you back,” Ronan said, not an offer, but a decision. He didn’t sound young or shy anymore, but he said it with that gentleness that usually got Adam all embarrassed and defensive. Right now, though, it only aggravated that stirring in his belly. He buried his face back into Ronan’s shoulder and groaned petulantly, not quite knowing what he was protesting. Ronan only squeezed him again and kissed the side of his face sweetly, making small sounds. When he decided he couldn’t take it anymore, Adam forced his body to pull back and he stumbled away. Ronan didn’t protest, only walked past. He seemed to know where he was going better than Adam did, because Adam only swayed and watched as Ronan grabbed his coat off of the floor beside the front door and sat down to pull on his boots. Adam watched as Ronan walked back to him, retrieved him, and pulled him outside, yelling at Opal not to fuck with anything important. The cold air jolted a little of the sleep away and Adam realized what Ronan had said earlier.
“Wait,” he said, and Ronan did. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, but not condescendingly. Adam felt groggily aware that he should be resisting something, but all he could think about was crawling into a bed somewhere. He managed, “What else did you do today?”
Stupid, stupid mouth. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to go back inside where it was warm and smelled like cloves and apples. He wanted Ronan to take off his puffer jacket so Adam could see how that gray sweater hugged his shoulders again. He wanted kisses and someplace that wasn’t fucking freezing.
But Ronan was smiling, and now it was his usual sharklike grin, only it was the version he saved for just Adam—Adam had to grit his teeth. “I’ll show you later,” Ronan said, amused. Adam felt annoyed, and affected a potentially withering look for about two seconds before Ronan walked off toward the BMW. Adam was tired and needy for Ronan’s warmth again, so he followed.
As he did, he glanced at the path Ronan’d worn in the grass between the house and the closest barn. There was a glow coming from the side of the barn—and there was a large pile of something, there—and there, on the path, was a Christmas tree, its branches flayed dramatically as if it were dropped on its head. The path was darkened with pine needles and shards of red glass. Adam slowed as he looked, then laughed to himself and stumbled on.
He was in the passenger seat as they pulled out of the property and then he was in the passenger seat in front of St. Agnes. “Parrish,” Ronan said, and Adam’s arms and legs responded while his mind remained in static. He crawled out of the car and subtly leaned on Ronan’s arm as they climbed the steps to the apartment. He fucked around with the keys until the doorknob gave in and he realized he was shivering with exhaustion.
He abruptly felt hands on him from behind and tensed, but relaxed again as they gently pulled off his jacket and set it on his desk. Ronan turned him around and kissed him chastely on the lips before lifting Adam’s shirt above his head. He haphazardly folded it and tossed it on the desk beside Adam’s coat. The folding really cut through the haze to Adam’s brain. He fumbled some words from his throat—
“Are you gonna stay with me?”
He hated how his voice sounded—raspy, uncertain, needy. He sounded needy. But Ronan grasped his face and kissed him, and then said, “Do you want me to?” Adam almost hated how Ronan sounded, too—soft, pitying, vulnerable. He sounded vulnerable. He sounded vulnerable, so Adam just nodded and tugged on his arm. Ronan pulled off his own coat. Adam retrieved two sweatshirts and one pair of sweatpants for himself, knowing Ronan would sleep in his boxers. His belly twinged again at knowing how Ronan slept. He threw the shirt at Ronan and climbed into bed.
Adam had never looked forward to his bed; to sleep, yes—he’d always coveted sleep, clung to the idea of it, regardless of the method or means. But a few weeks ago, when the temperature really started dropping, Ronan dreamt him this huge plush blanket that never let you get too cold or too hot; it made his bed dangerously welcoming and hard to part with. He also had never felt not-annoyed at clothes being thrown on his floor until now, because he looked at Ronan’s boots and jeans crumpled at his feet, but then he looked at Ronan’s thighs, and at the flash of bare waist before he pulled the sweatshirt on. Then Ronan walked over and stopped before getting in the bed. He looked vaguely amused, in a dry sort of way.
“What,” he said. Adam blinked and realized he was grinning hard. He shrugged and pulled back the covers, and avoided Ronan’s stare until he gave up and clambered in. Adam immediately latched his limbs around Ronan’s body, trapping him. “Lemme turn the light off, nerd.” Adam grunted and untangled himself so Ronan could stretch and switch off the lamp at his bedside. The dark felt like a balm to his tired head, and he sunk back into Ronan’s space, drinking his smell and relishing the feel of someone else’s body beside him. They entangled their bodies once more, and Adam noticed how his bones had decided to go numb and how his breathing seemed to even out almost immediately. Ronan kissed him once more on the lips and once more on the forehead, then whispered, “I can’t wait to show you guys everything.” Adam didn’t feel the need to answer.
They woke in the morning still attached to one another. Adam’s alarm blared from his phone, and when he checked it, he saw too many notifications. He opened the text from Gansey: “Morning classes cancelled! Meet for lunch?” Followed by: “Make sure to catch up on some sleep while you can, my dear boy.”
Adam blinked as he waited for anything to make sense. He glanced, then, out the tiny window at the white dawn sky. He stood and peered outside; it was snowing.
Behind him, his bed made a bovine noise. He turned and watched Ronan snuffle his face into a pillow then flop dramatically in Adam’s direction.
“What are you doing weirdo,” he rasped. Adam sat on the edge of the bed and checked his phone again—Carruthers had texted him; there were notifications from the Math Team, Quizbowl, Weights, and Latin Club GroupMes; and the school had emailed every student about the cancellation. His first class would begin at one o’ clock.
He turned to the blanketed lump pawing at his waist from behind. “Class’s cancelled ’til one.”
Ronan considered this, then held out his arms. Adam complied.
“For why?” Ronan asked, cautiously manhandling Adam so that half of his body could pillow half of Ronan’s.
Adam scratched his scalp lightly and relished the pleased groan. “It’s snowing.”
Ronan gasped a little. “Really?” he said in a stage whisper. Adam chuckled a little. Ronan rolled out of their nest and toward the window. He stayed there for a minute, watching the snow fall with his elbows on the window sill and his head propped on his hands. Adam watched him and thought that he ought to get used to this, these rushes of stupid affection he’d been feeling for Ronan. He thought he’d ought to train himself to stop feeling embarrassed by them.
So he got up and padded to the window, pressed himself along Ronan’s back and rested his chin on Ronan’s shoulder. He almost scolded himself for not paying more attention to the snow before; he hadn’t seen snow since he was too little to remember it, back when he was too scared to appreciate it. It really was beautiful, the way it fell, like it was too shy to reach the ground. A stray thought wondered if Ronan had dreamt this snow.
“Wanna get lunch later?” Adam asked, which was a silly question. Adam did the math and was shocked that they had six hours, which at once seemed like a lot more and a lot less time than it really was. “Or breakfast?”
Ronan pulled Adam’s arms tighter around his middle. While he considered, Adam felt his energy shift; the gauzy, boyish delight began to sizzle noisily with something extra.
“You know how to cook?” Ronan asked flippantly. He turned his head to raise an eyebrow and bare his teeth.
Adam affected an are you going to elaborate? sort of look.
“I can’t tell if you’re being literal or metaphorical.” Ronan gave a short little cackle—Hah! “Or is that the set-up for a bad pick-up line, or something?”
A concrete-crashing smile. “Get dressed.”
Adam didn’t put on his uniform just yet, just jeans and a sweater. They went to the Barns. For breakfast, Ronan showed him what he’d been working on.
A week and a half later, it was Christmas Day. For the last few days of their winter break, Ronan and Adam had been acting like mischievous little boys around the other three—constantly snickering to each other, some conspiracy obviously going on between the two of them. They also, Gansey thought, looked so in love these days he didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it sooner. At the same time, he did know how: Adam’s walls had been slowly crumbling away these past few weeks, and he seemed to have more energy, despite being more tired than ever. Once school ended, Adam took on an attitude Gansey hadn’t seen on him before. He smiled more, he laughed more, and he seemed to be living more than surviving. Gansey supposed it was what Ronan had always done to him—it was the dolly being pulled behind the Beemer, it was the banter and the teasing, only softer. More whole.
He was so proud of them both. Ronan’s venom—which had seemed to enter his own bloodstream just a month ago—was gone, now just the clumsy boyishness Gansey had known a while ago. Gansey had the melancholy thought that he couldn’t remember those days, the before times, as well as he used to; but maybe he didn’t need to—Adam and Ronan were taking care of each other well enough. It seemed that they’d be okay. It seemed that they didn’t need him like they used to.
Gansey knew that they were planning something special because neither him, Henry, nor Blue had been allowed at the Barns for the past five days. The three of them usually loitered around Fox Way or Litchfield until Ronan and Adam showed up late, smug and excited and joyful and obsessed with one another. Blue and Henry had noticed the change and found it extremely amusing.
“I hope the Beem has a big backseat,” Henry said.
“Oh, I believe it must,” Blue replied seriously. “That’s where Adam’s been staying instead of his actual apartment, right? I bet it’s got a kitchenette and everything.” She snorted at her own joke.
“Oh, yeah, he’s really close with his landlord, you know. He even gets a discount if he sleeps shirtless.”
Blue snorted again, which Gansey loved. “Hah, gross. Nah, I bet they camp out in a barn together.”
Henry smiled. “Aw, cow shit, romantic. Just like Brokeback Mountain.” Blue combined a snort and a cackle.
“Henry,” Gansey scolded lightly, “don’t be crude.”
Blue threw a shoe at Henry. “Fucking gross, Henry.”
“Yeah,” Gansey confirmed.
Henry sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little jealous of what they have,” he said, looking down to pick at his nails. Gansey twinged.
“What, a dark-magic blood pact?” Blue said, and Henry laughed—every time he did, it sounded more to Gansey like Blue’s laugh.
Adam and Ronan had informed the gang that Christmas Day solemnities were to be held at the Barns and that no guests were to arrive any later than 3 PM, sharp, or they would be fed to the Opal. So at 2:30, sharp, the three pulled up in the Camaro with leftovers and sweets, from Fox Way, and booze, from Litchfield. As Gansey made his way up the porch steps laden with all their gifts, he was struck with how different the Barns seemed. It was more like the before times than it had been since before Niall’s death, but it was also less Niall and more Ronan than Gansey had ever seen it. The grass was green, but not summery green like usual; it had taken on a more emerald hue, and combined with the more muted gray-blue sky, it seemed less like a paradise and more…Gansey couldn’t place it. Like what home was supposed to feel like, he thought. What Ronan felt like, maybe.
Ronan answered the door wearing a sweater and plaid pajama bottoms, which Gansey didn’t know Ronan wore. He was smiling—not dangerously, just happily. Dewily, Gansey thought, without knowing why. Blue hugged him, and he didn’t hesitate to hug back. Henry didn’t hug him, because that wasn’t how they were; he and Ronan clasped hands in a laughably Aglionby way. Ronan shone brightly when he looked at Gansey, and gave him a big bear hug like he would’ve when they were fifteen. Gansey dropped a bunch of the presents, but didn’t break the hug; Blue and Henry laughed and picked them up for him.
He and Ronan walked with their arms slung around one another, Ronan guiding them into the living room. When they entered, Blue and Henry gasped. Gansey took in the huge tree, with all its lights and colors and moving parts, and thought that he’d been right. Ronan was no longer stepping cautiously around his father’s presence at the Barns; Ronan was finally starting to make things his own. Gansey looked at Ronan looking at the tree, then hugged him again.
“It’s amazing, man,” he said. He pulled back and tried to find the words he wanted to say. “I’m really happy about all this, about you, and everything. This is all really great.” It wasn’t quite right, but that was okay. Ronan took on that dewy look again, and nodded shyly.
“Thanks, bro. Means a lot.”
Gansey grinned.
Adam appeared in the doorway, and Blue and Henry cheered. He smiled once at them, than at the tree, than at Gansey and Ronan, then more sheepishly at Ronan only. Then he said, “Alright, Lynch. Is the kitchen ready for its visitors?”
Ronan smiled like a sports car and Adam returned it. “Been ready. Let’s fuckin’ go,” he said, and strode to the kitchen. Adam grinned wide at all of them, then followed Ronan, beckoning them all forward.
The smell of Christmas hit Gansey like a tidal wave. Before, he wouldn’t have been able to describe what Christmas smelled like, but right then, he knew that’s what he was smelling. What’s more, it was distinctly a Lynch Christmas: fresh evergreen, spiced cranberries, fresh-baked pie, onions sizzling in butter, and cider spiced with cloves. Blue and Henry made shocked and pleased noises as they looked around the kitchen—it was like none of them had ever seen before.
On the stove was a big pot of spiced cider—which was the least surprising, as it’d become Ronan’s latest obsession; a skillet of brussel sprouts sizzling in bacon fat; a pan of what Gansey assumed to be a gravy of sorts; and the biggest pot of mashed potatoes Gansey had ever seen. On the counter beside the stove was a pan of glazed carrots and an intimidating variety of liquor bottles. It felt like the dream sequence in the Nutcracker, Gansey thought—that boozy-sugary, spicy smell filled his head like cotton.
Behind him, he heard Blue and Henry shriek in tandem. He whipped around as he caught Adam and Ronan laughing, too.
“How the fuck did you two manage all of this?” Blue asked. The boys would’ve looked very smug if they hadn’t also looked so delighted.
Gansey approached the kitchen table, where they were all gathered, and saw that it was laid with a huge, gorgeously cooked turkey. He laughed a little in disbelief.
“It took a few tries,” Adam said, giving Ronan a conspiratory look. Ronan smiled boyishly and shoved Adam’s arm.
“Yeah, it was a trial-by-error process. Trust the scientist.” They shared another look, then both broke into quiet giggles.
Ronan suddenly jolted and looked, bemused, down at Blue. She’d wrapped her arms around his waist and was smushing her face into his chest. When she pulled back, she looked up at Ronan with big, genuine eyes. “This is amazing, Ronan,” she said. Gansey’s heart throbbed. “This is crazy, how you guys managed this. I think this is already the best Christmas ever.” She removed herself from Ronan and shifted towards Adam; he shifted toward her in affirmation and she squeezed him, too. He smiled and hugged her back, and they looked like best friends, and Gansey couldn’t take all of this love he was feeling.
“Alright, our noble hosts,” he said, addressing Ronan and Adam. “How shall we proceed?”
Ronan bounced once on his toes then started forward. “Alright, so. Basically, everybody get a plate,” he said as he lifted a few down from a cabinet, “and pile as much food as possible onto it.” He handed an impressive knife to Adam. “My good sir, won’t you do the honors?”
Adam took it cautiously. “Yeah. I might have to look at the Wiki How again, I’m not sure if I remember how to do it.” He stood there for a minute, looking at the knife, Ronan looking at him. “I really don’t wanna fuck it up.”
Henry scoffed. “Ugh, no, please fuck it up. This is all too perfect already. I might break out into hives if something doesn’t go horribly wrong soon.”
Adam laughed sheepishly, and nodded. “Thanks, Henry. That means a lot.”
“My hives?”
Adam’s smile went wry and his eyes deadpan. “Yeah.” Henry snickered.
“Ronan, I need you to tell me what all this is,” Blue said, peering into the pots—she had to stand slightly on her tiptoes to see into the potatoes. Her accent was making an appearance, Gansey thought sweetly.
Ronan introduced all the food and even took people’s plates to serve them himself. He showed everyone to their spots around the table as Adam concentrated hard on carving the turkey—he looked extremely stressed as Adam usually did, with his lined face and careful limbs. His tongue stuck out of his mouth ever so slightly. He was looking back and forth between the turkey and his phone.
“Hey nerd,” Ronan accosted, looking over Adam’s shoulder, “don’t cut your hand off, pretty please.”
Adam considered the bird and seemed to gain a little more confidence. “I won’t, as long as you’re not in my way,” he deadpanned. Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam’s middle, a show of affection that was rare, but somehow didn’t surprise Gansey one bit.
Adam finished desecrating the bird triumphantly, and they finally dug in. They all ate like starving people except for Henry, who had a lot to say and laugh about and barely paused to eat. Blue ended up finishing his plate before he was done, sliding it out from under his nose as he animated a story with his hands. Everybody got seconds before Ronan cursed and rushed to the oven just in time to pull about seven steaming pies from it. Blue gasped, her jaw wide open.
“Lynch!” She said. “Parrish! How much of that is for me? I need to—oh my god, you guys did too much. Way too much.”
Ronan grinned sort of shyly. “I bet I made your favorites, too. And yeah, I made ‘em, Parrish just helped.”
Adam smiled cheerily. “I made sure you stuck to the recipe,” he said with incredible fondness.
“Per usual,” Ronan replied with an easiness that made Gansey, Blue, and Henry have to share a Look.
They had made Blue’s favorites—chocolate and strawberry rhubarb, respectively—as well as several others. They cleared up a few dishes and brewed strong coffee before taking their slices and following Ronan to the living room. The fire was already going, and someone had arranged the presents Gansey had brought in around the tree.
Ronan plopped down onto the ground with his two plates of three different slices of pie each; Adam settled next to him with a large mug of coffee and a bottle of Irish whiskey. They both sparkled. “Alright, losers,” Ronan announced, trying not to seem too excited, “presents time. Sargent, since you’re the elf, why don’t you hand them all out?” Blue scoffed and got up from her spot to walk over and kick Ronan in the shin.
As they bickered, Adam got up—slowly, painstakingly unfolding his limbs—and began quietly passing out the packages. Gansey got up to help him and they shared a smile with one another, a knowing smile as they watched their kids play-fight.
Gansey chuckled. “Maybe they’ll all get to bed on time tonight.”
Adam’s eyes crinkled. “Doubt it.” They smiled again at Blue and Ronan wrestling on the carpet while Henry heckled.
Blue insisted that everyone open only one gift at a time, so they could all see what everyone got. Ronan didn’t gripe aloud, but he bounced in place as he waited for his turn every time. Gansey spotted Adam’s hand on Ronan’s knee, not stilling it, just touching. Gansey tugged on the edge of Blue’s dress, wrapping it around his finger over and over. Once the hyperactivity had died down a bit in favor of savoring the exchange, Henry tentatively rested his head on Gansey’s shoulder. That was something they’d been doing recently.
At the end, it looked like this: Gansey had received a knitted scarf, sweater, and skullcap from Blue; a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, a dreamt mint plant with sugar-sweet leaves, and a bag of penis-shaped candies that was labeled “Eat A Bag Of Dicks” from Ronan; a pair of neon pink-soled topsiders from Henry; and a couple books about the mythologies of South American indigenous groups, along with a new journal, from Adam. Blue had thrifted and altered a pair of sharp pleated trousers for Adam, and he looked absolutely enchanted with them. Gansey had gotten Adam a box set of all the Harry Potter books—Adam had said once that he’d seen a couple of the movies as a kid and loved them, but had somehow never read the books; Gansey found this unacceptable and told Adam so frequently, but Adam hardly ever read for pleasure anymore, so Gansey ordered that the books were Adam’s first assignment of his summer break. Perhaps the most exciting exchange between the five of them was Ronan’s gifts to Blue: he got her a pair of platform knee-high stompers, black faux leather with plenty of silver buckles and bangles. It was the exact pair she’d been coveting for the past four months but couldn’t afford (and refused to let Gansey buy for her). Blue was speechless for a moment before she tried to sputter about how he shouldn’t have bought her this, shouldn’t have spent that kind of money on her—but then Ronan waved her away and shoved her other gift toward her. She swooped pulled down the white sheet draped overtop of it and went catatonic again—it was a potted tree with winding, spiraling branches, downy leaves, and dewey blue lilies blossoming all over. Gansey could see on Blue’s face when she decided to let go of her pride—then she smiled and tackled Ronan with a hug again.
They lounged around getting tipsy for another couple hours. Gansey felt a familiar giddiness sizzle in his chest as he picked up his new books and journal to inspect. He hadn’t touched his last journal since—well, he supposed, since his death. That thought buzzed in his fingertips as he flipped through the new journal; its pages were thick, sturdy, and smelled perfect. He flicked the leaves through his fingers and jumped a little when something fell out.
Adam got up to start another pot of coffee as Gansey picked it up—it was an envelope with Adam’s shifty scrawl across the back. Gansey, it read, please read later, don’t embarrass me now. Gansey opened it anyway just to peek at the two-page letter folded inside; he didn’t read it, but he took a minute to savor Adam’s handwriting in its neat lines. The script looked more mature than it had last spring, Gansey thought.
He hastily folded the letter back inside the envelope as Adam returned. Adam met his eyes and smiled sheepishly before looking meaningfully into his mug. Gansey glanced at the box of new piercings and statement pins Adam had gotten Blue; there seemed to be something discreetly taped to the bottom of it. Adam had gotten Henry a t-shirt with Dolly Parton’s face on it; Henry surprisingly wasn’t wearing it already, but had re-folded it how Adam had. Gansey thought he saw a safety pin attaching something to its collar.
He searched Ronan’s haul, but realized then that the couple hadn’t exchanged gifts. Gansey wondered whether they would do so later, in private, or if they’d reached a truce where Adam wouldn’t need to sacrifice any of his pride. He hoped it was the former, but knew that some changes would just take time.
When Blue started to nod off where she was still sprawled across Ronan’s lap, Gansey asked her if her mothers were expecting her back soon. She pouted ridiculously, which was an answer enough; Henry began to whine and protest.
“No, Dad, I wanna stay at Uncle Ronan’s house forever.”
“Alright,” Ronan announced, standing up and scooping Blue up with him, “guess it’s time to go.” Blue shrieked in his face and flailed her limbs. “Chill, elf, Jesus Mary. You want me to drop you on your head?” He tried to dump her on the floor, but she landed on her feet anyway. She laughed, Ha! but it morphed into a yawn.
Gansey started to gather her things, subtly peeking at what he thought might be the note. “But we didn’t get to help you guys clean up,” she said to Adam, but she was already giving him a hug goodbye.
“That’s alright, Blue. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“Can we take some leftovers?” Blue stage-whispered.
Adam’s eyes went wide. “Oh, yes, absolutely, fuck. Please do.” Blue cackled a little and they went to the kitchen.
Gansey took an armload of goodies out to the Pig and belatedly realized Ronan had followed and was doing the same. They deposited their hauls and stood up and rolled their shoulders. Gansey smiled. “Merry Christmas, bro.”
Ronan snorted. “Merry Christmas, my dude.” He hesitated, then pulled Gansey into a hug, like Gansey knew he would.
After they separated, they stood there for a moment looking at the rolling fields. “I love what you’ve done with the place,” Gansey said. Ronan huffed. “No, seriously. It’s…it’s more. Than it used to be.” He felt Ronan tense a bit and cringed, certain he’d said the wrong thing. Ronan breathed a smoker’s breath.
“Yeah,” Ronan said. “You might be right. I dunno.” He stared at the emerald hills and looked up at the heavy sky. Gansey didn’t know if it actually rained at the Barns; he’d never seen evidence of it himself.
“You guys should come back up tomorrow,” Ronan said.
Gansey nodded. “For sure.”
They stood their for another minute, comfortably, then headed inside together.
Ronan made his way back into the living room as Gansey wandered into the kitchen. Adam and Henry were sharing a quick side-hug and Blue was balancing a tower of Tupperware in her arms. Gansey took some of the haul from her and followed her into the living room, where Ronan was standing in front of the fireplace, looking contemplative in a way that made Gansey sort of sad. Blue bumped Ronan with his hip and he ruffled her hair. Henry bumped him with his shoulder and Ronan pushed his face away affectionately. They were seen to the door by the two gracious hosts except for they all stood there talking for a long time. The melancholy that had clouded over Ronan lifted again; Adam’s arm was around his waist. Gansey shivered, noticing that the temperature had dropped since five minutes ago, but he still couldn’t drag any of them away.
When Blue yawned again, Ronan shoved her into Gansey. “Get out, elf. Go to bed and report back tomorrow.”
She bared her teeth in an almost Ronan-like way. “Alright, as long as there’s more Bailey’s. That shit was good.” Ronan barked a laugh and the trio slowly ambled toward the Pig, Blue pulling Henry into the backseat instead of calling shotgun like usual. Gansey turned back to the boys, but they weren’t looking; they were grinning at each other in that private way, their noses almost touching, their socked feet on top of one another’s. Gansey smiled.
A lot had changed, he thought, and very quickly. His boys were changing beautifully.
They went inside and acted like they would clean up, but they didn’t. Adam made more boozy coffee in the large mug they’d been sharing from all evening and they sipped from it on the sofa. They were sleepy and calm, but also giddy with excitement at having each other this way, this grown-up, magical way.
They’d woken up together that morning, which was not new, but it was at the same time. They woke up together and Adam didn’t have a place to be and Ronan didn’t have any nightmares or feelings to hide. Ronan had woken to Adam curled around him, which Ronan was obsessed with—Adam had only started doing it lately, and usually seemed to blame it on sleepiness and defenselessness. They had both slept shirtless, which was very new, and the feel of sweat forming where their chests met made Ronan blush all the way to his ears and he had to breathe deeply to calm down. When Adam realized Ronan was awake, he lifted his head and smiled blearily, trying to flip his bedhead out of his eyes—Ronan was also obsessed with this. Ronan initiated a long half hour of kissing and he was so exhilarated by the end that he’d almost forgotten it was Christmas.
Adam had snuggled up against his side again, his breath warm in his ear. He started to speak, then seemed to get distracted by kissing behind Ronan’s ear, then tried again. “Presents?” He croaked. “Coffee?” Ronan giggled and, the excitement coming back to him, flipped over and pinned Adam to the bed.
“Well, I talked to Santa last night,” Ronan in between blowing raspberries into Adam’s neck, “and he said he brought you coal.” Bluuuurp. Bahahahaha Ronan stOP— “He thought that maybe you could stick it up your ass and by graduation, you might have a diamond.”
Adam ground a few bony knuckles into Ronan’s ribs and Ronan squawked and rolled away. Adam took a last heaving breath and got up, pointedly trying to look pissed and failing. “Well, I guess he brought you nothing then, asshole. Not even an ass-diamond.” He panted around the words, a wildfire smirk on his face, and Ronan felt like light. Adam pulled on some sweatpants—Ronan’s sweatpants, he realized, but didn’t say anything—and a t-shirt. “I’m gonna go make coffee. And—shit, Ronan, we gotta start cooking.” He suddenly looked stressed. Ronan rolled off the bed.
“I’ll make sure it’s all covered. I promise,” he said when Adam raised his eyebrows. Ronan wrapped his boy up in his arms and swayed a little; the structure melted from Adam’s frame and he swayed, too. They kissed again on accident. Then Ronan grinned against Adam’s face. “Guess what?”
“What,” Adam murmured into Ronan’s neck.
“I lied. You have more presents than just coal.”
“Ooh,” Adam said, sing-songy. “I do?” He pulled his face up; his bedhead was still monstrous.
Ronan smiled and smacked a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah. Let’s go open.” He tugged Adam, who was for some reason resisting. “Now.”
“Okay, but we can’t laze around for too long. We’ve got to start cooking at a reasonable time.”
Ronan groaned. “Parrish, we already prepped basically everything.” Adam had ensured it.
Adam walked around Ronan to pick up Ronan’s phone and check the time. “It’s already—oh, okay, we’ve got time. It’s only 7:45.” Ronan groaned again, giving more misery this time. Adam kicked him lightly and he flopped onto the bed. “Come on, lazy. You wanna play Santa or not?” Ronan did wanna play Santa, and also Adam was wearing that expression he wore when Ronan was pretty sure Adam was flirting. He bounced up and skipped out of the bedroom. “Hey,” Adam shouted after him, “you gonna dress yourself?”
After Ronan had begrudgingly put on pants—Adam’s—and sorted out their presents in two piles as Adam prepared coffee, they finally sat down to unwrap them, not a second past 8 o’ clock. Ronan pushed Adam’s pile toward him, but Adam pushed it back and insisted Ronan open his first. Adam could smell the dream magic already; he didn’t want Ronan to go second and be disappointed by Adam’s lackluster. He felt kind of silly, but Ronan went first anyway.
Adam basked in Ronan’s smile as he unwrapped the wood-grained frames. Adam had thrifted and polished them the best he could before he filled them with pictures of the group—a shot of Gansey and Ronan with their arms slung around one another, Gansey kingly and Ronan the young prince; Ronan and Blue in each other’s faces, trying to look angry but smiling too joyfully to sell it; a portrait of the five of them on a Fox Way sofa, all intertwined with one another. Then there were some with just the two of them, including one taken by Henry after Adam had whispered a dry wisecrack into Ronan’s ear. Ronan opened that one last, and he was grinning and his face was pink. He gently set the stack aside and hugged Adam around the shoulders.
“They’re great,” he said. They kissed.
“There’s more,” Adam said. Ronan laughed and called him impatient, and Adam shoved the other stack toward him. It was a few cookbooks that Adam had gotten last-minute, after Adam had some of the most fun he’d ever had figuring out the kitchen with Ronan. They kept having to make trips to the grocery store because they’d throw too much flour in each other’s hair during pie crust-making, and they’d go to the grocery store like it was a date, and they’d stop on the drive back to make out. Adam hadn’t eaten so much food in his life as he had these past few days, but he felt hungrier every day.
Ronan laughed delightedly at the cookbooks and started flipping through them immediately; Adam scooched to Ronan’s side to look on with him. They were old Southern cookbooks, a couple of them sponsored by Church Lady groups, all of them spotted and stained. Some of the recipes were hysterical because of how much mayonnaise they used or where they put raisins, and they sat there a long time reading before Adam remembered.
“Oh, uh—“ he managed before Ronan flicked another page and the envelope fell out. He suppressed a cringe and tried to surrender control for a moment as Ronan met his eyes curiously. “Read it later,” Adam said. Ronan began to open it anyway—the menace. “Ah-ah-ah, no, please just read it later.” Adam managed to wrestle it from Ronan without tearing it.
“Why?” Ronan looked and sounded…almost hurt. Adam deflated a bit.
“It’s just…” Fuck. Adam was trying to be gentler with his words, lately, because he’s begun to realize how Ronan often interprets Adam’s words more deeply than intended, that he’ll overthink for days and end up in a spiral. It’s one of those things Adam’s learned from being with Ronan like this, and it’s made him want to try being a little more vulnerable sometimes. Adam’s trying, a lot. “I’ve been trying not to be embarrassed about…about how I feel. Not about you, let me be clear, I’m not embarrassed of you.” Adam took a deep breath and lamented how Ronan’s walls began to cast shadows on his face. “I love you, Ronan, in a way I’m not at all used to, and I think stupid things about you. And I wanna tell you all those stupid things, but I’m just not ready to yet.” Adam’s been trying, lately, to give himself a little grace here and there. He sighed. “So I wrote them down. And I want you to read them—just not in front of me, because I might die.”
Ronan’s face broke a little at the last bit and he sort of chuckled. They hugged for a long time. Then Ronan said against Adam’s nose, “Do I get to play Santa now?”
Adam chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, baby.” It was a bit of a power play, making Ronan shy like that, but Adam needed a little of his control back. Ronan recovered back into Christmas mode and wrangled the pile of gifts toward them.
Adam was absolutely exhausted by the end. Ronan had dreamt—dreamt, he hadn’t bought a single goddamn thing so Adam didn’t have any excuse to get pissy—more lotion for his hands as well as lotion for his face; some product for his hair that would keep his curls in place and would help in the summer when his hair got frizzy; a few travel coffee mugs; a bunch of soft sweaters; some nice plain t-shirts, also very soft; some more shorts for working out in; new socks and underwear; and a heavy wool coat that looked unfairly expensive, but had the undeniable scent of something dreamt. Adam’s brain couldn’t handle all the spoiling.
“Are you going haywire?” God, Adam thought, Ronan sounded so fragile sometimes. He had to stop faltering on that front.
“Yes. I mean—no. I meant to say, yes, I love it, I love all of it. Thank you.” Adam realized that the inflection in his voice wasn’t quite right, so instead of words he just let Ronan hold him for a second, knowing Ronan would understand what he meant.
They snuggled and kissed on the carpet until Adam almost knocked over their cold coffee with his foot. He got up then and set off to man the kitchen. There was a lot of kissing in there, too, and a lot of fuckups, but they managed to get everything in the oven on time, etcetera.
At two o’ clock, Adam retired and announced he was showering. After a lewd joke by Ronan, Adam warned, “Do not follow me. I need some alone time.” Ronan made another lewd joke at the back of Adam’s head, but once he heard the bathroom door close, he skittered to the living room.
The note felt heavy and important in his hands; he almost gave himself a paper cut trying to open it. Inside were two pages of Adam’s handsome scrawl in black ink. Adam had signed it at the end with a heart.
The letter felt so authentically Adam that Ronan wondered why Adam couldn’t say it out loud—Ronan could practically hear his voice in his ear. It started out dryly funny but with that charming wit underneath. Ronan thought about how Adam’s hands would have looked writing the letter.
It was at the end of the first page that things got a little watery:
It’s funny—I feel at once like you’ve brought total clarity into my life and, too, like you’ve completely blinded me. Loving you this way has brought me a lot of epiphanies—some more obvious than others, of course; I’ve started to see myself perhaps the way I really am, just because I know you probably know me better than I know myself. But at the same time, I have to scold myself now and then for not remembering my peripheral. I guess that’s something I’ve always done, hyperfocus on one thing and not remember to look around at what else I’ve got. But baby, it’s too easy when you’re right there in front of me. You make it dangerously easy to forget about all the bullshit. (Which is weird, considering you’re always spouting it. Ha.)
Ronan laughed aloud and it sounded choked. He cursed himself, and this stupid boy, and his beautifully fragile handwriting. Ronan finished reading it, then read it again and again until he heard an engine sputtering outside and he had to get his shit together.
That night, they dozed off once on the couch, then moved each other to Ronan’s bed. That night, they slept in each other’s pajamas. The next morning, Ronan couldn’t go to Mass as planned because the long-winding driveway was laden with eighteen inches of snow. Sunday morning, they slept in, and Sunday afternoon, they ate leftovers and scrubbed shit off the counters. Sunday night, they stayed up late because Adam didn’t have school in the morning. Monday morning, Ronan asked Adam if he was going to get a head start on his statistics coursework like he said he would over the break, and Adam said, “Later.”
Things were changing, to be sure. Ronan read the letter over and over and hoped they wouldn’t change too quickly.