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Adam couldn't remember if he'd ever been to the Aglionby campus during the summer break, and he was certain that he'd never been to the dorms before. They made him feel even more like an outsider than the rest of Aglionby did – his brain helpfully providing the numbers of how much it cost to live on campus, sums so far out of his reach that he had barely dared to dream of it even on the worst nights at home – with that careless shabbiness that did nothing to hide the money behind it.
It was early evening, but he hadn't told Gansey when he was getting off work and instead of heading to Monmouth he'd come to Aglionby instead. At the time it had felt like a whim, but now that he was here, he realised that he'd been brooding over it since he'd seen Declan the day before. It wasn't Declan's bruised face that had brought him here, though, but the look in his eyes when he'd told Ronan to keep his head down. The fear.
Something had to be wrong if Declan Lynch was afraid, something that seemed to concern Ronan – and by extension all of them – as well. And it wasn't as if Ronan was ever going to have a sensible conversation with his brother, nor Gansey, who didn't seem to like Ronan's elder brother much more than Ronan himself did. It wasn't surprising, really – Gansey valued honesty, and Declan had anything honest about himself hidden away under a flawless mask. Gansey probably wasn't even aware of how similar they looked next to each other, with their genial smiles and their strong handshakes and their effortless wealth.
Adam stepped through the mostly quiet corridors – heard some loud electro thumping from upstairs, shrill laughter from the room marked Generosity – until he reached the right one. The only reason he knew which room to go to was because Ronan had mentioned once that “effervescence” was one hell of an understatement to describe Declan's temper.
The door had been repaired recently, the hinges and bolts were obviously much newer than the rest of it, and the door itself was slightly dented. Burglars, Declan had said. As if there were burglars in Henrietta. As if any burglar broke into a single inhabited dorm room while ignoring a bunch of empty rooms around it.
It was only when he knocked that the thought occurred to him that Declan might not even be there – Declan with his countless friends, his girlfriend, his ability to make friends five minutes after stepping into a room full of strangers – but just as Adam was already about to leave again, cursing himself for wasting his time, he heard steps and the door was opened.
Declan's face looked marginally better than the last time he'd seen him, but that wasn't saying much. He'd clearly not been about to go out, barefoot, wearing nothing but expensive jeans and a wrinkled, unbuttoned dress shirt that looked like he'd picked it up from the floor and put it on when he heard the knock. Adam caught a glimpse of Declan's chest, black hair on thick muscle, and the edge of a white bandage wrapped around his shoulder. He looked tired and tense, like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. It made his eyes look deep-set and hollow, his mouth was a thin line when he forgot to smile, and he reminded Adam more of Ronan than he ever had before.
At least he did for a moment before his mask snapped back into place, a quick, charming smile that didn't take the surprise out of his eyes when he said, “Parrish.”
“Ronan is all right,” Adam said as way of greeting because the only thing connecting them was Ronan, after all, and whatever else he thought of Declan, he did care about his brothers.
Declan relaxed minutely and stepped to the side to let Adam into the room, asking, “Then why are you here?”
The room was a mess, and not the kind of mess two teenage boys usually made. Someone – Declan? Matthew? – had tried to clean up, but the remnants of a fight were still visible. The desk and the closet both had chipped corners and edges as if someone had thrown things against them, wood splitters remained on the floor, there was a small crack in the window, and a large, blackened hole in one wall the origin of which Adam couldn't begin to guess. The room smelt of antiseptics and a first-aid kit lay on the desk. There was a whiskey bottle right next to it, but it remained unopened. Adam wondered if nobody at Aglionby cared that students had alcohol in their dorm rooms or if you had to be Declan Lynch to be above such concerns.
“You want a drink?” Declan asked when he noticed what Adam was looking at, followed by a bitter laugh when Adam shook his head. “Are you really telling me you're friends with my brother and don't drink? I'm not supposed to right now, because of the painkillers.”
He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, and there was something odd about having Declan look up at him. Everything about him was too big for the small room – he was taller and broader than Ronan, and even with his shoulders hunched he had the kind of presence that filled rooms. Gansey looked almost normal at night, with his glasses on and a rumpled t-shirt, but even half-dressed, bruised Declan had something dangerous about him, something of a caged animal. And yet he looked almost … approachable like this, with his usual perfection bruised. He looked like someone Adam could touch, someone Adam could be.
“What happened to you?” Adam asked, leaning against the desk across from the bed. The sleeves of Declan's shirt were rolled up, and the veins on his forearms stood out like he was some kind of model. With shoulders and abs like that, Declan probably could model, and Adam remembered too late that Declan didn't need to do anything like that to pay for his tuition and those jeans and the expensive whiskey on the table.
“I'm sure Ronan told you. I think seeing me like this really cheered him up.” There was a harshness in Declan's voice that sounded more vulnerable than aggressive, and it clashed with how Declan was supposed to sound.. He was still on edge, his nerves still raw, and the look in his eyes was one Adam had seen in the mirror too often – fear and anger, anger at whatever had made him afraid as much as at himself for being afraid.
“Burglars? That's not even a good lie, Lynch.” Casually using his last name like any Aglionby boy would, and faking that was easier somehow than thinking about the way Declan's hands were curled around each other in tight fists.
“Despite my brother's insistence, I am not in fact a compulsive liar,” Declan replied, and this time there was a sad glint in his eyes. His mask had cracked deeply, because Adam couldn't remember if he'd seen as many genuine emotions on Declan's face since he'd known him as since he'd entered this room.
“If you were, you'd probably be a better one,” Adam said, and that earned him a small smile. There was something magnetic about that smile, despite Declan's split lip, the kind of smile that warmed you from the inside and made you feel proud just for being its cause. It was equal parts heady and humiliating.
“What do you want from me, Adam?”
“You don't have to tell me the truth, but you should tell Ronan,” Adam said. It hadn't been what he'd come here to say – whatever went on between Ronan and Declan wasn't really any of his business – but somehow he doubted that Declan would tell him anything at all. “Maybe he'd listen if he actually knew why you want him to keep his head down.”
The smile was gone as fast as it had appeared, replaced by an angry sneer that would have made Adam take a step backwards if the desk hadn't been in the way.
“Ronan knows why the fuck he should keep his head down,” and Adam had only ever heard Declan swear when he spoke to, or about, his brother. But his anger was a fleeting thing now, sizzling out before he'd even finished the sentence. Fear was exhausting, Adam knew that better than anyone. It kept you tense and alert and incapable of relaxing until every sound was like nails on a chalkboard, and the harder you tried to hide it, the more it ate at you.
Declan looked exhausted.
“You should put some ice on that.” Adam nodded at Declan's face, the swelling around his right eye.
“I did.” Declan gave him a suspicious look, but even frowning he added, “There's some in the fridge.”
Adam looked around until he saw the small fridge under the desk – somehow he doubted it was supposed to be there any more than the bottle of whiskey on the table –, opened it to find an even smaller ice compartment inside. It didn't contain anything other than two ice packs, and Adam had a feeling that Declan hadn't bought them recently, not as often as he and Ronan fought.
He should have just thrown it to Declan – that seemed like the right thing to do, the Aglionby thing to do – but ever since Adam had arrived, Declan had moved so slowly that he might well have failed to catch the ice pack. Or at least Adam told himself that as he walked over to the bed. Declan was looking at him even as he picked up a thin towel from the bed and handed it to Adam. It was still a bit damp and Adam figured it had served the same purpose before as he wrapped it around the ice pack.
There was a moment of hesitation, from both of them, but then Declan spread his knees a bit more and Adam stepped between them before he raised the ice pack to Declan's face. He was careful as he pressed it to his bruised cheek, and when Declan still flinched away Adam cupped his chin with his other hand.
“Hold still,” he said, and Declan did. There was something arresting about Declan's eyes, about the way he looked up at him with something almost like wonder. It was distracting enough that it took Adam a moment to realise how strange this must have looked, him standing between Declan's legs, holding his face as he moved the ice pack carefully over the bruises, never leaving it in one place for long enough to become too unpleasant. He'd done it often enough on his own face.
For a minute – or maybe five, or ten – they were quiet, Declan's eyes fixated on him, Declan's hands still on his knees, but his clenched jaw relaxed a bit as the numbness spread through aching flesh. Declan's chin was rough under Adam's fingers, and although he realised that he didn't have to keep holding on to it, he still didn't pull his hand back – didn't know where else to put it.
He startled when he felt a soft touch against the side of his knee, Declan's right hand coming to rest against his jeans, and all Adam could think was that his jeans had a hole just next to the press of Declan's thumb, and not the kind of fashionable hole that was supposed to be there.
“You do that for my brother after he gets into fights?” Declan asked, and Adam startled again, lowered the ice pack for a moment. He imagined Ronan's face if anyone but Gansey ever tried that and laughed.
“Ronan would bite my hand off.”
That made Declan laugh, too, and he cocked his head to the side until his cheek brushed against the soft fabric of the towel again. Adam obliged him, still smiling a little about the thought, but then he remembered Ronan's legs spread over his lap on the back seat of the Pig just as Declan had approached.
“Ronan and I aren't … it's not …” He felt himself flush a little and grimaced, annoyed by his own reaction. “You know he just likes to rile you up.”
A moment passed before understanding flashed through Declan's eyes and he gave the smallest nod, not wanting to move away from Adam's hands.
“Yeah, I know. If anything I wonder about him and Gansey sometimes.”
“Gansey likes girls,” Adam replied, and it wasn't a lie, Gansey did like girls. He didn't have to add that he himself had wondered about Ronan and Gansey more than once, especially when he'd first met them. He didn't have to add either that Ronan didn't even seem to be aware that girls existed – that Blue was one didn't seem to matter to him in the least.
“That alone doesn't mean much,” Declan replied, and for a second the smile that flitted over his face looked like it usually did, not the vote-for-me smile, but the fuck-me smile, charming and a little roguish, the one he'd smiled at Adam once or twice while looking at him over the shoulder of his current girlfriend. And that had just been Declan being Declan, flirting almost reflexively, but this was Declan's broad hand heavy on Adam's leg, the rough pad of his thumb touching bare skin through the hole in Adam's jeans before his hand slid up a few inches from his knee to his thigh, and even through the fabric the touch still burnt.
Once again Adam lowered the ice pack, and he felt his fingers tremble a little against Declan's chin.
“Are we still talking about Gansey?” he asked and already knew the answer because Declan's hand kept sliding up, and Adam didn't need any experience with situations like this to recognise the intent in his eyes. He'd seen it in Declan's eyes before, it just had never been directed at him.
Declan's legs shifted a bit, and what had felt comfortable enough – somewhat odd, but not uncomfortable – started to feel like his knees were caging Adam in, keeping him where he wanted him. Declan's free hand took the ice pack from Adam's before it curled around his fingers. His hands were large, broad and strong and calloused – the callouses one got from boxing and other sports rather than from manual labour. It made Adam acutely aware of how close they were, Declan's face level with his chest, and Adam lowered his head a little before he even thought about it.
“You didn't have to do any of this,” Declan said softly, and there it was again, wonder almost in his eyes, and all Adam could think was that he had done that, he'd made Declan sound like this. Hadn't his girlfriend of the month put ice on his face and felt appropriately sorry for him? Had Declan not let her? He did seem reluctant to appear as anything but perfectly in control in front of women.
“Just trying to get you to talk,” Adam replied, and he knew the joke fell flat before he'd even said it. He was staring at Declan's lips, not full, but as perfectly shaped as the rest of his face, and even a few bruises and a broken nose didn't hide how distractingly handsome he was.
“Seducing me, huh?” Declan teased, and Adam tried to pull back immediately, before he could hear mocking and laughter, but Declan didn't laugh, didn't let him go either, but rather pulled him closer.
“Come here,” and Declan's voice had dropped to a low rumble, deeper than before. Even now Adam's brain couldn't help but register how good Declan was at this, because even as Adam knew what Declan was doing he found himself falling for it, for his voice and the touch of his hand, and that intense look that felt as if the room could catch fire around them and Declan still wouldn't look away from his face.
So he didn't budge when Declan let go of his hand and reached for his chin instead, thumb pressing against the thin skin just below his bottom lip. Adam closed his eyes so he could pretend he wasn't leaning in, that it was just Declan moving until their lips touched.
Not too long ago he'd thought that Blue would be his first kiss, and when he realised that wasn't happening any time soon, he'd still hoped it might happen later. And if not, there'd be another girl, even if the other girls in his fantasies always resembled Blue far more than Adam would have liked to admit.
He certainly hadn't imagined his first kiss to be with a man, and of all the men in the world Declan Lynch would have seemed one of the least likely. It felt nothing like Adam had imagined, not with the scratch of Declan's evening stubble against his chin, the insistent press of his lips, and his tongue lacked the tentative shyness of Adam's fantasies. There was only certainty and determination in his touch, and skill too, in the way his tongue teased Adam's lips before slipping between them, brushed only briefly against Adam's tongue before he let his teeth catch on Adam's bottom lip, more a nip than a bite, and Adam only realised his hand had gone for Declan's hair when he felt his fingers tighten their grip on it. Declan's hair was thick and soft, and he let out a low gasp when Adam pulled on it, so he repeated the motion, just as Declan nipped on his bottom lip again, and felt a thrill go through him when Declan's bite loosened with a soft sigh.
Their lips were still resting against each other, warm and soft despite the cut on Declan's. Adam had stepped closer still, his knees pressed against Declan's thighs, so close to his groin, his left hand hovering above Declan's shoulder, not quite daring to touch.
“You're not just doing this to piss off Ronan, are you?” Adam found himself asking, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Declan smiled against his lips.
“If I wanted to piss off Ronan, I would have kissed Gansey,” he said before he nudged Adam's nose with his own. “And I promise you I'm not thinking about my brother when I'm kissing anyone.”
“That would be weird even for your family,” Adam said because it seemed like the easiest thing to say, or just like the thing least likely to keep Declan talking. He lowered his fingers to Declan's shoulder – the uninjured one, or at least the unbandaged one – and even through the fabric of his shirt Adam could feel the strength in those tense muscles. Imitating what Declan had done just moments before, he nudged his nose, and Declan got the hint, breached what bit of distance there was between their lips and kissed him again.
Adam had never been kissed before that day, but even so he could tell how good Declan was at this, the soft pressure of his lips against Adam's, his teeth nipping gently, his tongue teasing Adam's, and all the while his thumb kept rubbing the inside of Adam's wrist, a light, seemingly innocent touch that still sent shivers through Adam's body. He tried to keep up with the kiss best he could, his fingers curled into Declan's hair, and every time he pulled on it he was rewarded with a soft moan against his lips. It made him want to take Declan apart, make him moan and shiver until he forgot all about his carefully cultivated seduction skills, but the only things Adam could think of that might get him that result were out of the question. There was no way in hell he'd go to his knees in an Aglionby dorm room and suck Declan Lynch's cock. Or anyone else's, for that matter.
So he dug his fingers into Declan's shoulder instead, pretending he didn't need the support when Declan's other hand slipped underneath his old t-shirt and stroked his side, and suddenly all Adam could think about was how worn the fabric was and how he was wearing possibly his oldest pair of boxers under his jeans and how he hadn't showered yet since he'd left work. The look in Declan's eyes was heated and Adam all but felt drunk on the idea that Declan Lynch wanted him, and the last thing in the world he wanted was to see that look turn into disdain, to see Declan sneer and change his mind and throw him out.
He broke the kiss with a sharp bite to Declan's bottom lip, made a stumbling step backwards and hated how Declan's warm hand on his side was the only thing steadying him.
“Where are you going?” Declan said softly, his voice still that low rumble that probably could have made Adam's jeans feel too tight even if Declan hadn't just kissed him. He didn't look the least bit concerned. He'd probably played this game often enough with his girls, watched them play hard to get so he'd have to try just a little bit harder to seduce them, knowing without a doubt that they'd give in eventually because who wouldn't want to sleep with Declan Lynch, who wouldn't want to kiss him and wring those moans from his lips and have those hands on one's sides, one's thighs, and the way Declan was sitting he'd just have to lean forward a little bit to get his lips between the hem of Adam's t-shirt and his waistband …
“I'm not your cheap entertainment while your girlfriend is out of town,” Adam snapped to interrupt his own thoughts, more humiliated by how much he wanted him than by anything Declan had done, and pushed Declan's hands away.
“Is that what you think this is?” Declan's voice was carefully neutral, if a bit breathless, his hands falling back down to his thighs. There was the hint of a flush on his cheeks, and Adam had to force himself not to stare at his chest.
“I don't know what the hell you think this is,” Adam said and swallowed. “I was just … being friendly.”
“So was I,” Declan said, and he didn't sound like he meant it as a joke. He stretched out one hand, going for Adam's hip again, but Adam made another step backwards. It was hard enough to remember all the reasons why this was possibly the worst idea he'd had since Cabeswater without Declan touching him.
“Wouldn't your girlfriend mind? What's the current one called again, Ashley?” he asked, and that almost worked as a damper for his mood, thinking about how he would be Declan's dirty secret on the side, the shameful thing he'd never want anyone to know about, his rich friends and his pretty girlfriend and his powerful bosses at his internship. Adam didn't even have to imagine the look on Gansey's and Ronan's faces if they found out about this to make him feel sick, it was enough that he'd know.
“Please, you couldn't care less about my relationship with her,” Declan said and sneered a little, before his features smoothened out, back into that soft, easy smile that was all invitation and promise. He held out his hand again. “Come back here. Please.”
That last word made Adam breathe in sharply, the tightness in his jeans almost painful, and even his shame couldn't change the fact that he wanted Declan to keep looking at him that way, wanted Declan to beg him to stay. He hesitated for a moment too long, long enough for Declan to take his arm and pull him a step closer before he raised Adam's wrist to his lips, breathed a warm kiss against that same spot his thumb had rubbed before. He never broke eye contact while his lips moved against Adam's wrist, a brush of tongue before he sucked softly on sensitive skin. Adam's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he couldn't help but wonder what he might be able to get Declan to do if he agreed to stay. If Declan would go to his knees for him if Adam asked him to, if Declan would kiss every inch of his skin the way he was kissing his wrist, if Declan would whisper that same “please” against Adam's hip, and the inside of his thigh, and his cock …
And then he wondered if Declan had done this before, if the reason he always had a pretty girl on his arm was because he liked to have other boys in his bed, or if this was some sort of experiment for him, an easy way to try something out that he was too ashamed to do with any of his friends. Because who at Aglionby would believe the scholarship kid if he started telling people that Declan Lynch was gay?
Adam yanked his hand out of Declan's grasp and retreated towards the door, this time firmly out of Declan's reach, and he had to keep himself from covering the bulge in his jeans with his hands, from adjusting himself to ease the discomfort. He tried not to look at the bruises on Declan's face, tried to ignore the part of him that wanted to run his fingers over Declan's face until he felt better, tried not to think too much about the flash of hurt that went through Declan's eyes when Adam stepped away.
“I have to go,” he said instead. “Gansey's waiting for me.”
It was a lie, since he hadn't told Gansey when he'd come by, but it was a much easier excuse. For a moment Declan looked like he was going to argue, charm and cajole a bit more, but then his shoulders slumped and he simply nodded, and his smile was nothing but a quick, almost instinctive quirk of his lips that didn't last long.
“Your loss,” he said, but it sounded tired enough that Adam couldn't really take offence. “Tell my brother to keep his head down, all right?”
Adam made a face. Thinking of Ronan – especially of telling Ronan anything that Declan had said – managed to turn him off even more efficiently than thinking about being Declan's dirty secret while he paraded around his pretty girlfriend.
“I'm not going to tell Ronan I was here,” he said. Declan actually laughed a little at that.
“Yeah, that's probably better.” A pause before Declan got up and glanced at the whiskey bottle with an almost longing look before visibly forcing himself to be reasonable about his painkillers, then looked back at Adam. There was a long, awkward silence while neither of them moved, standing at opposite sides of the room. Adam half wanted to change his mind, but Declan's posture had changed already, straightened a little, and Adam was uncomfortably aware that Declan was a whole head taller than him. He couldn't even imagine approaching him now and kissing him again, and for a moment he wished that Declan hadn't given up so easily.
“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked, his voice softer than he had intended, wincing at the way his accent had thickened again. If Declan had noticed, he didn't show it, just gave Adam a half-hearted smile.
“About this?” He pointed at his bruised face and shrugged. “Sure. I can't say I've had worse, but it'll heal.”
“About whoever did that,” Adam clarified and tried not to think about all the times Gansey had looked at the bruises on his face and asked him if he would be okay.
“I don't know,” Declan said, and the defeated look in his eyes was the most honest Adam had ever seen him. It made him wonder if Declan had been honest about the rest of this, too, about the smiles and the kisses and the way he'd looked at Adam. Maybe Declan kissed people the way Ronan punched them – where Ronan started fights to avoid conversations he didn't want to have, Declan seduced them. Seemed as good a way as any to shut someone up. Or maybe, sitting alone in his room with bruises he didn't want the world to see, Declan had simply felt lonely. Adam didn't think he could blame him for that. But he didn't know what to tell him, didn't think there was anything he could tell him that'd make him less afraid, or less lonely.
“I … I'll see you around then,” he mumbled as he looked away to avoid Declan's eyes, turned to leave the room and close the dented door before Declan could reply. The corridor was still filled with too loud music and laughter, the noise jarring after the stillness of Declan's room.
He leant back against the door for a minute, his eyes closed, until his breathing had slowed down. He didn't know any more than he had before he'd come to see Declan, couldn't even remember why the hell he'd thought that going to talk to Declan had been a good idea in the first place. But whatever he had expected to happen, it hadn't been Declan kissing him, Declan asking him to stay like he couldn't bear to be alone.
But whatever had happened to Declan, it had to have something to do with Ronan – and probably with Cabeswater, too. And if Declan wasn't going to tell any of them anything, they'd just have to find out without him. Adam pulled himself together and left the dorms quickly, before Declan could come out of his room, before he could run into anyone he knew in the corridors.
With a bit of luck Gansey and Ronan wouldn't even have noticed that Adam showed up later than usual that evening.