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Above and all around the sky is dark. Adam would have once described it as black, but now he’s seen what true black looks like --felt the dispair it brings-- no, the sky is dark but not black. He shivers slightly, and hopes he never sees black like that again. Let the darkest colors to stain their lives from now only be shades of grey.
From where Adam has just climbed out of the window, he can see Ronan is sat on the roof, surrounded by a halo of his floating dream lights, like some kind of avenging angel. Adam’s breath catches in his throat; it's not a sensation that's new when looking at Ronan, it's just that now he understands why it happens. Now he knows exactly what it means. Ronan’s gaze is fixed ahead; staring out over the fields he cannot see and into the night beyond.
Adam let’s the sound of his footsteps be heard as he approaches, but doesn't speak. His legs feel heavy, his whole body drained by what they've been through in the last few hours, and yet he’s so awake. By rights they should both be fast asleep from exhaustion, but it seems the flighty temptress that is sleep has evaded them both. He wonders if Blue and Gansey are faring any better where they left them at 300 Fox Way. It doesn't seem possible that it’s all over; that Glendower is found, that Gansey is saved, that Cabeswater is gone.
Ronan doesn't speak either, but he shifts casually. It could just be the action of someone attempting to get more comfortably seated, but it’s not. Adam’s keen eyes notice how there is now just about room for two bodies on the ledge where Ronan is sitting.
Ronan’s gaze is still fixed ahead, and Adam knows that he’s still a little unsure in this newness, that he won’t ask ‘will you sit with me?’, instead making sure everything is Adam’s choice. Adam sits, knowing there’s nowhere he’d rather be. Knee bumps knee, elbows press together. The night is quiet.
In that quiet, Adam allows himself a moment to just marvel at that feeling. The sense of home that accompanies it is new and fragile, but it’s fluttering hopefully in his chest like a sapling and its leaves in soft spring breeze. This is the end of a lot of things, but it also feels like the start of a lot more.
Ronan slumps slightly into him, and Adam does the same, leaning his shoulder into Ronan’s side.
“I'm sorry.” Adam says softly. His heart feels impossibly heavy looking at Ronan. His mind fills with horrid memories from earlier; his hands around Ronan's throat, his dirt filled nails pressing into that pale delicate skin. His mind flicks from one horror to another, to another; the rattling sound of Ronan’s lungs trying to reform and not unravel, the sight of blackness oozing from Ronan's nose, the desperate dream items flooding the car as Ronan fought again and again to live.
Ronan doesn't answer, and Adam realises he could be offing sympathy for so many things; I'm sorry your Mom is dead, I'm sorry you had to see her like that, I'm sorry I attacked you, I'm sorry you almost died, I'm sorry we almost lost Gansey, I'm sorry Cabeswater is gone.
But those things aren't his fault, and are not his to apologize for, and Ronan has always despised pity. Adam knows the feeling.
Instead, he reaches out carefully and touches the bruises on the side of Ronan’s neck. Those are his fingerprints carved into the flesh, even if it wasn't his will. He feels sick.
“Why didn't you fight back?” Adam asks, quietly.
Ronan snorts, “I didn't want to mess up that pretty face of yours. Have you ever seen a Valedictorian with a black eye and a broken nose?”
Adam knows a distraction technique when he hears one, and ignores the Valedictorian comment. There is no way it won't be Gansey, and he's perfectly OK with that. He has no desire to stand up in front of all his fellow students and give a speech.
Adam looks at Ronan intently. “You should have fought back.” He can’t keep the anguish out of his voice. He feels wrung inside out. He knows it wasn't him, not really, but he should have gained control quicker, he should have been stronger, he should have --
Ronan turns to look at him then, his eyes sharp and piercing as he meets Adam's gaze. “I could never--” His face is fierce but his voice is soft, full of emotion. Raw and exposed.
And Adam knows, knows Ronan is remembering having to watch Adam’s father beat him. He places a hand over Ronan’s newly curled fist where it rests between them. “In cases where I’m demonically possessed and trying to strangle you, you’d get a free pass. Just for future reference.”
Ronan’s laugh is short but real. Adam feels the side of his own mouth twist up tiredly.
They sit like that for a while. Somehow their fingers become laced together, Ronan’s thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of Adam’s hand. It almost makes Adam feel like a fraud-because he came out here to try and comfort Ronan, and yet here Ronan is comforting him, but the gentle touch seems to be calming Ronan too. Adam squeezes Ronan’s hand fiercely, raising it to his lips and kissing the battle scarred knuckles in front of him, before lowering it again. Other than that they just sit, both trying to process everything that has happened to them, to their friends, to their loved ones.
Adam eventually feels the adrenaline fully leave his body and his eyes -- now both his own -- droop closed. His limbs feel like lead. He let’s his head fall onto Ronan’s shoulder, it feels right and it feels safe. He's too tired to attempt to climb back indoors right now, plus, Ronan is out here, so why would he want to?
Ronan squeezes his hand. “Sleeping already? You’re a fucking lightweight Parrish.”
Adam snorts into Ronan’s shoulder. “Screw you, asshole.”
Eventually they’ll have to go inside. Eventually they’ll have to talk about things. Eventually Ronan is going to have to give himself time to grieve the loss of his mother --the lost parent he had only just gotten back-- all over again.
But those are things for tomorrow, and given how somehow they all survived today against every odd stacked against them, Adam tells himself they’ll all be OK.
Ronan presses a barely there kiss to the the top of his head and Adam feels something inside him settle and unfurl; peace seeps lazily through his veins and contentment buries itself in deep within his bones.
They’ll be OK. They'll be just fine.