Chapter Text
Ronan wished he hadn't trusted his parents with the naivety of a child, but the problem was he had been a child. It took them nearly four years to realize their second son was different. Ronan had been careful to keep everything he pulled from his dreams hidden in a shoe box under a broken floorboard, but over time, the dream things began to pile up. The extremely bizarre was easy enough to remember to hide away, however, he would often forget which toys his parents had bought and which his mind had invented. Aurora had been cleaning when she found building blocks that never toppled over and tops that never stopped spinning. Four year old Ronan had been sat down by his parents and asked nicely where he got these things and he told the truth. 'My dreams.' Aurora laughed, her laugh always sounded like bells to Ronan, but Niall didn't ask so nicely the second time. 'If you're stealing from other kids, you know that's wrong, don't you?' Ronan told them, he didn't steal. His dreams gave freely.
They dismissed it as the imagination of a child. Ronan wanted to show them. He wanted to give his parents the best gifts he could dream up. It took some time. An eternity to a child. And it took his parents seven years to think their son was a thief. Ronan could hear them arguing over where he could have stolen the jewelry that always glittered even if there was no light and the record that never skipped. Declan sat on the stair above Ronan, the two of them quiet in the dark, but Ronan could tell Declan couldn't wait to chastise him for upsetting their parents.
After that he was sent to his first therapist. She was kind. She didn't ask him outright about the dream things. She never accused him of stealing. He liked her until he overheard her say 'kleptomania' to his mother when she came to pick him up from his session. The dusty dictionary in the family's study let him know what she truly thought of him. It took Ronan eight years to realize that he could never tell the truth. He could never trust anyone. From then on, he destroyed everything he pulled out of his dreams. So many beautiful things lost because he was unable to share his gift with the world. It began to eat away at him. Although the 'stealing' stopped, Ronan continued to see professionals. He mostly spent his time there silent. There was the one time he snuck his bagpipes in and disturbed the entire building. (The story told in hushed whispers among the Lynches for decades afterward.) He knew his family thought they were doing what was for the best, and they loved him. It hurt to have to put on such an act, but in the end he knew it was for the best.
It took seventeen years for Ronan's parents to believe some time away would help. He was handed a brochure for Eleanor West's School for Wayward Children. His stomach dropped. His mother prattled on about how the school specialized in helping those like him while his father scoffed in the background and mumbled 'Compulsive liars with the need to cause trouble' which caused Declan to roll his eyes at the hypocrisy and wasn't that all very ironic. Ronan didn't protest. He knew it would be worthless. It only took a week for Ronan to pack his bags and be driven miles away from home. The one place he had felt he could be himself, if still only in secret.
Niall double parked the car outside the main gate and got out to unload the suitcases.
"Ms. West said to just drop you off here. You're apparently supposed to go in alone in order to symbolize the start of your recovery, or something like that."
Ronan watched as his father decidedly avoided eye contact. It hurt, but Ronan continued to lean against the gate with his hands in the pockets of his jacket and his mouth in a mean frown. He ignored the voice in his head saying this is the last time he'd see his father until Christmas vacation.
"Fine, don't say anything," Niall continued. "Just... try to get better, son. If not for yourself, think of your mother and Matthew, yeah?"
And with that he was gone.
Ronan picked up the suitcases and started the long trek across the property to the actual school. It took nearly twenty minutes and he was sweating underneath the leather. There was no doorbell but the door was open when he tried it. He walked in cautiously and set his bags down without a sound.
"You're very quiet," a voice said, startling him. He looked up and saw a woman around sixty coming down the main stairs. "It reminds me of one of my star pupils. The black, too. Though her style tended to be a bit more... refined than that Rebel Without a Cause look you've got going. Not like I can talk."
Ronan agreed. The woman was wearing a bright purple sweater - it was covered in buttons that clearly had been sewn on with very little care - and a long yellow skirt with a bumble bee pattern.
"My world was a Nonsense world, though. You'll find our clothing choices reflect our worlds."
"I'm sorry?"
"Ronan, you don't have to hide anymore. Everyone here has crossed over somewhere."
Ronan's heart skipped. No, he would always have to hide. And what did she mean... "Crossed over?"
"Crossing over, traveling, so on... Everyone seems to have their own names for it. Alice tumbled down the rabbit hole. The Penvensie's went through the back of the wardrobe. Though most students don't like that one."
"Those are just children's stories."
"But we both know they're not. Eleanor West. Welcome to my home." She offered her hand and, baffled by it, Ronan just shook it instead of glaring like he normally would. "So, was it an Underworld? You are very pale and then there is all the black."
"I didn't go anywhere," Ronan replied, the 'at least while I was awake' left unsaid.
It was Eleanor's turn to look confused. "I'm sorry, but your parents said you tend to disappear for days."
"I like to drive."
"And there was the matter of taking things out of your dreams."
It felt as if the ground disappeared from underneath him. Ronan kept a straight face, however. "That was just some dumb thing I said when I was a kid. I stole some toys. I lied to get out of trouble. What kid doesn't?"
"Oh Ronan, you're magic, aren't you? And without having had to travel to acquire it. Now isn't that special. But let's keep that our little secret. The other students might not take it so well."
"Well, I have to give you points for creativity. Sure is a unique way to try and get on the delinquents good sides on the first day."
"Oh, alright. You don't have to believe me just yet. Now, since I don't know how your power works, I'm going to be doing a lot of guessing, but I don't think it's much ruled by Logic. I have a wonderfully nice Nonsense student who's in need of a roommate, so let's get you settled in."
Eleanor grabbed Ronan's suitcases before he could protest. She lifted them with an ease neither Ronan or his father did and took off down a hall to the left. Ronan almost had to run to keep up. They took several turns and Ronan was beginning to think they must be headed straight back from where they came when Eleanor finally stopped in front of a door and knocked.
"Noah! Your new roommate is here."
The door swung open so fast it almost knocked them to their feet. A boy around Ronan's age stood in the doorway, blocking them from entering the room. He had hair so blonde it was nearly white, though most of it had been dyed several neon colours. Looking closer, Ronan saw identical coloured markers in the boy's hands and realized he had been colouring it before they interrupted him. He was wearing a baggy Blink 182 tee-shirt and boxers.
"Noah, would it hurt you to put pants on?" Eleanor sounded as if this was not the first time she had to ask.
"Yes," the boy answered.
"Fair enough." Eleanor gently pushed him aside and then not so gently threw Ronan's suitcases on one of the beds. "How about you two get to know each other? You have about an hour before dinner."
And with that, she was gone.
"So another boy and a Nonsense boy at that," Noah said. Now that Eleanor wasn't around, he seemed to be unable to sit still. He was pacing the room, placing each marker in a corner of the room. "We don't get very many boys. There's three of us at the moment. Well, four now, I suppose. But they're both Logic and I mean, they're nice. I like them. I don't think they like me much and are just too nice to say. You aren't nice, though. I can tell."
"You better watch your mouth or I'll throw you out the window," Ronan said.
He liked Noah already.
"That's what I thought. Not so nice on the outside."
Noah started humming while pressing his fingertips to the wall above his bed, leaving multi-coloured fingerprints. Ronan was left to wonder what he meant by on the outside.
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Noah had literally dragged Ronan down to the dining hall, pulling his hand and staining it in the process. The room was huge but only about a third of the seats were full. Noah had not been joking either. There were rows upon rows of girls and then, in the far back, one table with two boys. Noah led Ronan there and dropped into the one empty chair. Ronan grabbed another from a different table and joined them. He looked at Noah, waiting for him to make the introductions, but Noah had become very interested in picking at a loose thread on his boxers. He hadn't put on pants for dinner, although he had put a flannel and then a cardigan over his tee because 'it was cold.'
Luckily one of the other boys, unperturbed by Noah's actions, rose to the task.
"You must be Ronan Lynch, the new student. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Gansey. High Logic. And this is Adam Parrish. Logic, bordering on Whimsy."
"And I'm Tired of This Nonsense," Ronan mumbled. Noah barked out a laugh.
Gansey's smile didn't falter. "Ah yes, it can be difficult for the two to get along, but I'm sure you'll find us pleasant enough company."
"Alright, old man."
"Gansey is old," Noah said, slightly singing the words. "Poor old Gansey. Traveled to a great kingdom. Adopted by the king. Ruled for centuries, he did. Fought battles. Governed his people. Several lifetimes passed once he went through his door. Ah, to be young again. What others wouldn't give to be young again. But not old Gansey."
"Yes, thank you Noah."
"Wait, so you're actually a hundred years old?" Ronan asked.
"267, actually. I was ten when I found my door and spent the next 257 years there while in this world, only seven years passed. It was very disconcerting when I returned. Honestly, I didn't even mean to. I was lying in what was to be my death bed, and when a door appeared, I thought that I was to go through to the, well, Afterlife, I suppose. Instead I ended up back in the yard where I had left all those years ago."
"Okay, because that's logical."
"Logic is different from world to world," the other boy, Adam, pointed out.
Ronan truly looked at him for the first time and was suddenly very upset that he wasn't the only boy. Now he would have to continue to hide all of himself, and not just his dreams.
"Sure it is. That's clearly the logical thing for logic to do."
"You Nonsense people always act so superior," Adam accused. "You think your worlds are so much better, but you're not the only ones who found home. There is a reason we're all here."
Ronan had thought he'd been taking all that was happening in stride, but Adam's anger made him realize he was lost among the lost. Whatever had happened to these boys, they thought it was a good thing. Adam said they found their homes. Well, Ronan had a home that he would give anything to go back to and he had only been gone for a day. He would get to go home, though. He didn't know how these doors worked (or if any of it was real, but he tended to believe in the magical for obvious reasons) but he got the feeling that Adam? Gansey? They weren't going home.
"I think that's enough of that discussion," Gansey cut in. "After all, group therapy is after dinner. You'll get to hear more about other's experiences then, Ronan. Get a better feel for how everything operates in the school."
"Alright. So, how's the food around here?"
"Oh, Ronan the Secretive. Ronan the Deceptive." Noah grabbed Ronan's hand again and pulled him to the buffet table lining the back wall. "They have a frozen yogurt to die for."