incognoscibilis | I will replace the noise with silence instead

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I will replace the noise with silence instead

He was not Robert Parrish. He was not the sad little man who sat in that courtroom, holding court among the ashes. He was Adam Parrish and he may not have been made for bigger and better but he'd decided that he would claim them for himself. That sad version of himself was the one who'd never wanted more and Adam realized now that those shadows might lurk in him but he would never let them take over. He was too determined and too vigilant to backslide into that hateful, ambitionless redneck.

Smeared with ash and aching inside and out, Adam fumbled open the lock to his apartment. The apartment was quiet but it didn't feel precisely empty. Copper ran frantically toward him, her tail wagging in delight and Adam breathed out in a little, tiny bit of relief. "Nice to see you too," he said, bending to ruffle her ears and kiss her head.

"Ronan?" he called out, guessing that he might be the source of the lack of empty feeling in the room.

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Ronan's taken to sleeping in Adam's bed the past couple nights.

It's fucking stupid, really, but the sheets still smell like him and someone needs to look after Copper. Plus, with Noah back, Ronan has this fucked up idea that Adam may not be too far behind.

Part of him isn't sure if that'd be a good or a bad thing.

When he hears keys in the lock of the front door, he figures maybe his gut instinct wasn't wrong. Copper immediately jumps off the bed, tail wagging in frantic hope. Chainsaw gives her own little screech before flapping after her and Ronan, weighed down by worry follows them both, his steps a good deal more weighted.

Adam's voice calls out and Ronan feels something in his chest cave in, relief and guilt colliding violently.

"Hey," he says from the doorway, prepared and yet not to find Adam looking only marginally better than Noah had. He's stuck then, between wanting to close the space between them and touch, if just to confirm that Adam really is, and backing away to provide Adam with what he deserves.

If Adam can't be back home, can't have the future there he longs for so desperately, the least Ronan can do is let him make his own fucking choices here.

He can't just stand there though, so he doesn't. Still weak enough to give in to reaching out. "Did you have to kill Whelk, too?"

Adam looks at Ronan, confused by the question. "No...I had to fight myself. Kind of. God, it's all so fucked up." Rather than discuss it, Adam practically throws himself at Ronan, arms around his waist and Adam tucking in tight and close. He tips his head and rests it on Ronan's shoulder, ignoring the awkward fit from their similar heights. Ronan smells like smoke and beer and something oily that doesn't seem right but Adam doesn't care, just glad that it's Ronan.

"I thought I'd never get out of there. It was like hell, I swear to god. I'm here now," he promises. His fingers tremble as he keeps himself tightly in their space, ignoring the way that Chainsaw nips at his ear and Copper presses her bulk against their legs.

He's not expecting the force at which Adam throws himself into Ronan's arms, but Ronan can't quite fight the impulse to hold him close. He's smells like sulfur and dirt and grime, like he's gone two weeks or more without a shower.

Jesus, because he has probably.

"You're here now," Ronan echoes, bringing a hand up to card through Adam's greasy, ash-covered hair. "I thought you were gone, you know." He says after a long moment, his chest tightening and stomach twisting. "For about a week, I thought you'd pulled what I tried for months and went back home." He swallows, his voice dropping. "I actually hoped you had."

He's not like Noah. Adam doesn't really cry, but he does draw a long, shaky breath against Ronan and cling a little tighter. He's grateful for the touch, soft and warm.

"I was in Darrow," he says. "Another version of Darrow that was worse. Like..." Adam huffs a shaky laugh. "Like a nightmare."

Adam's arms seem to tighten for a moment and Ronan has he close his eyes tight, fighting the impulse to cave. This isn't his, it isn't. Especially not anymore.

But fuck if he doesn't want it anyway.

"That's what Noah said," Ronan replies, letting himself rub slow, soothing circle against Adam's back. "He saw Whelk. Killed him. Then he showed up in Cabeswater, still holding the skateboard and covered in blood."

Adam nods, his shoulders loosening minutely from Ronan's gentle affection. He's a little ashamed of how much he'd dreamed of this, the tiny comforts of Ronan's touch had sustained his sleep during restless and fearful nights. He wonders if that counts as cowardice. Probably.

"He had Whelk. Blue had all kinds of things. Mirrors and monsters. I had...me." Adam Parrish but one who had let himself grow up into his father's son, who'd been small-minded and hateful, gleefully anticipating the continuation of the cycle of violence on someone else.

It makes a painful, horrible sort of sense. Of course Adam would have to fight himself, probably some fucked up version that he sees all the time, the Adam Parrish he's constantly running from, trying desperately not to become.

Of course, what Adam never seems to realize is that he'll never be that person. He never could be. Everything he's ever done in his entire life makes the realization of that person a complete impossibility.

"Did you kill him?" he asks, frowning as he pulls back to meet Adam's eyes. "Is that how you got out?"

Adam shakes his head. He's honestly not entirely sure hat he'd done. He'd been running, down to the last straw of his shadow's abuse of Gansey and his other friends. Then it'd just been dust and an empty courtroom. It had been over though he couldn't exactly recount the circumstances.

"I think I stopped letting it have power over me." He always feared that he'd become his father. The worry always rose up when he was in a bad temper that someday he'd be upset and it would leave bruises.

But right now he just wants to hide behind Ronan. Adam tilts his head and kisses him, clinging fiercely.

It's a strangely surprising answer, but one Ronan is glad to hear. Something about the idea of Adam having to kill himself, even just some twisted version of himself, is a little more than Ronan really wants to consider.

He isn't expecting Adam to press into him, isn't expecting the urgent kiss to his lips or the way Adam clings so fiercely. Every single cell in Ronan's body wants to melt into it, wants to accept it and kiss back, wants to hold Adam close because he's been missing for weeks and Ronan's been worried and miserable and fuck, he as absolutely no right to this. He never has. Especially not now.

Closing his eyes tight, Ronan turns his head away. He still has arms wrapped around Adam, can't seem to let go completely just yet.

"I thought you went back," he repeats, like it's an excuse. "I thought you'd disappeared for good."

At first anyway. It wasn't until later that Ronan understood it was more complicated.

A bad feeling settles into Adam's stomach and his gaze flickers up. Ronan's never turned away from a kiss. His voice sounds as if he's justifying something that's coming and Adam starts to feel real dread. Something happened while he was gone, something bad.

It takes about five seconds to realize that whatever safety net that he'd hoped for with Ronan tonight just won't be here.

"I wouldn't go back without the rest of you guys," he says, voice unsteady now. "Ronan?"

"It doesn't work that way," Ronan says because he know that much is true. It probably still sounds like an excuse but he's learned enough from Grantaire and seen enough now to know understand how truly fucked up this place is. "We don't get to choose when we leave. And I couldn't fucking find you. You were gone."

He steps back then, one hand lifting to rub the back of his neck. Every muscle in his body has gone tense and he digs blunt nails into the nape of his neck in an effort to calm himself.

"I thought it was Kavinsky at first. I beat the shit out of him until I realized he was fucking clueless."

Ronan doesn't mention the rest of what happened. Doesn't mention the dreaming or the touching or the way that Kavinsky had put his mouth on Ronan. How Ronan had let him.

"I didn't know 'til later when Gansey found me. You were gone, but so was Blue and Noah and Dorian and Luke and this place-- it doesn't' work that way, Adam. People don't leave all at once."

Adam gives Ronan a shy, thin smile. Since when have they ever let 'how things work' dictate what they do. He wants to rest his head on Ronan's shoulder and just close his eyes but Ronan's tensions frighten him too. Then he says those words and everything narrows down to the mention of Kavinsky's name.

Kavinsky was a repugnant human and Adam knew that he'd done absolutely jack shit to rescue himself from that with his second life. Adam also knew that Ronan hadn't encountered Kavinsky one on one the way that he had in Henrietta. "What'd you do after Kavinsky ended up clueless, then..."

He's afraid of the answer.

Ronan flinches at the question, face twisting with guilt and shame and resignation all at once. What he'd done is unforgivable now that Adam's back, now that Ronan hadn't even had a chance to talk to him. Whatever it is they'd been before Adam disappeared, however much Ronan knew he had to end it, he'd never said as much to Adam.

And now it's too late.

"We dreamed," he says instead, dropping his hand to his hip, his head hanging. "I can do it now. I can control it."

He doesn't mention the blowjob, doesn't mention putting his hand on Kavinsky. Adam's smart enough to figure it out without hearing the details, he's pretty sure.

"You just dreamed." And yet Ronan won't kiss him, now won't touch him, and he sounds as if he feels like he must atone for something. Adam isn't stupid but now he wishes that he was.

His lip curls and Adam falls back into anger. It's a steely, immovable anger instead of the explosive abuse of Robert Parrish. This is the anger that gets dredged up to mask hurt and the self-hatred that comes from being so foolish as to think someone like Adam Parrish was ever be enough for Ronan Lynch.

"And was the sex before or after the dreaming? Or did you go in rounds."

Adam pulls away, face twisting in anger. It's a familiar expression, and Ronan welcomes it, knows it's the absolute least that he deserves. He curls an arm across his middle, but doesn't back away.

"During," he says, his voice catching a little before he swallows, jaw twitching. He adds, weakly, "I thought you were gone."

Though they'd never really clarified what they were, Ronan knows it was more. More than whatever he had or ever could have with Kavinsky. More than he's ever had with anyone. It was his decision to end it and, though he never had a chance to clarify that with Adam, it's still the right choice.

For however much it digs claws into his insides and rips, it's the right choice.

"Well good thing I wasn't actually dead," Adam says. There is icy river water in his tone as he falls back on Cabeswater, lets his mind wander into its protective embrace. "I'd hate to think you'd find someone new before the body even got cold."

This anger is unfamiliar to him. Parrish anger had always been explosive, white-hot, and blinding. This is cold, crystallizing everything into terrible and perfect definition. There's a cruelness that he'd never thought himself capable of producing.

Every doubt and every fear of never being enough sharpens him. Why is he surprised? Why have hamburger when you can have steak? Wealthy, Bulgarian, drug-addled, douchebag steak.

"You know, I never saw much family resemblance between you and Declan. I guess it comes out in personality."

There are so many things he could say, so many excuses or defenses. He could tell Adam he never thought he was dead, but thought he'd gone back to Henrietta, back to the future he can't have here. He could tell Adam that Kavinsky is not and will never be a replacement for Adam. He could tell Adam that when he realized Adam wasn't back home, that the pain and the worry and the helplessness had been relentless enough to nearly drive him out of his mind.

He could say all of it, but he knows it doesn't matter.

This is for the best. It is. If Adam can hate him, then Adam can move on.

So he only nods, absorbing the stab of Declan's name and the deserved implication. His throat is tight and he tries to swallow as Chainsaw flutters down to land on his shoulder, claws digging into his bare shoulder.

"I'm glad you're not dead," he finally manages, his face pulling into a grimace as he fights the swell in his throat. "And this isn't--" He scowls at himself before he can finish that, shaking his head before turning to grab his jacket off the arm of the couch. Chainsaw screeches, soft and plaintive, jumping off Ronan's shoulder to fly toward Adam, resting instead on him.

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I will replace the noise with silence instead

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