Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Summer before senior year of high school is supposed to be full of adventure and fun! You're just sitting here in your room looking like shit."

Declan Lynch was never known to be eloquent. Especially now, four days into summer, waking Ronan from a really good dream, to spew his bullshit about growing up and getting out of the house. This wasn't the first time he mentioned this.

A few weeks before the end of the spring term, the Lynch family was having a family dinner together. Their mother, Aurora, was for once making an appearance at dinner, and therefore all three sons had to be present and on their best behavior. At some point during the night, conversation shifted to the topic of summer plans.

Matthew's were simple: he was going to New York with a group of friends. One of them had a place there, and so he was going to be gone the entire summer. Declan's plans were an internship in D.C., a topic of which he bragged about for what felt like hours to Ronan. Painful hours.

When it was Ronan's turn to answer, he drew a blank. What were his plans? Gansey was going on the campaign trail with his mother for her upcoming election and Noah didn't really ever have plans but he did have the habit of disappearing.

It dawned on him he wasn't going to see his friends likely for months and he sunk down a little in his chair. When he realized all eyes were still on him, he shrugged like it didn't upset him he had nothing to do and he said, "I don't know. Maybe go back to the Barns for a bit. It really doesn't matter, does it?"

An awkward silence fell over the room. The Lynch family moved from the Barns a few years ago after Niall Lynch died in a farming accident. The incident crushed everyone, Aurora in particular, and their old family home was barely touched since. It was hard to talk about because no one wanted to talk about it, but Ronan was sick of tiptoeing around the fact his childhood memories were locked inside somewhere inaccessible. He hated their new house near D.C., the same neighborhood as Gansey's family home. He hated the blandness of the place, how similar it looked to every other rich family house in the area, that this was just a house and not a home. While it had been years since Niall died, things were forever changed and it was hard to move past it.

"What do you expect to do there?" Declan clearly didn't like it. His familiar scowl was peeking through his false veneer he had been wearing all night for their mother. "Live with ghosts the entire summer? Don't be an idiot."

When Declan talked all Ronan could hear was his father, demanding and dismissive. He made the mistake once of telling him his dream of getting the place back in business again, rebuild the farm empire they once had. Declan laughed in his face, and when he realized he wasn't joking he told him farming was Niall's "hobby" not his life. Ronan wasn't going to accomplish anything with his life if his biggest dream was to be a farmer. Ronan almost punched him in the face for that. The only thing that kept him from doing so was knowing if he did the Barns were gone for good. Instead he went and won three street races that night out of spite and bought a six pack of beer to down after.

Fast forward to Declan hovering over Ronan's bed like a nightmare that wouldn't leave. Ronan lost his race last night, but in turn won a nasty black eye after picking a fight with the competition after. Now he was suffering the consequence of driving angry, sore and exhausted. Even with one good eye he could still see the constipated look Declan always had on his face when he was disappointed in him.

"I am having fun," Ronan grinned. "More fun than you are getting coffee for pretentious douchebags."

"I'll have you know I'm making connections and helping secure my future," Declan snapped. Ronan winced by how loud his voice was, and how little he actually cared. He put a hand to his forehead as Declan's voice rang through it like a siren. "Now what have you gotten yourself into this time? Huh? A fight?"

Ronan shrugged. If he didn't answer he couldn't lie. He hated lying but he also was suffering enough of a headache he didn't want a bigger one when Declan realized he was out driving their dad's old BMW in drag racing again. So he kept his mouth shut for once and watched Declan try to work out the reason for his black eye himself.

"Did you and Gansey get into a lover's quarrel?"

Ronan snorted. "Gansey can't even curse right, let alone throw a punch." He watched Declan squinting, like a change of vision could solve this puzzle. "And before you try pinning it on Noah it wasn't him either. Why are you in my room, by the way?"

"Mom asked me to drop by."

Ronan rolled his eyes. "Sure she did."

"She did!" Declan sounded exasperated, and his hands went to his hips. In each passing day he became more like their father. Ronan shuddered as he looked away, searching for his bottle of aspirin he lost in the mess of his room. "She's worried you're going to mope again like you did the first year after Dad died. She doesn't want you to become.... absent."

Ronan glanced up at Declan through his one eye as he popped a pill dry. "Absent? What the fuck does that even mean? Why don't you focus your attention on Mom and not me? She's the one who never leaves the house."

"At least I know she's safe in here," Declan argued.

"Is she? I never see her. And I live here."

"She's fine. She's not the one with a black eye."

But that didn't mean she was fine. Their mother was definitely not fine, and the fact Declan was obsessing over Ronan's lack of visible extracurricular activities was a clear sign he didn't see that, because Ronan was fine. He was. He used to not be, but now he was.

Okay, maybe not, but laying about the house all day surely wasn't hurting anyone. Why did Declan poke holes into anything remotely fun and enjoyable? He soured, chewing on his leather bracelets. They sent a jolt of glee through his chest at the memory of last night. Even though he lost, he had more fun than Declan could handle. If only he knew.

"You need to go get a life."

The comment was so surprising Ronan literally lost the ability to speak. He scrambled for words a moment, shocked. The bracelets slipped out his mouth as his hand fell down to his knee, balling into a white knuckled fist. Declan's life was boring! Ronan's was full of adventure! Okay, maybe not right now, but last night was adventurous. And even on days when Ronan lounged about the house cleaning up after their mother, he had more fun than Declan could manage in a week. Surrounded by politicians and people in suits sounded like one of Ronan's nightmares.

"I have a life!" was his first vocal response when he managed his voice again. Quick, he jumped to his feet to be at level with Declan in what was apparently now a full-blown fight. The lack of one eye's visibility was disorienting and knocked off some of his balance and he faltered a step as he stood, but righted himself before Declan could catch him. Ronan swatted his brother's hand away. "I have a great life. Better than yours. You know what," and Ronan was getting dressed before he realized he was doing it, "you can kiss my ass. I'm going to the Barns and you can't stop me."

Ronan didn't even bother for modesty and pulled off his pants in front of his brother who immediately put a hand up in the direction of parts he did not need to see. His reaction was priceless, and Ronan grinned proud of riling Declan up, before reaching for a clean pair of underwear and last night's jeans. It took a second to find his second leg's pants hole, because apparently you need both eyes for that. It was an adjustment. Everything was off balance this morning. Blaming Declan seemed the responsible thing to do.

"You can't even see out of one of your eyes!" Declan argued, too close to Ronan's fogged head. The ringing was back, knocking about his skull like a ball inside his brain. "Which you still haven't explained to me how it is you got."

"What?" Ronan winced and started searching for a shirt. Any shirt. It took a second for Declan's words to catch up to this point in the argument. "Oh, yeah. I don't need to explain anything to you," he said, shoving one of his endless supply of black tank tops over his head. "You aren't Dad, dickface. No matter how much you want to be. You're a pretender. I'm tired of living in this fucking house. Surrounded by people pretending everything is fine when it isn't. I'm going home."

Even though he was off balance and half blind, Ronan could still overpower Declan as much as he could on a good day. He shoved past him and out the doorway, walking quick but sturdily toward the stairs. Declan wasn't far behind.

"You can't go home, Ronan," he called out. "You are home."

"This place is not my home. Don't you miss it? Don't you miss the fields, the cows, playing in the barn? Hanging out on the roof? We were happy once. Maybe we just need to go back there."

His keys were at the front by his boots, which he shoved on lazily just to make a faster exit, but Declan grabbed his arm and held him back from leaving. Ronan could feel his anger pulsing inside him like a living organism and he had to resist the urge to let it loose. Getting into a physical fight wasn't the same as a verbal one. Not between them.

"The Barns aren't the same place they used to be. That house isn't going to cure you of your anger and abandonment issues, brother. It's not magic. It's just a house." Then Declan surprised him by letting Ronan go. "You'll see."

"Fuck you and your fucking -! I don't know, just fuck you!"

Ronan stormed out of the house and made sure to slam the door before he left. He was vibrating with rage and unsure where half of it was coming from and where to direct it. Sometimes all Declan needed to say was hello and he would set Ronan's teeth on edge. But this? Get a life?

Driving angry wasn't smart but Ronan was a master at it. He drove angry more often than he drove any other way. Oftentimes it was the only way to calm him down, and it was starting to when he received a phone call. Naturally his eye curiously went over to the screen, half expecting to find it Declan or even Matthew. But when he saw it was Gansey, Ronan was curious enough to answer for once.

He didn't even have to say a word before Gansey called out, "Hey Ronan."

Years of friendship and irritating Gansey with his antics made it easy for Ronan to distinguish Gansey's different tones. This one was clear as crystal. His dad tone. Ronan groaned into the receiver, exchanging ears to tuck his phone under. His hands angrily gripped the steering wheel, frustration returning to him like an old friend.

"Declan called you, didn't he?" he asked.

"He's pretty upset."

Gansey was known to be a mediator between them in the past, but it was when he was present or included. This didn't concern him, and Declan played it dirty calling Gansey to try to rein him in. Beneath his feet he could feel the gas pedal go down further, the car springing faster. Somehow it became a competition with himself to get to the Barns as quickly as feasible.

"I'm pretty upset," said Ronan. He had to shout in the phone as it started to slip off his shoulder.

"He said you were out last night and came back with a black eye." Gansey's disappointment could be felt in the air. "Have you been drag racing again? I thought you said you were going to stop that."

"When I said that I meant it. But I was told I needed something to do during the summer, so I found my something."

Gansey sighed. Ronan didn't know why Gansey continued to be friends with him if all he tried to do was fix him. He wasn't a broken stereo. He was a person. Sometimes all Gansey could see were problems that needed to be solved.

"You're going to get yourself killed one of these days," said Gansey. Ronan could only roll the one eye, but he did it with such gusto even though no one was watching. "Is that your plan, Ronan? To get killed like your dad?"

Gansey's words streamlined to his chest. Ronan flinched. The phone dropped down to his feet and in order to yell back at Gansey he had to pull over. His whole body was shaking, so maybe pulling over was a good thing. Bringing up his dad like that was not cool. Quick he grabbed his phone and had the urge to smash it, but the way today was going he suspected he would need it later. His hands were trembling as he held the phone to his face, trying not to look as broken as that accusation made him.

"My dad didn't die from drag racing," he said, in the nastiest tone he could manage.

"No, but he did die because he was reckless." Gansey's second punch hurt less than the first but it still did a hell of a job. Whether or not that was Gansey's intention, to make him so mad he said something Gansey expected him to say, or do something Gansey expected him to do, it only worked to make him that much more determined to get to the Barns. Something didn't sit right in him that Declan would call Gansey after their little fight.

"Shut up, Dick. Whose side are you even on?"

"Yours, obviously." Gansey said it so pained he must have heard the crack in Ronan's voice.

"It doesn't sound like it." Ronan looked out at the empty highway as his trembling was brought down to a tiny jitter in his legs and hands. A twitch in his skin, unsettling but managed. He shut his eye a second to avoid completely chewing Gansey out. So far apart from each other it would be easy never to hear from him again until school was back in, and while right now that sounded ideal he knew a few weeks later he was going to regret it.

Gansey was his third brother, a brother through bond not blood, and sometimes he hated him because of it, because it meant he knew all his secrets and all his buttons. Right now was one of those times, making him regret taking the phone call. Making him regret telling him about the drag races. He probably told Declan, because when it came to his concern for Noah and Ronan sometimes Gansey did what he thought was in their best interest, and often enough that went against their wants.

"Look," it took Ronan an extreme amount of effort not to still sound pissed off, "I'm already down one eye. They say driving and talking on the phone leads to fucking reckless drivers, so my hanging up on you now would only be a service to my fellow drivers on the road."

This made it clear Gansey didn't get through to him like he hoped, and that he wasn't going to at all today. He could only imagine the sight of him on the other end, floundering for something else to say.

"Ronan, please hear me-"

But Ronan wasn't interested and he clicked "end" and dumped the phone back onto the passenger seat. It started vibrating again almost as soon as he set it down, and it didn't stopped vibrating for two whole songs until SOMEONE got the hint.

Despite the interruption in the drive, Ronan's edges softened once he crossed county lines, his muscles relaxed and he was able to drive in peace. The anger brushed off after a while and excitement took its place, energizing Ronan more than anything ever could. He was going home.

-------

"Do you need someone to take you home?"

Adam Parrish didn't know the concept of home. Home implied happiness, somewhere someone wanted to be, somewhere full of warmth and love. He didn't have any of these things, and now he didn't even have the malformed version he had before.

"No. Someone's coming," Adam said. Lying through his teeth was an unfortunate skill he begrudgingly mastered after years of being asked uncomfortable questions about his home life.

The nurse lingered a moment, like she was trying to read his mind or somehow already could. Her eyes said she knew he was lying, but her actions said she couldn't tell. Because she left him at the emergency room entrance where he was hovering, leaving him alone like he always was. He was just released after being admitted against his better judgment when his last altercation with his father deafened him in one ear.

It was still surreal, that he could permanently no longer head out of his one ear anymore. One good blow to the head and something so constant and expected could disappear forever.

Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Deep breaths. The doctor didn't say it was official yet. Maybe it could still come back?

But Adam was never that lucky. He already could tell the prognosis was permanent.

After a few more minutes consoling himself, Adam shuffled his bag onto his shoulder and stepped out into the bruising light. Summer was heavy barely a week in already, hot and bright. Adam's car was suffocating when he finally made it back, but at least the a/c worked, which he turned on full blast.

The only thing the car had going for it, when nothing else worked the a/c still did. His eyes closed a moment, letting the cool air overwhelm him. Even like this he felt lopsided, the air hitting him from both sides, but he could only hear its whisper from one. Never did Adam turn his car on and drive so fast before in his life. For once the car didn't jitter conscious, it roared awake, and he was gone gone gone.

After last night, Adam was never going back to his parents' house. He would never think to step foot in it again, and while the sentiment was powerful and brave he realized this morning when he was signing his release papers he had nowhere else to stay, not permanently that is.

That morning, he spent a good chunk of time debating with himself whether he could manage to live in his car for the summer. Shower at the YMCA. Eat at work. It could be done, but did he want to? He spent a chunk of his money he had been saving up for college and an apartment on his medical bill, knowing his father wouldn't bother trying to make amends for permanently deafening his son in one ear. Robert Parrish never did anything good before in his life, so why start now?

Eventually Adam came to the conclusion he could allow himself a little help, from someone who was always offering it in the least condescending way possible. Someone he considered a friend. Someone he knew wouldn't ask for anything in return.

Persephone Poldma lived a good hour outside of town, in a small little cottage tucked deep inside the country. Adam met her through his volunteer work he used to do at the animal shelter, back when he had time off before he started working extra shifts at his job. They formed an instant bond, she taught him how to read tarot cards and he taught her how to personally do her car's maintenance and save herself some money. His parents didn't know about her, because he could only imagine the fight he would have gotten into with his dad if he knew. Last night's fight was only because of coming home ten minutes after he was told was his curfew.

When Adam made it to Persephone's, he parked in her dirt drive and didn't get out, even though he could tell she was home. Her tiny car was out front and her wind chimes were hanging from her porch, which she only put out when she was home because she didn't 'like them making sound without her.' But once he stepped inside he was officially accepting help, and he wasn't yet ready to admit he even needed it.

There were other options, options he easily could have turned to if he had left sooner. If he left before there was permanent damage done. If he hadn't been afraid-

"Stop," he hissed. There was no one else in the car. He was talking to himself. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers around the steering wheel, gripping tight with both hands. This went against everything he told himself all these years, everything he promised himself he would never do.

When he opened his eyes Persephone was standing on her porch with her hands held up to the sky, reaching for the sun like she could catch her. Her long mane of hair was shining as she he stared. Then she stopped, her hands falling down to her sides, and she looked across the way at Adam through his side window and gently tilted her head to one side.

Adam didn't feel like wasting any more gas, so he felt compelled to turn the car off and get out.

"Hello, Adam Parrish." Persephone always spoke so softly her voice never failed to calm him.

"Hi, Persephone."

"You come alone?" She looked him up and own, and for a moment he thought she meant were his parents present and his stomach twisted in knots. "No belongings?"

"Oh, right." Adam went back for his bag. "This is it."

Anyone else would have looked upset that a boy like Adam could fit his entire life into one duffel bag. She nodded and waved him inside like it was the traditional amount when one was leaving home forever.

The last time Adam was at Persephone's house was a couple years ago, but nothing changed. It was the same eclectic collection of furniture that didn't quite fit together, the same overwhelming amount of cups and bowls in her kitchen cupboards, the same music and knitting supplies. He had seen her here and there over the years since their shelter days, but it was still strange being in her house like this. Foreign.

"Thanks again for letting me stay here. It'll only be a couple days."

"No bother at all," she said. "I enjoy the company. You can use this room. Come this way."

She walked him through the back of the house, which he never visited before. The halls were full of photographs, of family and friends if he had to guess. His stomach was twisting worse when he thought how nice it was to have any pictures. He touched one in passing where everyone in it was smiling. One day he hoped to have that.

"You can use this room if you want," Persephone said, settling on a room at the end of the hall. When he looked at her he realized she had been talking for a while and he didn't hear. A bout of nausea hit him like a wave, registering this as his future. Missing parts of conversations, having to have things repeated. Persephone gestured again to the room, patiently quiet. He expected what he missed wasn't important if she didn't repeat herself.

Inside was a bed and not much else, the space barely containing the bed as it was. He exchanged a look with her, and she pressed her lips into a small smile like she could read his thoughts. "It's when I have guests over, but if you feel at all strange about it you are more than welcome to my sofa. I assumed, being a teenage boy and all, you would want some privacy."

Maybe she really could read his mind. About taking the sofa instead. Standing there in surprise he didn't know what else to say. There wasn't really much. Accepting this was a foreign thing, but he really didn't want to sleep in his car just yet. If he couldn't find a cheap enough place to live in the next few days then he would have to settle living in his car. This was temporary.

"I'll be in my room if you need me," she said. "Make yourself as comfortable as you wish. The fridge doesn't really have much. I've been pretty lax on going to the store recently, but if you can find something in there that tempts you, it's all yours."

Her smile was small but kind. Adam smiled in reply, small but true.

"I'm not that hungry," he said, in tempo to his stomach gurgling from lack of nourishment. His last meal was.... He couldn't remember. Sometime yesterday.

"Mm. Well," she shrugged, "up to you." And she left.

When enough time passed Adam shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed. He removed his jacket and shirt and stared down at his bare chest at the bounty of bruises left behind. Memories of last night. They hurt when he breathed in too deeply, but not as bad as he's been known to have before.

Next he put his hand up to his bad ear and snapped a few times. There was nothing but silence. He slumped on the bed and then took out his things and set them in front of him on the mattress.

His clothes. His school supplies. His work uniforms. His one good pair of work shoes. Most importantly, his envelope of money from his job. He didn't have a bank account because he was still a minor, and Robert was never going to open a joint account with him. Not if he didn't get the money himself. He didn't even know about half the shifts Adam would take, and now he never would.

Before yesterday this envelope was twice as thick, but he had to pay for his emergency room visit somehow, and racking up debt terrified him. The amount Adam had now could possibly be used as a deposit on a very, very cheap apartment. Which meant he would need to pick up extra shifts at Boyd's and find another job (or two) to continue paying that same price month after month. When school started up again, he didn't know what he was going to do, but he would have to figure it out when the time came. In the meantime he just needed to find somewhere that would take him as a renter. That was top priority.

After a while of figuring out his finances, both hypothetical and actual, Adam lied down on the bed. It wasn't until he woke up to the sound of some pop singer echoing down the hallway did Adam realize he fell asleep. It was dark outside now.

For a moment he thought he was back at the Parrish residence and he bolted upright straight off the bed. His heart was hammering in his chest and his hands were clawing for his things. It was the smell of incense that calmed him down, the feel of a box spring in the bed, the lack of Robert Parrish's shadow in the doorway that calmed his nerves. He was safe. He wasn't home.

This was going to take some getting used to.

--------

Despite the distance of years between the last time Ronan was driving down this very familiar turn of streets, Ronan felt like it was only yesterday. Nothing seemed all that different. The trees were the same. The potholes were the same. The lack of other drivers was the same. Ronan rolled down a window and breathed in the familiar air. He could already feel that something missing in his chest starting to fill in.

Ronan could admit he was a bundle of excited nerves, ready to take that last turn toward his house. When it came up he almost stopped to run the rest of the way, he was suddenly so impatient to get home. The key to the Barns was jangling along with the rest, and he was ready to use it again. His whole body was alive it was impossible not to grin.

When he pulled into his driveway he was met with a locked gate, which wasn't surprising after the fact teen delinquents such as himself were sneaking onto the property. He had the key for it right here on his chain, unless Declan changed it. Even so, he knew how to climb. So what if he had to leave his car behind?

But the headlights revealed something else on the gate. A sign, both new and horrifying.

For sale.

His heart stopped and he was quick to shove the gear into park, jumping out to see if what he saw was real. The headlights bounced off Ronan's back as he jumped in front of them, and he could see with his own eyes the sign was very much real.

"No, no, no, no, no!" he screamed.

In his rage he managed to rip the sign off the gate with little resistance. It was thick but easy to drag. He grabbed it with both hands and yanked, ripping it in half before dumping it on the ground. There he stomped it into the dirt, tears shaking out of him as he realized the impossible. The Barns weren't his anymore, and they hadn't been for a long time. The life he had before Niall died was gone forever, and that piece he felt missing was still gone. He stomped with both feet on the cardboard, bending it and tearing it with the soles of his boots. His shadow danced against the backdrop of what was once his family property, and now belonged to ghosts.

With each jump he shouted. "Fuck. You. Declan. Fuck. You. Dad. Fuck. You. Fuck. You. Fuck. You. Fuck. You!"

The sign slipped out from under Ronan's feet, and with it went Ronan's balance, knocking him down on the ground just beside it. The slam of his body into dirt quieted him, but he was still extremely heated and desperate for something to take his edge off. Or sharpen it.

This close to Henrietta, Ronan knew exactly where he could go to do both. First he stopped at the small convenience he practically lived in after Niall died, remembering which clerk (who after all these years still worked there) was the one to buy alcohol from. The one who took one look at Ronan's shaved head, sharp features, leather jacket and combat boots and didn't even question whether they should check id or not they just awkwardly avoided eye contact and charged his card regardless.

Once supplied with his beer, the shitty cheap kind that gave a quick buzz, Ronan drove out to the edge of town where there was already a herd of fast cars waiting for competition. Ronan hadn't been to these drag races in ages, and while small town compared to the people he found closer to his new house, these drivers could still fulfill what Ronan needed. Speed.

It didn't take long for Ronan to scout the other vehicles, calculating which would give him the biggest challenge. He needed that challenge today. An easy win was an unfulfilled high. He downed several beers, already half a case in, and ran a hand over his bare scalp before driving forward; picking a flashy green Camaro that rode too low. He would have fun with that one. The driver was sitting on the hood, chatting with a few others. He had his hair spiked up, wearing an oversized hockey jersey. But Ronan could tell he could drive, and that's all he needed.

When he pulled up beside him, Ronan rolled down his window, sticking his head out halfway to grab his attention. The beer was kicking in nicely, and already Ronan was starting to feel numb. Not physically numb, but his rage from earlier had dulled some after three beers.

Green Camaro's friends nudged his shoulder and gestured for him to turn around. The kid looked familiar but Ronan didn't really care enough to think where from.

"A BMW? What, you think you can race my car in that thing? How much horsepower does that shit even have? Pass."

Ronan was insulted on behalf of his car. "Do you even know cars-? Never mind. Don't you want to race? Isn't that why you're fucking out here?"

"Go race yourself," and Green Camaro kid was waving Ronan off. He turned his back to Ronan, his friends snickering. "I don't race losers. You look like one with your sad ass car and your black eye."

Ronan laughed, one harsh and loud laugh. "You think you'll win? Really? Come on. Bet you $200 you fucking lose."

Green Camaro kid didn't turn around. Ronan huffed under his breath and turned back to his passenger seat, sneaking another swig of beer. When he turned back to the kid he shouted, "Thousand bucks."

And he got what he wanted, as the kid turned around with a toothy grin. He petted his spiked hair and shrugged. "Your money," he said. "Your loss."

The point of the race was to make it to the small town of Henrietta and back first, and all while trying not to catch a cop on your tail. Ronan and Green Camaro edged together to the starting line, Ronan buzzed and on fire, ready to burn. He gripped the steering wheel hard with both hands and glanced over at the kid across from him, who was already staring back and decided to devilishly wink. Ronan rolled his good eye and turned back toward the road. One of Green Camaro's friends was standing up front between the cars, a hand raised above her head.

"You know the rules?" she asked pointed at Ronan. There weren't really any rules except don't cheat. Ronan nodded. "You know the route?" she asked, and he nodded again. "Okay. On go. One. Two. Three. Go!"

Ronan stepped on the gas pedal and went flying, hardly a few inches ahead of the Camaro. Off to a good start, he was alive and fast and feeling the weight of the BMW under him. The Camaro was giving him a run for his money, keeping steadily in tow, not letting off even as they made a sharp turn toward the town's edge. Everything was going great so far.

Then Ronan blacked out.

-------

"Adam."

Just hearing the sound of his name could wake him. The softness of this call was different to the slurred moans deep in the night or the violent shouting early in the morning. The sweet quiet of this "Adam" allowed him to wake up slowly, rather than all at once. His eyes lazily opened as he stretched out, sitting up when he worked out all the kinks from sleep. Adam hadn't slept this well before. It was different.

Persephone was standing in the doorway holding two cups of what he suspected was tea in her hands. He shook his head when offered, until he noticed something else in her hand, held tight between two fingers.

"Remember when you asked to use my address for some mail you wanted to keep private?" she said, handing over an envelope with the Aglionby design etched into the top left corner. "I admit I forgot, and was pleasantly surprised that Aglionby would send me mail when I've personally never gone and never could. It looks thick. They say that's usually a good sign."

"Thank you, Persephone. I'll remember to change the address from yours as soon as I can do you won't have to get any more of my mail."

"It's no bother," she said. "Tea? I made too much."

"I'm fine."

"It'll be in the kitchen if you change your mind," she said. Adam knew he wouldn't but nodded along anyway.

Patiently he waited for her to leave before tearing apart the envelope in his hands, nervously shaking to the point he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. This was an important step toward getting into the best colleges. Even if it was just for his senior year, Aglionby offered more in terms of opportunities and gateways than his public high school ever could. He almost forgot he applied, putting it out of his mind out of fear of rejection.

Still a little wobbly, Adam unfolded the paper just enough to scan the top line of the first page and his heart stopped. He was in.

Knowing his test scores and the recommendation letters the teachers at his high school wrote for him, Adam shouldn't have been that surprised. But Adam wasn't used to getting the things he wanted, and it felt good. It was a great step toward his dream future. Toward what he felt he deserved.

The high only lasted so long, until he went through the other pages in the letter, finding the payment plan page that sent dread through him. One of the reasons he had been saving up as much money as he did was if he ever got into Aglionby. Now a chunk of it was gone. And even if he could make up that chunk back before the end of the summer, it meant he had nowhere to live. He was shaking again. And when he registered the clock on his wrist, he was also going to be late for work if he didn't get dressed immediately.

Boyd was a reasonable man who knew enough of Adam's life that when Adam asked for a day off or a schedule change he didn't question it or tell him no. Because Adam worked twice as hard as anyone else in the shop and Adam never said no when Boyd asked him to do something. So when he showed up fifteen minutes late for work he felt like complete shit, but Boyd said nothing.

"You can stay fifteen extra minutes after your shift. Call it even," he said.

Adam twitched a smile as he got to work on his first car that morning. It was.... a disaster.

"What happened here?" he started to ask, until he caught a whiff of the interior and knew immediately what must have happened. The car reeked of beer, and Adam could still make out a couple cans stuck inside under where the front caved in.

"Why is it here and not an auto body repair shop?" another of the mechanics asked across the way. It was the first time Adam had seen a car from a car accident in here before, at least a car accident with this much damage, so it wasn't an odd question to be asked. But he was more curious if the driver and possible passengers were okay. The car clearly hit a pole or a tree judging by the damage, the front pushed in at the middle. What was left of the front windshield was cracked and half sticking out of its placement. In the corner he could see a parking decal and his heart jumped to his throat when he saw it was an Aglionby parking decal from last term. Suddenly he wasn't thinking about how to pay for school at all, but if this potential fellow student was dead or alive.

"Favor for the family," Boyd said near Adam's good hearing side. "Just pretend it isn't here. Someone's coming to pick it up at the end of the day. It's just not going through 'official channels' to get fixed, if you know what I mean."

The others all knew immediately to shut up and turn their attentions back to their work, but Adam lingered. He didn't know who drove this car, but he felt 

"And the driver?" Adam asked. He turned his head to follow where Boyd went, tilting enough to catch his words and hoping it wasn't obvious he was doing so. "Are they... okay?"

Boyd shrugged. "He's not dead."

------

Ronan wasn't sure how the fuck he was still alive. After blacking out behind the wheel he lost control somehow and wound up wrapped around a tree on the side of the road. The kid in the green Camaro likely gave up asking for his money when the ambulance and police came, and next Ronan knew he was waking up in a hospital bed in a hospital gown with Declan yelling down the hall asking for him.

"Ah, fuck."

Ronan guessed he should be grateful that the cops didn't arrest him for drunk driving, but he suspected Declan had something to do with that. Not that he was going to thank him for it. He had half a mind to still kick Declan's ass for putting the Barns up for sale without telling him.

When Declan found Ronan's room he burst in with a look of horror on his face, which immediately alleviated upon the sight of his brother sitting upright in the bed. Ronan was fine, for the most part. Bruised and sore, and cut up from glass here and there, but nothing severe. His face hurt more than it already did, and he could only imagine the damage done to his beautiful mug.

"I thought you would look worse! They kept telling me about concussions and unconscious and so I assumed- the hell, Ronan! Don't get out of bed so fast."

Ronan had hopped off and started searching for his clothes. He continued to ignore Declan as if he wasn't there.

"I went to the Barns," he said, amidst pulling open drawers and doors. He found a bag at the bottom of a small closet adjacent to the private bathroom his room had. In it were his clothes, boots, and personal belongings. "Saw the sign. When were you going to tell me?"

"Eventually." Declan sighed when Ronan gave him a knowing look across the hospital room. "Before it sold. Look, Matthew didn't have this reaction when I told him, but I knew you would. It's why we didn't tell you."

Ronan was in the middle of fishing out his shirt from the bottom of the bag when he stopped cold and turned toward Declan completely. "Mathew knew before me?"

"I knew he would take it better than you would."

Ronan started angrily dressing, which wasn't smart so soon after a car accident. Everything hurt.

"Look, I'm pissed at you too. You risked everything being so reckless." There was that word again. Reckless. His jaw clenched as he struggled to put on his pants. "Drinking and drag racing? You don't know the lengths I went to get you out of that one. You're just lucky I'm good at my job or else-"

There was too much pressure in Ronan's sore head and he snapped. "No one asked you to become the patriarch of the family, Declan! No one asked you to take on Dad's role or to do his job, and I definitely didn't ask you to call in any favors for me! If you hate me so much and you hate what I'm doing why didn't you just let me suffer the consequence of my actions!"

"Because you're my brother, you little shit!" Declan shouted back. They both flinched at the volume and power behind his shout. Neither expected it clearly, and Ronan felt uncomfortable after it. He was trapped in the room, with Declan standing between him and the only exit. Declan didn't look like he was going to move out of his way.

After a while of uncomfortable silence Ronan couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing here anyway? You didn't have to come down here."

"Of course I did," Declan grumbled. "Also, you don't have a car anymore so-"

"What?" Ronan jerked forward until he remembered he was just in a car accident and he sunk back. "Oh, right. Fuck. Do you know when I'm getting it back? Like, a couple weeks or...?"

Declan laughed. The last time that happened was before Niall died, and it was still as strange and stiff a sound as ever. Ronan didn't know what to do. Declan laughing was weird.

"You're not getting the car back," he said.

"Excuse me? The fuck I'm not."

"You're getting cut off, and the car's being taken away from you, until you grow up."

Ronan was heated. "What the fuck, Declan! You're not Dad!"

Declan nodded solemnly. "No, but I'm the only person trying to keep you alive right now."

The sentiment was a joke and Ronan snorted. His reaction wasn't appreciated and Declan made it clear by folding his arms across his chest and scowling back at his little brother with everything he could muster.

"This is serious, Ronan. I'm serious. If you don't get your act together you're going to be a very lonely person. Gansey and Noah leave for college next fall. Matthew won't be living in that house forever. I'm already gone."

Declan mentioning himself was absurd. Ronan scoffed and thought to shrug, but thought again against it with all the sore body parts.

Declan's jaw clenched at his dismissal. "Do you even want to go to college?"

Now Declan had Ronan's full attention. He gaped. "Are you going to force me to go to college?" He wouldn't be surprised. Declan saw that as the only acceptable decision after high school, when life was full of many different roads and college wasn't the only one.

He breathed mild relief when Declan replied, "What would be the point in that? Wasted money and wasted time. I'm only asking because-" Declan stopped himself. Something about what he wanted to say didn't sit right, and Ronan was already trying to figure out a way to brush past him quick and painless. There wasn't really a shot of that. "I'm asking," Declan said again, carefully forming his words as if Ronan was a wild animal that could buck at a glimpse of a threat. "Do you even think about your future at all? What it's going to be like without your friends, without Matthew?"

Ronan almost brought up the car accident as an argument to discontinue this conversation, but that was likely not going to work. Not with Declan. He breathed in hard through his mouth and out through his nose.

"I'll make new friends," he said.

Declan laughed again.

"Hey, Dick, I'm a friendly people person!" Ronan exclaimed.

"Thought you didn't like to lie," Declan argued.

That shut Ronan up.

"Listen," and Declan inched forward again, allowing Ronan to eye the exit. A few more steps and he could probably bolt for the door. "This is for your own good. Not having a car will keep you out of trouble and not having money will keep you from buying booze."

"Thought you wanted me to have fun this summer," Ronan teased.

Declan didn't find much humor in it. "You can still have fun without illegal street racing and alcohol right?"

Ronan could only see out of one eye but he knew he still managed to look completely pissed off.

Not having a car meant that the only way home was through Declan, and that meant suffering next to him for hours. But at some point the brothers recognized the need for silence, and while the drive was painful, it wasn't insufferable.

They stopped halfway for fast food but still did not talk to one another. The food at least allowed an excuse not to talk, Ronan's mouth full of fries and coke. It wasn't until they were pulling into the driveway of their new house did either finally say anything.

Declan had been itching to talk for the last hour, noticeable by his fidgeting hands on the wheel, and his constant opening of his mouth followed by a firm closing and loud exhale. Ronan was never going to ask what it is he wanted, and so he waited. Finally Declan grunted as the car slowed, turning to Ronan enough Ronan glanced back.

"Mom has no idea about the accident," he admitted, and Ronan could tell he felt guilty not telling her. "I figured it wasn't worth scaring her unless it was serious, and thank god it wasn't. Don't make me regret that decision, Ronan."

It felt weird that Declan would do something "nice" for him. He wanted to roll his eyes but it hurt to even blink.

"What did you tell her to get her to agree to cut me off?" He realized if it wasn't the accident it had to be something.

"I simply suggested it," Declan replied. He pulled to a full stop in front of the house and turned his torso completely toward his brother. Ronan's body language still said fuck you, hunched and facing toward the window, but he at least released tension in his shoulders, deconstructing one of his many invisible barriers. "Mom thinks it's in your best interest too. Even without the car accident. You know you've been since Dad died. It's only escalated."

True Ronan wasn't the happiest person in recent years, and certainly not the best behaved, but Ronan didn't think it was enough to be cut off just by Declan simply asking. That realization filled him with an ache that didn't look to be going away anytime soon. His good eye closed as he swallowed back any form of an emotional reaction to the idea he worried his mother. With everything she was personally going through, he admittedly didn't think she would notice what he did. Guess not.

"When do I get my car back?" he asked, voice rough with the threat of tears. He was so tired.

"When you grow up," Declan answered.

"So never."

For a flash of a second, Ronan thought he saw Declan smile, but when he looked there was nothing of a hint. "At least you're self aware," he said. "Listen, I need to get back to the city. My internship starts bright and early tomorrow. If you feel sick or anything, don't hesitate to call. I'm still your brother. I do care about you, believe it or not."

Ronan said nothing as he ambled out of the car, exhaustion washing over him tenfold with the knowledge his bed was so close. When he shut the door Declan didn't say anything else, he simply drove away.

--------

One night at Persephone's became two, which became three, which bled into a fourth, and by that point it felt almost natural. Almost home. Which meant Adam needed to figure out a new living arrangement quick, before he either wore out his welcome or became too complacent.

Aglionby offered boarding for some, the price of which could be affordable if there were more hours in the day and Adam didn't need to sleep ever again. Boyd was already pushing it enough for him, what with child labor laws, and asking for more shifts felt selfish and impossible. He tried to find a second job, but Henrietta was suffering a mild hiring freeze and no one seemed to need him. Nothing that could work around his Boyd's schedule.

Adam was suffering with anxiety at the fact his dream was so close and so far away. If he hadn't moved out of the Parrish house- No, he needed to stop thinking like that. If he hadn't moved out when he did, maybe he would be deaf in both ears by now. Maybe something even worse.

Since that fateful day Adam had enough, he hadn't seen either his mom or dad since, even though he knew they were so close. Some days he swore he saw his father's truck pass by Boyd's, but that truck was a popular model and color. It could have been anyone. Could have been his imagination, even. But it still sent spikes of pain to his chest every time.

It was three weeks into summer now, and Adam still didn't really know what he was going to do about Aglionby when summer was over. He responded to the acceptance letter, agreeing to the transfer and paying a small deposit with some of the money he had leftover, so at least one semester was paid for. That eased some of Adam's anxiety, but not enough.

It was another hot and humid summer day in Henrietta. Adam came into work a little earlier than he needed because he wanted to talk to Boyd about any extra opportunities for work, but he was surprised to find someone else in Boyd's office this early. The shop didn't technically open for another half hour, but Adam could see two body shapes through the drawn curtain. And yelling. He could hear yelling.

"It's my car," shouted a voice. It wasn't Boyd's, or anyone's he could recognize.

"I'm sorry, Ronan." This one was Boyd's, and while it was raised he wasn't shouting back. He talked like he was trying to calm this Ronan person down, but he suspected it wasn't working. "I don't have it, and I don't know where Declan took it. There's nothing I can do for you. Why don't you ask him where it went?"

"Because he-" Ronan's voice caught, and then he heard a loud groaning. "Never mind. I gotta go. Thanks for nothing, Boyd."

"Not going to get in the middle of a family matter. Sorry, kid."

"Fuck," Ronan cursed under his breath, shoving Boyd's office door open wide enough it caught before slamming into the window adjacent. His stomps grew closer, and Adam panicked realizing he was walking his way and not out the front. When he turned round the corner, this Ronan was nothing Adam would have expected. Tall but hunched over, a visible angry cloud hanging over him and his scowl that looked like a permanent aspect of his face. He was wearing leather, even in this weather, hair buzzed, and clearly not gifted with the ability to acknowledge his surroundings as he almost ran into Adam while storming out. Upon discovering the obstacle in his way, Ronan's frown deepened and he scowled at Adam while shifting to the side to pass.

"What are you fucking looking at?" The question was apparently rhetorical, because he left no time for Adam to come up with anything to say, gone before Adam could so much as open his mouth.

Like a thunderstorm, he was gone quick, but not before leaving some form of impression. Adam had grown up in Henrietta, so he was used to seeing his fair share of Aglionby boys through the years. If the driver of that car was one, and this was the driver, Adam had some adjustments to make to his perception of his soon to be classmates. Ronan looked nothing like what he expected an Aglionby student to look like, but he had grown up seeing them in uniform. Out of uniform he expected fancy suits and boat shoes, not someone who clearly grew fashion inspiration from a Sex Pistols band photo. There was also something else about him. With his strong features and piercing eyes it was impossible not to recognize he was attractive. That was, of course, beside the point.

Their interaction rattled Adam so much he forgot to ask Boyd about the extra job opportunities until it was too late.

That night he was eating the second half of the sandwich he bought for lunch, a splurge purchase in his financial situation, but when he looked at Ronan, tall and full bodied, he felt unexplainable hungrier than usual. The sandwich satisfied him somewhat.

Persephone was knitting in the front room when he came back from work, and was still out there on what looked like the same layer in her current project when he finished eating.

"What's that exactly?" he asked.

"A scarf for you," she said, holding it up toward him. It was blue and not even close to finished. "A gift. They suspect it will be quite cold this winter. I should be finished by then."

"I don't need a scarf," he said. He realized he said it a little more flatly than he meant to when Persephone's brow raised. "I mean, thank you, but you don't need to make me a scarf. I'll manage like I always do."

"Maybe I'll make it for me, then," she said, placing it to her neck. "Blue isn't my color, though. How was work today? Did you ask him what it is you wanted to ask?"

Adam sunk into one of the chairs opposite Persephone, watching her knitting needles working through the fabric.

"Didn't get a chance to today," he said, sighing as his muscles got their first break that day after spending hours inside cars all day. "I'll try again tomorrow. Hopefully he knows someone. I feel like I'm running out of options."

"It's barely June," Persephone reasoned. "But I hope so too. Do you want me to check what's in the cards for you today?"

"No, I prefer to make my own fate. You should ask the cards when you'll finish that scarf. I think you're going backwards in progress."

"Am I?" Persephone looked down at her knitting work and clucked her tongue. "Oh dear."

"I'm going to bed," he sighed. "It's late and I managed to get an extra hour of work in before we officially open tomorrow. Night."

"Goodnight, Adam."

Adam's body tried to reject him pulling himself up out of the chair, wanting to sit a little longer. But soon he would be asleep, and then soon he would be awake again. He was halfway out the room when Persephone exclaimed, "Oh!" and caught his curiosity enough to turn around.

"I almost forgot, when I was visiting my friends, I found this on their fridge, and I thought it might interest you." Persephone began unfolding a paper from out of her purse. "Maura has a daughter your age, also looking for extra work. She says it pays suspiciously well, but she might do it. The two of you can go together if you do it! Oh, that would be wonderful. You would like her, I think."

Persephone's stream of words was distracting, and Adam was so tired he almost nodded and left, forgetting the purpose of her chatting was to hand him something. Before he left he remembered to take it, and waited until he brushing his teeth before looking it over.

It was a flyer for a camp in New York State, and they needed counselors. Ages 16 to 20. Food provided. Room and board free the entire duration of the camp. His eyes scanned sleepily over the sheet, skipping past activities and other descriptions to find the payment listed at the bottom. When he found it he almost thought he fell asleep reading the flyer and was dreaming. It paid better than Boyd's that was for sure, nearly three times as much as his current pay at Boyd's actually. He thought for a moment he didn't read it right and rubbed his eyes to wake himself up enough to reread. No, it was accurate. And for ten weeks, this pay could more than help set Adam up for payment on his school and living situation.

Maybe what Persephone sometimes joked about when discussing her friends was true? Maybe they were magic.

The camp was almost too good to be true, and a perfect solution to his problems. Somewhat. Ten weeks away from Boyd's could prove to be a problem. Boyd liked him fine, but ten weeks away from work was practically quitting, and Adam liked working there too much. It paid well, the work environment was fine, and he didn't want to have a new boss to adjust to.

It'll look amazing on your transcripts, he thought. Universities loved extracurriculars. After spending hours wide awake with contemplation when he should have spent them sleeping, Adam decided to ask Boyd about the possibility of taking this job as a camp counselor. If Boyd was okay with him taking leave, then he would apply. It was too good of an opportunity not to ask.

--------

"Thanks again for driving me into town," Ronan said to Noah. "I appreciate it."

"No problem," Noah chirped. "Sorry you didn't get your car. Declan really doesn't want you to drive, does he?"

Ronan grunted as he turned his head toward the window. He and Noah were now driving back from Ronan's failed mission to retrieve the BMW, and Ronan was still reeling from the news Declan basically hid it from him. He had been handling the lack of car and money rather well, since Noah hadn't left for his vacation yet and popped in every once in a while. But Noah was leaving soon, and being trapped in that house with Aurora did not sound appealing.

Hearing the ghost of her late at night around the house, but not seeing her at all during the day, was weighing on him. That was her thing lately. She slept all day, and walked at night. Like a vampire. He didn't understand it, wasn't sure he wanted to, but people mourned loss in different ways. He just wished hers didn't include selling his childhood home. The Barns were still up for sale last he checked, through Noah who still lived near Henrietta. There was an open house in a couple weeks, and Ronan's plans were to crash it and deter people's interests, but Noah was his ride and he wasn't going to be here when it happened. Which was why Ronan was desperate enough to go in search of his car.

No luck so far in finding it, although his mind stuck on the mechanic he found eavesdropping in the dark when he left. Something about him was haunting; whether it was his tan skin, freckles, or his eyes that looked like they could see through you, see all your mistakes and problems. He was pretty, but Ronan undoubtedly was never going to see him again so what was the point in thinking about him.

Noah nudged his shoulder and Ronan looked over.

"You're being quieter than I was expecting," he said. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing worth mentioning."

Noah glanced at him and his constant grin waned. His pale eyebrows knitted together in concern. "You're kind of boring this way, you know," he said.

"Fuck you." Ronan meant for it to sound meaningful, but instead he found himself smiling. "Dick."

"Wrong friend," Noah teased. After his snickering stopped, he chewed on his lip and glanced across the car again at Ronan. "Speaking of, have you talked to him lately?"

Even though Ronan knew who he meant, he still asked, "Who? I have a lot of dicks in my life."

Noah snorted. "Gansey. Who else? He's been too busy to call me lately, but we text. He says Helen has been trying to set him up with other politician's daughters. Sounds like fun."

"Sounds like hell," Ronan sighed.

"So you haven't talked to him then."

Truthfully Ronan tried to reach out after the accident, but when his phone call went to voicemail he hung up and didn't try again. While he missed talking to Gansey, he wouldn't reach out first. He was still bitter about their last conversation.

Noah took the hint he didn't want to talk about Gansey anymore and instead turned on some music, Ronan's preference. They went quiet a while, which Noah often did when it was just him and Ronan, and Ronan didn't feel in the mood to talk.

Outside the sky was starting to get dark, night creeping in over the hills. It was twilight hour, hints of purple and pink lining the sky as the sun was setting. It made Ronan miss his car more than usual. Not having money didn't really bother Ronan. It wasn't like he was living without it at the house. There was always food in the fridge and something on TV, but the BMW being out of reach felt like a loss of limb. He missed having it at an arms reach. Feeling the weight of it under him. Driving fast down the back roads late at night. Feeling his heart race on sharp curves. The blissful ability to take it out when he couldn't sleep. Now when he couldn't sleep he was stuck staring at the ceiling in his room, or mimicking his mother and walking aimlessly around the house and outside.

Declan told him to 'grow up' in order to get it back, and Ronan didn't know what exactly that meant. So far, his attempt at following the very vague order was to do absolutely nothing, and it was boring as all hell. He just wanted to be able to get into his car and drive. Soon, he hoped. Soon Declan would cave and give it back. That's all he could hope for.

After a while, Ronan's choice in music became too impossible for him to think. He turned it down and watched Noah driving, knowing how much he was going to miss him when he left, even if it was only for a little while. Not having access to Noah at the drop of a hat was going to be strange. Last summer, the three of them - Gansey, Noah, and Ronan - spent every day together. The summer before that, too. This one was a sign of their impending futures, and how soon they would move on from this place and Ronan wouldn't. Noah already was talking about what college he would likely be going to, even though they didn't start accepting applications for months.

To distract himself from the idea of their futures, Ronan nudged Noah's shoulder with his. Noah glanced at him again, one eyebrow raised above the other.

"Yeah?"

"Where did you say you were going, again?" Ronan asked. "You're going to a counselor?"

"I'm not going to a counselor," Noah laughed. "I'm going to be a counselor. Camp counselor. I'm surprised you remembered that much at least."

Ronan shrugged. "Whatever. A counselor? To who?"

"Kids," Noah said slowly. "Didn't you ever go to camp?" When Ronan shook his head, Noah looked traumatized. "That was literally the best part of my summer every summer growing up. Oh my god. You poor child."

"I survived," Ronan smirked.

"But if you went to camp, who knows what kind of Ronan you would be?" Noah shook his head. "Shame. Every kid should be allowed the chance to do camp at least one summer. It's so fun. This'll be my first year as a counselor. I talked my mom into letting me do it."

"Wait, you're surrounding yourself with children voluntarily?" Noah proceeded to gently shove at Ronan's shoulder, making him break into laughter. "You're fucking wild, man. I wouldn't willingly get within ten feet of a group of kids."

"Your loss," said Noah. "Kids can be fun. And these kids are going to be great. I'm so excited I've already started packing and I don't leave for another week."

There was a pause there that Ronan could tell hinted at something more. When he looked over at Noah, he noticed him looking back curiously. Suspiciously. He narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

"You should be a camp counselor too!" Noah gasped and jumped in place, which wasn't the safest reaction behind the wheel. "I can totally get you in. Oh my god it would be so much fun! Oh my god, Ronan. You can't say no. You have to."

Ronan was struggling not to laugh. "You're kidding," he said, to which Noah shook his head.

"I'm serious! Dead serious!"

"Does it pay?" He was waved off as he said this. "I'm poor now. I need money."

"Oh, please." Noah huffed. "You are the opposite of poor, you whiny baby. You don't need the money, but yes it does pay. Free food, too, and best of all you get to hang out with me."

The last one was tempting, but Ronan wasn't yet sold. This car ride was clearly a set up, but Noah's enthusiasm and earnest request didn't set Ronan's teeth on edge like it would have with anyone else. With Noah it took a lot to genuinely get upset, even as Noah started to grin like he already won.

"Don't look so smug," Ronan was quick to say. "I haven't decided yet. What do counselors even do at camp?"

"Oh, you poor camp virgin." Noah reached and patted Ronan gently on the cheek, to which he replied with a bite at Noah's hand. It was easy, just this, and Ronan wished he could last in this moment forever, simple and small as it was. "Counselors spend the day watching over the kids, making sure none of them run away or get hurt. There are tons of activities for them to do, and we get to do them too. Really, counselors basically get to hang out and do whatever when the kids are asleep. It's really, really fun I swear. Trust me, you're going to have a way better summer than sitting at home."

In truth, it sounded like it could be a better summer, if only by comparison to the one Ronan had for the past few weeks. The longer he thought on it the more it appealed to him, but he still had a lot of internal debate to do. Noah appeared patient, but oftentimes he was the most impatient person Ronan knew. He liked spontaneity and adventure, and a small part of Ronan worried he would agree to this and find Noah changed his mind last minute leaving Ronan alone at some camp with a bunch of children. That sounded like the start of a horror movie not a good summer.

"How long is camp for?"

Noah cringed like he said something off and he shifted one shoulder as if shadowing his face.

"Ten weeks," he said, to Ronan's chagrin. Quick he was to add, "But I swear you'll be having so much fun you won't even notice! Orientation starts in a week. You can meet everyone beforehand and judge for yourself if you want to stay or not. I'll drive you back home if you don't want to stay. I swear. Cross my heart." And as he said it he took one hand and crossed a finger over the center of his chest.

Looking at Noah, he could see the anticipation in his eyes, the hopeful patience that edged on impatience. His fingers were rapping gently on the leather of the wheel, his teeth chewing on a chapped lip. Ronan didn't feel like disappointing another person this month, and so he shrugged half earnestly and sighed as if this wasn't remotely what he wanted.

"Fuck it," he said. "Fine."

"No take backs!" Noah exclaimed fast, before squealing at such a volume Ronan swore dogs were howling somewhere nearby. "It's settled! Oh my god I can't wait. I'm going to start packing as soon as I'm home. Aw shit this is exciting."

For the rest of the drive, Noah trailed on about cabins this and campfires that to the point Ronan lost the ability to retain any more information. He was only focusing on the idea of doing something different to what he would normally do, hoping somehow stepping out of his comfort zone would prove to Declan (and maybe himself) he could 'grow up.' Whatever that meant.

--------

When Adam heard that the camp's selection of kids was solely those from foster care and group homes he knew instantly he wanted to be a counselor there more than anything. He felt a connection to these kids indescribable, even though he never had to be put in foster care, he ran the risk of it several times over the years when he showed up to school after an encounter with his dad.

Boyd understood why he wanted to go when he, himself, checked out the website and the flyer. The pay alone was a selling point, but Boyd's silent understanding of Adam's private life was ever present when he told Adam he was fine with him taking leave.

"The job'll be waiting for you when you get back," he said.

"I haven't been accepted yet."

"You will," Boyd said with a knowing smile.

Sure enough, Boyd was right. Adam was accepted. He smiled so wide he hurt his jaw a little.