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Because of what we are.

[Ronan himself doesn't know exactly how he means that. Because they're boys, and the world has always said that marriage isn't for them. Because they're opposites, and a peaceful union is probably impossible between such disparate individuals. Because they're magicians, and they're racing toward an untimely end.

Because they're cursed, and they're already united in deeper ways than a marriage can ever bind two people. They might as well have been married the day Adam sacrificed himself.]

[ Adam shrugs a shoulder at that answer. ]

Don't you want to at least try to believe in forever?

Yes.

[He wants to. So badly.]

Do you get the difference between our heart and our soul?

[ Adam asks quietly because it's important that Ronan gets it. There's so much they fail to understand about each other constantly but he needs Ronan to understand this. ]

No.

[That may be the problem with Ronan. Between the two of them, he's not sure he feels a distinction. He couldn't say for sure if that's a character flaw on his part or something that only began when the essence of the Greywaren's heart and mind ensnared pieces of Adam's soul.]

[ Adam sighs because he should have expected that. He furrows his brow and tries to think of how to put it into words that Ronan would actually understand. ]

Our soul is like the root of our tree. There's only you and me. Our hearts are bigger than just our soul and it grows and branches and that's... Andyr's a very special branch of our heart but he's not a part of our soul.

[Ronan appreciates the strange metaphor, mostly because it's in Ronan language. He knows what Adam's trying to say. He knows, also, that God would refuse this as an excuse for infidelity.

But God's will, as always, pales in the face of Adam's.]

I can't live without either of you. Adam, I'm in love with him. Really in love with him, and I want you to be, too. I want him to love us and I want us together. Tell me what to do to make it happen. How do I keep us whole?

[ Adam already knew it but there's an odd feeling inside at hearing Ronan say that out loud. It's not quite jealousy or maybe it's an echo of jealousy. It's hard to feel certain. He looks down at his hands finally dropping his legs down so he's not so curled in on himself. ]

We've been telling you, Ronan.

[ it is, actually, the first time andyr's ever punched ronan in any kind of serious. they'd play fought before, wrestled around, sparred even, but the only kind of serious aggression andyr'd directed towards ronan was a rough shove, or a toss into a bath tub. this is something entirely different, a hurt and a sadness that andyr couldn't swallow, overwhelming into frustration, that boiled up into fury instead, as many things tend to do. the same way all of them tend to hand emotions, really, but the difference being, violence is a language andyr speaks more often than english, these days. he'd burned out the parts of him that wanted to accept things like hurt and fear, and trained his body and mind to translate it into adrenaline and rage, visceral and bloody. he'd hurt, and instead of weeping, he'd find the closest thing and shred it, because that's what life in hapsburg meant. if you're wounded, you're prey.

it storms in him the entire trek downstairs, andyr's blood is hot and boiling, his hands twitching with a want to sink into something warm and human and rend it. to destroy and shatter, leaving a wake of ruin that's some kind of physical out-pour of what tangled mess is aching in his chest right now. he makes it all the way to his room, ready to grab up his backpack and be gone for a week or so, when his eyes land on the dreamcatcher hanging over his bed. the note still dangling from it, from ronan. the memory of that first night in his tent, sharing stories, talking about the tattoo on the inside of his eyelid. ronan's quiet fears whispered between them. the nights they'd spent cuddled together, waiting for death to creep in. he loves that boy more than life itself, so deeply it chokes him. and he'd just hit him, as if he was any other tech or guard from the houses.

for a long moment, he's staring at it, the feathers twisting and turning delicately, as he near on hyperventilates. god, he'd fucked up. he'd fucked up so, so bad. once feeling comes back to his limbs, andyr moves, in a panicked hurry, gathering up a few things. firstly, petra, the kitten giving an annoyed mewl as he drags her out of the covers she'd nested in, and then he's bounding upstairs, towards the kitchen, ignoring anyone else he runs into on the way, looking pale and in distress, but all he grabs from the fridge is a handful of ice, wrapped up in a thin cloth, before heading for the stairs again, upward, back to ronan's room. and there, he halts, listening. he hears the last few pieces of their conversation, adam's explanation about the tree, the difference with heart and soul. ronan saying 'I can't live without either of you, Adam, I'm in love with him, and that emotion wells up in his chest again, a lump in his throat, like it had that day in the field when he'd first said it. after a second or two, andyr takes a deep breath, and steps in, apologies falling from him as he deposits the gathered items in their places. ]

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, that was stupid, and I'm stupid, and I wasn't thinking. [ petra is placed in adam's lap quickly, and then he moves to ronan, putting the bag of ice down in front of him, and immediately moving back, as if his proximity would offend. or threaten. or anything. andyr shuffles off to the side, and sits, legs tugged to his chest as he'd done before, equidistant from both boys, before he whispers, quiet but audible. ] And I love you.

[ he feels a shame in saying that, like he doesn't have the right after hitting him. after bringing all this up. ]

I'm sorry I said it too. I was scared. [ 'it' being what ronan told him in confidence. being scared doesn't excuse letting that out, but he wants ronan to know it wasn't something he'd been planning on doing. it just came out, like the punch, like so many other stupid things he does without letting his brain turn back on first. for a moment he's silent, breathing heavily, like he's on the verge of panic attack, and honestly, he sort of is. this is what happens when he derails from the process of Fury, Ruin, Burn and takes the split second to linger on one of these more painful emotions, rather than blaze past it. there's things he needs to say, so he starts rambling, eyes glued on a piece of floor some foot or so aware from his sneakers, voice an unsteady thing and words all strung together and rushed. ]

You live in the time when people still thought same sex marriages should be illegal, right? In a hundred years from your time, people'll think that concept's barbaric, Catholics included. [ things he'd picked up on listening to adam's arguments. he's not sure if it makes a difference, but he's trying. a hand against his chest clutches at his father's dogtags, always dangling from his neck. he'd been the religious one in their family, the one with spiritual certainty when andyr just hadn't quite been able to get it. ronan reminds him so much of his dad some days, and he feels the cold metal of the tags pressed into his palm, wishing so badly that he could have him now. ] If God created this world, and man, and life, and magic, then God created your dad, and your dad's powers, and so, created you and yours. He created your heart too, because you're made up of blood and bone and earth.

[ things stefan prince had told him, some late night when they floated in his old boat, out in the new orleans port, staring at the stars and letting the waves rock them. ]

If you feel linked to Adam in a way that's deeper than blood, something that's part of your soul, that isn't man's territory. That's God's. So is love. How arrogant is it for man to think we could create something that perfect all on our own? [ andyr swallows, voice hitching, and he lifts his eyes to ronan finally, blinking at him with sorrow and fear and guilt in his eyes still. ] Faith is more than just following rules. God didn't spend all that time creating things as complex as hearts and minds just for you to ignore them.

[Ronan hadn't actually expected Andyr to return. He'd been fairly certain Andyr left the house, and thought possibly that he'd left it forever. So his eyes go wide as he watches Andyr walk in, making obeisance to the both of them. He doesn't reach for the ice yet, too transfixed by Andyr's speech, all spoken as if on a single breath.

It's not wrong. It's probably not wrong. No one but God knows for sure. But...]

Andyr, what the fuck?

[Ronan has so many reasons to be pissed off right now, he's having trouble picking which one to focus on. Then he glances at Adam and immediately knows where to start.]

You don't fucking do this shit, man. Especially not in front of Adam. Jesus fucking Christ...

[He can still taste blood in his mouth.]

[ the words aren't unexpected, and andyr's braced for them, accepting it, because ronan's right. it's fucked up, he shouldn't ever do that to someone he loves, this isn't fucking hapsburg where he can turn on someone for breathing a word he doesn't like and punch them through a wall without it mattering at all. those people were never important to him. he can't just give up on the want to process a problem and dismiss it like that. it isn't just him in his little bubble of hell anymore. ]

I know, I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't--

[ he doesn't even know how to explain this, what he'd done and why he'd done it and why that anger led to him just snapping, particularly at ronan, who'd never earn this kind of reaction at him before. his mouth works a moment, vague sounds coming from him in an attempt to say something, anything. in the end, he gives up, voice coming out pathetic, and weak, thick with self-loathing and guilt. ]

I tried to tell you. When we started this. I fucking tried to, Ronan, you kept saying it's fine, but it's not. [ he is not fine. not the 'not fine' that adam and ronan are, having gone through harrow experiences and facing death. he is purposefully, intentionally, created into this patched together, collage of pieces of a person, where he'd cut out holes and both andyr and the people holding him tried to fill them up with something vicious on a monolithic scale. how does he even tell them that? that he wanders this house, still, and the lack of chains on his ankles, the lack of bars on the windows and doors, makes him feel like he's crawling inside his skin, some ticking bomb left inside a goddamn daycare. ] I'm not--

I'm not just sad, or angry, or desperate. I sat in a cell, for six fucking years, and I killed everything in my head that I didn't need. [ impulse control, the little voice in the back of his head that says 'bad idea, what about consequences', the safety stop that demands he think about an action before he lets it happen. unchecked anger and fear and panic, and andyr doesn't know terms like 'PTSD' to assign to it - the harsh reactions, the backwards emotional responses, crying when he's happy, violence when he's sad, paranoia when it's too quiet. the nightmares, the flashbacks, a simple word or brush of contact or scent that reminds him of something, and then it's like his rationality shuts off. only what he'd drilled into his mind in the constant attempts to rewire his brain and body, into something like this. exactly what'd happened here - this terrifying force that would rip through whatever offended him, and leave fear and anger and disgust behind him. ] Every time I came out, someone died. This is what I do. I've tried to fix it, but it doesn't fucking work. I'm still fucked in the head, and I tried to tell you that.

Edited 2017-02-28 17:43 (UTC)

[ Adam lifts his shoulders dismissively and honestly he's not really wanting to talk about it much right now. He's only half listening, petting Petra and staring at the kitten. It's not that he doesn't care. He cares a lot he's just doesn't want to have this talk right now and he doesn't want to have to fight more after the fight that he'd just had with Ronan.

Ronan gets to handle this because Adam is being obtuse and just focusing on the kitten. ]

[Adam's shutting down. Ronan can see it. And though Ronan has it in him to yell at Andyr all night, until it's drilled into his head that there's never going to be any excuse for frightening Adam, he knows it's not the right course of action now. Loud voices will make it worse. The only way to bring Adam back is to make it safe again.]

Shut up, Andyr.

[He sounds more exasperated than angry now.]

I don't care what you do, as long as you don't do it in front of Adam. You've already managed not to kill us all, so you can handle this. Now chill out and stop making so much noise.

[Andyr's hardly the only one in the room suffering from PTSD. Ronan turns to Adam again, brushing his palm lightly along Adam's arm in a reassuring caress. He's admonishing Andyr, but all of this is his own fault, really. He's been failing in his promise to give Adam everything. He should never have said anything to Andyr. They would have all been better off if Ronan had stayed away entirely, Adam and Andyr free to pursue their romance without him.]

[ andyr shuts up, immediately. ronan could probably tell him to jump off a cliff at this point, and he would. he hadn't meant to make an excuse for hurting or frightening any of them, just to explain, that it's a bad idea to have him here. not just with the two of them, but with jesse, with noah, with anyone living this close. he should've stayed at alva's.

either way, he shuts his mouth, drops his chin on his knees, and sits, staring at the far wall.

his eyes follow ronan across the room, watches adam, watches how he's gone so still and quiet over there and how carefully ronan's trying to pull him back, and andyr tries to tell everything in his head to just shut up. ]

[ Adam flinches before he can catch the reaction when Ronan touches him. His grip tightened on Petra for a second. He looks up at Ronan and he's trying to say he's sorry but the words don't really make it out so he reaches to squeeze his hand quickly. He then lets go of it, holding the kitten to his chest. ]

I need to go for a walk.

[ There's a silent plea in the look he gives Ronan to let him. He knows Andyr isn't really okay either but Adam will just make this worse if he can't get some space. If there's no great protest he's going to escape for a walk with the kitten and likely Skippy finding him along the way. ]

[Adam doesn't have to apologize. The reaction seems like an appropriate one, really, and Ronan draws his hand back and closes his fist. He feels ugly and terrible and none of it is new. He's only lucky that Adam ever wants his touch at all.

Mutely, he nods at Adam's request. Doesn't make a move to stop him. Doesn't even watch him go. Ronan twists his fingers around his bracelets and shuts his eyes, screaming abuses at himself inside his own mind.]

[ Andyr wants to whisper another 'I'm sorry' to Adam, when he gets up to leave, as it's becoming apparent that something deeply wrong had set off in his head after what andyr'd done. He remembers now, thinking that he'd guessed Adam had something violent in his life, though he'd never known what exactly or had any real confirmation. He's still madly curious, especially now, but even still, he should've kept that in mind. He should've kept anything in mind outside of just being angry.

He says nothing either, hardly even moves, waiting for Ronan to either leave or tell him to go. Andyr doesn't know what to do with himself otherwise. ]

[Once Ronan's sure that Adam's gone and not just hanging around the corner, he sighs and opens his eyes again, directing them to Andyr. Adam's history is his own to share, Ronan knows that. But it's beginning to feel like he might never tell Andyr about his abuse, and it's suddenly so painfully relevant.

So after a moment of internal conflict, Ronan answers the unasked question:]

His father used to beat him. All the fucking time. We'd drop him off at home every night and the next day he'd show up to school with fresh bruises. The last time, before I got him away from there, the fucker beat him so hard it wrecked his ear. He's deaf now. Forever. That's why you can't...

[Ronan scrubs at his swollen jaw, which really only makes it hurt more.]

I mean, take it out on me all you want, but just don't do it where he has to see it.

[ after the first sentence of it, andyr's eyes gradually raise to ronan, realization dawning on him apparent, with eyes wide, something like horror in the distant expression. adam's father, someone who'd been supposed to love him, beat him so badly he'd gone deaf in one ear. and andyr had just punched ronan to the ground, the love of his life, and him, being someone he'd cared enough about to ask for sex. how much more horrific would it have been if he didn't have the sense to pull his punch? if he'd made him bleed?

andyr's lips part, and he can't even fathom words for this. adam must be terrified of him, or disgusted, or both. how could he ever possibly want andyr touching him again? ]

I shouldn't be here.

[ not clear if he means at monmouth, or with them, or both. if he'd stopped to think for two seconds, instead of just decided he'd be fine by force of will alone, he'd have seen that before any of this mess. ]

You wouldn't live through me taking it out on you. [ whispered quietly, but empty. before, he'd done it with bucky, who was skilled enough to avoid the worst hits, and sturdy enough to take the others, and powerful enough to knock andyr on his ass if he'd gotten carried away. ronan, brittle as unaltered and young as he is, wouldn't survive two full throttle hits from him. andyr swallows, and nods, a blankness in his voice, but a decision made. ] He won't see it again. I promise.

[Considering Andyr had knocked Ronan flat on his ass before he could even think to defend, Ronan doesn't doubt that Andyr's right. He would be dead if he had to face Andyr's true wrath. The thought itself doesn't scare him as much as it should, in part because Ronan wants to die here and now, and in part because he's already dying.

He just doesn't want Adam to have to watch it.]

You belong here as much as any of us do. I created this place for all of us.

[Andyr is a weapon. Ronan is the father of nightmares and monsters. Adam is a vengeful god. Blue is a witch. Jesse is a murderer, though he thinks Ronan can't tell. Noah is sheer terror wrapped in the skin of a warm memory, a thing which has no right to exist at all.]

You made a mistake. Do better next time.

I belong, but I shouldn't have taken the invitation. [ he does belong here, because ronan made certain he did, and this place feels like a home in a way he feels like he's never known before, but that isn't the point of it. ] You and Adam don't know better. I do.

[ andyr'd thought about it, when he first moved in, if it was really safe, and he'd just dismissed it. now, ronan's hurt, and adam's hurt, and he's the only one untouched. too late now to fix it, and he can't just abandon them, not like this. so, he has to find another way around it. he did send that message to kavinsky, when he'd been on his way out, so that's a start, at least. try to get all this crap out of his head somewhere else, so he comes home too tired to get worked up.

one way or next, he'll make sure neither of them ever have to see this another time. ]

It won't happen again.

Don't leave.

[Ronan says it too rushed and forcefully, betraying the panic that bubbles up in his chest straight to his throat.]

There's nothing about you that's more dangerous than I am. You've seen what comes out of me.

[He has no more control over his night horrors than Andyr has over his temper. On a good day, they'll obey him. On a bad day, they'll tear everything apart to get to Ronan. Yet Ronan fights ever urge to withdraw and hide himself away, letting the two people he loves most in the world sleep beside him despite the constant mortal danger it puts them in. Because they want him there.]

I killed what came out of you.

[ an immediate correction, but he hadn't missed how ronan had rushed out that plea, like he thinks andyr's going to step out of the room and disappear. carefully, tentatively, andyr inches across the floor, making it closer to ronan, until he can pick up the ice bag he'd left by him earlier, and hold it out again. ]

I'm not leaving. [ andyr's voice is soft, apologetic, the other hand reaching towards one of ronan's, just a couple fingertips grabbing at one of his, a want to take his hand and reassure him, but the fear still there, for what he'd done. ] I'll do the same thing to anything else that comes out and tries to hurt you, or Adam.

[ if there's nothing else he can do, he'll make sure that happens, in the very least. so long as it's something else to keep them safe from, and not himself. that piece he's still not sure how to defeat. ]

[Killing one night horror had taken a hell of a lot of luck, and Andyr had been wide awake when it was manifested. It's a different matter when they're sleeping together, and especially if Ronan accidentally brings back two or three. Andyr's making promises he can't possibly keep.

But that's not the point. Ronan sighs, shutting his eyes briefly, and slides his hand over Andyr's. In spite of all that's happened to him, he doesn't share Adam's fear of touch. When it came to domestic violence in the Lynch family, Declan and Ronan beat each other with mutual ferocity, the both of them usually bloody by the end of it. When the Gray Man had come to capture him, it was Ronan who attacked first, not the other way around. All the worst injuries Ronan ever suffered were self-inflicted, in one sense or another.]

I didn't think he could love me, either, you know. Because of where he came from. Before he made the bargain, I don't think he could stand me. I'm everything he hated about his father. Without all the magic, I'm just a drunk who goes around breaking shit and beating people up and flunking out of school, and Adam's this perfect student who works fifty jobs and spends all his spare time reading because he's on his way to Harvard or Princeton or MIT.

That's not... That's not something that's supposed to work. People like me have hurt him and dragged him down his whole life. You'd think he'd be running in the other direction.

He knows what he wants, though. We have to trust him in that.

[ andyr's been wanting to crawl into ronan's lap since the second he'd walked back into the room, and the hand that slips over his is like finally giving him permission. though he doesn't quiet clamor himself into ronan's lap, he does scoot forward, sitting with him sort of sideways, with the right side of his chest pressed to the left of ronan's, his arm looping over the front of him to tug him closer.

andyr's quiet a moment, listening to ronan speak, with his head laid on his shoulder, ear against the soft material of his shirt. honestly, he can't see how anyone couldn't love ronan, or adam, but andyr's particularly biased, when he feels the opposite about himself as well. it's funny, that way. ]

We're all so full of self-loathing, you think any of us would be in this if we were so much like each other? [ it's good that they're different. that ronan and adam are so stark in that. it means they clash a lot, yes, but andyr sees them as something beautiful in it. like the best kind of harmony and passion. they complete each other so perfectly. ]

I know. [ he sighs out, knowing the point ronan's trying to make. adam will decide for himself. ] I think Adam knows what what's going on and what he wants out of it more than any of us most days.

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