Morrighan Kane | Ronan Lynch (madeforwar) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2018-08-26 19:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * terri, c: morrighan kane |
WHO: Morrighan Kane --> Ronan Lynch, Declan Lynch, and Richard Campbell Gansey III
WHEN: August 26th, night.
WHERE: The warehouse.
SUMMARY: Ronan is volatile.
WARNINGS: Fighting, mentions of harm, depression, suicidal attempt.
There was electricity in his veins. The kind that zapped through his body, setting his muscles on fire and waking up every nerve ending. That was how it always was when he was in a fight, and as he felt his fist make solid contact with his brother’s stupid fucking face, it felt like victory. It was a rush as Declan hit the ground, but he was up in a moment and throwing a punch right back. Somewhere in the dull roar of his ears, he heard his name before he spouted off curses so vile a poet might have wretched. They went back at each other. Of the two Lynch boys, Ronan was the quickest to start a fight, but once they were in the thick of it, Declan was just as unlikely to give up. This wouldn’t end until one of them was unconscious. Ronan intended to still be standing. He punched, and kneed Declan in the ribs and took an elbow to the temple that made his world spin. Snagging his brother’s fine suit jacket in unbreakable fists, he slammed his older brother against the hood of his Volvo. “Not the fucking car!” Declan snarled, and Ronan grinned in a grim sort of way to see his face streaked with blood. Declan pushed back, and hit Ronan hard enough that for a second, he thought he would never breathe again. It was going to bruise his ribs. “Ronan!” He didn’t pause - didn’t turn - a wretched smile clinging to his lips as he hit Declan again and then drew back to let his fist fly once more. He had fingers caught in his brother’s mouth, and though he could feel the press of Gansey’s hands on his arm, he didn’t let go. Declan was already gunning for Ronan, but Gansey’s pull missed shifted their trajectory and Declan hit him instead. Gansey cursed - somewhat of a rarity for him - and Ronan almost laughed. Instead, he grabbed Declan at the throat by the tie as his brother gripped at Ronan’s skull. Swinging with his hold on his brother’s tie, he smacked Declan’s head off of the Volvo’s door and his grip on Ronan faltered. Gansey stepped in again, dragging Ronan backwards and he fought in the grip of his best friend, eager to continue pummeling his brother until he was more black and blue than pale Irish. “Quit it,” Gansey implored, “You’re ruining your face.” Ronan didn’t care about his face. Ronan didn’t care about any of himself actually. He twisted hard in Gansey’s grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Declan got up and started towards them, but Gansey was right there behind Ronan, and his voice was a warning in his ear, “Declan, if you come back over here, I swear…” Declan spit on the pavement, blood smeared on his lip, “Fine. He’s your dog, Gansey. You leash him. Keep him from getting kicked out of Aglionby. I wash my hands of him.” “You wish,” Ronan growled, every muscle taught under Gansey’s hold. He hated his brother. Hated him. “You’re such a piece of shit, Ronan. If Dad saw--” Ronan lunged, and Gansey clasped his arms tightly around him just at the right moment to halt his progress forward. “Why are you even here?” Gansey asked, and if it was an attempt at a distraction, Ronan thought it was a piss poor one. “Ashley had to use the bathroom. I should be able to stop where I like, don’t you think?” Declan preened a bit, but Ronan didn’t care about whatever bitch he had in the car tonight. His focus was just on his brother. “I think you should just go. This isn’t getting solved tonight,” Gansey suggested in the way that meant he ought to be listened to by merit of being right. Declan laughed, but it wasn’t because anything was funny. He rounded again, “Ask him if he’s going to get by with a B this year. Do you ever go to class, Ronan.” Most of the time, no, he did not go to class. He got by well enough to keep living at Monmouth, but that was about it. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Declan,” Gansey started, but he paused and Ronan could feel his arms starting to loosen. He was ready to spring. Ready to run and hit his brother again the moment that his friend let go, “But you are not Niall Lynch, and you won’t ever be. And you’d get ahead a lot faster if you stopped trying.” Just like that, Gansey let go and all of the air had been sucked out of Ronan’s lungs. It felt like he’d been punched again, but he was standing there by himself in the middle of nothingness. Alone. He was always alone in this. Nothing cut deeper than that wound. “I’m only trying to help,” Declan said as though it excused his railing on Ronan about grades and being a disgrace. It didn’t. He was so full of shit, and Ronan hoped that no one believed him. “I’ll never forgive you,” Ronan told him finally, but Declan just adjusted his tie and stood a little straighter. “Wouldn’t mean much from you anymore,” he turned to get in his car, and Ronan felt a little bit weightless. All that tension in his body had nowhere to go now and he might explode from it. The car squealed out of the parking lot and Ronan took a deep breath, trying to find some center. He lifted his pinky to his forehead, but it didn’t come away bloody. It was just bruised. “Fix it,” Gansey said after a moment. He didn’t even know what he was talking about, but he demanded anyway, “Whatever it is. Don’t let him be right.” “I want to quit,” Ronan admitted after a moment. “One more year.” “I don’t want to do this for another year,” he kicked a stray piece of gravel, and though he didn’t speak any louder, his voice turned with an edge. It might have been a bit of desperation, but it came out strong and vicious, just how he wanted it to, “Another year, and then I get strangled with a necktie like Declan? I’m not a damn politician, Gansey. I’m not a banker.” “Just graduate, and do whatever you want,” Gansey suggested, knowing full well that Ronan had enough money to do with what he pleased after he turned eighteen. He didn’t want to do nothing, but neither did he have a plan for his idle time. School seemed so pointless. It was like an exercise that gained him nothing and left him feeling like something had been taken instead. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what the hell I am.” That much was true. Ronan was as much of a mystery to himself as he was to everyone else. He knew a little. He understood less. He was an impossible thing in a world that would never accept him just as he was. Frustrated, Ronan climbed into the passenger’s seat of the Pig and crossed his arms over his chest, but he didn’t close the door. Gansey stood close, looking a little more ragged than was normal for his involvement in the scuffle, “You promised me.” He was fidgeting with the leather bands on his wrist and he continued to pull at them. Gansey didn’t have to say any more than that for him to remember. For him to know. Once, some six months ago, the impossible side of Ronan had tried to kill him. Noah had found him in a pool of his own blood, and it had been Gansey that sat at the hospital with him for endless hours that night. He hadn’t been able to explain it. He still couldn’t explain that what they had seen was not what they thought...because maybe it was, in a way. “I know what I did, Gansey.” “Don’t forget.” He wouldn’t. He grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut, locking himself in the silence of the Camaro for however long that it lasted. He would keep his promise to Gansey. He wouldn’t try to hurt himself, but if the night horrors did it for him, there was little control he actually had over that. Still, he would do his damndest. With a groan, Morrighan curled into a ball on her side, her head pounding and ribs aching from bruises that weren’t really there. Such things weren’t entirely unusual when she dreamt of Ronan Lynch. He liked to fight...more than she did, even. She’d dreamed of a lot of strange things before. Things that were not possible. Still, she knew that the world was not as cut and dry as people liked to think. Supernatural things did exist. She was even kind of one of them, but not in the same way that Ronan was. She did not create things in the way that he did, though the limits of her imagination seemed to be endless. She understood his explosive tendencies with his brother if only because she had gotten into plenty of fights with Duncan over the last few years. She had made now allotments for gender stereotypes, and she had not always been the one to swing first. Their relationship was about as toxic as they came, but her friends kept her grounded. They had helped keep her in school when she didn’t want to go anymore. She had found her own path. It was clear to her that as much as she was Ronan, Cerys was her Gansey. Morrighan closed her eyes, and she could almost hear the beeping of hospital equipment, feel the fresh pain from her injuries, and Cerys tightly clutching her hand, “Promise me.” She rolled over onto her back and stared up at her ceiling where it glowed with sticker stars and planets. Seventeen year old her had been careless with her life. She’d gotten a bit better about that in recent years, though she knew she still put herself at risk more than her closest friends would have cared for. She liked a rush. It made her feel alive, but she wasn’t going anywhere. For Cerys and Hannah, she would fight her demons every day and arise victorious. They gave her something bigger than herself. It was a life she didn’t want to miss out on. |