WHERE In the Pig, on the way to Fox Way WHEN Late late Saturday night, immediately after this. WHAT Gansey gives Adam a lift, Adam starts feeling regrets as he comes down from the fight, and Gansey gives Best Friend™ insight. STATUS Complete! WARNINGS References of abusive childhood
There was no destination in mind when Adam walked away. There wasn't much of anything in his mind except that dull static, his blood pounding in his ears, and gentle hesitant coo from Cabeswater calling to him. Ronan had called to him too, and distantly in Adam's mind he knew that he should have turned around. But self-preservation instincts made him throw up walls and barriers and do whatever he could not to hurt—he wouldn't be hurt again.
A ridiculous thought; it was impossible to never feel pain in all its iterations. Instead, Adam had been blindsided by Ronan assuming he'd liken him to his father. That he believed other people he surrounded himself with had that capacity for cruelty. And maybe, Adam had put that on them too—pushed his problems to the point of irrational belief. All of it was a tangled mess in his head, and Adam needed time. He needed to stop feeling angry.
So he walked.
He'd take the waypoint back into the city. He'd call Persephone. He'd go to Fox Way. He couldn't go back home. Not with the way his fingers were curling in and out of fists to stop the trembling. Not with the argument with Ronan raw in his chest. It made sense that he heard the Pig behind him, but Adam didn't stop, just moved closer to the shoulder of the road.
Adam found when he finally looked over to the Camaro keeping pace with him, he was still angry, still feeling vicious from the fight. Ronan was wrong, maybe it was Adam who was becoming like his father. "Keep driving, Gansey."
He could’ve parked the car and chased after Adam, but Gansey knew that was fruitless and wasn’t likely to work. Oh, the familiarity of this. When Ronan had called, he’d been surprised - a little frantic, worried his friend had been injured in Fight Club and stuck at the clinic - and hadn’t even bothered to change out of his pajamas.
Gansey had put a sleepy Blue on potential watch-duty and disappeared out the door, keys in hand. It hadn’t taken him too long to catch up to Adam, having started out well-above the speed limit without hesitation.
“I have a half tank of gas at the moment, so I can go for a while. Just like old times.” He had to speak up over the sound of the engine - the Pig wasn’t a quiet beast - but thankfully it was dark out and no one was around. ‘I can take you to Fox Way, if that’s where you’re going.”
Everything was so loud in his head, and around him, and just noise was grating. It was unfair and illogical to be angry at sound, but Adam's head only had enough space for a few things at a time—processing what Gansey was saying over the roar of the engine while fighting off those darker thoughts of being undeserving of literally everything. And with one hearing ear, which was only another reminder of what the whole fight was about in the first place.
"I don't need a ride, Gansey. I'm walking. It's not like I haven't done it before, just like old times," Adam said, his tone short and clipped, still staring forward. This was his punishment; wear his shitty sneakers down by kicking rocks, wander around the city alone with just his wallet and phone, and over analyze every mistake and hurtful word that had come out of his and Ronan's mouth.
It was masochistic, but it was either that or keep slingshotting his anger around because letting it settle in his chest would make Adam do something regrettable.
"Did you actually feel there was a problem or did Ronan send you?" Adam said, abruptly stopping to face Gansey through the driver's side window. "Just turn around. I don't need anyone to check on me. I'm pissed, not stupid."
A few years ago and Gansey would have taken Adam’s words to heart, would have maybe made him put the Pig into reverse and left Adam to his anger, upset that his friend wouldn’t let him in.
But now he understood Adam a little better, and he slowed the Pig as Adam came to a stop, but made no move to leave, he just looked at his friend with an honest and forthright stare. “Both. I would have come even if he hadn’t said something.” He knew sometimes with Adam he had to fight fire with fire, and Gansey’s chin went up defiantly. “Bold of you to think I’m checking on you. Maybe I just can’t sleep because you’re angry, or we’re out of orange juice.”
Both were true, but not the reason he was out here.
Gansey propped his arm up on the open window, clearly prepared to stay there idling as long as he needed to, for Adam to get in, a keen reminder that at times, Gansey could be just as stubborn as the people he loved most, especially when worried about them.
Adam knew that stare. And years ago, he was not affected by that Gansey concerned-and-earnest gaze. Adam had a handful of problems that he was determined to handle on his own, so ignoring Gansey's steady, helpful presence was easy. Right now though, when Adam was feeling vulnerable and uncharacteristically exposed with years of friendship between them, it cut through him.
He didn't want to fight with Gansey. He didn't actually want to fight with Ronan either, but that sensible realization was about thirty minutes too late. He stared off, over the hood of the car, his face twisting up as he sorted through the pros and cons, and eventually coming to the decision with a heavy sigh. He walked around the back of the Pig and climbed into the passenger side.
"I'm not trying to keep you up. If I could stop the feedback, I would," Adam said, truly apologetic. It was unfair for Gansey to be tied to his emotions because he hadn't thought what bonding with a sentient forest would do to his best friend who was part-Cabeswater. Another person in Adam's tiny bubble who had the unfortunate side-effect enduring his existence.
Pressing his forehead against the cool glass, Adam said, "I'll pay for gas if you don't ask me to talk about it."
I don’t need gas money was an opening to yet another fight - one he was well familiar with. Gansey didn’t take that bait, instead he just shrugged and waited for Adam to get settled in the seat. “You can fill the tank next time you drive it,” he promised. Compromise.
He finally gave Adam a good look, even in the dim light of the car, and his fingers unconsciously gripped the steering wheel a little harder. Wrecked was a good word for it, and it wasn’t how he’d seen Adam in a long time.
Finally, he pulled his attention from Adam and put the car back into gear. “I prefer having the feedback there, to be honest. Now that I’ve adjusted.” It gave him insight he wouldn’t have normally had, which was rare commodity when one’s friends tended to be emotionally constipated. “I’m just here to give you a drive, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”
If he drove to Fox Way a little slower than he could’ve, well-- It was better to be safe than sorry when driving at night.
With Gansey giving him an out to general talking, Adam felt that was worse than pushing him to explain what happened. There was no hiding that his emotional state was compromised, and Adam couldn't figure out if he was clinging to the anger because he didn't want to be upset. He was stubborn like that; he and Ronan were too similar in that regard. It made fights like this ugly.
Adam tried to push his face further into the glass as if that could erase the sick twisting feeling in his gut. His arms snaked around his waist, holding himself tight, fingers twisting into the hem of his shirt. He almost let the whole car ride go without speaking, watching the forest thin out into something more urban, then a street light, another. Adam closed his eyes.
"Everything is so messed up, Gansey," Adam said quietly, just below the din of the engine. "Everytime I think I have it under control, it falls apart. And then I think, I think—" Adam rolled his head over so his deaf side was in the headrest to stare at Gansey driving. "Maybe it's supposed to be this way. Maybe I was ignoring things because I wanted to pretend I was normal."
Gansey listened, patient and calm, trying to keep his emotions as even as possible on the off-chance that would transfer to Adam, to help without being able to put a physical hand onto his friend. If he could have managed to push Cabeswater into a psychic hug, he would have. But quiet calm and patience were what he had to offer for now.
“Maybe,” He had to agree, not because he wanted to give Adam what he wanted to hear, or because it had been his first instinct to soothe. To say, No, of course not, there’s nothing wrong with you. But that was wrong, Gansey knew it was. “I think it’s what we all do, ignoring things and pretending like it’s normal is-- life.”
It didn’t take long to pull up to Fox Way, his car sliding into it’s familiar parking spot as it always did. But he made no move to get out, hoping Adam would stay for a few minutes longer. Gansey put the car in park and mirrored Adam’s look. “After all that we’ve been through, together and individually, I don’t know that I’d trust normal, anyway.”
"There has to be, though," Adam said, sounding like he was gearing up for another argument. "There has to be some normalcy or we're all just going to stay fucked up forever." He squeezed his waist tighter, the memory of the fight with Ronan still painfully fresh in his mind. How had it gotten so bad?
"I don't know how deep this all goes," Adam whispered, his brow furrowing together in frustration. Mostly at himself, always at himself. It was never really a fight with Ronan, not when he started pulling back the layers to his anger. It was his anger with himself, his inability to compartmentalize all the shit that he had to deal with for so long. "Somedays, I will wake up and all of this is fine." Adam gestured to his head—his over analytical mind, the injury that resulted in his hearing loss, his past that etched itself into every part of him.
"And then I'll lose my balance in the shower, or miss part of a conversation with someone, or see Ronan punch someone in a controlled environment and it's—it's just a disaster."
Adam stared through the windshield, at the front porch light of Fox Way. It felt purposeful, like Persephone knew he was coming. She probably did. He swallowed hard, his dissatisfaction with himself coming out. "And I'll think this is new. This is something I haven't figured out yet. This is another surprise. It's like I'm expecting everyone to know before I do. That's not fair. That's not normal, Gansey. No one should be stuck with that.”
There wasn’t exactly a lot of room in the Pig to maneuver, and Gansey tried to be as subtle as possible as he turned sideways in his seat. He wanted to look Adam dead on for this, and to reach out with a hand and place it on Adam’s shoulder, lightly, at first, giving his friend a chance to escape if he needed it.
It wasn’t meant as a weight to hold him down, just a weight to remind him he wasn’t alone. Gansey’s tone dropped a little - it was easier to do now that the Pig’s engine was no longer running - and he squeezed. “If anyone is stuck with anything, it’s the fact that you’re stuck with us, until the very end of time, Adam. That isn’t going to change.”
That, in his brain, took importance, so he backtracked a little - it was easier to be more sure of things when it was something he was so sure of, that Adam would always have them. Everything else? An anxiety driven nightmare. “I-- don’t have all of the answers. But that’s how trauma and anxiety work, in my experience. Some days you just… never know. Some days you have to protect yourself, and know it’s not always going to be a good day.”
Something quieted inside Adam's chest when Gansey placed his hand on his shoulder. A stillness flooded his body, and even the uproarious noise of Cabeswater settled into the background hush. The exhale that followed was long and low, Adam slumping into the seat, as if he could put down all the emotional weight he held inside of him. Just for a moment, he could give himself a single moment.
Adam reached his hand across his chest to rest on top of Gansey's. He didn't deserve his best friend's concern, even if what he was saying was true—they were stuck together, some days he had to protect himself. If Gansey only knew the shit Adam had said to Ronan, there might be a different tune in those words. Or at least, that's what Adam's self-sabotaging mental state tended to convince him of.
"Today was a bad day, Gansey," Adam said, squeezing Gansey's fingers tightly, maybe too hard. A physical representation of how bad. "And I tried not to let it be, but..." Adam shook his head, all the words he could think of to explain himself were not good enough for the conversation.
"You shouldn't be here. Not with me. I’m not the one who needs it."
“I think you are,” Gansey answered back quickly. Though he knew that Adam would be in good hands in Fox Way, it still would have made him worry more - and Ronan too - if he hadn’t seen Adam in person. It was a selfish want, and he so desperately wished he could split himself in two for the both of them.
He paid no mind to how hard Adam squeezed his hand, and squeezed right back. Gansey’s eyes closed for a second, letting the quiet stillness of the car settle over them to give Adam a moment. “I’m sorry it was a bad day. We’ll have better ones, good ones, in the future, I promise you that.” Blue had once told him that sounding as convicted as he can - Gansey liked that joke about having the confidence of a mediocre white man - was helpful to her, when she felt lost or unsure.
Gansey knew Adam could be a little more doubting than most, but if he could project that confidence and conviction, he would.
Adam nodded, not convinced but he trusted that Gansey meant it. That there would be good days. And while Adam couldn't particularly see how currently—the argument had scraped all the good things ragged and sharp—if Gansey believed it, Adam could too. Maybe all that surety and conviction could reflect back on Adam enough to reassure him.
He let go of Gansey's hand so that his fingers could rub out the last dregs of irritation from his eyes. Everything felt exhausting. "I think I need some time to figure shit out. Who am I really mad at? Ronan or myself?" Adam was certain of the answer, but saying it out loud would just start another round of pity that Adam couldn't stomach right now
He went to reach for a backpack that didn't exist. Another long sigh, another dip into regret, another frustrating reminder of tonight's events. "I left my reading in Ronan's car," Adam said, resigned. And then because he knew Gansey would be considerate, and Adam couldn't let him, he added, "Don't worry about it. I'll get it later." Whenever he figured shit out.
Gansey squeezed one last time before pulling his hand away. He nodded, slowly, in a show of support, rather than trying to argue Adam back home. Now that they’d all gotten used to living together - something Gansey had wanted throughout their entire school experience - it was hard to let him go.
But if that was what Adam needed, that was what Adam got. His head dropped back to the seat rest. “I’ll let you get your reading.” Maybe it would prompt a better, second chance talk between Ronan and Adam. He could only hope, anyway. Looking beyond Adam, he lifted his chin in a little nod towards the porch light, and then the shadow that moved across the light coming from the kitchen. “I assume they’re expecting you. Good thing about psychics is not having the need to call ahead.”
He turned his attention back to Adam, soft and worried eyes focused on his friend. “Let me know if you need me to drop anything off?”
"Expecting me? Maybe," Adam glanced to the house, then back to Gansey. "Or they heard the Pig coming down the street. It is the middle of the night," Adam teased, but his heart wasn't really in it. He had a long night ahead of him, the preemptive fatigue already wearing him down. That momentarily levity of releasing his personal baggage was back. Coming to "get his reading" which was code for "talk to Ronan" felt like a distant gesture. Adam didn't even know what he was going to say. He had to tear through all the words that had come rushing out of his mouth tonight, first.
Adam slid out of the car, but stood for a second with the door open, looking up at the sky. Like he could find the answers he needed in the visible constellations. He hovered, like he wanted to change his mind about staying, about the fight, about everything, but Adam was stubborn. Only he could decide what he was allowed to do, and the worst parts of him said he didn't deserve it. Not yet.
He ducked down to poke his head inside. "You don’t need to bring me anything. Thanks for the ride, Gansey," Adam said, then added, "Don't forget the orange juice. Since we're out."
Gansey’s hand itched to open his door and follow. It hovered there, for a second, but he removed it at the last minute. Adam didn’t need him trying to be pushy, and Gansey forced himself to take a deep breath.
Adam’s comment about orange juice brought on a ghost of a smile, at the same time as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. “Orange juice, got it.” He and Ronan already had mapped out what places were open at three am for that very thing.