InsaneJournal

There had been a feeling in Ronan’s gut, a sense of dread all day. He wasn’t the psychic in the house, but he may as well have been because he knew he and Adam wouldn’t be able to dreamwalk tonight. He’d spent a good two hours fucking around in a dream with no sign of Adam. He tried to perfect the idea of a time machine in his head, while he was there. To kill time. But the magic hadn’t cooperated. He could dream it; he was sure he could pull the Delorean out of his mind into existence with every detail immaculate.

But he was equally sure it would just be a ridiculous car that could fly.

He’d save that magical energy for later. He trudged down to the kitchen instead, wearing one of Adam’s worn out t-shirts and flannel pajama pants. The house was annoyingly quiet and he gritted his teeth as he jerked open the freezer to root around for a container of pistachio ice cream. He didn’t bother with a bowl, just pulled a giant spoon out of a drawer and stuffed a mouthful of cold into his mouth. The near immediate brain freeze was almost a relief.

This day was off to the worst start. Waking up without Gansey in bed was not uncommon—he often held wildly strange hours because of his deep lack of sleep—but then the network had exploded with missing people. Blue spent the morning rushing over to Fox Way, back to the Barns, feeling absolutely useless. She hated it. She hated that she couldn't do anything for her boyfriend who was probably living up his history-loving dream.

It felt a little bit like losing a part of herself—still functional, just a little less.

Using the journals was a lot like calling him up in the middle of the night, tethered by landlines. But this time it was paper and the familiar scratch of his handwriting along the pages. She couldn't fall asleep with him breathing quietly on the other end, but she could leave the book open next to her until she couldn't lift the pen anymore. But sleep was hard-fought and impossible. Blue tossed and turned, hot then cold. The bed was too big it was terrifying, the bed felt too small it was claustrophobic.

With a groan she had shuffled downstairs in one of Gansey’s robes to find she wasn't alone in the early hours. How strange to see him standing in the kitchen, looking exactly how she felt. Blue was not about to admit how alike they were in the moment outloud.

"I figured out what Gansey left behind," Blue said, stealing her own spoon out of the drawer and diving in for a scoop. "His insomnia. How do you two live like this?"

Ronan was lost in his own messy thoughts so he didn’t realize Blue had joined him until her words startled the shit out of him. He twitched and shifted his gaze to the theft of his ice cream. He fought her spoon with his for a moment, but it was half-hearted and eventually he just slumped against the counter so she’d have an easier reach. If it pressed him up against her shoulder, that was just a dumb accident.

“It’s not as bad as it used to be,” he shrugged, frowning. It was nowhere near what it used to be like for him, in the Before time, when he didn’t have control of his dreaming and there was no one in his bed but his own self-loathing. He took another bite and talked around the ice cream freezing his tongue. “Sometimes I get shit done but that’s not happening right now. I can’t reach him, by the way.” He tapped his head to clarify. “So the snowglobe trick isn’t going to work here.”

Blue didn't want to look disappointed, but the late hour and the bad news made it impossible to school her features into anything kind. She took a huge scoop, more than her spoon could possibly handle, and shoved it all messily into her mouth. Her mouth was cold, but the bed was colder, and she liked this way better than laying alone. Stupid boyfriends and their stupid faces leaving their stupid spots empty in the bed and making it impossible to sleep.

"You're just full of good news this evening, I don't even know why I came down here. I'm going back to bed." But then Blue didn't move to go back to bed. She just stood there, bumping shoulders into hips, taking in the weird calming presence Ronan brought to the kitchen. The ice cream helped. Blue waited there, with the spoon in her mouth, until her face said she had come to some sort of decision.

She wanted a different flavor.

With a dramatic sigh, she peeled herself off the spot against the counter and went to the freezer, digging through until—strawberry. "I think I liked it better when we were in the snow globe," Blue said, apropos of nothing. "We had to worry about stuff coming after us and taking sleeping shifts. No time to be concerned about what was going on here where it was safe. This is ugh." That was all, just ugh.

Ronan knew Blue’s words weren’t a judgment, but he still felt like a failure. What good was all his power if he couldn’t protect the people he loved? Keep them close and safe. He sagged in on himself, his worry and frustration coated in an acidic expression.

“Yeah, well. Guess we don’t get to have all the fun,” he muttered. He stabbed his spoon into the ice cream repeatedly, not actually scooping any out. “At least they seem to think it’s not like that place was. All dark and fucked up. That or they left that part out.” It wasn’t completely unlikely that Adam had held back worrying details but Ronan doubted he’d have left them in the dark about anything really bad. His jaw clenched as he stared at some distant spot on the tile floor. “I’ll keep trying.”

"Gansey would have said something," Blue said as a way to convince Ronan and herself that this wasn't terrible. Their boyfriends were just having a short, random trip to the past. Somewhere in the past. That definitely wasn't a terrifying thought. The sudden desire to start combing through Gansey's history books and endless journals was uncharacteristic—Gansey's influence, without a doubt—but Blue was willing to do anything if it helped.

While Ronan stabbed his ice cream, Blue ate three bites in rapid succession. Her own face scrunching up with a brain freeze. "Is that it then? You're just going to psychically call Adam until he picks up?" Blue asked, reaching for a scoop of pistachio and then a scoop of strawberry—she didn't care if it was going to taste good or not, only that she was stalling. Trying to find the right words. And because chasing a brain freeze with more ice cream was the best idea she had in the middle of the night.

"We look really pathetic, you know," Blue said, eying Ronan's clothes. She could spot an Adam shirt over and Ronan one. "I'm not going to spend my first night of insomnia just standing around looking sad and grumpy. What else did you two used to do?"

Is that it then? Ronan felt his hackles raise. He fought off her spoon a little harder this time, even if he could’ve just held the carton out of her reach. “Speak for yourself, maggot. I look good in this shirt.”

It was too tight across the shoulders but that just exposed his clavicles and the tattoo edges that hooked over his shoulders and up his neck. Mostly, it smelled like Adam. Like sun-dappled forest and gasoline and whatever the fuck that smell was that the Library of Alexandria left behind. He tried to stealthily lift the collar to his nose for a sniff before he scowled at her.

“I used to drink, listen to music, break shit. Sometimes I helped Gansey work on his stupid model.” Those were the better nights and the thought helped ease some of the frown lines from between Ronan’s eyebrows. “Now I work on projects around the farm or I paint mostly.” He smirked after a pause and said, “I could give you a tattoo.”

Blue watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to judge if he was actually sniffing the shirt and if it was a good idea for her to do something similar. She could easily burrow into the robe but that was a little more obvious and she was quietly playing her own game of chicken with Ronan—who looked the most desperate for their significant other? If she nonchalantly rolled her shoulders so that the fabric of the robe would brush closer to her face, then that was just a happy accident.

She shoved his spoon back, equally hard, taking more pistachio than necessary. "We could still break shit," Blue suggested, though nothing immediately came to mind. It didn't even sound satisfying, because it wouldn't end with a horrified look from Gansey. Or better yet, a pleased one at the fact they were bonding through destruction. She was starting to see the annoyances of insomnia.

"As much as I love the idea of you firing up the tattoo gun and penning something permanently on my body, I make bad decisions in the middle of the night." She paused. "If you draw me something first I might say yes. And we need a good story to tell them when they ask what we've been doing."

“Booo,” Ronan groaned at her reservations. An unplanned tattoo in the middle of the night was exactly his speed. But he tucked away her hint that she could be convinced later and took one more bite of ice cream before leaving the carton on the counter.

“Pretty sure Gansey would cry if he wasn’t here for you getting a tattoo anyway.” He pushed away from the counter and wandered into the entryway to the kitchen, peering into the rest of the house. His two in the morning decisions weren’t any better than hers. Probably worse. He tipped his head to the side and made a hm noise. “We could renovate. Move some furniture, paint. Fucking slap a mural on one of these walls.”

"Don't boo at me," Blue said, smacking his arm with her spoon, before moving around him to put the ice cream back. She wasn't going to let it become a runny mess while she spent unnecessary time being indecisive on how to spend her sleepless night. A mural though? That was almost like breaking shit. Blue just needed something to be a disruptor to her thoughts, which were GanseyGanseyGanseyand helplesshelplesshelpless.

She dropped her spoon into the sink, and came up beside Ronan. Blue was no artist—and knitting was a skill, not something that required angles and too much imagination—but she could see the possibility of paint on the walls. Something bright or dramatic or meticulously detailed, anything. "Yeah, I'm in. Long term project, not that I want to believe this whole thing is going to be long-term but I have an annoying feeling this will not be the only time we meet like ships in the night. Get used to this," Blue said, putting her hands under her chin, inclining her face toward Ronan, and flashing a smug grin.

Blue wasted no time and stepped past him, going immediately to the couch to push it across the floor. It didn't move as easily as she had expected. "A little help? Unless you want to Jackson Pollock the furniture too."

Ronan had mostly been talking out of his ass so he looked a little surprised as Blue got moving. He shouldn’t have, obviously. She was a fucking wrecking ball of a little person and barely needed a nudge to get her swinging. A smile twitched at his mouth. “Ease the fuck up, bossy. I didn’t agree to this long term garbage.”

In direct counterpoint to his words, Ronan joined her at the couch and started to move it to the side. It was after two in the morning, so the noise it made brought his gaze up towards the ceiling. “We’re gonna wake Matthew up. Try to keep it dow--ow. Motherfucker.” He’d stepped on a small enrichment toy that had been wedged under the couch. A puzzle of Chainsaw’s. He grumbled and reached down to toss it to the side of the room. “Little shit is sleeping in her bedroom nest and she’s still being a pain in my ass.”

"If Matthew hasn't woken up by now then—ha!" Blue yelped out a burst of laughter when Ronan stepped on the toy. She quickly covered her mouth realizing that might actually wake up the baby Lynch brother, but kept snickering behind her hand as she continued moving the couch. No other enrichment objects appeared from underneath the sofa, but this was just the first piece.

"Maybe," Blue said, slowly sliding down to the floor. She already needed a physical activity break, and made a big show of settling against the side of the couch. "It can be one of those portraits on those old Roman vases, where they have some scenes out of mythology. I don't remember what they are called, but I'm sure Gansey will love it. Better yet, put his face slaying some monster." Blue stretched out her arms, framing the wall space between them.

"I'll let you do the work. I'll just art direct. Or heckle from the sidelines, or critique in real time whatever you want to call it." Blue paused, rolling her head to the side to look up at Ronan. "This is helping, you know. I like to imagine Gansey will come back and see this and do his face—" Blue gave Ronan her best impression of a Gansey smile.

Ronan launched a pillow at her head as she slumped to the ground like a lazy ass. He shoved two side tables away from the wall next and then stepped back to get a good look at the space. There was a part of him that hurt to think of defacing this place that his parents had decorated. He let the feeling stew in his gut like so much stomach acid before he looked over his shoulder at her and caught the stupid smile.

“Wow. You ever hear that thing about how old couples look more and more like each other as they age? You two are gonna be fucking twins before you’re thirty,” he joked. “Look, I know this isn’t your kind of art.” He reached out and grabbed a sketchbook off the side table where he’d left it days ago and the chewed pen that sat next to it. Collapsing his long limbs, he sat down next to her and flipped open to a blank page. The pen moved quick and sure across the page. “I’ll sketch some shit to put up there and you can pretend you have taste and tell me what you think.”

Blue had caught the pillow and stuck her tongue out at Ronan as if to say ha, missed! "If that's the case, must be too late for you and Adam, then. Indistinguishable," Blue said, wiggling her feet and gently nudging at Ronan's ankles as he came around to sit. As much as she gave Ronan grief, and told Gansey that his best friend was the actual worst, she liked Ronan. And Blue was glad she wasn't alone in the middle of the night.

She settled in closer beside him to get a better look at his sketches, hugging the pillow closer to her chest, chin on top. It wasn't Gansey, but it would have to do until they all returned. "I won't judge your fingerpainting too hard. At least some gold stars for effort," Blue bantered back, but it didn't have any heat, none of her usual belligerence. Just intense interest and comfort at watching Ronan do something she was used to when everything else was a mess.

"Let's see what you've got, monsieur artiste."

Ronan smirked at her sass and paused in his work to pull her head into a hug. “I’ll fucking throw you in the pond if you tell anyone I said this,” he mumbled into her hair, “but I’m glad you’re here, brat.”

He pulled away without meeting her eyes and hunched back over his sketchpad. Maybe sketching the magical forest that currently raged at the absence of its two beating hearts would ease the pain in his own.