Ronan Lynch (alteridem) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-11-12 09:29:00 |
|
|||
This time, he’d woken with an aching arm, thanks to the dark green scales tattooed from shoulder to wrist, and a head full of knowledge that startled and soothed him all at once. The tattoo was magnetic, even as fresh as it was, because it wasn’t just a tattoo. It was a sweetmetal. Ronan felt the power of it in his blood. He knew now what he was. How he’d started life as a cosmic entity in another dimension. How he’d been dreamt into this body by two dreamers and his eldritch self. Part of his mind still thought it was all too insane to be true, but the larger part knew the fact of it.
Memories had been coming back to him, piece by piece, ever since he floated bodiless in the sweetmetal sea.
Being in his human body still felt a little too real. Too visceral. Maybe partly because Adam looked so ravaged by his ordeal. Looking at him was both a miracle and a constant knot of worry in Ronan’s chest. He made Adam bundle up on the couch with practically every blanket and pillow they possessed, one lap cat, and a near constant stream of hovering.
“It’s hot, give it a second.” Ronan blew on a mug of chicken noodle soup and sat it down on the side table next to Adam. Then he collapsed into the space he’d carved into the blankets next to his husband and dropped his head against the back of the couch. “I’ll feed it to you if you don’t do it yourself.”
"I can do it," Adam said, emerging slowly from his blanket cocoon on the couch. He was unconvincing in his movements, his hand-eye coordination was shot. He always felt a second off from his brain telling his hand to move, and his hand actually moving. How long had it taken him to get down the stairs? How long had he settled into this spot and decided he'd go no further? Even his stubbornness couldn't persevere.
He supposed that was because hurtling through the sweetmetal sea, the dreamspace, the ether was not meant for normal human consumption. Extended periods of time usually meant untethering from reality completely, and Adam has spent days clinging to pieces. Part of him had at least. The physical memory updates were just as confusing as the strictly mental ones. He didn't know which one he preferred, but the psychological clusterfuck, coupled with this unsettled feeling in his soul, was brutal.
It was so difficult to stay present when his body was pulling apart like taffy, fractured like a puzzle, with no way to assist. He just had to wait it out until everything settled on one side. But at least he was waiting it out with Ronan; he was here, here, here.
Adam's arm stretched out to him, slow at first, before his single finger tip began to trace over one of the scales of his new tattoo, the one he hadn't memorized yet. Ronan was so warm against Adam's cold skin.
"Normally this is the part where I would tell you that you don't have to stay, but—" Adam took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then just didn't finish the sentence. "Did you make something for yourself?"
Ronan watched Adam closely like he could hold him together if he just kept his eyes on him and a shoulder pressed against his side. He didn't even drag his eyes away as Adam touched his new tattoo. It ached a little, his skin still healing. But it was a good ache. A familiar one. And Adam's touch would always be good too.
"I'll order pizza in a bit," he shrugged. It was early. Probably too early for chicken noodle soup but he wasn't sure Adam's stomach could handle much more. He wasn't sure his own could either really. He'd been comatose for a while not too long ago. His legs felt stiff with it, despite having been here in Vallo at the same time. Fucking alternate realities.
"What was it like?" he blurted out finally, like he couldn't keep the question inside any longer. "What do you remember?"
What was it like? Adam's mind felt rattled, trying to collect the thought of it. Did he have thoughts in the sweetmetal sea? He couldn't remember much, only the feeling of distress, terror, unmaking when he was pulled from the branching eldritch form of Ronan. Without a body, sensory overload was pared down to nothing but emotion in overwhelming amounts. Adam didn't know if he could truly put words to it. Nothing that felt like a complete picture, and nothing that would pause Ronan's concern.
His hand slid from Ronan's arm, to Ronan's hand, and he held on. Something that had been drifting inside of him seemed to ground itself as Adam's grip tightened. "I remember you. I remember bringing you the room near the garage. I remember bringing Chainsaw to you. I remember waking up with Hennessy and Jordan. I remember coming back here."
There was so much cramming into the free spaces of his brain—memories overlapping from home and here—that Adam knew it was easier to list the facts, focus on his husband. The look he gave Ronan was bittersweet, a bit of sadness in his encouraging smile underneath all his exhaustion.
"I remember that you saved the world."
Ronan had masochistically wanted to know what Adam had suffered when he'd been taken. He wanted to know how bad it had been. Because not knowing meant he assumed the absolute worst. How could he not when there were deep shadows under Adam's eyes and a gauntness to him that was shocking.
But he should've expected Adam to focus more on Ronan than himself.
"Bringing Chainsaw and everything you said…it helped me hold onto my humanity." He squeezed Adam's hand and reached over with his free hand to massage between Adam's knuckles gently. "Couldn't have done jack shit about the world if it wasn't for Hennessy though and she couldn't have saved my ass without Declan." He was reluctant to give Carmen any credit for the part she'd played, when it was her brother and his fucked up agency of dreams that nearly blew a whole in the world. She'd done her best with a screwed up situation but he was bitter still. His brothers had nearly died. Adam had nearly died.
"Hennessy saved you too," Ronan said. "If she comes back, I'm giving her a big bag of cash and you can't stop me."
"I won't stop you," Adam agreed, but then added a beat later, "I want to know what her price point is for saving lives on other planes of existence. She might undercharge." He was trying for humor, any sense of smartassery, but Adam could hear it falling flat. His life had been on the line, and he didn't think Ronan would suffer through any self deprecation.
Instead, he let the word humanity roll around on his tongue, wanting to address that more than his days spent breaking into hundreds of pieces. Adam had been posed with a psychological and metaphysical question that his mind wanted to desperately unravel, but his heart didn't give a shit. Because it didn't matter.
"If you think that it bothers me, the—" Adam gestured with tired motions toward Ronan, to somehow encompass everything, the eldritch being, the otherworldliness, the entity of dreaming that he was. How he wished he was orbs of light again, not having to speak only to feel. And for Ronan to just know. But when Adam looked at him now, with an openness that he had saved for Ronan and Ronan alone, he knew. Adam was certain of it.
He shook his head. "I always knew you were more than anything I could even conceptualize, but you've always been you, and that's all I care about." Adam stated, simply, factally, unchanging and unwavering. "I'm only glad to know that I could help you when you needed it."
Ronan hadn't let himself even think that worry yet, but there it was, out in the air, tensing up his spine. Knowing Ronan probably wasn't exactly human had always been a part of the package. Knowing he was something not even from the same plane of existence was something else. He watched Adam wave a hand around at him and held his breath. Sharing a consciousness with Adam in the sweetmetal sea should have erased this needy complex of his.
But it was like Adam said, he was still him. Always fucking full of need.
"Fuck," he grumbled. Relief coated the word. "Didn't think I needed to hear that but apparently I did." He let go of Adam's hand but only so he could loop an arm around Adam's shoulders and pull him in close to his side. There was a sharpness to all of Adam's angles right now that felt obvious with his shoulder up under Ronan's arm. But he only tightened his grip and hid his face in Adam's neck, to breathe in the scent of him. "You found me without a ley line. With just the fucking dregs of a sweetmetal. You didn't just help, you did the goddamn impossible. And then you got ripped away and I--" Ronan swallowed painfully. "--I thought I lost you and Matthew all in one go and I completely flipped my shit. I don't even…I don't know how Hennessy pulled me out of it. I was so gone."
He hadn't talked about any of that, when they'd made it back to the Barns. He wasn't sure why he said it even now.
Being pulled into Ronan made all the exhaustion expand tenfold. Adam leaned heavily into the space, warm and wanted, in a way that only Ronan would understand. This was as close as they could be in real bodies, and Adam almost missed the otherworldly mingling they did in the astral space. He didn't know if that was a true longing or the reverberations of the sweetmetal sea trying to pull him back because he wasn't fully here yet.
"I didn't want to give up, I couldn't," Adam said in a sigh, as if talking was difficult. It wasn't, only the words seemed messy in his mouth. Complicated. Something wild and instinctual had kept drawing him back to Ronan; doing impossible things hadn't even registered as impossible. As much as he had tried not to, Adam kept reaching for Ronan—here, in reality, and there, in the expansive vastness of existence.
He was touching Ronan's tattoo again, unconsciously gentle, sensing that uncertaining of approaching the topic. "And somewhere, I think, I know, in all of that grief—" Is that what it was, grief? Monumental loss that Ronan kept experiencing and yet somehow kept persevering; he was stronger than Adam could comprehend. "—a part of you didn't want to give up either. Even without Matthew, without me, you would have come back. You would have found a way, with Hennessy or on your own accord, because you chose to. There are bigger things than us that need you here."
Ronan nosed up under Adam’s jaw for a moment, like a furry creature looking for a warm place to burrow. Now that he remembered what he was, how he came to be, his connection to animals made more sense. Part of him would always be like a forest in a dream, but also like a creature living in that forest. And even then, he was a creature who’d only ever seen a forest through the sweetmetal connection he’d had to the world before being dreamt into it as a human child.
“Nothing’s bigger than you,” Ronan growled and sat up, rubbing his free hand over his face. “But fine, I might have pulled my shit together for Gansey and Blue and Hennessy. Maybe even Declan.” The last was said teasingly. His heart was much softer for his brother now. Yesterday, he would have punched him if he saw him here in Vallo. Today, he would hug Declan’s stupid head and check on his bullet wound. Unfortunately, Declan wasn’t here. Matthew would get all the spare hugs, at least until the grief of temporarily thinking he was dead had loosened its hold on Ronan's heart.
His eyes fell to where Adam was touching his arm. “Are you just really into the tat or should I worry about this? Am I like…a psychic lodestone now?”
Nothing's bigger than you. The words brought a soft smile to Adam's face, his whole self brightening more than he had been since he woke up with his head crammed with memories and a body that didn't know how to function with the fragile tethers it had on his intangible self. There was something about Ronan—who was more than human, more than his body could hold, more than anything and anyone—telling him that he was important, needed, wanted.
But a dark terrible part of him was reminded that sometimes even that wasn't enough. Even as fractured light orbs, tangled in the Lace, Adam would know Ronan anywhere. And he knew when Ronan needed to do something that was bigger than him, and leave Adam behind. Hennessy had been the one to pull him out after all.
He was lost in that thought, so when he finally responded to Ronan's question, it was a beat too late. "I don't think so, but I also don't really know. You can tell me if other psychics start gravitating toward you. I'm just..." Adam removed his hand and curled back into himself, and his blankets, against Ronan. He felt cold again. "It's new, and I'm curious. How she did it. How it works. I know the other parts about you but not this."
"Hey, I wasn't complaining," Ronan frowned. He sank down into the couch cushions to press closer to Adam. It was probably a good thing Adam didn't voice his thoughts about Ronan doing something bigger than saving him because the guilt of that choice was still rattling around in Ronan's bones. The truth was, he wasn't sure how he'd made the call when the time came. Because if he'd saved the world and Adam had been lost, he'd have ended up a soulless husk of himself, sitting in a blank room somewhere, staring at a wall until the orderlies brought his fucking jello.
"We didn't get a chance to talk much about the process, but I know she used sweetmetal ink. Apparently one of the strongest sweetmetals there was." Ronan held out his arm and twisted it to give Adam a better view of the whole thing. It made him think of Calla always calling him snake. And it made him think of armor. And it made him think of Hennessy, resident rescuer of lost souls. "I didn't wake up right away. I had to…I could hear them fucking talking about me. I had to choose to wake up, I guess." He wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "I don't think it'll last forever. Not at home anyway. I need…a lot when there's no ley line."
Adam needed to stay conscious, alert. But every time Ronan came close, and the warmth of him washed over his body, Adam found it easier to slip into sleep. And it terrified him—the inability to know if he didn't stay awake he might lose the delicate hold he had on his soul, and be swept away. Adam hated that he knew that feeling, and he hated that Ronan had spent so much of his time unconscious, alone, and wanting to wake up, with the same exposed state.
"We'll figure it out," Adam said, certain, reaching for Ronan's hand. "If I can find you on the dregs of a sweet metal, then I know you'll hold out as long as possible before you let this one give out on you." Or Adam would die trying. He had almost died trying.
"Did you hear—" Adam's face twisted in confusion, processing the other part of what Ronan had said. But his mind was groggy, and so the words came out piecemeal, one by one, carefully. "Could you hear everyone the whole time? I know that we, in the dream space, I found you and we..." Adam couldn't describe it, the feeling of their essence tangling together, but Ronan knew. "But before that."
"I'll hang on until I fucking can't, yeah." Ronan laced his fingers back through Adam's. He didn't know if it was overprotectiveness or some lingering effect of their time tangled in the sea, but he felt like he could see the weariness weighing Adam down. Like the disconnect from his body was visible. A crack in the surface of a very ugly, very beloved mug. He wanted Adam to sleep and eat and sleep some more, but he would probably fight it until his questions were answered or his body gave out on him.
"I could kind of…swim between sweetmetals? Haunt them? I don't know how to put it into words." He chewed on his lip and spoke quietly. "At first, I didn't remember anything. Who I was. What I was. What emotions were. But I would visit sweetmetals and I'd keep picking up shit. I heard you and felt happy. Like everything would be okay." Ronan smirked and leaned close to whisper the rest teasingly. "And then you broke up with my unconscious body so that was fun."
Adam listened intently, though exhausted, his brows coming together and raising as Ronan described the floating between sweetmetals. He opened his mouth a few times to ask questions, but closed as he reconsidered. Adam never considered that Ronan could travel in a non-physical manner, but they had been playing with dreamwalking for so long that all the lightbulbs went off simultaneously in Adam's mind. It made sense, and he felt sheepish that he hadn't considered until now.
But much like before, warmth blossomed in his chest at knowing that he had made Ronan happy when he was trapped behind the veil of the human world, only to be washed with shame at the lowest point when Adam had thought—earnestly, completely—that leaving Ronan was the best idea. The safest option. The most honest decision he could make when their worlds were slicing apart.
And Adam was an idiot.
He didn't pull away when Ronan leaned in, just inhaled, soft and shaky, against his cheek. "I made a mistake," Adam whispered. "I was wrong. I was wrong about so many things—" But those were things that Adam had discovered here in Vallo, knowing how good everything could be if he just stopped trying to fit into a shape, body, self that wasn't right for him. "But I came back. You know that. I think I knew that too as I was doing it. I'm always going to come back."
He paused, then added, "I only regret that I did it in front of your brother."
Ronan immediately regretted the joke. He was the idiot. What a fucking childish mistake. Adam was traumatized and healing. He didn’t need guilt on top of that.
“Fuck, don’t—Adam. I shouldn’t have said that. It was a messed up joke. You came back and you risked everything. You almost fucking died because you risked everything.” He kissed Adam’s temple then his cheek, stroking his hair more gently than he ever was with anything. “I mean, sure, Declan will probably give you shit for like, the rest of your life, but you have a life and it’s with me and I love you so goddamn much, so that’s a fucking win as far as I’m concerned. Besides, you can just remind him about all the Ashleys.”
It wasn’t his best shot at comfort, but it felt like a relief to be able to joke about Declan at all. Ronan pulled away enough to reach for the soup. “Look, I need you to eat this. Just…turn off that big brain of yours for a little while, ok?”
If Adam could sway on his feet while sitting down, he would. The gentleness of Ronan's touch slotted another one of those mismatched pieces into place. He didn't know how long recovery was going to take—there was no handbook for this sort of near-soul-severing experience—but if Ronan just kept touching him like that, Adam knew he would be okay.
"I think I can handle your brother," Adam said, in his familiar asshole way, a sign of improvement. Though Adam suspected he'd have to find some compassion while the eldest Lynch recovered from a bullet wound. Another problem for another time. Another problem that being in Vallo couldn't solve. Adam had to fix the ones right here.
He had closed his eyes at some point, only to open them and see that Ronan was holding soup. Sleep sounded too good, but so was food. Adam smiled pleasantly at the bowl. "You made chicken noodle," Adam said, lifting his hand. But instead of taking the offered soup, he placed his palm against Ronan's cheek, not unlike the way he had done when they were just fissures of energy, light and dark.
Adam held the same concentration he had in the sweetmetal sea as he searched Ronan's face now. "I have a life and it's with you," Adam echoed, his other hand coming to frame Ronan's face. "I love you, too. No matter what, I won't leave you alone again. I'm even willing to shut off my brain for you and not argue, so you'll stay."
Ronan opened his mouth to make a joke about Adam and Declan arm wrestling in suits but then Adam's hand was on his cheek and he felt calmed into silence. He turned his face towards Adam's palm, grazed it with a barely there kiss.
He wasn't sure he could take much more of this tenderness right now. His emotions felt raw and too close to the surface.
"Good," he murmured, swirling the spoon around inside the fat mug. "Not that your brain isn't sexy as fuck but this soup is really fresh." He let that comment hang in the air for a moment, like he'd made the soup from scratch. It wasn't unheard of, but today was not a day that Ronan would be away from Adam long enough for chopping vegetables and shit. Not unless he was with Matthew. "I mean, I just opened the can and nuked it right before I came in here."
Ronan smirked and held out a spoonful of soup to Adam's mouth. "Get through half of this mug and I'll curl up with you here on the couch for a nap. Everything else can wait."
Adam suspected that Ronan would curl up for a nap with him regardless, but he wasn't about to call him out on it. He wasn't about to do much of anything but eat and let unconsciousness take him for an hour or two. Or more, he assumed Ronan would make him sleep for more.
"You made me soup. I don't care how you did it or if it came from a can," Adam said, his voice soft with the pressing fatigue. He went to reach for the spoon, even getting out half of the words I can do it before he realized what was being presented to him—not just much needed food, but care and comfort. A way to make things easy for Adam when Adam couldn't do it without struggling.
Instead, Adam said, "thank you," before leaning in, blowing on the soup, and taking the spoonful, hands free. He waited patiently for the next one.
There were still events to discuss, guilt to assuage, reassurances to confirm, but between the two of them now? Ronan was right, everything else could wait.