Sitting at the table, looking out the window at nothing, Matthew hummed a nonsense song that seemed to flow into a different tune as soon as someone could identify the source. This wasn’t the worrisome type of staring that caused his teachers to call Declan and express their concerns about the youngest Lynch up on the rooftop, lost in a stairway, staring at nothing, with no real recollection of why he had ever left in the first place let alone how he had gotten there. Instead, this was just Matthew looking out a window, admiring the farmland from a distance. Soon, he thought, soon he’d get up and check on the chickens, get licks on the hand from the cows, playful headbutts from the goats. He’d pat each sleepy cow and wish them good dreams and ask that they say hello to Aurora for him, if she was wherever it was that the sleepy cows dreamed of. He’d bring apple slices to Reaper, and maybe walk down and check on Gasoline. But for now, he sat and looked out the window, content.
All in all, a quiet, peaceful day for a dream boy on a dream farm.
A noise coming from around the corner finally drew Matthew’s attention away from the window, and Adam was revealed. Matthew beamed a radiant smile, like Adam was exactly who he was hoping would come join him (to be fair, Matthew didn’t play favorites, he would have been equally pleased no matter who came down, but he was certainly happy it was Adam this time). “Hey Adam!” Somehow Matthew’s tone of voice had a way of conveying all the warmth and affection he held for Adam, always genuine and earnest.
He extended out a plastic bag filled with sugar coated orange and yellow gummy circles. “Peach ring?” Another sign of Matthew Lynch friendship: the sharing of snacks.
Even without a commitment to multiple jobs, Adam's weeks tended to fill up quickly. The market, the readings, tutoring, prepping for all of those, and project after project that demanded his attention—and his desire to be part of them because of who was spearheading them—tended to make the days fly. Slowing down was not an option, and those short stolen moments for sleep or with Ronan never felt like enough. And now, now he wanted to add school back into the mix?
There might have been something seriously wrong with him, because there was the other louder, more prominent voice telling him more, more, more. Adam never did anything halfway. Existing in Vallo seemed to hold the same precedence to him. If he was here, he was going to make the most of it.
It also might have helped that he was ridiculously pleased by the life he had here. It was hard to quantify it, but the quality was hard to beat. Addition made him happy, subtraction didn't—simple mathematics.
Adam was planning to balance the weekly budget sheets, while quietly working out his own financial predicament with school, at the kitchen table. But he was taken off-guard by seeing Matthew there, bright, sunny, and offering him candy.
"Oh, hi—" Adam said, while reaching into the bag. He was so thrown he didn't even have a chance to mentally go through the motions to deny Matthew. He now had a peach ring in one hand and was shuffling his things onto the table with the other. "Is it going to bother you if I work here for a little while?"
“Nope!” Matthew smiled again, easy and cheerful, as if Adam was doing him a great kindness. That was how Matthew tended to approach the world, and everyone in it, with open acceptance and genuine love. At the market, he wasn’t the best salesperson--if you asked Matthew, everything was amazing, which sometimes didn’t answer the question posed of him, but he knew everyone by name, greeted them like they were old friends, and remembered small details about people. Matthew smiled at the world, and the world usually smiled back, which only made him happier.
“What are you working on?” Matthew asked, curious. He pushed out a chair with his foot for Adam to sit. “Can I help?” Probably not, given that Adam’s strengths were much different than Matthew’s and it looked like Adam was going to be working on paperwork...definitely not something that was in Matthew’s wheelhouse. But Matthew was the type of person to offer assistance and do his best to help, no matter the situation. If he could help, he would, even if Matthew’s brand of helping was only being supportive and offering hugs and snacks.
He opened up a package of caramel coconut Oreos. Supposedly there was real coconut in the caramel creme center! It smelled like that, at least, and made him think of Girl Scout cookies. “Is it going to bother you if I stay here?”
Adam couldn't help but smile. With Matthew, it was infectious—no matter the bad mood Adam found himself in, being near Matthew made it impossible to stay that way. So he popped the peach ring halfway into his mouth and sat into the offered chair easily with a murmured thanks. Not that he thought Matthew wanted to be alone, but if he didn't want company Adam would have found another spot. He could literally do work anywhere, and had gotten pretty good at stealing quiet spaces in libraries, public places, and even the somewhat-loud common room at Harvard.
It never felt too loud at the Barns; a simple act of peace that Adam enjoyed the most.
"No, no," Adam said around a bite of the gummy, then finished off the rest. For a second he was stunned by the pop of sugary-sweet peach in his mouth. "You can stay. It's just budget stuff for next week." Adam made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if to say no big deal
After pulling out a stack of papers, receipts, and a very heavy looking laptop, Adam glanced to Matthew who now had oreos. Adam was bemused, staring at the package, as he said, "You can help if you'd like?" He blinked it off. "If you circle all the totals on the receipts, that would be huge."
Mathew straightened, nodding quickly with eagerness. The idea of helping Adam with his personal work would have been enough for Matthew, but involving the Barns gave him just a little bit of an extra push of motivation. Ronan’s passion for the Barns was evident in everything he did, he took care of the land and animals with the same deep and abiding love that he took care of his family. But the Barns was Matthew’s home too, he had run through the pastures with Ronan as kids, he had favorite spots on the property that Matthew kept as closely guarded secrets, he knew without needing sounds or visual clues what the animals needed. And Matthew adored Ronan, only wanted to make him proud and support him in everything the way Ronan was so supportive of Matthew.
He reached over for the receipts and started circling, but as he did, the wind came in from the window and ruffled Matthew’s golden curls. It called to him about the outside and all of the things he wanted to do before Adam sat down, which of course sent Matthew’s mind off in about 50 new directions, all of which he wanted to explore. Later, he told himself, later, now was a time for focusing. After unwrapping a pink Warhead candy, throwing it up in the air and catching it in his mouth, the numbers didn’t seem as overwhelming.
“This was their first time to the market!” He said, circling a total and placing it in a new pile for Adam to examine. “The family was a woman and her mom and her two kids, holy Mike and Ikes they were cute. Asked a lot of questions about milking cows. Hey, we’re doing okay, right?” Matthew asked, suddenly. “I mean, I feel like I see a lot of new faces every week, which is good! And doing big events, that’s really good, but I don’t really keep track of the money. Like I know I should, at least, I make sure people pay and everything, of course!” His mouth twitched in thought. “I think I would know if we were in trouble, but I just want to make sure.”
Adam was having conversational whiplash. His brain was focusing on inputting the numbers on the receipts as Matthew circled-and-passed, while also trying to figure out where the oreos had come from—and where did the peach rings go? He was in the process of allocating mental space to recall the family Matthew was talking about when he was stopped short by the question. Were they doing okay?
He spun the computer around so that they could both see the screen, like a presentation. He figured a visual explanation would hold more weight than just saying yes. "So, in this column, is the monthly, then this one is weekly. This is the profits from last month versus the actuals from this month, and the forecast for the next three. While we've had to spend a little more to have the market open an extra day for events, it's paid off—here." Adam pointed to another spot. It was a lot of numbers but all of them were in the black.
"Now that it's summer, there's more daylight, which means longer hours, which means more selling." That part was theoretical, but it was a good theory. "If we were in trouble, you would be included in that conversation. I guess—" Adam made a thoughtful noise. "We only ever talk about when it's bad, but we should probably start talking about when it's good, too."
Staring at the screen, Matthew took a bite of green tea KitKat, his brow furrowed in concentration. Not that the figures were all that complicated to understand, but he wanted to make sure he did, to really see for himself instead of accepting everything at face value. Adam wouldn’t have been lying, of course, but Matthew was trying to be more involved in the world, to feel things, question them, learn. He clasped Adam on the shoulder. “You did a lot of work, Adam, thank you for doing that! I appreciate how much you care.” Even if Adam shrugged off the compliments, Matthew would never stop giving them. His affection for his friends and family was a boundless, endless well that came so easily and naturally to him. Matthew seized every opportunity he could to always make sure people felt loved.
“I like talking about the good things, no surprise, right?” Matthew grinned with a ‘what’re you going to do’ sort of shrug. “I want to know if something is wrong, but I think it’s important to celebrate things, even small things. I feel like it helps me really see the world and notice things I might not usually. Plus, Ronan’s really good about recognizing the good things in other people, but sometimes I think he needs help doing it for himself.”
He watched Adam for a moment, Lynch blue eyes clear and tuned in. Matthew had opened his heart up to Adam when he and Ronan started dating and it was obvious how Ronan’s ferocious soul had found a place to land. “The market is a big deal, you know? I mean, I loved our dad, we grew up super happy, but there was always some like, secrecy?” Matthew’s nose wrinkled in dislike, his hands fidgeting on the table, but he was coming to understand those gestures as what he did when he was saying something that was more difficult for him. “So having people come here, and Ronan really embracing what he can do, even if that’s only about the farmwork and not the dreaming, yeah, I think that’s something to celebrate.”
Normally, Adam would pull the computer back into his side of the table and continue this conversation about budgets and the market and good things. But Adam was also uniquely perceptive to other people's emotions—though little could be said about how aware he was of his own. And it seemed like what Matthew was slowly getting at wasn't about the success of the market, but something else all together.
"I know," Adam said in quiet agreement, then repeated, "I know the market is a big deal." That was why Adam was so invested in it, too. It wasn't that he thought Ronan or Matthew couldn't handle their own way around bookkeeping, but he wanted them to focus on the things that felt more important, and irrevocably, more personal. Turning a profit was important for Adam, so that the effort Ronan put into doing all of this wasn't in vain. Ronan supported his dreams, why couldn't Adam support his, figuratively and literally?
"I think it's good to ease into the things we're passionate about, even if they are against what was normal before. If it makes him happy, and it makes you happy, to have people here, even if it's scary, then you—we—should keep doing it. And celebrate it." Adam's smile to Matthew was encouraging, only momentarily going distant, as if remembering something.
He added a beat later, "Fear shouldn't be a reason to not have happiness or to not get what you want."
“I know you do,” Matthew replied, nudging Adam with his shoulder. Matthew’s affection usually demonstrated itself in supportive words, in offering food, and in physical gestures. He hugged, he gave high fives and fist bumps, he wrapped an arm around someone’s shoulder, but it was always with an awareness of what people needed or would take at that moment.“Not only do you put together all of these numbers and think about the budget like you do, but you’re out there every market with us! That’s a beautiful thing, Adam, Ronan appreciates it and I do too.”
He took a stroopwafel out of a circular shaped container and stood it up on one end with his finger holding it in place. WIth the other hand, Matthew flicked the cookie so that it spun around like a caramel coated coin. But then, realizing he was losing focus on the task Adam had given him, he stopped the spinning and broke the confection into four pieces before going back to the receipts. Better, Matthew thought. If he recognized the innocent times when his mind wanted to wander, and could correct it, maybe that boded well for the times his mind and body went wandering. Not that it had happened here, thankfully, but without knowing exactly why it happened, Matthew didn’t want to discount the possibility. He was trying, and Matthew always tried his best.
“I feel that way about school, what you said about fear?” Matthew offered, along with a piece of stroopwafel that he slid across to Adam. “Like, it’s going to be really great and I’m excited to learn and even just start figuring out what I want to do and be, but I’m still a little nervous.” Matthew was by far not the best student, but he had done well enough at Aglionby to never be in danger academically. While, granted, some of that was grade indulgence from his teachers because Matthew with his sweet countenance, good nature, polite manners, and guileless charm was so darn likeable, it was also Matthew’s own intelligence that kept him safely afloat, if never sailing ahead at top speeds. Still, he had been out of school for a while now.
“I just want to do well,” he settled on. “If I can’t help as much here because I’m going to school, I want to do well and show Ronan that it’s worth it. Even though I know he would say I’m being silly.” In more colorful Ronan language of course.
"Everyone gets nervous," Adam assured as he took the piece of stroopwafel. Leave it to Matthew to carry a variety of snack foods that Adam had either never tried or couldn't remember having in recent memory. As he chewed thoughtfully, Adam considered his next few words. He couldn't promise someone their academic career, but he wasn't about to leave Matthew behind if this was what he wanted. It was why Adam never really pushed Ronan to finish school—Adam knew he didn't want it, so why force him to take it?
"That's not the same as being scared, you know." Adam hit save on the spreadsheet, and closed the laptop, turning toward Matthew. They could get back to this in a minute. "But being nervous about doing well is something we all go through. I get the same way. But no one, not even Ronan, is going to hold it against you if this is what you want. That's more important than anything, your choice to do the things that you want."
Adam glanced away, just for the briefest second. He had the same concerns when he first left for Harvard—could they do it? Would all that distance be worth it? Was Adam giving up one dream for another or could he have both? It had been a balancing act. His concerns were less, now, at the thought of returning.
"We'll make it work. When school stops being something you want, and you're going to struggle through it regardless to prove something, then that's when it stops being worth it."
Matthew settled into a reflective silence, absorbing the words. He thought about second chances and how all of the Barns residents were experiencing them, in their own way, and all that those second chances had given all of them, even inadvertently. Matthew was grateful for all of it. “I like that it’s my choice,” Matthew said, slowly. It was a simple statement, but it carried weight. Maybe someday it would stop being such a big deal, but in the immediate time it felt large. His choice. With loving support and guidance from Ronan and his friends, of course, but still his. He took a sip from a blue raspberry Big Gulp Slurpee, still thinking.
He leaned over once again, this time to wrap an arm around Adam’s shoulders, as close as a hug as he could get from this position. “Hey. you might not need to hear this, but just in case, I’m mega proud of you! And I appreciate you, not only the work you do here, but how much you love Ronan. He deserves all the love he gives to other people, and I want you to know that I see you loving him that way. And, as his brother, that means a lot. So, thank you. And before you say I don’t have to thank you,” Matthew immediately waved it off, blinking hard as if something just hit him. “Ronan is one of the only family members I have left. There have been so many things he’s gone through, and there are probably a lot more that I don’t even know about. I trust you with my brother.”
How could Adam turn down a hug from Matthew? The answer was he couldn't. He leaned slowly to the side and into the embrace. But the only reason he didn't move away was because Matthew had stunned him into silence. Adam, full of so many thoughts always, had no words for things like I see you loving him that way and I trust you with my brother. Adam couldn't even tell Matthew not to say thank you because his brain just sort of... short circuited.
This wasn't new information: Adam loved Ronan. Loved him more than he loved himself, even on the good days. But it had taken a great deal of effort for Adam to show Ronan the complexity and the completeness of that love in a way that wasn't all bottled up and insular. To know that other people saw it, appreciated it, accepted it as enough was almost too much to comprehend.
Eventually he straightened up, clearing his throat. "Thank you. For trusting me. It means a lot coming from you. Ronan loves you so much and he—" Adam paused, knowing that he didn't have to finish. Matthew knew. Ronan would do anything for his brother; it was a universal truth, an inherent knowledge.
And then Adam added, "I'm always going to love Ronan. And I'm always going to take care of him. That's never going to change. It's one less thing you have to worry about—"
Adam's attention snagged on the cup, the absurdity of it. "Matthew, where are you getting all this from?"
Matthew snagged the back of Adam’s head and tapped his forehead against Adam’s, grinning (his lips faintly blue colored around the rim) the easy, blissfully happy grin of a beloved younger brother who knew he was loved. “I know,” he promised. No real need to say anything else about it. The two Lynch Brothers, the Brothers Lynch, they were a united front. Two very different halves of the same coin, but inseparable.
He threw over to Adam a rainbow of wax bottle candy, neon red, orange, yellow, green, and blue. “Want some? It’s SO good!”