here's a snippet of my declan outside pov of pynch (set of vignettes exploring declan's trust of one adam parrish)
Text from Ronan
I need a ride to church
There were two baffling things about this text from his brother. One, Ronan texted him. Also, Ronan texted him without profanity, a middle finger, and with more than one letter. Declan often found the ever infuriating letter k more often than even a response from his brother. The second unknown was why Ronan was willing to spend time in the Volvo with Declan driving. Anytime they did have to travel together, Ronan was quick to explode in profanities about Declan’s A-safety rating driving habits before threatening to throw himself out while they were cruising at a respectable 65 on the highway.
Declan immediately thought the worst. He must have totaled the BMW. He tried calling Ronan once, twice, but gave up before the third time with no answer. He tried texting, knew that was useless, but tried anyway. No answer. Typical. He could feel the acid creeping up his throat, the anxiety of having to deal with the insurance mess, the unknown of what kind of deathtrap vehicle Ronan could dream up next.
So when he pulled up to their childhood home on Sunday morning, he was shocked to see the BMW sitting unscathed in the driveway.
“What the fuck,” Declan grunted under his breath, unsure if he was happy to see the vehicle or angry that Ronan put him through hell on the lead up to absolutely nothing.
“See?” Matthew grinned from the passenger seat. “The car is fine! You had nothing to worry about.”
Declan shot off a text to Ronan, he did not want to get out of the car, and scrolled through a few work emails while he waited for his brother to show up. He let the anger simmer and slowly dissipate, working on breathing through his nose. He would not be the first to blow up today, and let Ronan paint him as the bad guy to Matthew. He could already see it now, Ronan shrugging innocently at Declan, a quiet and sarcastic I just wanted more time with you, bro, and Matthew would hear none of its irony.
Two or three minutes passed and Declan looked up at the front door just in time to see a shadow pass behind the glass. Good, kept them waiting long enough. The front door open and his brother wasn’t alone.
Behind Ronan, still in the shadows of the foyer, was clearly Adam Parrish, in wrinkled clothes, dark circles under his eyes, and a smirk. He was saying something to Ronan, who laughed genuinely, the kind of laugh Declan heard most often when Ronan was making jokes at Declan’s expense. Something else passed between them, a look Declan couldn’t quite place, it was too quick.
Ronan hopped off the top of the porch onto the gravel, heading toward the Volvo.
“Lynch,” Adam called from the doorway, stepping out and using his back to keep the screen door open.
Ronan turned, patted his pockets, and then tossed a set of keys, no doubt the ones that belonged to his BMW, to Adam, who caught them deftly.
