decided to try my hand at writing ronan confessing to adam! this is mostly for fun + i’m less than halfway through blue lily, lily blue, so my characterization is probably janky
They walked off the road slowly, Ronan’s parked BMW baking in the sun. It would be unbearably hot by the time they returned but for now it was morning and the grass crunched with dew under their feet.
Adam remained a careful distance from Ronan the entire time. Perhaps a few months back Ronan would’ve considered that distance with the vague condescension of a predator for a frightened prey animal. But Adam was far from fearful these days, no longer concerned by Ronan’s temper if he’d ever been. Now it was simply the distance of habit.
Birds wheeled overhead. They crossed a stream when they came to it. The shade the forest provided swept over them, welcome coolness and breeze that smelled like flowers.
Tell him, the trees whispered. Ronan ignored them. Tell him.
“Are they talking?” Adam asked, cocking his head curiously. “Why now?”
“To annoy me,” Ronan said crossly. He didn’t want to tell him anything. “Fuck off,” he said out loud. “I’m not doing it.”
“Doing what?” Adam asked blankly.
Ronan stopped dead. The trees were getting more insistent, and the very fact that they thought they could meddle in his life to this extent was pissing him off. Had been pissing him off. But also—this, Adam’s wise sweet eyes and the way he looked at Ronan, concern without rancor. That had once been only Gansey’s thing, but being half-forest had changed Adam forever.
It hadn’t changed some things.
“Telling you I love you.”
Adam walked away. Ronan stayed where he was, heart beating stupidly fast, but Adam was just looking for something to…to sit on. Okay. He waved Ronan over.
“Thanks for not telling me,” he said, when Ronan was close enough to hear him.
“Fuck you,” Ronan replied. “Is that all?”
“You.” Adam stopped, sighed, plucked a blade of grass from the ground. He was wearing shorts today and Ronan’s eyes snagged on a jagged old scar that started at his knee and pulled down and back. Was overcome by the sudden urge to press his mouth to it and then shook it off. The trees remained quiet, breathless, fucking meddling old cunts. “You haven’t said anything.”
Ronan sat down on the ground. Like this he was shorter than Adam, and had to tilt his head up slightly to maintain eye contact. “Do you want me to?”
“I wish,” Adam began, something ragingly ugly under his voice. “No, no I don’t.” He was looking down again, at the grass or at Ronan’s scruffy jeans, enough grief to cut right through to the other side. Ronan wanted to be the only person Adam looked at like that for; vulnerable and old and confused. He wanted—and then Adam said, “Can you say it again?” and sounded unsure,
“I love you,” Ronan said at once, unhesitating. “I love you.”
“Oh,” Adam whispered. He crawled over the grass, until he was right in front of Ronan. And Ronan did what he’d never let himself imagine—reached out, drew him closer. Until his head rested against Ronan’s neck and shoulder, his breaths jagged and uneven.
Ronan didn’t yet wonder if Adam would say it back. He didn’t care. He ran his fingers over the sharp dips of Adam’s back, spine, ribs. How hollow he was, and how wonderful.
“Ronan,” Adam said once, and was then quiet. Ronan bumped his cheek against the side of Adam’s head.
A bird screamed in the foliage. They sat like that for a long time.
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