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Ronan takes his hand and pulls him in the direction of his room, while waving dismissively at Gansey.
He lets him go to lock the door behind them, and in that moment, Adam is suddenly acutely aware of a number of things: that Gansey knows about them now and that makes it more real, in a thrilling way that comes with all kinds of new possibilities, that might mean a future; that they've never actually been alone in his room like this ever; that he hasn't kissed him since the night before.
"Should get a Do Not Disturb si—" Ronan says, turning around, only to be cut off by Adam's lips on his. He makes a soft, surprised sound but lets him do as he pleases; lets him press him up against the door and opens his mouth eagerly under Adam's; lets him catalogue all the light flicks of Ronan's tongue against his own, the tiny moans he makes in his throat, the unconscious movements of his body under Adam's hands, always craving more contact.
Ronan's pupils are dilated when Adam finally pulls away. "What was that for?" he asks, voice slightly hoarse.
"Just because," Adam replies, evenly. And he means it. Because they're both here, for now, because this stasis is probably not going to last much longer. Because Adam's tired of waiting for things to come his way, and this one thing, he can have right now, right here, if he just takes it.
Ronan goes to check on Chainsaw, and Adam just looks around the room for a bit. Because he's allowed to now.
Monmouth feels almost unsettlingly hollow and quiet at the moment. Adam thinks of it as a place of life and activity, always. Of tinny electronica escaping from Ronan's room and Chainsaw making a racket and Noah's omnipresence and Gansey's maze of books and maps spread out on the floor around his model of Henrietta and engaging in stupid, boyish stunts in the parking lot. But it's something else too — it's home. It's belonging and camaraderie and comfort.
It's almost too easy to feel comfortable here, but then he looks up and feels a chill run through him when he recognises the burnt, battered mask on the wall. Being in Ronan's world is just like being around him: as soon as you start feeling safe, something unknown and unexpected jumps out at you. He remembers being drawn to it at the Barns, and knowing it was dangerous, but not caring — or maybe, it was because he knew it was dangerous. He remembers Ronan's hand urgently grasping his wrist and the scared look on his face. The same look from last night.
Ronan's never actually told him about the nightmare, but he's figured out enough. Looking at him now, stroking his pet raven's feathers, it's hard to imagine what's locked up inside his mind. He just looks like a boy, and it's not as startling as it should be; Adam's seen enough parts of him to almost uncover who he was before, when he had a family that was whole and a home that was filled with laughter and music and not the quiet loneliness of the eternal sleeping.
"What you looking at, huh?" Ronan asks, but it's playful. And there's a glimpse of that hope again, that maybe Ronan can retrieve some of what he's lost.
"You," Adam says. Because it feels like they could say these things now, ensconced within these walls, surrounded by Ronan's dream-things; like maybe this is another room in his mind, one for just the two of them, where they're apart from everything else in his mind.
Ronan sprawls on one side of his bed now without bothering to take his shoes off, propping his head up with a hand behind his neck to look at him, the other patting the space next to him, invitingly. "Come on, get in." In the daylight, it probably should sound less lecherous than the night before when Adam had said the same thing to him, but Ronan is doing his best, waggling an eyebrow suggestively.
Adam just stares for a minute and then starts kicking off his sneakers, as gracefully as possible. Tripping over his own feet is probably the least sexy thing he can do right now.
"Don't bother, man," Ronan says, and Adam can hear him rolling his eyes.
He looks up just to shoot him a dirty look. He's not sure exactly what Ronan's planned, but he's willing to bet it's going to eventually involve removing some clothing. Which he's completely okay with, obviously.
He carefully slides onto the bed and under Ronan's arm, which comes to rest against his ribcage. He presses his cheek to Ronan's shoulder, and exhales hotly against his neck. One of his hands is lying on Ronan's stomach, and he's suddenly frustrated that they're still wearing all their clothes. Touching him through his thin black tank is starting to feel like a lesson in futility.
"Go to sleep," Ronan says, smiling, kissing the top of his head. Like he can read his mind. And okay, it's not like they really got that much sleep the night before. He's probably right. But that doesn't mean he's going to make this easy.
"You first," Adam says, knowing how petulant he sounds.
Ronan's eyes are closed but there's still a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
"I can't if you're watching me."
"But I've never actually seen you fall asleep before."
"I'm not bringing anything back."
"Still," Adam says, smiling into his collarbone now.
"Fine."
Adam looks and looks, until Ronan's mouth goes slack, until he can feel his breathing slow down and even out.
Then he closes his eyes, too, and falls asleep to the rhythm of Ronan's chest rising and falling underneath him.
*
When Adam opens his eyes, Ronan's staring down at him.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he says, feeling exposed although he's fully-clothed. He's probably sleep-wrecked though. Ronan looks just as alluring as he always does when he wakes up, of course. It's a curse Adam's going to have to bear.
"Because you're beautiful," Ronan replies. It's kind of muffled from sleep. Maybe he thinks he's still dreaming.
Adam winces a little. "God, really?"
"What?"
"Did you dream yourself a new personality?"
"Shut up, Parrish, you know you're a hot piece of ass."
"That's not what you said though."
"Well, I always mean what I say. Fuck off."
Ronan raises the hand that was holding Adam against him to muss up his hair now, and Adam realises the other one is lying next to his own on Ronan's stomach. It's clenched tightly, like he's holding a small object inside it.
"You lied."
"What?" he asks, suddenly alert.
"You said you weren't bringing anything back."
"Oh, I didn't mean —" His expression is strange, almost nervous, and he looks so young again.
Adam sits up now to get a better view, curious. Ronan turns his hand over and unclenches his fist. Curled inside his palm is what looks like a piece of vine with tiny, delicate, white flowers growing along it.
Ronan drapes it over Adam's wrist; it feels like air and like velvet, like it's nothing and everything all at once. Ronan ties the ends together at his pulse point, and it fits like it was meant for him.
It's still not a ring, not a promise, but it's a part of Ronan. "Thank you," he says, softly, looking down at it, because he's never told him that before. Because he's grateful. That he's here. That they get to have this. At least for a while.
"What does it mean?" Adam asks him a moment later.
"What?"
"The flower. Does it mean something?"
"I don't know. I don't know if they're even real," Ronan says, and there's a tinge of awe to his words that he's never heard there. Awe that he can create new life that never existed before. When he's not even thinking about it. When he's just thinking about Adam.
Looking at them now, he doesn't know why he ever thought they were white. They're every colour he can imagine, all at the same time, and some he can't even begin to name.
The words fall from his lips before he can stop them.
"Sometimes I look at you and I don't think you're real. And other times, it's like you were here before the trees and you'll be here after. I don't know how both of those things can be true." It still feels like it's safe to say these things here, like these words will stay here forever, like they're safe from the outside world.
Somehow, it feels like this, this between them, is the same. Maybe even after they're gone, it will live on, in the spaces where they lived and kissed in the dark and whispered secret things to each other.
Adam knows this like he knows the flowers on his wrist will never wither and die.