"He was so beautiful. I think I might’ve made ‘im up."
Someone chuckles softly somewhere in the room. (He is in a room? Why is it spinning like the dryer?) He knew that sound, but he couldn't place it. Ronan tries to open his eyes but his eyelids were as heavy as lead; it was an impossible task and he gave up soon. He keeps talking, unsure if a second or a minute or ten has passed. "One day I looked- I looked at Adam and he was so bright, like the, like the sun."
"Really? What was he doing?" The person holding a cup to his lips has a gentle, rich voice. Ronan could've sworn this is not the first time he’s heard it, nor it will be the last. He feels drool dribble down his chin but his arms are too heavy to wipe at the corner of his mouth. As if the person next to him could read his mind, they wipe his face with a swift, practiced movement. “So, tell me about it.”
"He was workin’ on the Camaro, all sweaty and gross and- and so beautiful I thought I was gon’ die."
“Are you filming this? Please tell me you’re filming this.”
“Ronan’s gonna hate it.”
“Do I look like I’m scared of the Snake?”
Ronan frowns at the voices in the room. He is about to ask who the Snake is, when another voice cuts in. “He’s going to eat your leftovers when he finds out, y’know?”
His head snaps as fast as it can —which is not very fast at all, in fact— towards the honeyed southern drawl. The beeping next to his head races as his heart beats faster trying to find the voice. It sounded a little off, hoarse and tired, and he instinctually knows he has to make it better. Once again, his eyes make a valiant effort to look up but the bright light of the room makes Ronan squint.
“Why’s it so bright?”
“You’re in the hospital, Ronan.” He tries to sit up, the room flashes in a blur as Ronan tries to do something, anything, but a hand on his chest gently pushes him back down. “Hey, easy, easy.”
“I’m in the hospital? Why’m I in the hospital?” If his eyelids would just cooperate for a fucking second, he’d know if something’s wrong but the room whirls around him and nausea twists inside of him and opening his eyes is too damn hard, so he lazily lifts a hand in an effort to stop the spinning.
“You broke your arm, Lynch.”
And there it is again, warm and comfortable and homelike and it called him Lynch. Only Adam calls him Lynch these days.
“Adam?”
He sounds closer as he approaches the bed. There’s some shuffling around and then Adam’s voice is right next to him. “Hey, I’m right here.”
It’s like a spell, almost. The moment Adam grabs his hand an ache lifts off his chest, he can breathe comfortably again. His whole body relaxes as Adam’s thumb brushes the inside of his wrist. Ronan remembers those long, strong fingers holding him and heat pools around his belly. God, he wants those fingers in his mouth.
The disembodied voices in the background share a laugh.
“Is that so, Ronan?”
It’s a fond, loving sound, his name coming from Adam’s lips. He wonders when was the last time anyone else said his name with such care. Adam sounds amused and Ronan basks in the knowledge that he did that: he replaced hoarse and tired with fond and amused.
“Jane, they’re going to kick us out if you guys keep this up.”
And, Gansey? Did he break his arm racing? Was he drunk? Is that why he feels like he took a tumble down a cliff? That’s how the previous car crashes felt anyway.
“Dick, you are not calling me out when Noah started it.”
Ronan misses Gansey’s reply because Adam’s hand stilled and so he cracks open the corner of his left eye and glances at their joint hands, fixating on the cracked skin of his knuckles and frowns.
“Why’re your hands dry? I made you hand cream.”
There’s a shush sound coming from where the discussion was being held. He’s got no time for it because Adam turns his hand around, lacing his fingers through Ronan’s and taking away the view of those slender, beautiful fingers with him. “Well, I don’t carry hand cream with me all the time.”
“I’ll make you more. I make more when it runs out.”
“I know, Lynch. You’re not exactly subtle.”
The words warm him through. Adam knows. Adam knows him. Adam knows him and doesn’t shy away from it. Ronan feels overwhelmed with the need to look at him and spill his guts.
It takes less effort now, opening his eyes, it’s still slow and the light’s too bright but he pulls through, trying to take in the off-white room he’s in. Ronan doesn’t make it that far though, his eyes focusing on Adam and refusing to move away.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.”
The combination of the gentle smile in Adam’s face and bright lights make him look ethereal, almost as if he dreamed him into being. Adam’s blonde hair curling at the back of his ears, the longest he remembers it ever being, tugs at something in his chest and he wants to run his fingers through that fine hair until he’s memorized every single strand.
It hits Ronan then, the realization that there’s no one else for him, never will be. Maybe he’s known all along but right now? It’s a current spreading from the point their hands touch all the way to his heart. It’s a truth so big he can’t hold it inside any longer.
“I’m in love with you.”
“You’ve mentioned it before,” Adam teases lightheartedly.
Suddenly, he can’t stop the words rushing out of him. Ronan’s one hundred percent sure that if he doesn’t say it now, he never will. “Marry me.”
The sounds in the room fade and all Ronan can hear is the thud of his own heart in his ears. If Adam says no, he really is going to die.
“Is this really how you wanna go about this?” his voice is so full of affection, but his hand tightens where it holds Ronan’s.
“We can go to Vegas,” he offers, unsure of what’s holding Adam back. Maybe he doesn’t want to deal with invitations and receptions. “We don’t have to- to invite anyone, not even Gansey if you don’t want.”
“Well, I resent that.”
“Gansey, for the love of God, shut up.”
Ronan wants everyone to shut up so he can convince Adam. He knows he can. Once, an eternity ago, he convinced him to take turns dragging each other on a moving dolly behind the BMW. Adam had laughed so much —a laugh Ronan wasn’t privy to back then— that Ronan wondered for a long time if he’d dreamed the whole thing.
“This is the dolly all over again,” he mumbled, resting his eyes for a second. Ronan will never get tired of looking at Adam, but he wishes it was the middle of the night in the barns, the dark so thick that nothing but the stars are visible. “I’m gon’ have to start planning before you get on board.”
“You’re not even going to remember this in three hours.”
“I never forget promises. I promise you I’m gonna marry you.”
“Oh really?”
“Hmm.” His eyes can’t be bothered to stay open but he holds on to Adam’s hand with all the strength he can muster. “Promise me you’ll marry me.”
“Yes, Ronan, yes. Yes, I will marry you. Jesus, you’re going to break my fingers.”
His eyes flutter in Adam’s direction, briefly glancing at his face, then closing again. “I would never- I couldn’t. They’re the prettiest. The most pretty fingers in the world. You can put them in my mouth if you want. Mouth. Moussth.”
“I have.”
“You have?” The words feel fuzzy in his mouth, cotton candy that sticks to his lips and wraps around his tongue. He’s had his tongue on Adam’s fingers.
“Alright, guys. We are leaving.”
“Oh, come on, Gansey. Gansey. Richard-man. We can’t leave now.”
There’s a brief back and forth but Ronan can’t focus on it because he hears the scrape of a chair on the linoleum floor as Adam closes the distance to the bed and right now there’s nothing more in Ronan’s world than Adam, Adam, Adam.
“Will you really marry me?” he’s not sure if the words truly make it out of his mouth or if he’s dreaming again.
“I will.”
There’s not a drop of hesitancy in his voice, not a hint of doubt. Ronan loves him so much.
“Remind me later?” he asks, begs almost.
“Of course. Sleep now, okay?” The soft press of Adam’s lips on his knuckles sends a chill up his arm. He wants to stay awake and enjoy it but he’s so damn tired.
“Hmm.” Ronan’s not sure where the word comes from but it flows naturally out of his lips even as he slips under once more. “Tamquam.”
“Alter idem.”