Gansey has to resist the urge to lean into the doorframe with the way that Declan makes that pronouncement to the air, and it felt cold, almost biting. He wishes it was a surprising development. He's not that naive, to think that the dark cloud of Ronan's temperament didn't yield other consequences. Some days it felt like as soon as he managed to drag him through a test or a project or whatever he was currently managing to keep him from failing, Ronan would fall through somewhere else.
Gansey picked Ronan, because the younger Lynch needed him more. Because he was honest and genuine and raw, because no one else would. But it feels like a complicated thing between them sometimes; the graveyard of a friendship. But if Declan ever notices he never lets on, and so he allows the older boy to parade him and the things that meant so much to him as staging for his conquests, because they're the cost for Ronan.
He's not sure if they've ever been alone in a room together since. If it's always overlaid with Adam or Ronan or a pretty girl. Other things to focus on instead of the space, whether it's defusing a bomb or lipstick and a laugh. Tonight it feels almost eerie, quiet and empty.
"Three. It's been three days, I know," he says with an exhale of breath that comes out sharper than he intends it to, but it's aimed at himself. Gansey doesn't know if he's doing the right thing, not really. He's doing the best that he can, trying so hard that it hurts, but he doesn't have answers, doesn't have that certainty no matter what he likes people to see. He just, he tries to believe that this place, the promise he pulled from Ronan's lips, his attempts make a difference. His fingers fidget even as his tone stays careful.
"There's still weeks until exams, and I'll fix it. I can fix it."
Unlike Ronan, Gansey can't just shut down a discussion he doesn't like by being mad at it.
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Gansey picked Ronan, because the younger Lynch needed him more. Because he was honest and genuine and raw, because no one else would. But it feels like a complicated thing between them sometimes; the graveyard of a friendship. But if Declan ever notices he never lets on, and so he allows the older boy to parade him and the things that meant so much to him as staging for his conquests, because they're the cost for Ronan.
He's not sure if they've ever been alone in a room together since. If it's always overlaid with Adam or Ronan or a pretty girl. Other things to focus on instead of the space, whether it's defusing a bomb or lipstick and a laugh. Tonight it feels almost eerie, quiet and empty.
"Three. It's been three days, I know," he says with an exhale of breath that comes out sharper than he intends it to, but it's aimed at himself. Gansey doesn't know if he's doing the right thing, not really. He's doing the best that he can, trying so hard that it hurts, but he doesn't have answers, doesn't have that certainty no matter what he likes people to see. He just, he tries to believe that this place, the promise he pulled from Ronan's lips, his attempts make a difference. His fingers fidget even as his tone stays careful.
"There's still weeks until exams, and I'll fix it. I can fix it."
Unlike Ronan, Gansey can't just shut down a discussion he doesn't like by being mad at it.