marlowemuses | who could ever learn to love a...

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who could ever learn to love a...

39 Excelsior Place was the oldest house on the road.

In fact, 39 Excelsior Place was the oldest house in the neighborhood. Through the years Henrietta, Virginia had mostly kept up with the times. Old, decrepit homes were replaced with bright white houses and wooden fences. The convenience store went from locally owned to a chain. The schools got better. Wifi was available in almost every pubic place.

39 Excelsior Place did not keep up with the times. Crouching darkly at the end of the road, squatting fiercely in its dead end, the house was every bit the past it came from. Tall with gothic architecture, unwelcoming pointed gates, and black bricks the hollow eyes on its gray and white face. Huge windows were long covered with sheets, as had been most of the furniture. Once upon a time the house had been beautiful. Once upon a time, however, was a long time ago. In 2016, most people stayed away from 39 Excelsior Place. Smartly so. Its resident monster hated everyone.

Everyone except for its sole resident, elderly Mr. Greerish. Greerish said he had a family. Nobody ever game to visit so the monster called him a liar. Greerish placidly made excuses, such as They’re very busy and It’s been a while since we’ve caught up. Apparently Greerish had a favorite nephew: a baby when they last met. It had smiled at him once. No one else in the family smiled at him.

The monster called him an idiot. Greerish laughed and returned to his books. That was how they found the old man dead. With a pleasant smile and a book in his lap.

Fine. The monster didn’t care about Greerish anyway. It had only just begun to tolerate him. With his death, 39 Excelsior Place would be free of pests and the monster could hide away from the rest of the world until it eventually died. That was what happened to monsters. He’d read the old books Greerish kept so neat in the bookcase. They all ended the same. The monster was killed, burned, staked. The handsome prince got the princess. Or, in the monster’s personal interests, prince. Not that it mattered.

What the monster did not know was that there was a Will. A thing that had been executed by the local priest out of pity for old man Greerish. There was only one stipulation.

Everything I own, including 39 Excelsior Place, will be so inherited by my nephew, Adam Parrish.

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"All right," Adam said. He came over to open the cabinet for the cat, looking curiously inside to see what it wanted. "Then I'm just going to call you Charlotte."

He smirked a little, expecting profanity and starting to really enjoy the cat's harmless bad temper. Adam wondered whether he should invest in a laser pointer.

The cat turned it's head, looking startled and offended at the name. Charlotte? Had he missed the part where Ronan was a boy cat?

"The fuck? No you're not."

Crawling into the cabinet, he tugged out what appeared to be—and definitely was—a huge dead rat.

He dropped it in front of Adam's feet.

"Aww, see, now you're helping," Adam said, bending down to pat the cat's head. "Thanks, Charlotte."

He fetched a dust pan, sweeping the carcass into it and dumping it in the trash. Washing his hands, Adam opened the fridge again. "Do you want some more to eat? I know that meat wasn't much." He held it open, expecting Charlotte to announce his preferences.

So much for grossing the human out with the show of a dead rat. Ronan puffed again, looking distinctly displeased, and hating every use of the name Charlotte. Casper was a little bitch, but he was still a boy. Now he was named after a goddamn spider that died when the wind blew it away.

He was about to declare that he didn't want any of Adam's food when his stomach gurgled again, insisting that he very much did want some. Sometimes he went out into the thick forest in the back and ate what he found. Fruit, fresh from wild fruit trees. Or peanuts. He bought those when he deigned to hit the local convenience store, wearing his usual human face. The cashier had a thing for him. It weirded him out.

Otherwise, he got his food by stealing from Greerish. Though, it wasn't really stealing when Greerish bought extra for him, was it?

He pawed at the floor, like he'd found something interesting, but didn't say anything.

Adam found it cute and sad that the cat wouldn't ask for what he wanted. He just stared at the floor, stomach gurgling audibly.

It reminded Adam of himself. He knew the dangers of asking for things.

"I'm gonna fry up some eggs, okay?" he said, taking the carton from the fridge and grabbing a pan. He couldn't cook much, but eggs were easy, and he was pretty sure that they were good for cats.

Dropping the eggshells in the trash, he rinsed and dried his hands, and then offered his hand to the cat again. "Can I pick you up?"

Ronan watched with interest as Adam cracked open eggs. Truly, his hands were....

... not... interesting at all. He had to glance away, pawing at the floor again, wanting to say something mean but couldn't think of much besides yelling asshole and running from the room again. Adam was stubborn. He was apparently going to stick out any level of haunting. Maybe it was something that ran in the family.

When Adam offered his hand again Ronan looked up, startled, ready to bolt if Adam tried to grab him. But he didn't. It was an offer, a question.

What was he to say? He had liked being touched. Craved it now that he knew what it felt like again. His heart began to thud in his chest, and despite the impassive stare, he felt nervous.

A cat is cute. He'd never want to touch you if he knew what you really looked like.

"You don't want to." It wasn't a threat. He said it as a simple fact, as though it was merely impossible. It was impossible. If Adam touched him with those hands, he'd hope. And then that would break, as it always did.

"Yeah, I do," Adam said. He sat, letting the eggs cook unsupervised for a minute, while he waited to see if the cat would approach. "I've always wanted a cat. Kind of creeped out that I ended up with a talking cat, but you're soft. And kind of sweet, in a very foul-mouthed way. I liked petting you."

Leaning forward while still cross-legged, Adam shrugged his shoulders to offer them. He gave the cat a wry smile. This was definitely the weirdest conversation he'd had in his life, which was saying a lot considering his friendship with Blue. "How about if you sit on my shoulder while I cook?"

Adam's words made him feel all twisted up inside. He wanted to believe this beautiful boy. Wanted to touch him. Every instinct he'd carved into his soul, however, argued with his heart.

He was supposed to get the guy out of his damn house. Not ... do whatever he was doing. From floors away he could just feel Chainsaw's judgmental stare. But she knew him; she probably knew that exactly this would happen. Intelligent as she was beautiful.

Ronan took a tentative step forward, and then another, until he was able to nudge his nose against Adam's hand again.

He was a fucking idiot. I've always wanted a cat. No. That was a lie.

"I'm not a cat."

"Yeah, I figured that much out, Casper," Adam said, gently petting at Charlotte's head. "You're the one who threw the drawer, aren't you? And you talk. So yeah, I kind of put together that you're not just a cat."

He jerked his head to the side to reinforce his earlier invitation to sit on his shoulder. "Come on up already. I want to check on the eggs."

"Then what the fuck do you think I am?"

Irritated, he stepped back, eyes flashing. "Don't you get it? I'm a monster. This is my house, and I want you out." Steeling his heart, pushing those soft, stupid desires down. He was a nightmare. A fucking terror, the kind of thing kids woke up crying about. Part of him knew that he should reveal his true form and scare Adam out once and for all, but...

He didn't want him to see. He didn't want anyone to see the true monstrosity.

Ronan turned and streaked out of the kitchen despite wanting to stay with Adam and feel his hands, his throat. Quick on the stairs, he practically flew into the attic and turned into his human form, locking the door behind him.

Chainsaw did not look impressed. He glared at her.

Adam felt lonesome with the cat gone. He felt rejected.

Putting the half-cooked eggs in the fridge, he put a couple things away and then went upstairs to his room. His house was occupied by a monster. A monster who resented him and wanted him gone.

Aching with loneliness, Adam kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt and jeans, crawling under the covers in just his boxers. He curled up into a ball, feeling cold and depressed. He wanted Gansey and Blue. Hell, he even wanted Henry. They at least wouldn't tell him to his face that they wanted him gone.

Ronan spent the next few hours feeling miserable.

He was so sour that Chainsaw simply couldn't stand to be in the same room as him, and flew out the window for some peace of mind.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Adam. Why did he have to come? Ronan stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, yet having nothing else to do except wonder. Wonder what might have happened if he'd accepted the invitation and curled up on Adam's shoulder. Wondered what it might be like if... maybe, he wasn't a monster.

But he was. It was stupid to think about.

Against the window of Adam's new bedroom, there was a knocking. It was closed even if it was cracked, and there was a black raven looking in at where he was curled up in the bed. She made one distinct caw, fully expecting to be allowed in.

The raven was a surprise, but considering the rest of Adam's day, this wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened to him. Adam blinked at it, getting to his feet and opening the window to let it in.

"Hey, Charlotte," he said, assuming that the black cat and the black raven and the foul-mouth ghost were the same, because that was what made sense with the information that he had. "Got lonely without me already?"

Chainsaw fluttered into the room and did a runaround. It'd been a long time since she'd been in this room. After deciding that everything was kosher and that there were no mice to kill, she flew back to Adam and settled on his shoulder.

Cocking her head, she looked at him, but said nothing but, "Kraa?" Puffing up her feathers, she looked around the room again, and then back at Adam.

Adam watched, perplexed, as the large black bird made a thorough inspection of his room. He felt as though he might be getting graded on the condition of it.

His grade, evidently, was "kraa", though he didn't know how to translate that. He winced as the large bird landed on his shoulder, recoiling only slightly. "Whoa! Hey."

He took a deep breath, because invited cat on his shoulder was one thing. Uninvited carrion bird was slightly more unnerving. "Okay. Whoa. Shit. Are you... are you not Charlotte? What the hell?"

The bird clicked her beak in agreement. She was no Charlotte. Charlotte was upstairs being annoying and stubborn, refusing to admit that he wanted the company of this boy. Which meant that he would be up all night. Which meant that she would be up all night. No thanks.

She looked toward the attic stairs. The door was open, showing the stairs as they went up, just as Ronan had left it when he'd fled.

Looking at Adam, she went back and forth between that doorway and peering at Adam. Curiously she asked, "Kraa?"

Adam's breath caught as he realized the door at the end of the hall was open. It led to a stairway. An attic. He hadn't noticed earlier, too busy feeling sorry for himself.

"You really aren't Charlotte, are you?" he murmured, feeling like the bird was his conspirator somehow.

It occurred to him, briefly, that if the monsters in his house were conspiring to kill him, this would be the murder attic.

But he wanted to know more about that cat. He wanted to convince that cat that petting and cuddling was definitely a thing that they could do.

Adam tentatively reached up and stroked the feather's on the bird's chest with one finger. "All right. Let's go."

Taking another deep breath, Adam walked quietly up the stairs.

The bird was quiet as well. She only ruffled her feathers and used her wing to cover her beak while looking at Adam—a very striking similarity to someone using a finger to say shh—once they reached the top of the stairs and stood before the second door. The second door, which was locked.

Once she was convinced that Adam would stay quiet, she began to make distressed noises. A mix of caws and kraas and kerahs that sounded both alarmed and pained, though the bird herself was perfectly fine.

There was thumping from inside the room, like someone had gotten up suddenly.

"Chainsaw, where are—"

The door opened quickly. The thing that opened the door, however, was not a cat. Nor a ghost. It was a young man, taller than Adam with a well muscled frame, if a bit gangly. Angled features, pale skin, he'd fashioned himself after his father the dreamer, who had been a handsome man when he was alive. He wore only jeans, as he was shirtless and barefoot, with the dark lines of tattoo coming just over his shoulders and upper arms.

If there was any question about whether or not the young man was Charlotte, his eyes were a dead giveaway. They were the same as the cat's, just as blue and intense.

His expression went from alarmed to surprised, to shocked, to irritated all in a matter of fifteen seconds.

"Kraa," the bird said, sounding entirely pleased.

"Traitor," Ronan said, eyes narrowing at the bird perched on Adam's shoulder.

Adam's eyes went wide, lips parting in surprise. His heart stuttered briefly, as the door was yanked open by a devastatingly handsome young man.

He looked ferocious, somehow, and alien, but also undeniably hot. Adorable cat was nice. Gorgeous young man, about his age, was a huge improvement. Especially because this was the version that he hadn't meant to show to Adam.

"Chainsaw, huh?" he said, reaching up to stroke the bird's feathers again. "I think your bird wants us to be friends."

Chainsaw looked even more pleased with herself, and pleased to have her feathers stroked. There was a small flare of jealousy in Ronan's chest as he watched those beautiful hands touch Chainsaw. What's more, she knew he would be jealous, which made her smugness all the more annoying.

"Kerahhhh," she coaxed, and Ronan's eyes flashed. Whatever he was going to say he bit back; Chainsaw was all he had. Even if she was a traitor.

And, she had put him in a predicament. He had never intended Adam to see this form. The fuck was he supposed to do with this?

First, he stepped out onto the small landing and closed the door behind him. Adam definitely didn't need to see his nest, nor the things he had hoarded in there.

"She's being nosy," he accused, staring Adam dead in the eyes.

Adam stepped back as Charlotte stepped onto the landing with him. It was crowded, and dimly lit, and Adam was pretty sure that the only times he'd ever been this close to a guy this attractive had ended up with him getting punched. Chainsaw on his shoulder only made the space all the more crowded, though Adam was careful not to dislodge her.

"Yeah, I, uh, got that. Smart bird," he said, not backing down. He held Charlotte's eyes, though his shoulders had hunched and his jaw was tense, trying to make himself less aggressive and half anticipating an attack. "Hi, Charlotte."

A visible crease formed between his eyebrows when Adam called him Charlotte.

"My name," he said, slowly, "is Ronan."

No point in hiding his goddamn name now that the beautiful boy had seen his face. It was so like his father's face, he was compelled to admit the name his father had given him. There were not many things he had left from Niall Lynch. Only dreams, a name, rosary beads, and some old faded memories.

Chainsaw clicked her beak, happy to hear him say his name.

Surprise flickered over Adam's face that the ill-tempered young man who lived in his attic had deigned to offer his name after all. "Ronan," he said, liking the way the name sounded in his mouth. It was a surprisingly ordinary name, for a shapeshifting prince like this one, but it suited him very well.

"Nice to meet you." He pressed a little more firmly back against the wall of the landing, still half convinced he was about to be hit. Or worse. "Can I just ask if you're planning to eat me?"

Ronan studied Adam. Now that he was closer to a height he was comfortable with, it was easier. Just as pretty as he'd thought, before.

At the question, Ronan offered a jackal's smile.

"I haven't decided yet."

And he began to head down the stairs, running his hand along the wall as he went. It was comforting, somehow, the texture of wallpaper as it flaked. If he was going to be forced by his bird to socialize, he wasn't going to do it in front of his room.

"Cook me something."

Adam smirked a little in reply. That smile set him at ease. It was an empty threat. Adam had become an expert at spotting which boys were bullies and which ones weren't. The loners with tattoos and dark clothing, in his experience, who carried themselves like a bared knife, weren't half as dangerous as the well-dressed young men with greedy eyes and entitled smiles.

And neither was as dangerous as pale men with red faces and a heart full of inadequacy.

He followed Ronan down the stairs to the kitchen, not asking any further questions. He slid the half-cooked eggs back into the pan and turned the heat back on, putting a couple of slices of toast in the toaster. He added a few more eggs for good measure, now that he was feeding two hungry young men rather than a single cat.

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