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

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ronan was quiet in contemplation. Greerish always had said his family wasn't the best, that his nephew was the only good part. Ronan hadn't believed the old man... but hearing that made him reconsider.

Adam clearly didn't want to talk about it so he didn't press. It didn't matter. If his father ever tried to show up here, Ronan would get him out.

And, that thought made him wonder just when he'd accepted Adam living with him. When he decided he'd be willing to protect him.

It was a thought that made him uncomfortable. So he stuffed his cat face into the food instead, tail swishing in delight at something hot. Ronan knew how to cook, sure, but he didn't often bother.

Chainsaw helped herself as well, giving a kraa of approval.

Adam was perfectly happy to eat in silence, with Chainsaw the most conversational of the three of them. He hated small talk. It struck him as fake, and purposeless. People used it to hide the truth.

How are you? Fine.
i'm not i'm not fine i'm falling apart inside exhausted i'm scared so scared

He'd planned to spend his whole life making small talk. Business, politics, it didn't matter, as long as it offered him money and got him out of Henrietta. And now, for the first time, he had another option.

He'd put his other plans on hold. Taken a gap year. The time he'd spent with Gansey and Blue had made him start to wonder. Did he really want to be in politics, or had it always just been the way out of his life? What was he, if he was free of that life and didn't have to work three jobs just to eat?

Adam wasn't sure. His plan was to spend two weeks sleeping. And then, well-rested for the first time in his memory, he'd decide.

Edited 2016-11-03 22:45 (UTC)

Ronan ate until the plate was clean, and then stretched out, sticking his paws straight out and aching his back. Having a belly full of warm food was always satisfying. Thanks to that, he was feeling less prickly and content.

He hopped off the table and walked around. Chainsaw watched him, cocking her head as he stepped away into the dining room and came back as a human, zipping and buttoning his jeans.

"I'm gonna go out," he announced, glancing toward the back door.

"Okay," Adam said, eyes flicking over Ronan's chest and the hints he could see of his tattoo. He'd only gotten a glimpse of it, and wanted to be able to really study it. He wanted to run his fingers over the lines and...

His attention was straying.

"I'll be here," he said, watching as Ronan left and then looking around for what he wanted to clean. He didn't want to clean. Feeling exhausted from the long, weird day, he put away the remaining lemon bars and went upstairs, curling up in the bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

Ronan returned a few hours later. He'd needed to run, to be outside, where there wasn't an utterly distracting beautiful boy. He'd found the swath of trees and plucked fruit. Found berries and collected them. By the time he returned to the house it was late.

In a basket, he left what he'd collected for Adam. He hadn't thanked the boy for the food and he didn't plan to; at least, not verbally. There were pears, peaches, plums, persimmon, and strawberries. They filled the basket, colorfully, and Ronan left it on the counter for Adam to find in the morning.

Then he went upstairs. When he caught sight of Adam sleeping, Ronan's breath caught in his throat. Stepping silently so as not to wake the sleeping beauty, Ronan watched his face. His gentle breathing. Carefully, Ronan used the back of his hand to brush some stray hair away from Adam's face. Caressed along the side of his face with his finger.

What was he doing? He didn't know.

Pulling away, he retreated upstairs and locked both doors, sinking into the comfort of his blankets.

And he dreamed.

When Adam came downstairs in the morning, yawning, he saw the basket of fruit and stared. It was stunning.

Adam hadn't often been able to afford fruit. Apples were cheap, and he'd relied upon them for years, but other fruits were expensive.

Awed, he took a strawberry, nibbling on it slowly to savor it as he started making coffee. While the coffee brewed, he sat at the table, eating fruit. He ate each kind one at a time, nibbling carefully at the fruit to make it last as long as possible. He made a little tiny pile of pits and stems, eating all of each fruit that he possibly could. Even the pears, he ate the entire core, leaving only the stem and a tiny pile of seeds.

When he woke, it was... not upset, as it usually was. His dreams had been dreams. Not nightmares. There had been something new, too—Adam. Ronan had never dreamed about Greerish. But Adam... he had been there, though that had been toward the end, when he was beginning to lose the dream.

The smell of coffee greeted him when he woke. Faint, but he had an excellent sense of smell, and he had long gotten used to the dust and decay of his home.

He wanted to go to Adam. He felt like an idiot. It was a war between his heart and his head, and so far, his heart was winning. Which, he knew, he would regret. Adam would leave once he knew Ronan's true self. That he was a nightmare.

Ronan went downstairs anyway.

"Coffee," he grunted, as though that was the only reason why he deigned to give Adam his presence.

Adam pointed to the coffee maker, not bothering to get up or leave the fruit. He ate like he was in a trance, licking his fingers of the pear and then reaching for a plum.

"Thank you for the fruit," he said, dark eyes lingering on Adam. His expression was inscrutable, though his reverence for the fruit was clear. He ate fruit after fruit with the same worshipful fascination, only pausing once to get himself some coffee and then magnetizing back to the fruit.

Ronan helped himself to a cup of coffee. It smelled heavenly, and once his cup was full, he turned and leaned against the counter. Pressing the mug to his lips, he watched Adam over the rim. It was like he was in some kind of trance.

At the thanks he shrugged, glancing away. It felt weird to be thanked for something so small. Or thanked for anything at all, really.

"Yeah, well. You like it?"

Adam nodded. "It's nice."

Finally full, he licked his fingers and hugged his knees to his chest, attention shifting to Ronan now that his hunger for the fruit was satiated.

"Sleep well?" he asked, and then frowned, perplexed. Did vampires sleep? Was there a coffin in the attic? The vampire theory remained unlikely, but it was the best that he had. "Do you sleep? Whatever you are?"

Ronan laughed suddenly, grinning a wide, boyish grin at Adam.

"What the fuck? Of course I sleep. Is there anything alive that doesn't?" Then again, he supposed, Adam had no idea what he was. But he still had a heartbeat and a pulse.

"Yeah, it was fine, I guess."

Shrugging, he took a sip of coffee and Chainsaw glided into the kitchen from the hall, cawing and landing on the back of a free chair.

"Even monsters have to sleep."

He stepped toward the window again, looking out at the yard.

Adam's heart stuttered at that laugh and that grin. It made sharp-edged, sharp-tempered Ronan into another creature entirely. Something beautiful and wild.

"Plants don't sleep," Adam said, because he had asked. "Jellyfish don't either, because they don't have brains."

He offered a strawberry to Chainsaw, already fond of her. "I don't know. You're an apparently immortal shapeshifter of some kind. How am I supposed to know what's normal for you?"

"You wouldn't," Ronan agreed, still looking out the window. There were a few birds picking at things in the grass and the sun was just above the trees, making the leaves sparkle.

Pressing the mug to his lips again, he took a few more sips of coffee. Ronan didn't care for idle chatter either. He didn't ask how Adam had slept, because he had watched Adam sleep, for some time. It had seemed restful.

"What are you planning to do here?" he finally asked, turning his gaze back on Adam. "So you're going to clean it up. That's what you want. What then? You gonna sell? She'd want to buy it, you know. The woman who came yesterday."

"No," Adam said, aghast at the suggestion. "It's mine. It's..." He frowned, scowling down at the uneven floor. "It's the only thing of any significance I've ever owned," he explained. "I don't know if that makes sense to you. I don't know if it means anything to you. But it's mine. I'm not letting go of something that belongs to me. I'm going to fix it, and make it beautiful, and then it's going to be even more mine, because it's going to be filled with my memories, and my sweat and blood and time and love."

His jaw tensed, eyes alight with determination.

"Besides," he said, holding up his arm to serve as a perch for Chainsaw, by way of invitation. When he looked up, he looked at her, not at Ronan. "It's clear that I'm not the only one that this house belongs to. It's not just mine to sell."

Chainsaw opened her wings and flew to Adam's arm. Perching, she made a few kraas of approval with Adam's answer. Ronan's face remained largely impassive.

"That's what you say now," he said, "but what happens when they offer you a huge chunk of cash? You could move anywhere. Own anything. Nobody out there cares about what a monster wants. Why do you?"

It didn't make sense to him. The house was a mess. Adam hadn't even discovered the clusterfuck the basement was. Greerish kept most of his old things down there. Trunks of letters, books, clothes, knickknacks... and then there was the one trunk of things Ronan's father left. Ronan hadn't even tried to open that. Too painful.

"You don't get it," Adam said. There wasn't any point in arguing further, if Ronan didn't get it.

He kissed Chainsaw's beak, and then stroked her feathers fondly. It was wonderful to have an animal companion like this. Two, sort of, when Ronan was being a cat. "She's smart. I know crows are smart--ravens?--but she's... really smart. Is she magic, kind of like you are?"

He didn't. He understood holding into something of importance—but he couldn't see why this house was important, when Adam had just gotten here. Most people would be enticed by a huge amount of money. Dreams could be fulfilled. He wouldn't have to stay in backwater Virginia.

Ronan wrinkled his nose but didn't press the issue. What really mattered were Adam's actions. She'd come back waving around her fat wallet, toting her checkbook. They'd see then.

"Raven," he confirmed, and she clicked her beak in agreement. "Ravens are smart." He avoided explaining if she was magic or not, because that was complicated. "I raised her since she was a baby. And now look at her. She's a traitor."

She made a soft kerahhh, coaxing him, but he turned his face.

Adam laughed at that, at how Ronan pretended to be more mad than he was with the raven.

"Kerahhh," Adam echoed, more playfully. His eyes lingered on Ronan for a moment with a smile, and then his attention flicked back to Chainsaw. "He called you a traitor," Adam told Chainsaw. "You gonna just take that?"

Jerking his chin toward Ronan, Adam lifted his arm quickly to help her take off, encouraging the bird to go to him.

Taking the hint, she flapped, gliding over to Ronan to grab onto his shoulder.

He turned his face toward her when she landed on him, and she rubbed her beak against his cheek, feathers fluffing and eyes closed. It made him smile. A soft, genuine thing without barbs, and he nodded his chin up to plant a kiss on her beak. She clicked and made a noise of pleasure.

"Fine," he said. "I guess I can't stay mad at you."

Turning her head, she winked at Adam and then pushed off Ronan's shoulder, off in pursuit of mice in the backyard.

He went to the sink to wash his mug now that he'd had all the coffee. This morning he was wearing a tank top so Adam wasn't afforded a full view of his tattoo, but the inked feathers and knots were visible on the parts of skin that the tank top didn't cover.

"She winked at me," Adam argued, pleased that Ronan was demonstrating the ability to wash his own dishes. He got to his feet, bringing his own mug over. "Ravens are not naturally that smart."

Setting his mug in the sink, Adam leaned his elbows on the counter, looking up at Ronan. "Will you help me?" he asked, as a gesture of alliance. "You should have input on any improvements I make to the house, and I'd appreciate your judgement."

The idea of cleaning up the house and actually making it livable again still unsettled him a great deal. As he scrubbed his mug clean, he didn't look up at Adam, simply took his mug and began to clean that one as well.

"I don't want anything to do with it," he said, grabbing something to dry the mugs with and stepping away to shove them back into the cabinet. "Do whatever you want. Just ... leave the attic alone."

Adam wasn't going to leave. Not unless he was pushed, and Ronan didn't want to hurt him. It was better if he never saw the nightmare that Ronan really was.

"Okay," Adam said, and left him alone.

He went and got a broom, starting to sweep out the years of dust and leaves and detritus accumulated in the corners of the house. Diligently focused on his task, he glanced occasionally in the direction that he'd last seen Ronan. He felt lonely without his housemate glowering in the corner of the room.

This was definitely a crush. There was no denying that. Ronan's human form was gorgeous, and Adam was finding that he definitely had a thing for tall, dark, and broody.

This, especially, was interesting to him. He knew that, contrary to expectations, quirky young women were not actually his type. He knew that he had a bit of a thing for confident and charismatic leader-types, but he knew just as clearly that he didn't actually want to date a Gansey.

Tall, dark, and broody was a new option. A very interesting option, though he didn't actually know if monsters were into young men. For all he knew, Ronan's natural form was cat and his type was other cats.

Ronan, for his part, found himself to be very into young men. He'd always known that he'd been attracted to them; pictures, books, even the occasional handsome young man that would come to help Greerish fix something had piqued his interest. Women simply did nothing for him.

More and more, he was finding himself particularly distracted by Adam. He would be sitting in a corner and glowering if he didn't think he might say something stupid, so he had went out to the yard to otherwise keep himself entertained. Adam was dangerously attractive. If he was going to be near him, he needed Chainsaw to be near, so that she could stop him from getting too... weird.

But Chainsaw was off hunting.

Petering around the weeds, he found the spot where his mother used to grow vegetables. There were a few tomatoes growing; those always came back. Otherwise, there wasn't much. Having nothing else to do and not wanting to be in the house, he began to clear out the spot after years of neglect. Cleaning some of the yard wasn't the same as cleaning the house. Ronan didn't sleep in the yard.

It didn't take him long to clear the strip that was used for growing vegetables. They'd need some fresh mulch and soil and some fresh seeds, but they could...

He stopped himself. They? Face coloring red, he stared blankly into the bed of dirt. There was no they.

Ronan rubbed his hands on his tank top without thinking. Then, he headed back into the kitchen, stripping it off since he'd gone and dirtied it like an idiot. Folding it in his hands, he stared out the window again, not quite knowing what to do with... whatever he was feeling. Whatever it was, it was like an oil spill. The few drops had spread and he could feel himself dangerously close to dropping a match into the whole thing.

Adam's breath hitched audibly as he stepped into the kitchen and encountered Ronan, dirt-streaked and sweaty, with that incredible tattoo sprawling over his back. He could see most of the details now. Some sort of monstrous creature, all feathers and claws, knots and thorns. It was enthralling. Frightening, like the good kind of nightmare. Like the kind of foreign horror films that were as beautiful as they were chilling.

Mouth half-open, he stared, brain stalling at the sight. Handsome young man in his kitchen, shirtless. Adam added "sweaty from manual labor" to his list of things he was definitely into.

He had a type, and it was Ronan.

Edited 2016-11-04 03:39 (UTC)

Ronan didn't register Adam's presence right away. He was too busy staring out the window, trying to sort out his feelings, lost in wondering just what the hell was happening to him. Never before had he experienced anything close. It was confusing. Alarming.

Absentmindedly, he used the tank top to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Then he turned, ready to head upstairs to clean off, when he saw Adam staring at him. He looked startled, confused, and then grumpy.

"What?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject