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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"Okay," Adam said, worried. It felt a bit like a rejection, how Ronan had brought it up and then refused to show him. He understood, logically, the reasons for both, but it still hurt, and it left him wondering.

How awful is it? What if he really is a monster and I can barely stand to look at him?

"Are we still..." Adam reached for him, tentatively, then stopped himself and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I still want you to be my boyfriend."

The corner of Ronan's mouth crooked upward a tick, and his expression softened.

"I'll be your boyfriend as long as you want me. I want you, Adam. That's not gonna change." Glancing toward the basement door, he studied the handle, suddenly thoughtful.

"There's something I want to do. Help me?"

Adam relaxed visibly, giving him a smile. "Yeah. Of course."

He gave Ronan a quick peck on the cheek, willing to trust him and happy to wait for as long as Ronan needed, as long as they were still together.

Curious, he followed Ronan down into the basement, looking around at all the piles of stuff. Most of it looked worthless to him, shittier even than the wobbly and moth-eaten furniture upstairs. "I guess my uncle never threw anything away. What is all of this?"

Ronan snorted.

"The old man couldn't be parted from anything of his. Just like someone else." He shot Adam a look before continuing to wade through the junk. "Most of it is garbage. Some of it you could probably sell or refurnish." There were old chairs with the stuffing popping out, tables, boxes of books, and even a violin with no strings.

The deeper in he lead, the more the things began to change. They were odder and older. Pieces thrown about, like someone had been breaking things on purpose.

Ronan stopped in front of a brown trunk. It was padlocked, but the odd thing was that it was completely smooth. There was no place for a key.

"My father was murdered in this house," he said flatly, "and this is all I have left of him."

"We'll do a yard sale," Adam said, poking at some of the junk. "Or turn it into firewood."

He grew quieter as they moved further into the basement, where he saw some of the devastation from what he assumed to be Ronan's temper.

So that was the murder that had been mentioned to him earlier. He reached out, winding his fingers together with Ronan's as they looked at the chest. Whatever Ronan needed, he was here.

"I don't know what's in there," he finally continued, reassured by Adam's fingers interlocking with his. "I think he left it for me to find once I was old enough, I've never opened it. Tried to once and couldn't figure it out. Never tried again after that."

Ronan pressed his lips together and then looked at Adam.

"I need you to help me open it."

"Okay," Adam said, pulling Ronan a step forward. He sat down in front of the chest, carefully running his fingertips over it. It was full of either secrets or an inheritance. Either way, Adam was achingly curious, and he wanted very much to help Ronan to find his heritage. "So what have you tried already?"

"Prying it open. Obviously didn't do shit." Moving into a squat beside Adam, Ronan watched as Adam ran his fingers over the front of the chest. "Looked for somewhere to stick a key. Don't even have a key, so that's stupid. Then I tried breaking the lock itself. No go. Then I gave up. Figured that I wasn't supposed to have whatever's in there."

Reaching out, Ronan rubbed his palm across the top of the trunk.

"What unlocks a lock that can't be unlocked?" His dad was clever. What was he expecting Ronan to figure out?

Adam smiled, glancing over and watching Ronan as he considered the lock. "I don't know. But once you decide, you can probably dream it."

His eyes were warm, trusting that Ronan was more than capable of opening the chest. Whether it had been his father's or whether it was meant for him, Adam was sure that Ronan would figure it out.

Ronan grunted, prodding it with an index finger unhappily. "He always dreamed impossible things," he said, tugging the lock and lifting it, giving it another thorough look. "He was good at it. Everyone wanted to buy the things he found." He dragged the word found, because Niall Lynch never found anything at all.

"I suck at it. I don't fucking know what I'm doing most of the time."

What would his father do? That was what he kept asking himself. Niall Lynch would have an answer to a keyless lock in an instant. Ronan kept chewing the fat.

"... Point of all this is," he said, "that ... I think I can show you my real face after I've gotten this open."

"Point of all this is that it's important to you," Adam said, pressing his shoulder against Ronan's. "It's all you have left of your father. Dream a key that will open a keyless lock. Although I don't know what that would look like."

Adam had never been a part of something like this. This was different from Gansey's adventures. Gansey had never really needed him. It didn't matter if it was him with Gansey, or Blue, or Henry. Which was why Gansey was off with them, and not Adam.

Ronan needed him.

Ronan did need Adam. And not only needed—he wanted Adam. Glancing between the other boy and the trunk, Ronan's eyes mainly lingered on him.

"Me neither," he said, wrinkles forming in his brow as he pursed his lips. "I can't dream it if I can't figure it out. I have to know what I want, what it'll do. That much I've figured out. Helps if I know its makeup, too, but sometimes I can get away with bullshitting it. You never used the vacuum, by the way."

Not that Ronan was all that focused on leaves.

"I'll think about it. I haven't tried to, in a long time."

"The leaves can wait," Adam said, shifting and leaning back to lounge across Ronan's lap. "Are we going back upstairs while you think about it or staying here in case you get any ideas?"

Laying across Ronan's lap made him feel wonderfully happy and safe. He closed his eyes for a moment, then tilted his head, reaching out to gently touch the lock. "It must be a dream thing. A lock with no key. If it was any other kind of puzzle, anyone could solve it. Only you and he can dream things like that. Whether it was his, or whether it was meant for you, it must be a dream thing."

"It has to be," Ronan agreed instantly. "He never would have used a normal padlock anyway." When Adam lounged across his lap, he put his hand to rest on top of the other boy's head.

"It won't open unless I dream something to open it. Or, maybe it follows some kind of dream rule. I dunno." Rolling his head to work out a kink in his neck, Ronan groaned, frustrated. "We can go upstairs while i think about it. Dusty and shit down here."

"All right." Adam got to his feet, reaching out a hand to pull Ronan to his feet.

Tugging him in close once he was on his feet, Adam smiled up at him, tilting his head and taking a soft kiss. He pulled back after it, watching Ronan's eyes with fond trust. "You'll figure it out, Ronan."

Kissing was still new, and the moment Adam's lips touched his he felt warm. He wanted to kiss Adam a thousand times and then a thousand times more. But he didn't trust himself. Not when it made him want to let go of the control he held over his form.

"If you say so," he muttered, glancing to the side as his face took on some color again. Having someone believe in him was new, too.

Grabbing Adam's hand, Ronan lead the way to the stairs. "Come on. Chainsaw's probably making a bigger mess out of those leaves."

When the arrived at the top of the stairs, Chainsaw was still sitting on the couch, waiting for them.

"Try the vacuum."

Adam nodded, giving Ronan's hand one last squeeze before he let go.

"Now, you be careful," he warned Chainsaw. "It's a magic vacuum. It could probably eat you. Stay clear."

There didn't seem to be any power cord, so he just turned it on, starting to vacuum up the leaves. It worked perfectly, just as promised, eating up leaves without ever needing to be emptied. "What if you did vacuum up something you didn't mean to?" Adam asked, curious about how the magic worked. "A ring, say. Or Chainsaw. Or does it just eat everything forever?"

"I didn't think about that. So, probably." Ronan was on the couch with Chainsaw now, holding her in his lap and stroking her feathers. She seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

"That's why I said that I'm shit at this. I didn't think about getting anything back, so I don't think you can. Try not to suck up Chainsaw." Chainsaw clicked her beak in agreement.

"Use it when you're doing heavy duty cleaning, I guess?"

"Or you," Adam said, making sure to be careful as he vacuumed up leaves. "Not that you'd fit. What would happen if you were consumed by something you dreamed? Would that create a dream-paradox?"

This were the questions Adam's brain asked. He didn't expect a serious answer, but Adam liked investigating how things worked. Cars, magic, houses. Boyfriends.

He worked diligently, getting all the leaves that he could safely vacuum up and leaving some of the detail work for later.

Ronan grinned. "Nah, it'd just really fucking suck. And you wouldn't have a boyfriend anymore—unless you were serious about picking up three more."

There were certainly things he dreamed that could consume him. Monsters. Terrors. Things that sometimes got out. Which was half the reason why he was afraid to actually sleep with Adam. If Adam got hurt...

Ronan really didn't even want to think about it.

Once the leaves were mostly gone he stood, looking out the front window at the setting sun. It'd been a long day.

"What're you gonna do when she comes back? You know that she's gonna come back."

Adam twitched, spooked. "My mom?"

He shook himself, ruffling his own hair. "Oh, you mean the real estate woman. I meant what I told her. If she persists, she'll be trespassing, and I will prosecute accordingly. Once she understands I'm serious, she'll stop. Or I'll take her to court over it, and I'll win."

Adam shrugged. This was his home. He wasn't selling. It didn't worry him too much.

Ronan didn't miss that twitch. It made him want to ask what Adam would do if his parents came back, but he didn't. Didn't want to bring Adam there again. Besides—he would protect Adam. If that meant getting into a scuff with his dad, then shit, he would. Bloody noses and bruises were nothing.

"Want to go for a walk?" He asked before even really thinking about it, just instinctively wanting to see Adam beneath a night sky, moonlight kissing his skin.

"Yes," Adam said, smile reappearing. His thoughts of his parents and the real estate agent melted away, replaced by pleasure at the thought of going for a walk with Ronan. He hadn't been sure that Ronan ever willingly left the premises, but a walk implied going further than the garden. "I'd like that."

He put the vacuum in the hall closet, getting a sweatshirt for himself and then returning to Ronan's side. He wound their fingers together, grinning with excitement for the simple pleasure of going for a walk with his boyfriend.

When Adam wound their fingers together Ronan tugged them up so he could press a few light kisses against Adam's knuckles. There was no end for the love he had of Adam's hands, his fingers. Though, he liked every part of Adam.

"Let's go." He gave Chainsaw a nod before heading out the back door into the yard, leading Adam past the old rusting fence and into the woods. It was dark, yet Ronan's eyes were like lights catching the faintest hint of moonlight even in shadow.

There was a trail. Walking slowly, Ronan swung their hands between them.

"This is all part of the property, technically."

Adam was magnetized by everything about Ronan. Those sweet kisses made his heart pound.

As they walked, he grinned to himself, stealing glances often over at Ronan. Everything about him was magical. He shone in the moonlight, eyes silver from reflected moonlight.

The trail made him curious, and he was very happy to explore his property, to find out how far it went. "This is nice."

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