marlowemuses | The One Secret I Never Told You

Entry tags:

The One Secret I Never Told You

Ronan was coming home.

He'd sent ahead, Adam supposed. Letter or telegram. And he'd said... what? Adam had no idea. No one had even bothered to tell him. He'd overheard some of the other servants discussing preparations.

That stung, though it shouldn't. He'd always known that their childhood friendship was temporary. Illusory. He'd been a bauble to Ronan, a friendship that came easily and could be cheaply kept.

And when Ronan had been old enough, he'd left. That made sense, too. His father's death, the upheaval of his life, the culmination of the conflict between Ronan and Declan.

What hurt was that he hadn't needed Adam anymore.

Squeaks and whispers preceded the general bustle of servants toward the main hall. Adam stayed out of the way, stealing toward an upper window to catch a glimpse. He wouldn't be missed among the larger array of servants. He was only an under-footman, after all.

Hidden behind a lace curtain, Adam peeked out to watch as Ronan descended from the coach. He'd grown. Taller than Adam remembered. His charming black curls were gone, shorn to a short bristle. The man he'd become was someone handsome and commanding, drawing attention like a thunderstorm.

Adam's heart thudded, then clenched.

Oh.

He'd hoped, all those years, that ignoring his childhood crush would make it go away. That Ronan's distance would make Adam forget him, so that he could focus once and for all on his career. His career, which was the only thing that mattered. The only thing he had left.

Seeing Ronan brought it all back, with more intensity than ever.

Adam was in love with him. And always had been.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Thank you, sir," Adam said, taking it as a dismissal. He headed for the door, then paused, glancing back. His eye flicked again over that tattoo, those broad shoulders, the powerful muscles. The art was beautiful, and so heartbreakingly Ronan.

"I like your tattoo," he said, quietly, and then slipped out the door to escape.

He'd been given the evening off. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Instead, he spent some time attending to Ronan's needs, ensuring that he would have everything he needed. He ordered a large meal to be sent up, laying it out and taking a little for himself where the loss wouldn't be noticed. Leaving it for Ronan, Adam slipped off his boots and curled up on the bed with a book. His eyelids were heavy, but he didn't want to risk sleeping if Ronan still needed anything.

Ronan watched as Adam left. I like your tattoo. Those words lingered when he eased himself into the bath and scrubbed himself down. No one else had said they liked it. And Declan... his brother still didn't know. That was going to be an eruption. Ronan looked forward to it.

He took his time scrubbing himself down and thinking about Adam, about his homecoming, how everything seemed to have a bitter tinge. His childhood home was ruined by Declan. Adam... he'd was browbeaten. The only bit of magic left was in the barn. The barn, and one other place.

Once he was finished he dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He didn't say anything when he found dinner waiting, just a short nod, not surprised that Adam had done so. But he only ate half, leaving the other half for Adam to have, since he doubted Adam had been given a decent dinner in a long while.

Dressing in black on black, a tight fitting shirt and pants, Ronan stuck his hands into his pockets. "I'll be going out," he said simply, looking out the window as he spoke. It was night. Not that such things mattered to him.

Ronan looked breathtaking in his dark clothing. Like a shadow. A dragon. A blade. A viper.

Dressing up like that, Ronan would most likely be going out to find... companionship, Adam supposed. The thought hurt, though he knew that it was part of Ronan's birthright to enjoy the company of the young and beautiful, to marry a doting wife and have a string of mistresses. Like Declan.

"I understand," Adam said, heart aching. He kept his eyes averted, feeling abandoned even though he should have gotten used to the feeling of being left behind by Ronan. "Have a pleasant evening, sir."

"I won't," he promised, gaze lingering on Adam a bit longer. For a moment he considered asking his old friend to come with him—but Ronan was planning on being irresponsible, and didn't want Adam to get into trouble.

He would not have a pleasant evening. Upon arrival, it was only fitting for him to visit his father's grave. It was the only other bit of magic left.

Finally looking away, Ronan slid down the ladder and left the barn, stepping out into the crisp autumn night air. It was a bit of a walk to where the chapel and the family crypt was. On the outskirts of their land, with the chapel the topside, and the crypt of the Lynch family beneath. The estate had been in their family for generations, though Ronan had rarely heard much about his forefathers. Dreamers, inventors. Magical people, like his father.

He prayed at the cross. Sat in one of the pews and stared at the little stained glass windows. It was obvious that Declan hadn't kept the place up. Asshole. Pulling a flash out of his pocket, Ronan took swig after swig until he felt lightheaded. Then, he stumbled down the stone stairs of the crypt, hand against the wall to keep from falling. He took more swigs as he went. It was potent brandy, tasted like shit, but it hit him hard. Eyes glassy, he sat at the base of his father's stone, draining the flash of its contents—and then pulling out another one. Two flasks were better than one.

Ronan fell asleep there, cold and miserable, hating every second he was near his brother and their splintered family. Time didn't make it better, but alcohol did.

He did not return to the barn, not even when the sun cracked against the horizon. The cold was numbing and so was the booze.

"Sir?" Adam asked when Ronan said that. He wanted to protect Ronan from whatever unpleasant evening he had in mind.

When Ronan had gone, Adam curled up alone in his little bed, hoping to get some sleep. He was exhaustion, but worry and his fixation upon Ronan kept his mind whirling. Sleep was impossible.

He dozed restlessly for hours, worry increasing when Ronan didn't come home. Companionship was all well and good, he told himself, but it was unlikely that Ronan would spend the night with his... companion. And what had he meant when he had said he wouldn't have a pleasant night?

By dawn, Adam was out of his mind with worry. Ronan had gone out alone. What if he'd been hurt? Mugged? Stabbed?

He paced the loft, distraught. Where could Ronan be? Where else would he spend the night? With Gansey, maybe? But why... why say he wouldn't have a pleasant night? What had he intended to do? What had he done?

Worry tearing him apart, Adam tore at his hair. He'd let this happen. He'd let Ronan go out alone and he was hurt somewhere. Or he was simply being absurd and Ronan was fine. Ronan would come home any moment and want to know why his valet was useless with exhaustion.

Mid-morning, he finally thought of a possibility. Ronan had adored his father, and Ronan had always been deeply religious. He would have wanted to visit the crypt. He might still be there, or at least have stopped there on his way home.

It was a glimmer of hope, better than fretting endlessly. Adam seized his tattered coat, jumping down the ladder and hurrying out across the grounds to the old crypt.

He peeped into the chapel but saw nothing. Feeling like an intruder, he took a deep breath, then let himself down into the crypt, finding Ronan fast asleep with a pair of empty flasks on the floor near him.

Relief, dread, anger, and pain flashed through Adam. Hurrying to Ronan's side, he knelt by him, clasping Ronan's cheeks. His beloved--his employer--was cool, but not cold. There was still warmth in his skin, and his breath still stirred the air in shallow puffs. "Ronan," Adam said, beseeching and reprimanding, praying that his friend would awake. "Ronan."

Dreaming was easier in the crypt. He dreamed of his father, handsome Niall Lynch, all grins and mischief. Ronan had been his favorite, as Niall had been Ronan's favorite. In the dream Niall had been hugging Ronan, saying something that Ronan couldn't understand. It seemed important. Then Niall laughed and scrubbed at his son's head, through hair that was still thick and curled.

Then he heard his name. Once, twice. At first he thought it was his dad. Reprimanding, then worried. What did he do? What did he fuck up this time?

Slowly, Ronan opened his eyes. It wasn't Niall Lynch over him.

"Adam...?" he croaked, throat parched from too much booze and no water. Squinting, wearily, a little hung over and aching from sleeping on a cold stone floor.

"You look worried," he said, blankly, as though he couldn't quite fathom why.

Adam sighed, because he was worried, but he didn't want to upset Ronan. He just wanted to make sure Ronan was safe and warm. "It doesn't matter. Come on, I'll help get you back to the Barns."

Getting a shoulder under Ronan's, Adam tried to help Ronan to his feet, hoping desperately that he would cooperate.

Hungover and nearly freezing himself to death in a crypt. Adam wanted to yell at him, but he no longer had that luxury. As long as he could protect and care for Ronan, he'd be happy. He kept his face composed, trying his best to hide his worry and exhaustion. Only Ronan mattered. Adam's discomfort was immaterial. Everyone had always agreed on that. Everyone except, sometimes, Ronan. When he noticed.

"It does matter," he said, frowning, swatting away Adam's hands. Again, again Adam was stifling himself. They were in the goddamn crypt, totally alone, and he still couldn't drop the formalities?

"I'm not going. Tell me what you've been thinking. You're pissed I left, right? You probably fucking hate me. Now you had to drag your ass outta bed because I got drunk with some ghosts."

He dropped back onto the floor, exhaling sharply, body aching more than it had before. Shit, he'd slept in some awful places before, but stone was unforgiving.

"Until you talk openly I'm not going anywhere. And if you don't? Guess I'll just die here. Doesn't matter if I do or don't." If Adam hated him, which he very well should, Ronan needed to know. He couldn't bullshit like this forever.

"Ronan," Adam snapped, irritated. Ronan had just demanded that he let loose his temper, fine. He would. "I want you warm, I want you safe, I want you well-fed and well-rested. I'm not here because Declan sent me. I'm here, right here, because you didn't tell me where you were going, you didn't come back all night, and you left me sick and sleepless with worry that you were dead in an alley somewhere. Or, more likely, warm and sated in somebody's bed. But I didn't fucking know. What I'm thinking is that you're a selfish asshole and that if you die, I'll be alone forever. I'll be here forever. Because you left me. Again. Permanently."

Upset and shaking, Adam turned his back and hugged himself. He bit down hard on his lower lip, knowing that he shouldn't have said any of it, knowing that he hadn't said half of what Ronan had asked for.

Ronan smiled. It was a tired smile, yet genuine, a slight upturn of his thin lips.

"You finally got mad at me," he said, leaning back against a headstone and looking up at the other man. "You're right. I am selfish. And an asshole." He thought about the rest of what Adam said. "But I won't really die. Not while you still need me." Once Adam Parrish moved on... then he'd probably just waste away. Drink himself into an early grave—hah. With about as much finesse as he'd attempted last night.

Then, he wrinkled his nose, the rest of what Adam said catching up. "Wait, what? Fuck no. It'd be more likely that I'd be beaten up in a alleyway than someone's bed. That won't ever happen. Not when..."

He frowned once more, finally looking away from Adam's back. "Anyway. That all you wanna say? Get it out."

"That's all I want to say," Adam confirmed, reassured by Ronan's insistance that he wasn't going to be in anyone's bed. He hadn't said why, and Adam didn't dare ask, but he was glad to know it. "Now I want you to get up, drink some water, eat something, and warm up."

Shutting himself off again, Adam turned, expression blank as he held out his hand. "I'll help you inside, if you'll let me." His jaw clenched, still angry and bitter despite his resolve. "Sir," he added, just to prick Ronan's temper.

"Now you're just being a smartass," he accused, reaching up a cold hand to slip into Adam's.

Standing wasn't easy. He wobbled, had to take a minute to find his footing before he was able to keep upright. Ronan wasn't prone to illness, thankfully, outside of the hangover, so he wasn't too concerned.

"I want to say goodbye to dad first," he finally said, tone much more somber. "Last night was the anniversary of his death, you know. I don't think Declan gives a shit. Maybe he mourned in his own way. I dunno." It was hard to judge how Declan dealt with their father's murder. The elder Lynch brother had thrown himself into the family business; maybe that was his answer.

Reaching out, he pressed his palm against the tombstone. "It's been ...something, pops." Then he looked back at Adam and nodded, ready to go.

Adam kept a hand on Ronan's side, making sure that he really was going to stay upright.

When Ronan nodded, Adam's eyes lingered on the tombstone. Niall Lynch had meant a lot to Adam, since he'd allowed--sometimes even encouraged--his friendship with Ronan and had provided him with the only comforts and privileges that Adam had ever known. And yet he still felt like an intruder here. He was only a servant. His grief and loss didn't matter.

Letting go of Ronan, Adam stepped forward, placing his palm likewise against the stone and bending his head. "Thank you," he said, cheeks flushed as he turned away. Tense with embarrassment and fear that Ronan would be angry at him for the trespass, Adam headed for the entrance to the crypt.

On the contrary, Ronan was incredibly happy to see Adam step forward. Blue eyes sparkling in the shadows of the crypt, he watched, chest aching with memories. Even if his father hadn't always approved of his friendship with Adam... he had never denied it, and had even gone out of his way to set tutors and the like straight when they were surprised at Ronan's peer.

"Thank you," he said softly, stepping beside Adam and heading upstairs. Even if it was Adam's job. Even if Adam hated him. Ronan was still grateful for him, to him. He would never sleep with anyone else because he loved Adam. Sure, he had entertained Kavinsky, but in the end he knew it wasn't going to be them. Which Kavinsky had not taken well. Understandably, Ronan guessed, considering that the other man had gotten pretty intense.

Ronan was haunted by ghosts. Ghosts of dead fathers, ghosts of the boy he'd loved in his childhood.

Once back in the chapel he looked around again. "Can you get some of the maids to straighten this place up?" he asked, frowning at the layers of dust and muck that had built over the years. "I don't want it like this. It's sad."

Adam nodded. "I'll do what I can." Even if he had to scrub the entire thing himself. If it made Ronan happy, he would.

Glad that Ronan was coming with him, Adam headed back toward the Barns. He wavered once, stumbling on the muddy path. Normally exhausted, the night without sleep had left him shaky and sick. Hiding it as best he could, Adam straightened his spine and only let his eyes close for a moment to rest.

He'd need to call for tea. Breakfast of some sort. Physic, possibly, to settle Ronan's head and stomach after his night of drinking. If he could get Ronan to sleep or to bathe, he would. "How are you feeling?"

Even if he was hungover and slept badly, Ronan had slept. His mind wandered back to the things Adam had said. Adam had been worried. Adam thought he might have been mugged or stabbed—or warm in someone else's bed. What did that mean? The latter was more curious than the former. Yet Ronan couldn't ask; it felt too close to something, something that could break, and even if he knew there could never be anything—it was better to not know.

"I'm fine. Not the first time I've blacked out drunk somewhere," he said, then regretted it. Adam didn't need to know the extent of his fuckups. "You need to sleep. I'll be fine until you get some shut-eye." There would be no arguing with him on that one, his tone warned, though he knew it was still likely that Adam would argue with him anyway.

"It's still early enough." Once they reached the Barns Ronan pulled the door open, moving behind Adam so the other man could go up the ladder first.

Adam went automatically until he reached the bottom of the ladder and realized that something was wrong with this situation. He spun around to object, pressed close back against the ladder. "I ought to send for breakfast," he began, and then became acutely aware of his position. He'd spun too quickly, and Ronan was too close. Adam's mind stuttered. His eyes flicked to Ronan's lips, and then dropped away. "And... and tea," he finished, heart pounding with the knowledge of how close Ronan was to him.

They were close. Very close. But Ronan wasn't backing off. The space between them could be closed by half a step—or even less. So close that Ronan could feel the warmth exuding from the other man. A hearth, a place to call home, Ronan desperately wanted to wrap his arms around him and bury his face into his shoulder. But he couldn't do that.

He could, however, make sure Adam got some damn rest. "That can wait," he promised, reaching out and grabbing the side of the ladder. Doing so effectively trapped Adam against him.

"I'm tired. You'll tuck me in, won't you?"

He didn't dare argue. Not when they were so close. Not when he was too tired to restrain himself. Not when all he wanted was to taste the inside of Ronan's mouth.

"Yes, sir," Adam murmured, yielding because he feared what he might do if he allowed himself to be headstrong.

Turning, he started to climb the ladder, struggling to focus on each rung while his awareness was entranced by Ronan's nearness, his warmth, his strength, his breath and heartbeat, the rustle of his clothing.

Adam crawled over the top of the ladder, moving out of the way and taking an extra moment on his knees while his head spun with exhaustion.

There was a huge benefit to climbing up the ladder behind Adam. Ronan was afforded a fantastic view of the other man's ass the entire way up; it was the most he was ever going to get, he figured, as it seemed like his heart was stuck on Adam. There would be no one else. He was already planning on adopting twelve cats as comfort in his old age (one, of course, his favorite, would be named Adam Purrish).

Ronan eased over the top of the ladder, deftly landing on the flats of his feet despite also being quite tired. His concern for Adam and his wellbeing superseded his own pains. Glancing over to Adam's little bed, he frowned. It was fine, he guessed, but Adam was exhausted.

"C'mon," he said, wrapping his arms around Adam's waist gently to lead him to the master bed. If he had known Adam would worry so much... he wouldn't have gone out. Or he would have asked Adam to come with. To have someone worry so much—Ronan didn't know what to do with that.

Grunting, he tossed Adam onto the bed. "No complaints. You can't do your job if you're exhausted, right?"

Adam was thoroughly distracted by the arms around his waist. Ronan was so close, and he was warm. Adam wanted to hook his arms around Ronan's neck and hug him close.

He went, obediently, until he hit the bed. Ronan's bed.

"Ronan," he argued, plaintive, like when they were children and Ronan was trying to coax him into some mischief. He struggled to sit up. "I'll get in trouble."

Ronan dropped onto the bed beside Adam, strapping his arm across the other man's waist so that he couldn't get up.

"You won't," he said, confident in the privacy of the loft. There was only one way in, and the doors of the barn were not quiet. Then one had to climb the entire ladder in order to even get a good look.

Even more than that, he was willing to protect Adam. If he had to take blame, had to fight, he would. It was the least he could do after leaving him; even if Ronan hadn't been thinking clearly when he left, the sting of guilt was strong.

"Close your eyes. Get some rest."

Adam made a soft sigh as Ronan hugged close to him. He couldn't argue against this. Shifting in Ronan's arms, he kicked off his shoes, nestling back into Ronan's arms and spooning with him the way they had when they were children. He felt safe, safer than he had in years.

"I missed you," Adam murmured, sliding quickly down into sleep, breath evening out as he trusted himself to Ronan's protection.

The utterance of those sacred words had Ronan gripping Adam tighter. More like a lover and less like a friend. I missed you. No one else had said that to him. Even if they had, Ronan wouldn't have believed them. Declan hadn't missed him; Ronan was simply an annoyance, a smear on the family name. Almost all the old maids and servants were gone, replaced by younger and more eager to please ladies that all doted on Declan. Mother still was in her coma, a vision of beauty even wasting away for years.

"I missed you too," he murmured, but only when he thought Adam was asleep. So close to the other man, Ronan couldn't truly rest. Dozing was fine. Sleep had never come easy to him, anyway. It was better to study the way Adam's eyelashes curved gently against his cheek, to feel his chest rise and fall with easy breaths.

How could he be so fucking stupid, leaving Adam here with Declan as head of the house? But what else could he have done? Ronan had plunged head first into a terrible life style. Drinking every night, brawls almost as much. Coming back to his room bloodied and angry, depressed, hating almost everything. And then his fooling around with Kavinsky, getting into even more trouble because the other man reeked of it. Stolen horses and so much more. Not that Ronan ever did such things, but Kavinsky loved to tell him about it while draping an arm across his shoulders, speaking right up against his ear.

They stayed that way for two hours. Anything more and the maids would surely report their obvious absence. No breakfast or tea by noon? Declan might consider Ronan that lazy and hedonistic, but he would surely blame Adam for not kicking him in the ass.

So, leaning over Adam, Ronan brushed his hair back from his face.

"Hey. Feeling better?"

Adam stirred, still deeply tired and yearning to stay right where he was. He mumbled incoherently in response, shifting against Ronan.

As he woke, realizing where he was, Adam blushed deeply, sitting up and watching Ronan shyly. He still felt dizzy with exhaustion, better but still dazed after the nap. "Thank you," he murmured, eyes averted. "That was... nice."

Getting to his feet, Adam hurriedly smoothed down his own wardrobe, then went to help Ronan dress in fresh clothing. "Shall we eat in the main house? There will be less delay. Or we can go out, if you prefer."

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