marlowemuses | I told myself that I'd stopped thinking of you...

I told myself that I'd stopped thinking of you...

Wherever Adam Parrish went, no matter where his ambition took him or how hard he fought to get what he wanted, everyone he met seemed to immediately know that he was poor. Even now that he had his law degree and a position as a junior member of a law firm, in his second-hand suit with the stain on the elbow, clients and coworkers alike treated him like he was a second-class citizen.

Adam kept his head down and worked hard, pulling twice the hours of anyone else on the staff. Whenever the rest of them went out to two-hour lunches and came back smashed and laughing, Adam stayed, and worked, and excelled, and they still only ever gave him the cases that no one else wanted. He'd been a "junior" member for two years longer than any of the other junior attorneys, with their shining smiles and their complete lack of student debt. But he still had a job, and every day he was grateful to be out of Henrietta and away from the hell of his childhood. It was fine. It was his life, and one day, somehow, somehow, he would finally belong in it.

Or, at least, that was what he told himself, until the day that the Ganseys walked in through the doors of the law firm. The whole family, golden and laughing, with their impossibly easy companionship, and Adam almost didn't recognize them until he heard Gansey laugh.

Making a sharp right turn down a side hallway before they could see him, Adam ducked into the men's bathroom. It was the only place with proper walls in the gleaming glass and chrome office. The only place he could hide.

They were probably here on something mundane and glorious, seeking new legal representation--or had Adam always been working for their lawyers and he'd been so oblivious that he'd simply never seen their name on the list of clients on retainer?--to fix a minor legal loophole keeping them from some new golf course.

Adam's head spun, remembering and regretting everything about his friendship with Gansey, all the fights, and the last one most of all. He wished he could take back everything he'd said.

But he couldn't, and it wouldn't matter. Gansey's life was no doubt better without him in it. He was probably married by now. Maybe he'd even married Blue.

Adam had just resigned himself, yet again, to the fact that he was out of Gansey's life forever, when Richard Gansey III walked through the bathroom door. Caught standing in plain sight by the sinks, Adam froze, staring at Gansey and praying that his old friend wouldn't recognize him.

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He nods in confirmation. So many wasted years.

At Adam's suggestion though, he grins. "I did my fair bit of traveling during undergrad and my grad school years. I've settled into an associate professorship. When I'm eligible for sabbatical, I'll probably go back to Europe.

When asked about new friends though...

He shakes his head, smile turning wry.

"I'd been away a while. I'm friendly with a few people from undergrad, grad school, co-workers...but not at all like--" like what we had, like all of us together had, "--back then."

Adam knows what he means. He's painfully, awfully aware of what Gansey means. Gansey was always friendly with people. He was friends with most of the school and half the teachers at Aglionby. Everyone was friendly with Gansey.

But the awful thing was that Gansey was only himself, only Gansey rather than Richard, with his close circle of friends. And if Blue and Ronan were both busy with their own lives on a week-to-week basis, then Gansey had no one. He was only the veneer, and not the anxious, impossible, passionate scholar that Adam loved.

And it was Adam's fault.

"I'm sorry," he says, at last. Not for what he said, but because he hadn't known until this moment that Gansey had been alone. He'd never had the sense to imagine that Gansey wouldn't replace him.

"Don't," he replies immediately, to head off any kind of explanation or clarification if it was forthcoming. "You have nothing to apologize for." I put myself in this position. He's not even sure what Adam is apologizing for.

It had been lonely, even with classmates, yearmates, coworkers, acquaintances from abroad surrounding him. He ached for the chance to be himself and his visits with Ronan and Blue were too few and far between to alleviate restlessness.

I left you.

Gansey says don't, so he doesn't. He locks the apology away in his heart, just one more example of Adam's failings, that he left Gansey alone with no one who loved him, no one who knew the secret Gansey in his heart.

Adam shifts, scooting a few inches closer, so that his shoulder brushes Gansey's, and he can feel the warmth of Gansey's body through their clothes. It's the best he can offer, and he hopes Gansey understands how much it means.

It's getting dark, but Adam doesn't care. He's got the whole weekend to offer, and he'll give Gansey every minute of it that he wants.

His heart leaps into his throat when he feels the warm contact against his shoulder. It's overwhelming and unbelievable and so incredibly intimate after so long without Adam's presence, let alone the commodity of his touch.

That Adam was willing to make physical contact, one of his most rare forms of communication, with Gansey so readily gavr him hope beyond any he could have imagined before this very moment.

There's a burning behind his eyes that he has to look away for, so overcome with emotion. He's thankful it's getting dark.

Gansey doesn't respond, but he doesn't pull away, at least. Adam stays where he is, watching the pinpricks of stars as they break through the darkening sky. It's getting colder, but Adam can't bring himself to care. If he can be here for Gansey, he'll stay all night.

He wants to glance over, to seek out more of this tentative contact, but he doesn't dare. He's already done so much damage to Gansey, with his words and then with his absence. Being near Gansey is more than enough.

That amount of contact was absolutely not enough and with the chill in the air, Gansey feels he could be forgiven for scooting over slightly to keep their shoulders connected, Adam's warmth leeching over to him.

He swallows thickly, presumably to get rid of the lump in his throat. He turns his head to look at Adam. The stars have nothing on Adam, this beautiful person that's been the center of Gansey's world since they'd met.

"I've missed you."

Adam moves his shoulder against Gansey in a light, playful shove. "You mentioned that," he says, teasing.

He looks over to find Gansey looking at him, and his breath catches, because Gansey's gaze is intense, even though it's too dark to see the nuances of expression and Adam can't quite interpret what he sees.

"It's late." He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to be parted from Gansey.

"I don't think telling you just once is enough," he says, wry smile playing at his lips.

Even as Adam holds his gaze, Gansey can't help but have his eyes wander down to Adam's lips, unknowingly inching a couple of centimeters closer. His eyes dart back up to meet Adam's, hoping the flush on his cheeks isn't visible in this light.

"I know," but he does nothing to indicate that he plans on doing anything about it, content to just be here with Adam.

Adam is still missing something. Gansey's avoiding his gaze, all uncertainty, and there's something he's still not telling Adam.

"Gansey." Adam's brow furrows, trying to figure it out. He doesn't like not being told things.

"Come on." Adam nudges him again, to encourage Gansey to get up. "I'll crash at your place for the weekend. We can talk. You can ask me how I'm doing again."

His heartrate picks up in a panic when he realizes just how close he's gotten to Adam. He abruptly sits up at what he perceives to be Adam's mild scolding.

What he wouldn't give to just sit here like this forever.

At Adam's joke though, it's clear he hasn't noticed Gansey's proximity too much. He lets out a laugh in relief.

"Don't think I won't."

Very reluctantly, he breaks his contact with Adam to stand up slowly, holding out a hand once he's up completely.

"You sure? You can just do that?"

Adam accepts the hand up. It feels weird, accepting help and touch, even in something so small as being pulled to his feet. It has been... a long time.

"I'm sure. I'm only working the one job right now, and I work late and weekends often." Always. "I've earned myself a weekend off."

Once he's on his feet, he doesn't immediately let go of Gansey's hand, and it feels... weird. Intense. He wants to keep hold of Gansey and he doesn't know how to let go and have it be just normal. Just... friendly.

His heart lurches, because he wants so badly to keep hold of Gansey, to step into Gansey's arms and kiss him, and he can't. They're friends again, but Gansey is never going to be his.

Letting go and turning away all at once, Adam pulls the door open and slides in to sit, face carefully unreadable.

His heart leaps when their hands don't break contact in what would be a friend-appropriate timeliness.

When Adam finally lets go, and doesn't reveal anything in his features, Gansey can't help but think he really missed an opportunity. Once Adam is in the passenger seat, he carefully flexes the hand that was holding Adam's, as though getting rid of the urge to hold it once more. As he comes around the back of the Pig to get to the driver's side, he lets out a deep shaky breath to get rid of the nervous tension. Damn, he'd been very close to throwing caution to the wind and trying to kiss Adam. He had to get himself together. He didn't want to blow up their rekindled friendship so fast.

He gets into the driver's side and the Pig roars to life with minimal effort this time, luckily, and off they go on the dark highway towards his current apartment.

He's quiet for now, focusing on the road in case of deer, one hand on the steering wheel, other attempting to relax on the gearshift.

Relaxing in the seat as they drove, Adam let his head dip back against the headrest, angled so that he could watch Gansey in profile. He was lit in bars and flares from the headlights coming the opposite direction and the intermittent streetlights, and it made him seem utterly the ethereal creature that he was. Gansey deserved to be king of a Camelot somewhere, and Adam belonged... here. In this world of paperwork and indignation.

He still wants to know what it is that he's missing, what secrets Gansey is keeping from him. Gansey's been acting... odd, somehow.

Adam wonders if they haven't both been acting odd. They aren't who they once were.

He doesn't bother to break his gaze, simply stares at Gansey as they drive, memorizing every detail of his face. Gansey's older, but he only looks more handsome than ever.

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I told myself that I'd stopped thinking of you...

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