Adam Parrish (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hondoyota) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
marlowemuses2019-03-21 07:36 pm
hondoyota) wrote in marlowemuses2019-03-21 07:36 pm
Entry tags:
I carry you with me
When Adam heard Ronan's voice, he thought at first that he'd imagined it. The voice had changed, after all. It was deeper and rougher, not like he remembered, but there was still an intrinsic Ronan-ness to it. Helped along by the swearing. It echoed from the front hall of the manor, up to the second-floor study where Adam was industriously cleaning and polishing a set of book shelves.
He set down the rag he was working with and went to the door so that he could hear better. Other servants scurried about, hurrying to carry luggage and prepare rooms. If Ronan had sent word he was coming, the notice hadn't reached Adam. He hovered out of sight, heart aching as it slammed against his ribs. Ronan was home. Adam wasn't even sure that Ronan would remember him anymore. It had been years, and Ronan had never really needed Adam in his life. Adam had only ever been the convenient friend, the pet project that Ronan's father had allowed because Ronan was better behaved at his lessons while Adam was sitting beside him. Gansey had stolen Ronan away, and Ronan had gone, never once thinking of Adam, never writing to him. He'd ceased to exist.
Clenching his hands into fists, Adam went back into the room and resumed his task. There was no point lingering at the doorframe and hoping. Ronan wouldn't remember him.
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"Are you really going to ignore me?" Ronan shook his head. "Of course you are. It's what you're best at." He should leave now. He'd got the message, finally. Adam really wanted nothing to do with him. But he couldn't bring himself to walk out just yet. If he stared at Adam long enough, maybe he could will him to come up with an explanation or an excuse.
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“What did you expect?” Adam’s head snapped up, temper flaring. “Am I supposed to run up and kiss your feet? I’m so glad you’re back, master. Was I only ever a plaything to you? Discard me for years and then expect me to be devoted and patient, waiting for you to remember that I exist?” He tossed the rag he was holding aside and advanced to glare at Ronan from close up. He was going to be hit for this. He was going to be dismissed, just because he couldn’t contain his temper and pride enough to act coy for Ronan. “I’m a person, Ronan, not just your entertainment.”
He’d forgotten about the bruises on his face, the ugly split lip and the mottled blue-black on his cheekbone. From across the room, he’d had the sense to keep his head down and angled to hide the damage. Facing Ronan down like this made it impossible to overlook.
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"What happened?" he asked, tone softening immediately. The anger was still there but no longer directed at Adam. Whoever did this-- his father? Why would he still be here?-- Ronan would make sure they were dealt with, preferably by his fists.
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Realizing his mistake, Adam dropped his chin quickly, even though hiding his bruises meant turning his deaf ear toward Ronan. “What do you think happened?”
No one cared if Adam got hit, and the bruises made Declan even less inclined to give Adam any tasks that required being in the presence of guests, which meant Adam’s chances to get a better position and leave here with a good reference were compromised. “It’s nothing you need to bother yourself with.”
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Oh. Damn, that must have backfired.
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He doesn't want to fight with Ronan about this. He doesn't want to hold a grudge over Ronan leaving him, especially not when he knows that Ronan doesn't care, and if Adam keeps nursing his broken heart it's just going to ruin any chance he has of a civil friendship with Ronan.