Chapter Text
Eight months into dating Ethan, Adam is cajoled into bringing him round to Henrietta so the gang can meet him. You can’t expect us to give our approval without having a proper introduction, Gansey said during their last phone conversation. Not that Adam needs their approval, but he is curious as to how they will all react to Ethan being a newly permanent part of Adam’s life.
Nearly a year he and Ethan have been together, and Adam wouldn’t say he’s been keeping them all from meeting, per se, but he hasn’t put any effort into setting one up. Adam has spent so many years trying to put as much distance as possible between his past and his future that fusing the two seems almost unnatural, and certainly nerve-wracking.
He doesn’t know which part of it concerns him: whether Ethan will like his friends, or whether they’ll like him.
The last time Adam set foot in Nino’s Pizza was for a party four years back. The Gansey/Blue/Henry throuple had finished their year-long American road trip and came back to an enthusiastic homecoming party arranged by the ladies of 300 Fox Way. Adam, having just finished off his freshman year at Harvard, was ecstatic to see his best friends again, even if it meant coming back to the town he promised to put behind him.
Adam has spent the past four years doing just that. Of course he knew he couldn’t stay away forever, but it wasn’t for his lack of trying.
He and Ethan cross the parking lot hand-in-hand to the crummy restaurant, which might as well have been frozen in time since Adam’s senior year at Aglionby. Gansey’s Camaro is sitting outside in its usual spot, which means they’ve been beaten here. Even the chipped paint on the front window boasting half-off milkshakes is exactly the same as he remembers it. He halfway expects to see his old rusted bike still propped against the side of the building, the spokes starting to rust from early April dew.
It’s not the best kind of nostalgia.
“Everything in this town is so cute,” Ethan says fondly, unaware of Adam’s trepidation. “I can’t believe you’ve never taken me here before.”
Unlike Adam, Ethan grew up in DC, far from dusty Henrietta and her dustier residents. He gets to have the touristy detachment that Adam wishes he himself could emanate—it’s easier to be fond of small-town charm when you weren’t grown from its soil and strangled by its roots.
“It’s not that interesting,” Adam replies, even though that is most definitely a bald-faced lie. “There isn’t much to do here besides hiking and bowling at the one alley that hasn’t closed down yet. There’s a movie theater, but there was a sewer leak when I was in middle school and they never quite got the smell out of the carpet.”
Ethan laughs and puts his arm around Adam’s waist. “Sounds charming. And I can see what you meant about the locals. Thank god you shook the accent.” He exaggerates a shiver to get a chuckle out of Adam.
If nothing else, it’s reassuring to come back and reflect on how separated Adam has become from this place that used to be home to him. The only redeemable part of Before photos is that you get to be proud of the After.
They go inside the restaurant and spot Blue, Gansey, and Henry at their usual table in the back corner. Adam catches Henry and Blue exchanging an impressed look when they see Ethan, which sends a rush of pride through Adam. They do the usual introductions; handshakes and fist bumps are exchanged. Adam slides into the cracked orange booth next to Blue, and Ethan follows on his other side.
“This place is adorable,” Ethan says, looking around at the bustling restaurant. Young generations of Aglionby boys fill the other tables, shouting dirty jokes at each other and spilling pitchers of iced tea onto their ironed Chinos. “I feel like I’m in a rustic film. Is all of Henrietta like this?”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t brought you here before,” Blue says. “We were here almost three times a week in high school.”
“Of course, Blue here was able to sneak us employee discounts,” Gansey adds, patting her hand on the table between them.
“I had to practically beg him to finally take me to see his hometown,” Ethan says, laughing. “Adam’s so secretive about his past. So, you all went to school together?”
“We met through Aglionby,” Gansey affirms, gesturing to his fellow alums at the table, “but we actually met Blue here during her shift. My Glendower search became all of ours, and we’ve been comrades for life ever since.”
Before they can get any deeper into the subject of Glendower and all the complications that entails, Adam swiftly takes the conversation. “We should drive by the school on the way back,” Adam tells Ethan. “I can show you the campus and the rest of town.”
That is, he will show Ethan Aglionby and the more presentable parts of uptown Henrietta—nowhere near the trailer park Adam used to live or anywhere else he could be ashamed of. Even Boyd’s shop is half the size of the one Adam currently works at a comfortable mile from campus.
Ten minutes after they’ve sat down and five minutes into regaled stories of the campus that used to be their stomping ground, the bell at the front door rings to welcome their tardy last member. Ronan is wearing his usual black tank and jeans, Chainsaw perched neatly on his shoulder. He ignores the hostess and stalks straight for their table.
He hasn’t changed at all. Not that Adam was expecting him to; they saw each other just a few months ago at Fox Way’s Christmas party, but it feels like so much longer. He keeps in touch with them all frequently, both individually and in the group chat they all share. Blue sends Adam regular updates on her and Gansey’s terriers, Guinevere and Lancelot.
“One of the goats was being bitchy,” Ronan says to justify his nonexistent attempt at punctuality.
“I called you multiple times,” Gansey says with the disapproval only a mother could match. He scoots closer to Henry to let Ronan into the booth.
“Did you? Shame. Hey, Parrish.” Ronan nods at Adam, then eyes Ethan, looking him up and down. “This is him?”
“Is that a bird?” Ethan asks, bewildered.
Chainsaw ruffles her feathers in clear offense. She hops down from Ronan’s shoulder onto Adam’s to nuzzle him affectionately. Adam pets her feathers gently with two fingers, grinning. “Hi, Chainsaw. Missed you, too.”
“Is it…clean?” Ethan asks, leaning away like she’ll give him some airborne disease.
“Think of her as a familiar,” Gansey says with some amusement. “Dr. Evil has his cat, and Ronan has Chainsaw.”
Ethan just stares at her, his nose wrinkled in distaste. Chainsaw squawks and snaps at him with her beak, just barely missing his nose. “Don’t be rude,” Ronan scolds her, and he extends his arm. Unrepentant, Chainsaw returns to him.
“Is that thing even allowed in here?” Ethan asks. “I mean, at the very least it should be on a leash—”
“It’s really fine,” Adam says, stopping Ethan with a hand on his arm. “The staff is cool with it.” Ethan is clearly still uneasy about a pet being inside the restaurant, but he lets Adam change the subject to ask about Gansey’s latest stories from the museum he works at. Gansey launches into a thrilling tale about a jar of Aztec dirt.
Before long the waitress comes by to take their food and drink orders. “Two Cokes,” Ethan says when it’s their turn, gesturing to himself and Adam. After she leaves, Ethan addresses the table, “So, what was Adam like in high school? I haven’t heard much about it besides school and his jobs. There has to be some dirt I’m missing out on.” He elbows Adam playfully.
“Stubborn,” Gansey says. “Very stubborn.” But he says it with an affectionate glint in his eye. “And I’m sure you already know how bright he is. I never would have passed Latin without his tutelage.”
Ethan looks at Adam. “You speak Latin?” When Adam nods in the affirmative, Ethan’s smile broadens. “I can’t believe that’s never come up before. You’re an untapped mystery, Adam Parrish.”
“It’s not that impressive. I barely remember most of it,” Adam says modestly. He avoids Ronan’s steely gaze and continues, “I’ve definitely mellowed out since high school. I’m surprised none of us got kicked out after some of the stunts we pulled.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ronan says under his breath.
Gansey points a finger. “Behave. And you left voluntarily.”
“I remember the feud you”—Henry gestures to Gansey—“and Lynch had with the janitor over not being given access to the shut-down east wing. That was before my era, but I heard about it the entire year after.” That starts Gansey on a whole new tirade about janitorial abuse of power and divine responsibility to search what has been closed off from the public.
“Oh!” Blue goes midway through a tale about exploring the rumored catacombs beneath the school that turned out to be a series of dusty basements filled with dried toilets and gym equipment. “I completely forgot—Adam, you’ll never believe how many flying squirrel nests we found barely a mile from where Cabeswater used to be. We were hiking in the area last week and uncovered dozens. I have pictures.”
“We weren’t even talking about squirrels,” Henry says.
“And? Am I only allowed to bring up flying squirrels in conversations you deem socially acceptable to do so?”
“Cabeswater—is that a lake?” Ethan asks, giving Adam a handful of his french fries.
“It’s a forest we used to hang out in when we were younger,” Adam explains before anyone else can pick it up. “It’s gone now, though.”
“Deforestation is terrible,” Ethan says with a solemn nod. “Did I ever tell you about that Environmental Humanities class I took junior year? Learned some awful stuff in there, and it’s completely changed the way I live.” The others look a little confused, but they play along well enough with the subject change.
When Ethan has excused himself to use the restroom, Blue leans across the table towards Adam. “I didn’t realize we were being ecretive-say about abeswater-Cay. Hope I didn’t spoil anything there.”
“It’s fine,” Adam says, waving a hand. “It’s not a life-or-death secret or anything. I just prefer to leave that part of my life private nowadays.”
“So…what have you told him?” Henry chances to ask. “Just to avoid any slip-ups.”
Adam shrugs under the weight of their combined judgment. “I grew up here before leaving for school when I was eighteen. You guys are my best friends, and we spent our teenage years searching for Glendower. It’s not like I’ve lied to him about any of it.”
What was your childhood like, Adam?
Not very interesting.
“I just left some of the less palatable parts out,” he explains. “I don’t lie to him any more than we lie to everyone else.”
He does feel bad about keeping things from Ethan. Immensely so. But magic is not as important a facet of Adam’s life as it used to be. Cabeswater is gone, Glendower is dead, and Adam is moving on. A normal life isn’t all that terrible a hardship after everything he’s been through. It’s nice to be able to worry about taxes and grad school assignments over nightwash and sleeping demons.
Ronan is Ronan, so of course he has a problem with it. Adam can tell it with a look. He sighs. “What, Lynch?”
Ronan does his own shrug with one shoulder. He feeds Chainsaw a garlic knot from Blue’s plate. “Kinda fucked up, is all.”
“Do you go around telling every mailman and grocer about your dreaming?” Adam challenges. “How is this any different?”
“I’m not dating the grocers.”
“Whatever. Not like it’s any of your business.” Then, just to be a jerk, Adam tacks on, “It doesn’t matter what he does or doesn’t know. Not every second of my life needs to be held out for inspection. Being normal isn’t a crime.”
“Well, I like Ethan,” Gansey interrupts gallantly before a true argument can break out. “He seems like a good fellow. I can see why he’s so important to you.”
The others apart from Ronan agree. “He’s got my approval,” Henry says.
Adam can feel his ears reddening into what he wouldn’t call a blush exactly, but the bug-under-a-microscope feeling is there all the same. “I wasn’t asking for it, but thanks, I guess.”
At the end of dinner, Adam takes out his wallet to pay for his and Ethan’s portion, but Gansey stops him with a wave. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, credit card already in his hand. “I’m the one who called us all here, anyhow.”
“I’ve got it, Gansey. Really,” Adam insists. Gansey looks at him for a moment, maybe disappointed that nothing’s changed, before nodding silently and paying for himself and the rest.
“You can always pay for my food, Dickie,” Ronan says.
Blue says, “While I’ve got you pinned down, Adam, my mom keeps coming to me to complain about you not returning her calls. I told her I’d drag you home myself for a visit if you didn’t do something about it soon, so would you get on that? Calla’s stopped drinking Coke products in protest.”
Adam snorts. “I’ll add it to my list.”
Ethan’s face is amused. “I had no idea you were so close with your ex’s mother.”
Blue waves it off. “Every matriarchal society needs their token white male. Gansey is a good placeholder, but it’s hard to vouch for the boat shoes. You have to pick your battles when it comes to a family of psychics who can spoil the ending to every movie for the rest of your life.”
That gets a snicker from Ethan. “Psychics? Are you joking?”
“Oh no, they’re the real deal,” Gansey says, head slightly cocked. “I thought Adam would have told you by now? They’re quite close.”
“I’ll say,” Blue says. “My mom made him his own stocking for Christmas. And Orla keeps whining about missing her chance when he was single. I swear they like him more than they like me.”
“He didn’t tell me a lot of things about his past, I guess,” Ethan says, laughing, but his hand tightens almost imperceptively on Adam’s leg. Adam supposes, of all the ways this get-together could have gone, it could have been far worse. Ethan doesn’t seem to have found anything distasteful in Adam’s hometown, nor did his friends betray the less-than-ideal pieces of his past that he’s worked so hard to forget. He’ll take his wins where he can get them.
They say their goodbyes, with Ethan being charming as ever as he shakes their hands and tells them what a pleasure it was to meet Adam’s friends. He’s good at that.
For the car ride home, Adam drives while Ethan checks emails on his phone. He keeps his other hand on the nape of Adam’s neck, warm and casually affectionate in a way that Adam finds himself still having to get used to. “Your friends were nice,” Ethan says.
“Yeah, they’re great.” Adam’s heart settles at Ethan’s approval. It’s like when one presents a painting to a collector and receives the expected compliments on form and usage of color theory. You already knew it was coming, but it’s nonetheless good to hear from an outsider.
“I can see what you meant about Gansey now.”
“How do you mean?”
“You know,” Ethan says, gesturing with his phone. “The control issues. I can see it now.”
“Oh.” Adam isn’t quite sure how to respond to that.
“I’m not saying you can’t be friends with him,” Ethan goes on, his voice warmly reassuring even though Adam wasn’t aware that was even in question. “I can tell how important he is to you. I’m just glad that you got some space from that relationship before it got any worse.”
“What are you talking about? Gansey’s my best friend.” Adam has no idea where any of this is coming from. He rethinks the things he’s told Ethan about Gansey and tries to find where the misinformation starts. “Sure, we fight sometimes. Everyone does. But he’s one of my most important people.”
Adam wouldn’t have been able to say this with such confidence a few years ago, but he and Gansey have both grown a great deal since high school. And there’s something about hearing someone else speak of Gansey’s flaws that rubs Adam the wrong way. “I’d take a bullet for him.”
“And you don’t see the problem with that.” Ethan is speaking so gently, so amiably that Adam could almost imagine the conversation isn’t about what it is. “I can’t say definitively because obviously I only spent a few hours with them, but even that was enough for me to see the unhealthy dynamic you all have going on.”
“Unhealthy?” Adam sputters.
“You know what I’m talking about. Like…” Ethan gestures with his hands, trying to find the words. “Like he’s the leader, and the rest of you follow him. It’s unsettling. He can manipulate you however he pleases.”
Well, of course, Adam nearly says. Of course they all follow him. He’s Gansey. They’d follow him anywhere. But manipulative? That isn’t Gansey at all. “You’ve got him all wrong,” Adam says. It’s one thing when he criticizes Gansey, because he knows Gansey. He feels compelled to defend his friend despite knowing his flaws are very real and persistent. “Gansey isn’t like that at all.”
“So, all of those stories you told me were lies, then? The guilt trips, the control, never being his equal?”
“It’s not—” Adam shakes his head. “That’s just how Gansey is sometimes. Maybe I exaggerated. He just likes to be needed.”
“Adam, I love you,” Ethan says. Even after eight months, it still does something to Adam when he hears the words out loud. “And I’m happy that you have so many people you can rely on.” A part of Adam goes sour at that word— rely. But he keeps his mouth shut. “If you don’t want to hear it, then I’ll mind my business and never bring it up again.”
He takes Adam’s hand from the wheel and kisses the back of it, then rests their twined hands on his knee. It’s no matter; Adam can drive one-handed just fine.
“So, a family of psychics?” Ethan says, swiftly changing the subject. “She doesn’t actually believe in that, does she?”
“It’s not that crazy.” Adam shrugs, keeping his tone as casual as he can will it. He doesn’t know why this car feels like a church confessional all of a sudden. Introducing Ethan to his friends gave him a deeper glance into Adam than Adam has allowed before. Some things are better left untouched, but there is nothing to be done for it now. “I’m psychic.” He briefly side-eyes Ethan in the rearview to gauge his reaction.
Ethan laughs his delightful laugh. “Oh, not you too.”
“I told you I did tarot readings in undergrad.”
“You told me that was a scam,” Ethan says dryly.
“Well, yeah, that was. But I can do it for real.” Adam switches lanes, nearly missing the exit home. After they’re on the ramp, he continues, “Nothing too flashy; not more than small predictions, usually. Readings. Stuff like that.” Scrying too, but Adam isn’t going to bite off more than he can chew trying to explain that one. Ethan is skeptical as it is.
“Yeah?” Ethan says, playing along. “Okay, what am I thinking right now? Or, better yet, what are the winning lottery numbers? Don’t tell me you’ve been holding out on me with your millions of dollars in winnings all this time.”
“It doesn’t work that way.” It’s a struggle not to let his composure slip, to not let his irritation mount at his boyfriend’s disbelief. “If I had my tarot cards, I could show you—”
“Adam,” Ethan cuts him off, still amused. “Baby. You don’t need to prove anything to me. We’re adults. If you believe in magic and psychics, then I’m not going to discourage you. I actually think it’s very cute.”
Adam supposes that’s a reasonable place to settle and possibly the best he’s going to get. He isn’t going to keep persisting in an argument he can’t win. It makes Adam’s ears burn to back down, but he lets the argument go. It’s not like he could convince Ethan anyway, and a selfish part of him doesn’t want to now that he knows where Ethan stands on the matter. It feels almost safer keeping magic and Glendower to himself.
“Sorry for Ronan, by the way,” Adam adds after a minute. “I told you he’s an acquired taste. He’s like that with pretty much all humans, so don’t let yourself feel too bad about it.”
“You don’t talk about him as much as you do the others,” Ethan notes, a question without being a question. He doesn’t say anything more, so Adam knows he is expecting an explanation. Adam wishes he had one to offer, but that is yet another piece of Adam’s past that is better kept sealed away. At least from Ethan.
“I hated him for a while, actually,” Adam provides instead. “We used to butt heads constantly, but being with Gansey meant being with Ronan by default, so I got used to having him around. He’s a good guy when you get to know him.”
“I’m surprised you don’t visit home more often. Henrietta seems like a cute little town. You really have no interest in going back?”
“That place isn’t my home,” Adam answers, and that is the first thing he’s said this entire conversation that it doesn’t feel like he’s lying about. “I don’t need it anymore. My home now is wherever you are.”
Adam met Ethan Walker eight months ago at a mixer for incoming students at Madden University, where Adam is now in the second semester of his graduate program.
Ethan’s smile was what first drew Adam to him. It had more in common with Gansey’s than Adam’s own; it possessed a confidence and openness that Adam never seemed to be able to master. Ethan doesn’t even have to try. Sincerity— that’s what it’s called. Adam had been so deprived of sincerity during his time at college. That was the real allure of Ethan.
It didn’t take long for the two of them to strike up a conversation—first small talk about their majors, (business management for Adam, marketing for Ethan), and then a fast bond after realizing they had the same taste in movies.
Ethan was a cookie-cutter example of Adam’s ideal type: tall, dark hair, with deep blue eyes that chose Adam of all people to satiate their hunger. He stemmed from an upper-class family with roots in DC, his father working in the esteemed world of American politics. He liked the color green and cookie dough ice cream.
What started off as a mixer to get to know his fellow students became a night of getting to know Ethan and only Ethan. The two ended up spending the remainder of the night at the same tucked-away table, chairs close, flirting heavily in a way that Adam has never known himself to flirt before. Something about his clumsy attempt at human interaction must have charmed Ethan, because when the night came to a close and Adam’s limbs tingled pleasantly from champagne and connection, he was the proud winner of a napkin with Ethan’s number and a smiley face jotted in blue ink.
Adam never pictured himself getting into a serious relationship whilst still attending school. He had just moved back to Virginia after years away, conveniently setting himself up in a second-floor apartment just an hour outside of Henrietta. He wasn’t looking for a companion, and yet Ethan molded himself to Adam’s life perfectly as if he was meant to be there all along.
Ethan is kind, mature, easy to talk to in a way that feels like exhaling, and scholarly in a way that reminds Adam a little of Gansey. He can be quiet and studious when deep in a project, which matches Adam’s drive well. And, most of all, he likes Adam back.
Adam’s longest relationship before Ethan was with Blue, which wasn’t even technically a relationship at all, and his second longest was with Ronan, which wasn’t a relationship either. Aside from the handful of shallow flings he’d had at Mountainview High during the more pimpley stages of puberty, Adam had no previous experiences to use as a guideline for this relationship.
Ethan and Adam were coming up on their two-month anniversary when Ethan confessed that he loved Adam for the first time.
Adam met up with Ethan at one of the better sandwich shops on campus after a day of back-to-back classes. This was his only free hour until late that night after his shift at the garage, and he was determined to spend what little freedom he had with Ethan. Ethan ordered tomatoes on his sandwich even though he despised the fruit, just so he could give them to Adam.
“It was honestly ridiculous,” Adam said around a bite of his sub. “I mean, if you’re not open to students correcting your spelling when you’re putting everything up there on the board in gibberish for the whole world to see, why even become a professor? And it wasn’t even, like, aggressive criticism. I was just stating a fact. He had no right to overreact the way he did.”
Ethan had his chin propped on his hand while he listened to the story, watching Adam with something new in his eyes, something fond.
“What?” Adam said. He wiped a hand over his mouth, wondering if he had smeared mustard somewhere.
“I’m in love with you, you know that?” Ethan said.
Adam remembers being startled into silence by the confession, nearly dropping his sandwich. He knew what the words meant, knew that he probably owed some sort of response, but the thought of someone falling in love with Adam Parrish of all people was a once unthinkable thing, in the same hypothetical vein as unicorns or a reasonable conservative.
Despite all logic telling Adam that there had to be a catch, he could see in those dark eyes that Ethan meant every word of it. He watched Adam like he was something worth paying his full attention to, like he deserved everything Ethan had to give.
Adam could not believe that this was his life. He would not take it for granted.
“I love you too,” Adam said, squeezing Ethan’s hand across the table.
It was no surprise that six months into their relationship when Ethan brought up the idea of moving in together, Adam agreed.
A week later, Ethan had moved out of his apartment and into Adam’s. They adopted a four-foot standing fern by the front window and a set of cutlery they had picked out together. Adam became used to seeing Ethan’s belongings strewn around the home alongside his own.
Ethan did most of the work in furnishing the apartment after he moved in. Before he entered Adam’s life, Adam had only ever needed enough for one. He didn’t need cupboards full of bowls and glasses. He didn’t need armchairs when there was a perfectly good thrift-store sofa already in the living room.
“It’s not a crime to want to live comfortably,” Ethan said when they settled in for bed that night on the queen-sized mattress he’d switched out with Adam’s old ratty one while Adam was at class. “I like splurging on you. You deserve nice things, Adam.”
After their first month of living together, Adam hardly recognized his apartment. He kind of liked it that way.
It was a comfort to see Ethan’s face in the mornings and nights, having someone to come home to, having someone to love and be loved by. It was good. It’s stayed good. Adam has never felt this kind of love before, and it was scary at first, but he’s found over time that he never wants to be without it again. Ethan is one of the best things that’s happened to him in a very long time.
Finals season approaches as it always does: slowly and stressfully. Adam’s finals are still two weeks on the horizon, and already he can feel the pressure pinning him in place like a butterfly on a board. Ethan does what he can to help relieve Adam’s stress, but the only way to get through finals, he’s found, is to plow through it head-on, then save the suffocating panic for the days before grades are posted. It’s a good system.
Adam returns home well after midnight from his second late-night study session in a row. He and a group of classmates from his Global Strategic Management course have been meeting nearly every day this week to prepare, leaving Adam even more drained than he usually is.
He lets himself into the apartment and closes the front door quietly behind himself to not wake Ethan. It’s a wasted gesture; before Adam has stepped off the welcome mat, the lamp beside the sofa is flicked on and the room floods with light.
Adam jumps and drops his keys. “Fuck,” he gasps. Ethan, awake despite the late hour, is sitting on the couch with his laptop closed on his lap. “Christ,” Adam says with one hand pressed to his thrumming chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Good, then we’re even,” Ethan says. He does not smile. He does not welcome Adam home.
“What? Why were you sitting in the dark?” Ethan isn’t one to wait up on weekdays when he needs to be awake by seven-thirty the next morning. He’s just as flustered by the end of the semester as Adam.
“Where the hell were you?” Ethan asks, bypassing Adam’s inquiries entirely. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Adam stands there in the hall for a long moment looking at Ethan, rummaging through his mind for a way to make this make sense. Ethan never voiced an objection when Adam said he would be out late tonight. He even said it would be nice to have the apartment to himself for the evening.
To buy himself time, Adam picks his keys off the floor and hangs them on the hook by the doorjamb before he speaks. “I told you I was going to be studying tonight.”
“For the whole night?”
Adam’s brain is uncharacteristically slow dialing up to the situation he’s found himself in. He hasn’t had to worry about a curfew since he was an Antietam Lane resident, and at the time his main concern was avoiding a beating by any means possible. Emancipation came with freedom in his schedule; he never had to worry about anyone’s rules but his own after that.
“We were studying at the library,” he says, his brow knitted. “Then we went to that pub off campus for dinner, the one with the Chinese lanterns in the window. You’ve been there before.” After a second, he adds, “I texted you.”
“Yeah, three hours ago.”
Frowning, Adam checks his phone. He sees that Ethan is right. I’m getting dinner with the group later, shouldn’t be out too late. Love you, the last text read. It’s been radio silence on Adam’s end for hours. He keeps his phone on Do Not Disturb when he’s studying, so he’s missed Ethan’s three calls since. “Oh. Sorry, I guess we lost track of time.”
“Is it really such a hardship for you to think of someone other than yourself?” Ethan asks, not mockingly, but like he genuinely wants to know the answer. He stands and places his laptop on the coffee table. He looks as tired as Adam feels. “You’re not a bachelor living alone anymore. You have someone at home who worries about you when you don’t come back at night.”
Adam wants to protest that this is part of being Adam—the late hours and the constant working and the blocking out everything else in the world when he’s engrossed deep in a project. Adam’s friends were used to this head-down ethic of Adam’s, probably because Gansey already accustomed them to it with his own idiosyncrasies. Sleepless nights and hours-long research sessions were their version of mall crawls and movie nights.
But Adam’s eyes are dry from textbook chapters and his body wants to go to bed more than anything in the world right now. He doesn’t want to start an argument, so he says, “Fine. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Ethan comes over and wraps his arms around Adam. “I know. And I’m sorry I had to get firm about it. I just get so worried when I don’t know where you are.”
“Sorry,” Adam says again.
Ethan releases Adam and kisses his temple. “It’s okay. How did the study session go?”
“I don’t want to think about macro environment ever again.” Adam covers a yawn with his hand. “And I still haven’t finished the two research projects for my other classes. I’m beat.”
“You’re a genius,” Ethan says as he leads the way to the bedroom, hand clasped in Adam’s. “You’ll do fine.”
It’s a nice change, Adam reflects when Ethan is asleep beside him, to have someone care this much about him. And to voice that care, nonetheless. A younger Adam wasn’t entirely convinced there was such a thing as unselfish kindness with no strings. When his parents would demand to know where Adam was all day, it was never because they were worried about him or because they missed his presence.
Until he met Gansey and Ronan, Adam didn’t think that he was a boy anyone would choose to keep around solely because they enjoyed being with him. And until Ethan, Adam wasn’t convinced it wasn’t secretly a fluke, and that his friends just didn’t know any better. Everyone has inner demons, and Adam’s have always been particularly grave.
He’s so lucky to have found a man who can see past all that and love Adam for who he is.
The next day Adam informs his classmates that he’s going to pass on tonight’s study group. He does his work at home on the kitchen table instead with Ethan never farther than a room’s width away.
It’s fascinating in an academic way, the way that Adam and Ethan live. The togetherness of it all. Adam wakes up, and he has Ethan. He showers, and Ethan’s redwood body wash sits on the rim of the tub. He comes home from work, and Ethan is there to welcome him home. It’s good. It’s all very good.
Adam admittedly isn’t the best at remembering to keep in touch with the people in his life, but when Ronan reaches out—cellular-hating Ronan who is likelier to answer a carrier pigeon than a phone call—Adam always picks up the phone.
Things were rocky for a while between the two of them after the end of Cabeswater. Adam isn’t too prideful to admit that it was mostly his fault, which is why he’s held up his end of the unspoken bargain between them to never speak of the very certain Subject that is better left in Adam’s past with the rest of his mistakes.
Not that he would ever call his path in life up until now a mistake. It’s useless to waste time on what-ifs, so he pushes all past feelings aside and lets Ronan talk his ear off about his current dream project instead.
This week’s whimsical invention is car paint that only lasts for one day so that Ronan can camouflage his BMW whenever he wants to fuck with people. Apparently he’s been banned from the bowling alley for shenanigans he won’t disclose, and the employees there recognized Niall Lynch’s car with uncanny recall on his last attempt at infiltration.
“You’ll need to dream up a paint that covers up Lynch too, then,” Adam says with a snort. “Perfume, too. They’ll smell the dream cow dung on you from the parking lot.”
“Asshole.” There’s the sound of rummaging—probably Ronan going through whatever dreamt junk he’s got stored in one of the estate’s many barns. “Whatever. You should come by and check it out.”
“I’ve been busy lately,” Adam says, an explanation and an apology wrapped into one. “Finals have been kicking my ass, and one of the guys at work is sick so I’ve got his responsibilities to take care of as well as my own shit.”
“Your excuses are lame,” Ronan says.
“I assume I’m coming to Henrietta next month?” Gansey hasn’t let Adam off the hook when it comes to his birthday ever since Gansey finally found out the date a year after they graduated from Aglionby. Adam has never particularly cared for his birthday or found any point in celebrating, but this is his punishment for thinking he could get one over on Gansey.
Ronan snorts. “Don’t know why he keeps trying to make it a surprise. It never works.”
“I’ll keep my calendar open that weekend,” Adam says.
“Good. Chainsaw won’t quit bothering me about seeing you. She keeps finding rocks outside and hiding them in my shoes, the fuckin’ twerp. Like she thinks I won’t cook her into cutlets.”
Adam smothers a laugh behind his hand. That’s when the front door opens and Ethan walks into the apartment with a plastic grocery bag hung on his elbow. Adam stiffens. “Sorry,” he says, cutting Ronan off. “I completely lost track of time.”
“Oh,” Ronan says. For a moment he sounds almost disappointed, but he rallies quickly. “Yeah, I’ll let you go.” He hangs up without a goodbye, in typical Ronan Lynch fashion.
“Who was that?” Ethan asks. He tosses his work blazer aside and comes to the couch to kiss Adam hello. He’s developed this habit lately of caressing Adam’s jaw with his thumb when they kiss, his hand loosely wrapped around Adam’s throat. It’s possessive in an intoxicating way—makes Adam feel treasured and kept.
“Fletcher,” Adam answers smoothly when they part. He doesn’t even have to think about it. “He needed me to walk him through an oil change.” He doesn’t know why he’s lying, but the story comes out so easily that he rolls with it. Adam has forgotten what it felt like to not lie about everything he did, if it was ever something he put into practice at all.
Where did those bruises come from? Tripped on the playground. What are you doing for spring break? Going home to spend time with my folks. Your mother found these faggy men’s magazines in your underwear drawer. I’m holding them for a friend.
Some lies succeeded better than others.
“I got orange chicken from that place you like,” Ethan says, swinging the bag into Adam’s lap. “Want to pick a movie?”
They spend the rest of the evening in what Adam would once have called a fantasy, but that he now knows is simple domestic peace. They cuddle on the couch with their takeout containers, Adam giving Ethan his bean sprouts and Ethan giving Adam his broccoli. After the movie’s ended, they retreat to their bedroom for the night.
Adam never in his wildest dreams in the shadow of that dingy double-wide would he ever have thought he would one day have a life like this. Success, yes. A steady salary and unblistered fingers, yes. But never this. Never someone to live his life alongside Adam, becoming partner in even the menial things like grocery shopping and sleeping at night.
Adam never thought himself a lucky man, but having Ethan under his hands like this, his neck warm against Adam’s mouth and his thighs wrapped around Adam’s hips, Adam knows just how lucky he is.
Adam takes a shower after. When he comes out of the bathroom, scrubbing his wet hair with a towel, he finds Ethan sitting on their bed with Adam’s phone in his hands. Adam stops. “What are you doing?”
“Why did you lie about talking to Fletcher?”
Adam blanches. “You were snooping through my phone?”
“I wasn’t snooping, it was just right there on the screen,” Ethan says, his eyes narrowed at Adam. The light from the phone screen illuminates the wrinkle between his brows and the downward curve of the mouth Adam had been kissing only minutes before. “And at least I’m not the one lying right to his boyfriend’s face about flirting with his old school pals.”
“What are you talking about? It was just a phone call.”
Ethan rolls his eyes, throwing his whole head into the gesture. “Oh, I’ll bet it was. How am I supposed to believe that if you went to so much trouble covering it up?”
“I…” Adam is such an idiot. Habitual lying is no excuse for being so careless. “I don’t know why I said it was Fletcher, okay? It just came out that way, and I figured it wasn’t worth correcting something that didn’t matter anyway.”
“Right,” Ethan drawls. “The fact that it was Ronan Lynch of all people has nothing to do with it.”
Where is this even coming from? “We were talking about Opal and the farm and Gansey. They’re having a birthday party for me at the Barns next month. Ethan, I don’t have anything with Ronan. I’m dating you. I chose you. The only person I want to be with is you.”
“Then why couldn’t you just admit that when I asked?” Ethan demands. His words come out exasperated, like he’s dealing with a child. “Why did you have to make it into this whole big thing?”
Why did he? It was one thing when Adam was a teenager copyediting the details of his life to appease his parents who were impossible to appease anyhow, but Ethan has done nothing to deserve Adam’s dishonesty. Adam is allowed to talk to whomever he wants, Ethan’s lukewarm opinions on his friends aside. He didn’t need to cause all this.
“Look,” Adam says calmly. “I know you’re not a big fan of my friends, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be.” At Ethan’s scoff, he presses on. “I just knew that you’d feel a way about it if I said I was talking to Ronan, so I—”
“Wow, I had no idea I was so childish you felt I couldn’t handle you talking to your friend.”
“I never said you were childish, I just—”
“You made up this huge lie to pacify me, right. Got it.” Ethan drops the phone onto Adam’s side of the bed. “What was even the point of this? I can always tell when you’re lying, Adam. You’re not that good at it.”
You have no idea, Adam thinks. He keeps his mouth shut this time.
“How am I supposed to feel safe in this relationship when you go out of your way to do suspicious things? Are you trying to hurt me?”
“Of course not,” Adam stresses. “That’s the last thing I want. I just didn’t want to upset you.”
“I obviously would have been fine with it, Adam. Why couldn’t you just talk to me like a normal human being? No, you had to turn it into this big argument.”
“I didn’t start the argument! You were the one going through my phone.”
“Only because I knew you were lying!” Ethan is standing now, his face red. “You caused this, Adam—not me. Don’t try to—to deflect and pin all of this on me.” He runs a hand harshly through his hair. “I mean, honestly. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think I was going to tear your head off for a stupid phone call?”
Boots stomping across worn hardwood. Door slamming against the wall. Shoulders slamming against the wall after. “Did you think you were sneaky? Do you think your mother and I are made of money? Don’t forget who has to pay that phone bill when you spend hours chatting with your school friends. Look at me when I’m talking to you. Look at me, Adam.”
It was for homework.
“Shut your fucking mouth. Where’s your paycheck? Where is it? Give me that. Maybe next time you’ll stop to think before being so damn selfish. Stop crying. I didn’t even touch you.”
“I was having a really nice day today, you know that?” Ethan says. “We didn’t need to go through all this, but now you’ve made my good day end on a bad note, so thanks for that. And for what? For a phone call! Why can’t you ever just accept when you’re wrong and move on?”
“Fine,” Adam says, throwing his hands up. “You just want to hear the words? Fine, whatever, I’m wrong. I shouldn’t have lied about talking to Ronan. I’m sorry.”
The washing away of Ethan’s anger is jarring. Adam almost doesn’t want to trust it. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” Ethan gathers Adam in his arms and kisses his cheek. “I forgive you. Just don’t lie to me from now on, okay?”
Adam still doesn’t understand what he did that needed to be forgiven. He doesn’t want to keep arguing though, so he keeps the rest to himself. “Okay.”
“I did like what you said there,” Ethan says after a moment. “About—” He kisses Adam’s mouth once, twice. “About choosing me.” The anger has vanished completely, leaving only a playful grin and bright eyes. Adam will do anything to keep that anger at bay. “Sounded like you really meant it.”
“I did,” Adam says, kissing him back. “The only person I want to be with is you.”
“Mm. Say it again.”
“I chose you,” Adam says, with conviction this time because he likes the way it makes Ethan smile. “All I want is you.”
Ethan laughs, running his fingers through Adam’s damp hair. “Damn right.”
“You look tired,” Blue starts with when Adam sits down at the tiny café table. She has already ordered drinks for them both—a gesture that Adam would resent if she didn’t order him exactly what he would have chosen for himself.
Blue has been pestering Adam for weeks now about meeting up. He’s fended her off mightily with excuses about registration for the new semester alongside finishing up the current one and working back-to-back shifts, all of which was entirely true. Thank god for Ethan; otherwise, Adam wouldn’t remember to do the basic human survival tasks like feeding himself and sleeping.
Oddly enough, Adam doesn’t mind putting himself in Ethan’s hands these days. He thought he would be more opposed to it. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, having someone to hold him up other than himself. And Ethan is happy to do it, which is even less familiar a phenomenon—nearly unimaginable to a boy such as Adam, who has been a burden since the day he was born.
Ethan even recommended that Adam take a rain check with Blue today so he could use his day off to relax at home instead, but Blue is as persistent a creature as Adam. He couldn’t dodge her for long, even if he does feel a twinge of guilt for meeting up with her today. Ethan isn’t one for outspoken jealousy, but knowing Blue and Adam’s history can’t be easy on him. Adam could never blame him for being concerned.
“I’ve been pulling a lot of all-nighters lately,” Adam says. It isn’t even a lie. Sleep has been a fickle thing for him. He can feel the bags beneath his eyes, pulling him down, tugging him towards sleep. “Finals are coming up.”
“Tell me about it,” Blue says. Blue is coming up to the tail end of her junior year of college herself, similar to Adam’s predicament as she juggles school and her jobs between moments to breathe. “I’d take combing the wilderness for dead kings over studying old poetry any day.”
“You like old poetry,” Adam reminds her.
“Not when I’m being forced to do it for a grade.”
They talk about the easy things, about holiday plans and some theatre classes Blue is thinking of trying out next semester. They talk about Gansey’s latest obsession with fifteenth-century literature. Blue asks how Ethan’s been, and Adam says fine. She then asks how Adam’s been, and he says fine to that too.
“Mom’s been pushing me to check on you, actually,” Blue says casually over the steam of her tea. Adam’s made sure to reach out more often to the Fox Way ladies, but he’s kept his emails and phone calls brief with the vaguest details he can give. Leave it to psychics to turn every crack into a canyon. “She’s worried about you.”
Adam bristles at once. “What for?”
She shrugs. “General upkeep, she said. Routine checkup. Just had a bad feeling.”
“About me?”
“Around you. In you.” She waves a hand. “You know how unspecific signs from beyond can be. She wanted to make sure you were okay.” Blue eyes Adam, casualty replaced with speculation. “Are you okay?”
“I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”
“We both know that’s not true.” Blue’s chuckle is laden with the lifelong struggle for patience that being friends with Adam Parrish entails. “Just don’t forget you’ve got friends, okay? And don’t avoid me the next time I call you, jerk. Save the Gansey treatment for Gansey.”
“The Gansey treatment?” Adam echoes with some amusement.
“He’s been worried about you too, actually. He keeps insisting you’ve been dead on the side of the road somewhere. I had to talk him out of tagging along today by promising I’d give some photographic evidence of life.”
Adam’s face twists in bemusement. “Why didn’t he just call me?”
Blue puts her tea down and meets Adam with matching confusion. “He has been. He’s texted you dozens of times over the last couple weeks—you’ve just been ignoring them. Haven’t you?”
Adam takes out his cell phone. He opens up the messaging app and scrolls down to his texts with Gansey. He goes into their texting history to discover dozens of unread messages going back as far as April. Adam doesn’t remember getting any of these texts.
[April 29 - 12:38] Adam I find myself unable to remember the name of that guy Mr. Perry taught about during senior year with the street named after him and the lobster obsession, do you know who I’m talking about? I am trying to win a game of trivia
[May 02 - 09:19] Jane and I found a box of those strawberry pastries you like at the local bakery. I know how hard they are to find by your place, so I bought you some. Let me know your availability and we can meet up for coffee :)
[May 07 - 20:04] Did you know that the biggest volcano in the entire solar system is on Mars?? I’m watching a documentary on it. Fascinating stuff! Call me when you can ok
[May 11 - 12:40] Adam, the Pig hates me with every fiber of her rusted metal being and she wants me to suffer. Tell me you know what this shrieking sound in the engine means. I sent you a voicemail with the noise. Do please let me know if it means an explosion is imminent so that I can get my affairs in order before my glorious explodey demise
Guilt surges through Adam’s chest. Gansey has been trying to get ahold of him for weeks. “I guess I never noticed.”
Upon further inspection, Adam discovers that Gansey’s contact has been muted on his phone. How long it’s been like that he doesn’t know, nor does he remember ever setting it that way. Maybe he pushed the wrong button on accident? He unmutes Gansey’s messages, and then checks his other contacts to make sure that no one else has been running into the same roadblock.
Now that he thinks about it, Blue did mention trying to get in touch with him for a few days before he answered her call last week. Adam doesn’t see anything else amiss in his contacts besides the Gansey issue; he must have erased the notifications for his missed calls and texts without realizing it. Or maybe he’s been deleting them in his sleep? He has been overly sleep-deprived lately.
He feels terrible for making Gansey worry, and even worse for the fact that he never reached out to Gansey in all that time. Maybe Adam has relied on his friends to keep contact with him more than the other way around. He’s just been so busy with school, work, and Ethan that maybe he’s allowed some things to slip through the cracks.
Blue is far less concerned. “Don’t worry, he’ll get over it. You know how he is. Just try to check your messages more, will you? At least so we know you aren’t dead somewhere.”
The rest of their lunch date passes too quickly. Adam really has missed being able to talk with Blue on a regular basis. Everyone was so excited when Adam announced he was moving back to Virginia because the closer proximity promised more face-time with their wayward magician. Of course Adam would only go on to fuck that up too. It’s a miracle no one has confronted him on it yet.
When texts start coming in from Ethan wondering Adam’s whereabouts, he knows it’s past time for him to go home. He walks Blue to her dreamt Camaro and makes a promise that he will be more attentive when she and Gansey contact him from now on. It’s one he intends to keep.
“How was lunch?” Ethan asks when Adam returns home.
“It was fine. I guess I didn’t realize how long it’s been since Blue and I were able to spend time together one-on-one,” he says. “I missed her.” He passes by Ethan to the kitchen to put away his latest gift from Blue. She told Adam all about how she’s been getting into pottery lately. She’s already made plenty of ovalish plates and lopsided vases for Gansey and Ronan. For Adam she crafted an only slightly squished mug that she painted with all sorts of leafy designs that swirl around the ceramic.
“What’s this?” Ethan asks. He picks up the mug, examining it in his hands.
“Blue made it,” Adam answers over his shoulder on his way to the hall closet. He puts away his messenger bag.
“For you?” Ethan says, like it’s a preposterous thing. “Wow.”
Adam laughs. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Ethan does not match Adam’s levity. When Adam returns to the living room, Ethan is staring at the mug like it’s personally wronged him. “Everything okay? You look upset.”
“I’m sorry, Adam, I just find it weird that you’re accepting handmade gifts from your ex.”
“Blue is one of my best friends,” Adam reminds him. Ethan already knew how close Blue and Adam are. Adam never felt the need to cover up how important his friends are to him; they are as attached to him as his favorite color or his shoe size. “And she’s not technically my ex. We’ve never even kissed.”
“You asked, I’m answering.” Ethan places the mug back on the table and faces Adam. “If this is some kind of jealousy tactic, you can call it quits now. I don’t fall for that stuff.” He’s smirking like it’s a joke. It should be a joke. Maybe that’s all it is, but Adam has always been a combustible substance.
“Jealousy tactic?” he repeats. “What are you even talking about? My friend made me a gift. Can’t you just say it’s nice and move on? Why does this have to be a thing?”
Ethan’s eyes have narrowed. “I’m allowed to be upset, Adam. I can’t just turn my emotions off like you do. And frankly, I don’t know how comfortable I’d be having a gift from your ex-girlfriend staring at me from the cupboard every morning!”
“She’s my friend, Ethan! Just friends! It’s not a big deal!” Adam knows better. He knows he has an explosive temper—a rotten inheritance from his father that he’s accepted by now is glued to his being in a way he can’t shake. He knows better than to shout.
“Sure, Adam, whatever you say.” Ethan throws up his hands, turning away. “I’ll just shut up and never speak my mind ever again.”
Adam sighs. “That’s not what I’m saying—”
Ethan cuts him off. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Keep your girlfriend’s present. I’m sure it’s made with love.” Ethan strides from the room, leaving Adam standing alone.
Fuming, Adam puts the mug away and slams the cupboard shut.
The next morning, Adam pours himself a cup of coffee in his new mug. When he takes a sip, however, coffee dribbles down the side of it onto the fabric of his shirt. Upon inspection, Adam finds a thin crack running down the side of the mug and slowly dribbling liquid from the bottom.
Adam can’t remember there being a crack when Blue gave it to him, but it isn’t too prominent. He wouldn’t notice it unless he was intentionally searching for a flaw. His traitorous mind travels to Ethan asleep in the bedroom, but Adam sweeps the thought away. Ethan would never do something so petty. It must have cracked in the kiln while it was baking, and neither Blue nor Adam noticed.
Adam dumps what remains of his coffee out into a travel mug. He’ll settle for using Blue’s gift as a pencil cup on his desk instead.
Adam used to bite his nails when he was a kid. His mother would slap him upside the head and tell him to knock it off countless times. It took years for Adam to finally drop the habit, and he hasn’t picked it up again since. He’s not good at quitting things that are bad for him. Maybe that’s why he’s stuck with Gansey for so long.
Another habit he can’t ever seem to drop: lying. It comes so naturally and sounds so much better that it’s become second nature for Adam to pepper in fibs with every story he tells, stretching the truth until it breaks. The Adam Parrish he’s fabricated is so much more palatable than the one he is.
Adam’s new car is better than his old, beat-up Hondayota in every way but nostalgically. It’s a sleek gray Volvo, bought secondhand from a local used car dealership at a price that only made Adam sweat a little. It might as well be a Tesla in his eyes.
No rusted doors, no shitty radio that only knew how to tune to gospel channels. Adam only got the car at such a steal because there was an extensive and time-consuming engine issue, which Adam spent the following month repairing before the car was driveable. It’s one of his proudest projects.
That being said, the Volvo still requires the usual upkeep, and Adam isn’t about to shell out hundreds of dollars for work he can do himself in an afternoon.
Adam is elbow-deep in the guts of the machine, rock music playing from his small Radioshack stereo, when he hears the front door open and close behind him. He can hear Ethan speaking to someone on the phone, saying, “He’s right here. Adam?” Adam turns down the radio and grabs a rag to clean the grime from his hands. “It’s your mother.”
The ground vanishes from underneath Adam. The rag drops from his fingers, falling into the car’s innards. He wheels around to face Ethan, half expecting to come face-to-face with the devil. “What?”
Ethan holds out Adam’s cell phone. Adam must have left it inside the apartment. “Your mom called,” Ethan says again. “I thought you said your parents were dead?” His voice is pleasant, but his eyes have gone deathly cold.
Adam stares stupidly at the phone, his chest constricting tight around his ribcage.
Adam told Ethan months ago that his parents died in an accident. We weren’t close, he said. I’ve adjusted well. I don’t want to talk about it. No, really, it’s okay. I’ve moved on. The fewer details he had to provide, the better.
And it wasn’t really a lie; Adam’s parents are not dead, but they are dead to him, and him to them. There was an accident, if you consider Adam losing his hearing and pressing charges an accident. It was an accident for Robert Parrish to get caught. It was an accident for him to go too far, inflict a wound that couldn’t be explained away as a young boy’s roughhousing to counselors and concerned neighbors.
Adam knew he would have to come clean someday, but he always expected that someday would be farther from today.
“Well?” Ethan holds the phone out expectantly. “She said it’s important.” It’s impossible for Adam to gauge what he’s thinking, what accusations and revelations are marinating in his head as Adam’s lies unravel into ribbons at his feet.
When Adam finds his voice, it sounds like he’s been gargling seawater. “Hang up.”
“Excuse me?”
Adam fumblingly takes the phone and presses End on the call, his hand shaking. He shoves the device back into Ethan’s hands because he’s afraid he might drop it if he kept it. Then he wraps his arms around himself.
“What the fuck, Adam?” Ethan’s patience from before has disappeared, switching over to audible fury as soon as the call was severed. “That was your mother. Are you that rude to all of your family members, or just the dead ones?”
Adam doesn’t know what to say. His mind tramples itself in dizzying circles, searching for a response that could disarm the anger before it reaches its peak. There is no easy way in sight to fix this—not without sending forth the awful truths that Adam has strived for years to bury deeper than the sun can reach.
What an idiot he’s been. What an idiot to think he could play the part of Adam Parrish, perfect Harvard graduate, proud owner of a car that actually runs, deafened from tripping over his shoelace and falling down the porch steps.
Adam had promised his mother when he left that trailer for the very last time that he would call to update her on her son’s life. He had done so a handful of times—when he moved into his dorm at Harvard, when he graduated from that very university four years after, when he moved into his second apartment—but they have had no communication since.
The last time had been the last time not because of any choice Adam made, but because every one of those phone calls had been a voicemail left on their ancient answering machine. His mother had no interest in speaking to Adam directly, or maybe Robert had not let her. Adam did not let himself dwell on her reasons. What mattered was that Adam was finished with them, and they were finished with him.
Why would she call him here? Why now? Ethan said it was important that she get in touch with Adam. What if she needed something? What if she’s in danger? What if she is dying, what if Robert is dying, what if he already died and she lost the trailer and she needed money?
What if she wanted to apologize?
Adam doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t know what to do. “Ethan, I—”
“How could you lie to me?” Ethan demands, cutting him off. “Fake dead parents? What kind of a sick person lies about something like that?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Did you really think I was that stupid? You thought I’d never find out? How long were you planning to keep this up?” Ethan is truly pissed now. He doesn’t try to lower his voice or contain the argument, even when one of the neighbors gives them concerned looks as she unlocks her car a property away.
Adam says to Ethan, volume lowered to escape her earshot, “I get why this is confusing. If you let me explain—”
“So you can make up more stories to cover your ass? Right.” Ethan turns and stomps off toward the apartment. Adam’s phone is still clutched in his hand. Adam scrambles to gather his tools and close the hood before following after him.
When he gets up to the apartment, Ethan is standing by the kitchen sink with Adam’s phone in his fist. “I can’t believe you,” he says. “I can’t believe you would do something like this.”
“I’m sorry I lied, okay? But I don’t—I can’t talk about them. Or think about them. They’re out of my life, and that’s all that matters.”
Ethan scoffs. “Clearly they’re not if she’s calling you here. What if we got married, Adam? Don’t I have a right to know who your family is? How could you lie to me like that?”
Trying to hide from your lies?
Ethan is still speaking —yelling— and Adam is—he’s a little nauseous. Part of him doesn’t want to be a part of this conversation at all, and a more traitorous part of him wants to call her back, but Ethan still has his cell phone.
Adam thinks, isn’t this how everything went long last time? Adam hid paycheck stubs from his parents and got caught in his own web of lies. Now he’s lied to Ethan and he has been caught for that as well. He never learns. He always makes the same mistakes.
Adam dampens his lips and chooses his next words carefully. “I don’t understand why you’re angry.”
Ethan laughs terribly. “Don’t play dumb, Adam. You know damn well why I would have a problem with this. Every time I start to think I can trust you, you pull a stunt like this!” He throws the phone on the floor. Adam flinches at the sound of the glass screen hitting the hardwood. The dollars lost are like knives piercing his skin.
“How could you do this to me?” Ethan demands, stepping forward, closer to Adam. Instinctively, Adam steps backward, but Ethan follows him. “You’re out all night with friends, you’re lying about your past, manipulating me into thinking I’m crazy!”
“I never manipulated you,” Adam objects, his voice meeker than he intends for it to be. “Yes, okay, I lied to you about some things, but it was only because—”
Ethan hits him.
It’s been six years since Adam left home.
Six years since the hearing disappeared from Adam’s left ear for good.
Six years since the last time his father hit him.
It might as well have been thirty seconds.
In an instant, Adam’s body is back in that double-wide. He can smell the dust and dirt of the trailer park, can feel the humid Virginia summer on his skin, can feel phantom bruises throbbing in places a t-shirt could easily cover. It’s as though he never left.
For a moment, Adam can’t even fully process that the slap happened. He’s frozen in place, his cheek stinging in pulses. Ethan’s enraged face morphs into regret almost immediately after the sound of the slap has rung through the room.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he says, stepping toward Adam and reaching for his face. Adam flinches out of his way, his back hitting the counter edge behind him. He’s slipping out of the kitchen half a heartbeat later. His blood is pounding in his ears and humiliating tears burn behind his eyes.
Oh, what, are you crying? Really, Adam? I didn’t raise a sissy. Take it like a fucking man.
Adam runs for the home office and shuts himself inside, locking the door behind him. His hands are shaking.
Maybe this’ll teach you to look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you.
He can’t breathe. He can’t—
Do not look in my face and lie to me!
Adam sits right there on the floor with his back to the door, palms pressed against his mouth to smother his shuddering breaths.
He can hear Ethan behind the door frantically apologizing, saying that he can’t believe he did that—he would never do something like that.
But you did, Adam thinks.
“Come on, Adam, please open the door.” Ethan jiggles the handle. “Please, baby. Are you okay? I’m so sorry, Adam, I’m—I don’t even know what happened. I swear to god, I’ve never done something like that before. Adam?” He knocks on the door. Adam flinches. “Please, say something. I need to know you’re all right.”
It doesn’t matter how gentle his words are. All Adam can hear is Robert Parrish’s angry demands to come out of there, stop being a pussy, don’t make him break the goddamn door down.
“What do you need, Adam? Should I get you an ice pack?” His voice sounds closer, like he’s leaning right against the door at Adam’s back. “Please don’t shut me out, honey. You can’t make me feel like more of a monster than I already feel.”
This is pathetic, isn’t it? Adam could laugh at himself if he remembered how to breathe properly. He is ten years old again hiding in the pantry after his father punched him for knocking over a glass of juice. It’s astounding the way one can forget almost anything if they have been separated from it for long enough. Adam got so used to not being hit that he nearly forgot how much it hurts, how it makes him want to curl into a ball and cry for hours, how it makes him want to run and run and never come back. He wants to run now, but Ethan is still at the door.
He should go outside, collect his tools before someone steals them from the driveway. He should hit Ethan back. He should call Blue. Call Gansey. Call Ronan, or even Declan, who would at least be impartial in this. Adam knows without a sliver of doubt that if he contacted any one of them and told them that Ethan had just struck him, they wouldn’t hesitate to come and get Adam out, taking him far away from Ethan’s hands.
They would all act in a heartbeat for Adam’s safety, but he is Adam Parrish, army of one. He grew out of needing his mother to patch up his scrapes by age seven. He’s a man now. He doesn’t need to be rescued.
Maybe thirty minutes pass. Possibly an hour. It takes a long time before Adam has stopped shaking, and even longer before he is able to stand and unlock the door.
Ethan is rushing at him immediately with tears in his eyes, tripping over apologies. The tears only well further when he sees the forming bruise on Adam’s cheek. “Adam, I’m so sorry. Jesus, are you—” He cradles Adam’s face in his hands. “God. I have no idea what came over me. Are you okay?”
Adam’s cheek hurts.
“If you want me to leave, I will,” Ethan says with mustered conviction. He looks more devastated than Adam has ever seen him. “Just say the word and you’ll never have to see me again. But first, let’s get some ice to take care of the swelling, okay?” He is already leading Adam gently to the kitchen, squeezing his hand the whole way.
Ethan treats Adam delicately as he wraps an ice pack in a tea towel and presses it lightly to Adam’s cheek.
Robert Parrish never apologized, not once. He never got Adam ice after hitting him. It was Adam’s job to tend to his own wounds. He never kissed the bruise and set out to never do it again.
Adam feels silly and embarrassed for reacting the way he did, running off to hide from the boogeyman. He’s an adult. He can take a hit. It didn’t even hurt that bad.
“You have to believe me, Adam,” Ethan says. He’s crying more than Adam was. “I would never hurt you. Ever. That was—I don’t even know what that was. You can’t know how sorry I am. It was completely inexcusable.”
Robert Parrish always thought he was doing the right thing by punishing Adam for existing. He never felt guilty, even when the judge deemed him so and slapped him with a fine and probation for child abuse. Robert Parrish truly believed that, while heavyhanded, he was a fair and just father.
Adam forgives Ethan. His cheek doesn’t even hurt anymore. It was a mistake. They were having a disagreement and things got heated, and Adam would be lying if he said he’d never wanted to lash out during an argument with Gansey or Ronan in the past. How could he not extend the same lenience towards Ethan? What right does he have to hold one slip-up against the man he loves?
Ethan spends the rest of the night apologizing. He frets over Adam, kissing his cheek again and again and promising earnestly that he will never lay a harmful hand on him again. Adam believes him.
The next morning, Adam wakes early and retrieves his cell from the kitchen floor. A large crack has cleaved through the top right corner of the screen. Adam sighs and pockets the phone.
Life goes on.