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Declan Lynch is a liar. At least he's lying when he tells his brother they don't have time to stop for ice cream after school. There's no urgent meeting with his boss, no important phone call to take. Declan is just doing what he does best; talking out of his ass.
So it catches him completely off guard when his phone starts ringing as he peels down the highway. Matthew, who'd been expecting this, doesn't look up from where he's sitting in the back seat. Declan shoots a glance over his shoulder and takes the call.
"Lynch speaking," he says.
The voice on the other line comes in loud. "Jesus, is that how you answer the phone? It's me."
Declan almost veers off the road. "Ronan?"
He hasn’t spoken to Ronan since he dropped out of school. Since after he almost destroyed the town they used to live in. Since their mother died.
"No, the Pope.” Ronan says, humorlessly. “Don't sound so surprised."
Declan scoffs. He is surprised. "I didn't think you knew how to work one of these."
"Fuck you," Ronan says, but there’s no real venom to it. There's something unsteady in his voice. Declan can’t place it.
He narrows his eyes. "You're not getting arrested again, are you?" he asks, just to rule out the possibility.
If Ronan is amused by this, he doesn’t let on. "No," he says, firmly.
"Are you in the hospital?" Declan asks. "Are you hurt?" For an awful moment, he lets himself imagine the terrifying possibilities. He feels overcome with dread.
"I'm fine, Declan," Ronan insists, letting out a laboured sigh. He pauses. After a beat, he says, "You and Matthew are coming home this weekend."
It comes out like a fact, not a question. Which it is. They'll be there; Ronan knows that. Declan frowns into his rearview mirror.
"Yes. Same as always."
This seems to ease some of the tension out of Ronan's voice. "OK," he says.
The line goes quiet. Declan checks to see if the call's still connected. "Was there something else?” he asks. “Are you OK?"
"I'm fine," Ronan repeats. He hangs up.
Declan spends the better part of the rest of the week playing the conversation back in his head. Trying to decode his younger brother has been one of the great failures of his life, and this time is no exception. He wonders if Ronan is having trouble dreaming. Wonders if he’s done something stupid. He thinks about him alone at the barns, reeling from the death of their mother. Reeling from whatever clusterfuck he and his friends had gotten themselves into the other week. Reeling from the general day-to-day angst of being Ronan.
Alone.
When Saturday rolls by, Declan throws in the towel. He flicks open his phone to send Ronan a text. Heading out early. Be there in approx. 3 hours.
Matthew mutters no dissent, practically springing at the chance to spend an extra day with him. Declan packs them both an overnight bag — he doesn't trust Matthew not to forget the important things — and gets them on the road. They don't get to the barns until half-three, just a little later than Declan had intended. He’s sure Ronan won’t let him hear the end of it.
Matthew is unbuckling his seatbelt before Declan even has the opportunity to park. He gallops up the driveway and pounds on the front door, ecstatic. It doesn't take long for Ronan to answer. He must have been waiting for them. Ronan lets Matthew smother him in a hug and moves as he scurries inside, ruffling his curls. Declan walks up to the door.
"Ronan,” he greets, as enthusiastically as he can muster. “You look well." He tries not to sound surprised about it, but if the look on Ronan’s face is anything to go by, he doesn’t succeed.
"Declan,” Ronan greets back. “You don't look too shitty."
Declan makes an aptly unimpressed face. Ronan backs out of the door frame to let him in.
The barns is still standing. That has to be a good sign. It looks pretty much the same as it did last time and the time before that. Maybe a little tidier. Ronan really ought to get some new furniture.
Declan puts their bags down by the door. Matthew has already made himself comfortable playing games on Ronan's console. Declan's almost certain he bought it just for their visits. He can’t picture Ronan sat in front of it hitting buttons. The idea of his brother being that close to any technology just doesn’t ring true.
Ronan stretches out on the sofa next to Matthew, fanning out in a way that doesn't leave any room for Declan. Good to be home.
Declan carries the bags upstairs, his shoulder brushing past the locked door to their parent's bedroom. He tries not to think about them. It's weird to think that his life used to look like this. Big happy family. Big vibrant house. When he gets back downstairs, he sets himself up at the table, figuring he might as well answer some emails.
He's at it for the better part of ninety minutes before he gets bored. Neither of his brothers have moved in the time he's been working. Declan retreats back to where they're playing.
"Get outta the way, Declo, you aren't invisible!" Matthew scolds as he settles in front of the TV, flapping a hand at him.
Declan shuffles to the side obediently. He makes eye contact with Ronan.
"Matthew wants ice cream," Ronan says, bored.
Declan looks back over at Matthew. "Mm."
"Are we getting ice cream?" Ronan asks.
Declan thinks about it. He watches Matthew, the incessant mashing of buttons on his controller. He thinks about the locked door upstairs. The too-cluttered furniture they used to pile on as a family.
"Fine,” Declan says, scrubbing a hand over his face. He needs to get out of this house. “Matthew?"
"Just a sec! Let me finish this round."
*
Ronan makes them drive past the Baskin Robbins because it's not 'real cream'. Declan doesn't know what that means. Doesn't want to know, as a matter of fact. To be honest, he thinks Ronan just wanted to say that. They park outside some local gelato place, and Matthew springs out of the car.
"Do you want me to get you guys something?" he asks.
Declan shakes his head. If understanding his brother was the first of his life's many failures, digesting dairy comes close second.
Ronan shrugs. "Just get me whatever," he says.
Matthew heads inside. They settle into silence in his absence, Declan turning to watch him in the store as he browses through the flavours. He spends a long time rattling off his order. Declan’s starting to wish they’d given him Ronan’s card, instead. He turns back.
"You know, you shouldn't let him pick for you," Declan says. "Not if you care about how it tastes."
Ronan snorts. It isn't so much a laugh as it is the suggestion of one, and it sounds almost foreign leaving his mouth. But it’s nice. Declan sighs, relaxing in his seat. He's glad they're not fighting anymore.
There's still something tense about the way Ronan's sitting, maybe whatever Declan was sensing over the phone. It's like he's building up to something.
Declan spares another glance at Matthew. Still in one piece. But really, he seems to be ordering a lot of gelato. Declan should have limited him to two scoops. He wonders if he should go over there, if it's the Responsible Adult thing to do. He doesn't. Matthew is perfectly capable of getting his own ice cream. There is absolutely nothing to—
"I'm gay," Ronan says.
Declan's train of thought dies. Every muscle in his body freezes.
He turns to look at Ronan properly. Blinks. "If that's your idea of a joke, Ronan—" he starts, because really.
Ronan narrows his eyes at him. "Why the fuck would that be a joke?"
And now Declan really doesn't know what to say. For the first time in his life, he is at a total loss for words. This was what Ronan had been working up to. Why he’d called the other day. Declan wonders how long he’s known for. He wonders if he’s always known. He’s struck with a sudden, terrible feeling. I don’t know Ronan at all.
His brain screams at him to say something. "Oh," Declan says.
Jesus Mary.
"Oh?" Ronan repeats, turning to face him. "That's it?"
Declan doesn’t have to be looking at him to tell Ronan's getting angry. He sees this going very sour quickly, scrambling for the right words.
"Um,” he says, attempting to take his foot out of his mouth. He’s not doing a good job. "I’m glad. That you shared that. With me."
Ronan rolls his eyes, but he slightly un-tenses. He sits back in his seat and turns to the window. "Whatever."
Somehow, Declan still feels like he’s messed up. What did he want him to say? It's not like Declan was ever going to have a problem with it. Was that what he thought? Did Ronan think he’d, what, disown him or something?
In the store, Matthew turns to head back to the car, gelato secured. Declan seizes the moment to place a hand on Ronan's shoulder. Ronan eyes the hand like it's on fire.
"Seriously,” Declan says, seriously. “I'm happy if you're happy. Thank you for telling me."
Ronan seems satisfied with that, at least. They watch as Matthew marches towards them.
"Are you going to tell him, as well?" Declan asks. It feels like the right thing to say.
Ronan sighs. "Eventually. Working up to it." Declan nods.
Ronan rolls down the window so Matthew can hand him his tri-coloured concoction. Ironic, Declan thinks. Matthew dons a rosy-cheeked smile, extending out his arm. "I got you banana and birthday cake!" he announces, beaming.
Ronan gags. Declan can't help but smile.
They drive back to the barns in relative silence. When they pull up, Matthew runs inside to get back on the console. Ronan instructs him not to touch anything before he washes the ice cream off his fingers.
He and Declan hang back in the car. Ronan chews at the leather bands on his wrist, a long-suffering habit, Declan notes. He hates them. They serve as a nasty reminder of a particularly awful night in a long period of awful nights. A thought crosses his mind.
"Joseph Kavinsky,” he says, shifting course to take his mind off it. “That whole thing with him. You two never...?"
Ronan pulls a face, half sure he knows what Declan’s getting at and not happy about it. "Never…?"
Declan flaps a hand. "I don't know, hooked up or something. Was that what that thing was about?"
Ronan recoils. "Oh, no way, man!” he exclaims, repulsed. “Never. I mean, it was about that, but— no."
Declan nods. He's relieved. Then the last part of what Ronan said sinks in and he’s horrified, but he eventually settles back on relieved. It might be the first time he's thought about Kavinsky since moving to DC. He's glad Ronan doesn't hang out with people like that anymore. The sociopath brother-kidnapping kind. He’s glad he doesn’t hook up with them, either.
"I kissed Adam," Ronan says, then, because there haven't nearly been enough revelations. Declan freezes again.
So he kissed Parrish. Declan’s almost surprised it wasn’t Gansey. Parrish. He’s not sure he likes him. Parrish isn't a bad kid, per se—polite enough when he wants to be. There's just something… calculating about him. Clearly, Ronan doesn’t share the sentiment.
When Declan forgets to say anything, Ronan adds, "he kissed me back."
More surprise. It isn’t that Declan assumed Parrish wouldn’t— it’s just that he didn’t— well, he just didn’t realize—
It’s been a long day.
“Which is to say…?” Declan questions when he’s managed to collect his thoughts. He’s trying to contextualize all of this. The significance of Ronan sharing this particular confession at this particular time on this day. Though he supposes Ronan had been planning to tell him tomorrow. So maybe there isn’t a grand explanation to all of it, after all. Maybe Ronan just wants him to know.
“We’re… together,” Ronan says. It comes out like a question, though Declan doesn’t think he means it to.
“Ah,” Declan says. Because ah , it’s starting to make sense now. His brain is finally starting to catch up, weaving a tapestry of all the times he’s seen Ronan and Parrish together and their strange closeness at the strangest of times. Two sides of an old coin.
And he had wondered about that birthmark he never remembered seeing on Parrish’s neck at the funeral.
Oh, gross.
After a beat, Declan says, “Thank you for telling me,” hoping it sounds better the third time. Ronan rolls his eyes and leans back. Maybe not.
Matthew raps impatiently on the window. Declan rolls it down.
“Are you guys coming inside, or what?” Matthew demands, looking not unlike a kicked puppy.
“We’re just talking,” Declan says. “Give us a second.”
“Talk inside,” Matthew says back. “Unless you guys are fighting. Don’t do that.”
Declan rolls his eyes. “We’re not fighting.”
“Then why aren’t you inside?”
“Because we’re talking.”
“But you can talk inside,” Matthew insists. He won’t let this go. He turns to Ronan. “Ronan, tell him you can talk inside.”
“I’m dating Adam,” Ronan says, instead. “And I’m gay.”
Interesting order of events, Declan thinks. Matthew forgets whatever he’d been going to say about the two of them doing what he wants and lights up, face bouncing back into its usual smile.
“Oh, cool!” he exclaims. “Cool, cool. Does that mean we get to see Adam more? I like Adam.”
The smallest smile plays on Ronan’s lips. He shrugs. “If you want.”
Matthew’s smile only widens. Declan hadn’t thought it possible. “Cool, cool, cool!” Matthew exclaims. “Very cool. Do you think Adam likes video games? Maybe I could teach him.”
“I think he’d like that,” Ronan says.
Matthew looks from him to Declan. “Is that what you guys were talking about? Since you’ve told me now, you can come inside, right?”
They can’t argue with that logic. Declan’s not sure that they're done talking, but Ronan gets up, anyway, so he guesses they must be. He feels bone-weary now. Like he needs to sleep until next week. Emotional confessions take a lot out of you. Even when you’re not the one confessing, apparently. Matthew runs off, leaving the door open for his brothers to follow him.
While they lag behind, Declan takes the opportunity to ruffle Ronan’s cropped hair. It’s a move he hasn’t pulled since he was three inches taller, and the action made a lot more sense, but it feels appropriate here. Besides, no one can stop him. Ronan is his little brother, and Declan loves him.
“Get the fuck off me,” Ronan hisses, squirming out of his reach.
Declan throws an arm over his shoulder. “Proud of you, Ronan,” he says. Because it’s true, and because he knows it will piss him off.
“Ew,” Ronan says. “Get off me.”
Matthew appears back in the doorway. “You guys are fighting! I knew it! Stop!”
Declan grips Ronan tighter. “I’m just letting Ronan know we’re proud of him. Aren’t we proud of him, Matthew?”
“Call 911, Matthew,” Ronan says. “Tell them to clear a cell and a bed.”
Matthew melts, eyes turning molten. “Aww, this is so sweet, guys. Wait, I’m gonna get the camera.”
Ronan keeps squirming. “Do not do that. Get over here and help me.”
Declan can’t help but laugh as Matthew disappears, a little dizzy with it. Part of him knows Ronan could break free if he wanted. Part of Ronan knows Declan would let go if he thought he might actually hit him. Part of Matthew knows he’s got no idea where the camera is and isn’t really looking for it, anyway. If he was going to take a picture, he’d just use his phone. But he doesn’t want to ruin the moment.
He just wants his brothers to keep hugging.