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Ronan’s halfway to his familiar unconsciousness, electronic music blasting in his ears, when a deep sense of wrong shoots through him.
He’s got half a mind to just roll over and forget it-- after all, he’s had more than a few drinks, it’s probably just paranoia-- but he reasons that it wouldn’t hurt to just take a quick sweep over Monmouth.
He tears off his headphones, immediately unsettled by the heavy sense of quiet that greets him. Ronan throws off his covers and slides out of bed, exiting his bedroom in one sloppy, lunging movement. His eyes are already adjusted to the dark, but he’s still a little drunk, so making his way around Cardboard Henrietta and the stacks and stacks of Gansey’s journals and books and piles of paper-printouts is proving to be a treacherous task. He’s succeeded in toppling over a small section of files when he hears a high-pitched whine coming from Gansey’s bed.
At first, his cheeks color-- really, of all things to disturb him, a sex dream?-- but then he hears Gansey’s rustling sheets, his erratic breaths, and quiet sobs; he knows now that Gansey’s in distress.
“Fuck,” Ronan slurs, although his mind is clearer than ever, and he practically charges through Gansey’s manic collections of knowledge in his haste to get to him.
When he reaches him, he doesn’t hesitate in gently grasping Gansey’s sweaty shoulder.
“Hey, man, wake up,” Ronan says lightly, although something deep within his chest is tightening at the sight of Gansey like this.
Gansey gasps at the touch, his tear-filled eyes fluttering open, and he looks confused for a moment before his gaze rests on Ronan. He’s breathing heavily, looking at Ronan as if he’s almost surprised to see him, before he trembles, ducks his head down, and tries to muffle his sobs with a hand.
“Hey, hey, none of that,” Ronan says gently, and he moves to sit on the bed next to Gansey, wrapping both of his arms around him. “I’m here, okay?”
Gansey immediately latches onto his arms like a lifeline, mumbling nonsensically, and Ronan shushes him softly, trying his best to soothe him. Ronan closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he squeezes the still-trembling Gansey tightly.
Ronan knows from prior experience that Gansey reacts the best to physical contact when he’s panicked like this-- he needs to feel that he’s alive again, grounded.
It works, slowly but surely, and Gansey’s shivers eventually quiet. “Ronan, please stay,” Gansey whispers, still clutching his arms, and Ronan swallows down the unnameable emotion that rises in his throat.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ronan says firmly, and maybe it's the alcohol coursing through his system, or the sound of Gansey begging him to stay, but Ronan draws Gansey back down onto his bed, still holding him tightly. “Just close your eyes. It’s okay. You’re here in Monmouth with me.”
Ronan feels Gansey nod from where he’s got his head buried into Ronan’s neck, and an overwhelming urge to do something arrests Ronan. He exhales, and as though he’s watching himself through a movie, his hand reaches up to slowly stroke Gansey’s sleep-tousled hair.
“It’s okay,” he repeats, partly for himself, and he closes his eyes and listens to Gansey’s breathing even out.
Ronan’s awoken not by the cold, but by the absence of warmth. He opens his eyes, crusted with all the hallmarks of a good sleep, and sees Gansey. He’s seated in front of Ronan, gripping the end of the mattress with both of his hands, so that his tense back and strong forearms are visible. Ronan wants to reach out and press his palm flat against Gansey’s back, soothing him and the aches he constantly carries.
He rubs his eyes and rustles the blankets with his legs so that Gansey turns. “Hey,” Ronan says, head still on Gansey’s pillow, and he watches as Gansey’s complicated expression turns almost solemn.
The silence is thick between them, almost palpable, and Ronan swallows, watching Gansey’s eyes track the movement of his throat. He opens his mouth to ask Gansey about his nightmare, if he’s alright, when Gansey’s eyebrows draw together and he speaks.
“Were you… drunk last night?”
Something snaps in Ronan’s chest and he hauls himself out of bed without a word. God. He can feel Gansey’s eyes tracking him as he stalks around the room, and he whirls around angrily. “Seriously, Gansey? Even if I was, would that have mattered?” Ronan knows what this is really about: Gansey’s refusal to ever talk about what’s bothering him if it doesn’t directly concern other people.
Gansey’s jaw sets and Ronan laughs soundlessly. “You need to start taking your own advice, man,” he says. He feels like kicking over one of Gansey’s stupid stacks of books. He crosses his arms instead.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gansey’s angry now, and Ronan secretly delights in it: the slight raise in his voice, the way he so desperately tries to hold himself tall when, in reality, Ronan knows he’d like to shake Ronan’s shoulders or yell like all of the people Gansey scoffs at.
Ronan spreads his arms wide, taking a step towards him. “You’re an expert at deflection, you know that?”
“All I asked,” Gansey says calmly, slowly, and Ronan knows now that he’s really holding himself back, “is if you were drunk last night.”
“Well, yeah, Gansey, I was,” Ronan spits. His heart feels heavy in his chest. “You know it’s hard for me to sleep,” he says quietly, and he watches as Gansey’s angry expression dissolves. “Look,” Ronan says, taking another step forward so that he’s within reach of Gansey. “We both can pretend all we want that you’re upset about me being drunk, but we both know what this is about. I know what this is about,” he says, pausing. “You’re always trying to take care of me. Of everyone,” Ronan says. He barely hesitates before he says, “Why won’t you just let me take care of you?”
“I--” Gansey’s at a loss for words, his throat bobbing as he swallows and looks away. Ronan watches him curiously for a moment, then realizes Gansey’s got tears in his eyes. “It’s not that simple, Ronan,” he says, clearing his throat, and Ronan shakes his head.
“Nah, man. That’s where you’re wrong.” Ronan moves past Gansey to sit down on his bed. It’s an invitation. “It’s simple if you’ll let it be.”
“God! I can’t lose you, Ronan!” Gansey explodes, whirling to look at him, and Ronan laughs nervously at the outburst. “Christ,” Gansey says, letting out a short laugh to himself in disbelief.
“You’re not gonna lose me, Gansey,” Ronan says, and Gansey shakes his head vigorously, as though he’s not listening. “Seriously, no matter what you dreamt, I won’t judge you or anything. You of all people know that the things in my head are fucked--”
“God, Ronan, it’s not that,” Gansey says, and he takes a deep, shaking breath before continuing, emphasizing, “I. Can’t. Lose you.”
Ronan feels like all the breath has been knocked out of him at Gansey’s admission. He looks at Gansey then, really looks at him: his tense shoulders, his wild hair, the pleading, broken expression in his eyes.
Oh. So that’s what his nightmare had been about.
Ronan swallows down his emotion and reaches out to grasp Gansey’s shaking hand with both of his. “You are not gonna lose me,” Ronan repeats firmly, meeting Gansey’s eyes determinedly. “I swear to God.”
Gansey lets out a long, rattling breath and laughs wetly, wiping his tears with his free hand so that his wire-rimmed glasses are knocked askew. Ronan smirks, but he knows that Gansey knows it’s a true smile, and tugs Gansey down to him so he’s off-balance. Gansey falls on top of him with a startled laugh that turns into a pained groan when Ronan’s knee accidentally hits his thigh.
“Sorry,” Ronan says, and he’s not sorry at all. He reaches up to adjust Gansey's glasses for him.
Gansey shakes his head as though he’s disappointed in Ronan, but he’s grinning, and he lingers over Ronan’s body for an earth-shattering moment before he rolls off of him and settles next to him on his bed.
Ronan turns his head to face him. “I meant what I said, you know.”
“Yeah, I got it. I can never be rid of you,” Gansey says teasingly, but his expression is reverent.
“Asshole,” Ronan says gleefully, and Gansey laughs. Ronan drinks in the sound for a moment before clarifying. “That, yeah. But what I said before. Let me take care of you.”
Gansey regards him for a moment before nodding. “I suppose it’s only fair, after all,” he says carefully, and Ronan smiles. He closes his eyes, and can tell Gansey does the same. The morning sun is warm on both their faces, and Monmouth is quiet, brimming with the possibility of a new day together. Ronan cherishes every second.