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When asked what his favorite color was, Gansey used to pick something bright and cheerful as his response. Often it had been whatever color of polo shirt Ronan had last teased him about. In his youth, Gansey had plastered his personality in layers of optimism and amicability. In those days, he’d needed the bright colors to match his mask just as his best friend had clothed himself from head to toe in dangerous, mourning black.
Now, Gansey was confident that his favorite color was blue. The fact that it was the name of the love of his life was enough, but it was not the only reason. It was the color of the mountains that surrounded his beloved Henrietta. It was the color of the hydrangeas that lined the stone path to his new home. It was the color of the peace he felt when he held Blue in his arms. Some days, that peace felt far away, and, on those days, his world was not blue but an anxious, buzzing gray.
Today was one of those bad days. For Gansey, bad days used to mean death, and demons, and the constant fear of losing the people he loved. Maybe that was why he found himself unlocking the rusted door to Monmouth Manufacturing that evening.
He and Blue had moved into their house months ago and Gansey had intended to sell the factory, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was where they all came together, where they had worked to fulfill their quest and had created lifelong friendships in doing so. Now Monmouth was dark, and dusty, and a little lonely, but that matched his mood tonight. The bad things that had happened to them were far in the past, but they felt raw and far too near today for some reason.
Gansey found a quilt in Ronan’s old room and spread it out in the main room where his bed used to be. Not that Gansey had used his bed much. Insomnia had claimed him since the first time he had died, and then Niall Lynch was murdered, and Ronan’s foundation cracked beneath him making sleep even more unreachable.
That had been a time of heavy loss. The Ronan he loved with the light and laughter spilling out of him was gone. Everyone had watched closely to see if Gansey would lose his shadow now that Ronan was broken. Those people didn’t know Gansey at all. He wouldn’t have abandoned Ronan for anything in the world. Even when his old self turned into ragged scars and tattoos and loud grief drowned in midnight races and alcohol.
Gansey had been so afraid in those days. Every time Ronan disappeared in the middle of the night, he would not allow himself to fall asleep until he heard Ronan’s heavy footsteps sneaking past him in the dark of early morning. Gansey would pretend to be asleep and force himself to breathe deeply, hoping that painful knot inside his stomach would unclench.
An abrupt clanging noise from downstairs made Gansey jump. To his great relief, the sound was followed by one of familiar cursing. A minute later, Ronan was standing over him with his eyebrows raised in what was either confusion or judgement. Knowing Ronan, it was likely the latter.
“How did you know I was here?” Gansey asked.
“Your car looks like a giant ass pumpkin. Hard to miss,” Ronan said. Gansey gave him an unimpressed look. Ronan huffed and sat down next to him on the blanket. “OK, Maggot called and said you sounded weird when you talked to her.” Blue was away this weekend with Orla for a cousin's bachelorette party.
There was a shopping bag dripping with condensation in Ronan’s hand. Gansey couldn’t help but smile when he realized its contents. “You brought orange juice.”
“Yep.”
“I suppose it’s tradition at this point.”
One night of the first nights they had gone out to get orange juice, they’d laid in the parking lot to drink it. Gansey had enjoyed the moment of stillness as he gazed up at the night sky until he looked over and saw that Ronan’s eyes were open, but unfocused. It was as if he couldn’t see any hope or beauty in the world and it broke Gansey’s heart.
Lynch, he’d choked out.
The pain in Ronan’s eyes turned into concern. Gans?
Gansey’s gaze drifted down to the leather that wrapped around the fresh scars on Ronan’s wrists, and he shivered. Maybe we should go in. I’m cold, he’d said, shoving the words he wanted to say down.
Come closer then, idiot, he said. Gansey had lay his head on Ronan’s chest to listen to his beating heart and thought about how desperately he wanted them both to live.
The Ronan sitting beside him now was so different from the troubled teenager he’d been on that night. He was happy now. He had the Barns and Adam who had accomplished his hefty college and career goals and learned that maybe the place he had run from wasn’t so bad after all with the right people.
“Sometimes I miss this terribly,” Gansey said quietly, “but we were miserable back then, weren’t we?”
“Not always, but a lot of the time. Yeah,” Ronan said.
“It just felt so near today. I was so worried about all of you back then. Adam was killing himself working, and coming to school bruised, and he wouldn’t let me help him. Your nightmares were trying to tear you apart. I shoved down everything I felt about Blue because I wasn’t supposed to be falling in love with her.”
Ronan didn’t answer. He just put his arm around Gansey and let the comforting silence surround them. Through the big, dusty windows they watched the sun begin to set. The sky was a patchwork of purples and oranges that slightly resembled the ragged squares of the quilt.
“Sometimes I didn’t think we would make it here,” Gansey admitted.
“Two idiots sitting in an empty factory at night?” Ronan said.
“Alive. Content.”
Ronan twisted the wedding band on his finger. “Yeah, me neither.”
“What do you do when it feels so close?” Gansey asked, the tears he’d been choking back began to blur his vision and drip down his cheeks.
“You remember that it doesn’t always fucking feel so close," Ronan said roughly. He moved his fingers to his wrist out of habit. When he was uncomfortable, Ronan used to pick at his leather bracelets, but he'd stopped wearing them years ago. "Sometimes it gets so far away that it doesn’t even hurt. It’s just the memory of pain."
Gansey took off his glasses to wipe them and leaned his head on Ronan’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Don’t fucking thank me. I’m here for you, you’re here for me, man. That’s just how it is.”
“Ronan Lynch, I’m so glad you are my friend.”
“Don’t get sappy on me, Dick," Ronan said, pushing him away playfully. "Let’s go to the Barns. We can add vodka to this OJ, which I always thought we should be doing by the way.”
“Yes, I remember those arguments vividly.”
“Come on. Adam’s not working tomorrow. Let’s get him tipsy and see if we can finally beat him at boggle.”
He fought a smile. Adam was notoriously unbeatable. “I think we can take him this time.”
Gansey followed Ronan to his car feeling lighter. Tonight, he would go to Ronan and Adam’s home and drink in the sound of their laughter. In the morning, he would call Blue as she drove home from visiting her cousins. Eventually, the tightness in his chest would ease and his world would be blue once again.