Somewhat Clear

deerna
somewhatclear

Rating: SAFE
Fandom: Raven Cycle
Relationship: Gansey/Ronan
Tags: pre-slash
Wordcount: 618 / 600 on ao3
Notes: for the smubble event on discord, for the prompt "pretending to sleep as their friend with or without benefits sneak into bed trying not to wake them up. There is silence for a little while, then they hear it whispered for the first time, almost too softly to hear: "I love you.”" except not really

Summary:

Excerpt:

Gansey and Ronan never talked about it. They stayed awake, plagued by insomnia, on different sides of a door.

{ read on AO3 | read here }

There was an invisible roommate no one talked about in Monmouth Manufacturing, and it wasn’t Noah.

Gansey didn’t quite know how Ronan dealt with it, but, when late at night he cut and glued cardboard squares, reconstructing the town that had somehow started to feel like home one building at a time, small houses on small shops on small other structures, spots flashed in the corner of Gansey’s vision, and the low bass coming from Ronan’s door turned into the deathly buzzing of millions of small wings waiting for him in the crevices of his own night terrors.

It wasn’t every night, but, more often than not, Gansey found himself admitting defeat as he left the sleepy paper town to its own devices, and retired to the mattress in the centre of the room, waiting for the morning.

He and Ronan never talked about it. They stayed awake, plagued by insomnia, on different sides of a door.

One night, Monmouth Manufacturing was quiet like an undiscovered grave, which was worse than when the floor vibrated with unseen, non-existent bugs. Maybe that was what made Gansey give up much earlier. Maybe that was what finally, unexpectedly, lulled him to sleep.

A loud crash came from Ronan's room.

Gansey started awake, and froze. Irritation flooded his exhausted mind, and then immediately felt guilty about it, worry taking over instead. Still, he couldn’t move, some strange, irrational fear keeping him locked in his own limbs.

Ronan's door cracked open an inch.

“Gansey?” Ronan called quietly.

Are you alright? Gansey wanted to ask. He lay still and quiet in bed, instead, eyes squeezed shut.

Ronan did not close the door. His naked feet sticking slightly to the shitty linoleum barely made noise as he carefully made his way through the room, towards Gansey’s bed.

Gansey took stock of himself: he was lying on his side, still in his day clothes, too frustrated at his own unsleepiness to bother with pyjamas, his glasses cradled in one hand. He felt unnaturally stiff, sure that Ronan could clearly see he wasn't actually sleeping, breath shallow and shame in his stomach.

The mattress dipped.

Nothing moved for a long time. The silence was deafening.

Another dip in the mattress, as Ronan shifted his weight across the duvet. It was hard to tell with his eyes closed, but Gansey thought he was lying down.

Again, nothing moved for a long time.

Maybe he fell asleep. Gansey liked the idea; Ronan needing comfort after a nightmare, looking for it in Gansey. Ronan, who seemed to be unable to sit still for a second, always looking for places to shed his skin, finding respite next to Gansey.

But Ronan's weight shifted again, noticeably closer. His hand was somewhere near Gansey's shoulder, he thought. The rusty springs in his second-hand mattress whined with resentment.

Gansey did not move.

Ronan breathed in, and then breathed out. In through the nose, out through the mouth, Gansey knew without needing to see him. He was so close Gansey could feel the air moving around his face.

Gansey did not move.

“The fuck are you doing, Ronan?” Ronan said. Gansey had never heard Ronan’s voice so quiet. He wasn’t sure he would have ever heard it, if Ronan hadn’t pronounced the words not two inches away from Gansey’s lips.

As slowly as he'd inched closer, as abruptly Ronan was gone. The mattress creaked as Ronan flung himself off the bed, and the floor under the linoleum reverberated with Ronan's thumping steps. The door slammed shut as loud as a shot.

Gansey breathed out, covering his eyes with an arm. “The fuck were you doing, Ronan?”