And he was back again.
Ronan wasn't one for special places. In fact, there were few places he enjoyed the presence of in any way. Monmouth, because of Gansey; the Barn, because of Niall; Cabeswater, because of Adam and Noah and Blue. However, although he would never admit it – least of all to Michael or Declan – Saint Agnes held a special place in his heart. It wasn't to do with some hidden connection he felt to his brothers or the Catholic faith in general; it wasn't to do with the fact the church reminded him of snatched summer memories of Ireland. It wasn't even to do with that drunken evening in which he'd found Chainsaw – well, at least not fully.
There was something about the solidarity, the darkness, the high ceilings and low benches and long, long windows that got him.
Without the influence of alcohol to influence his brain, his eyes were sharp, and they darted around the church with habitual wariness, searching every dark corner for a potential threat (or a potential target). Once satisfied he was alone, Ronan shifted himself more comfortably in the pew, tipping his head back, back, back to stare at the high stone ceiling. Closing his eyes, Ronan mused that the smell of incense still hung in the air, a soft reminder of that evening's Mass. It smelled a little like Blue's house.
Blue.
Pushing the thought from his head, Ronan leaned forward again, pushed his face into his palms, and rubbed his fingers over his eyes until stars burst into his vision. He sighed, just once, and it echoed gently around the church. After a couple of moments' blissful pause, he reluctantly checked his phone. Four missed calls; three new messages. He'd known Gansey would figure out that he was gone.
Ah, he'll find me soon enough. Ronan felt a brief pang of guilt at the fact that Gansey would probably have told Adam to sneak out to help search, then remembered that those days were over. Would Adam still come to look for him? The apartments owned by the church weren't too far away – less than ten minutes' walk – but Gansey and Ronan had both privately agreed Adam needed some time to piece together his life. Ronan's lip curled slightly in pleasure as he remembered slamming his fist into Adam's father's face, the crack, the soft grunt of pain, the feeling of power. Ronan almost smiled at the thought.
He checked his phone again. Barely two minutes had gone by, but the light and obedient display from his phone screen had almost ruined the atmosphere. Curling his lip, Ronan slid the phone along the pew, away from him, until it bounced off the armrest at the end and lay face down a metre or two from his right leg. His mind flicked to Gansey. How close would he be to the church? Ronan felt another flash of guilt, but it was gone almost as soon as it had arrived. Ronan hadn't asked Gansey to come look for him. Gansey should leave him alone.
Ronan remembered the look on Gansey's face, six months ago, as the ambulance workers lifted him into the helicopter.
"Ronan."
Ronan whipped around at the sound of his name, the memory prickling his skin. For a split second he thought he saw his mother, Aurora, standing at the entrance to the church, but (only slightly less oddly) it was Blue.
"It's three in the morning," she said when his surprise rendered him silent for a couple of seconds. "Can I borrow your phone to ring Gansey?"
There was a pause, then Ronan leaned over and grabbed his slim mobile from the bench. Blue walked down the aisle between the pews more slowly than he had thought she would, and his arm was aloft for ten seconds before she took the phone from his outstretched palm.
"I'll just text him." Sitting down on the pew behind him, she began tapping at his phone. Ronan leaned round in his seat to watch her.
"So, Gansey made you join the search party."
She nodded, a hint of annoyance playing in her eyes as she glanced at him, then down again.
There was a pause, then Blue said, "I don't know why he did, though. I mean – it's not as if you can't look after yourself." There was silence. "Well, technically," she continued. "You have money, you can fight."
"That's not all you need to look after yourself," Ronan replied.
"Yeah, a sense of moral decency is usually required to survive in the big wide world." Ronan only realised she was joking when she smiled up at him, the light from the phone illuminating her face. She handed it back; he tucked it into his pocket with disdain.
"Now what?" Blue asked.
"We could wait for Gansey. Or I could walk you home."
Blue stared at him for a second. "You – you want to walk me home?"
"Yeah. Well, you're no good to us if you get mugged or something. It's dark, remember?" Ronan said quickly. Blue was still staring at him, head cocked slightly to one side.
"Okay," she said, standing up. She watched him shuffle out from the row of pews, and they walked down the aisle together.
The night was surprisingly chilly for June, and Blue wrapped her arms around herself almost subconsciously. They began to walk down the road. Henrietta was silent, and their footsteps echoed more loudly than they should have done.
"Would you like my jacket?"
Five minutes into the walk, Ronan broke the silence. He didn't look at Blue as she lifted her head and looked at him incredulously.
"This isn't a joke, is it?" she asked, laughing nervously. He shook his head, still not meeting her gaze. "You look cold," he muttered. "Want it?"
"No, I'm okay, thanks," Blue said. Ronan's jaw tensed and he walked a little faster, leading her now instead of the other way around.
They didn't speak again until Blue's house. "End of the line," Ronan said. He looked out over the row of houses, pretending to be fascinated by a stray cat wandering through a garden across the street. They stood for a second, each waiting for the other to say goodbye.
"See you tomorrow," Blue said at last. Neither looked up as Ronan muttered his goodbye and turned back down the street, walking briskly away from the house.
Thoughts were churning inside Ronan's head as he strode away like he had better places to be at quarter past three in the morning; he didn't look back although he listened intently for the sound of a closing door. Inwardly cursing himself for being so stupid as to offer Blue his jacket and walk her home he growled, almost audibly. Her voice echoed – this isn't a joke, is it? No, I'm okay thanks.
He couldn't have been more than a couple dozen feet away when he heard a shout from down the street. Whisking around for the second time that evening he saw Blue. But this time she was waving.
"Thank you, Ronan!"
"Thank you for finding me!" he called back, and her laughter would ring in his ears long after the door shut. Walking down the road, he fought for a few seconds to keep a smile from breaking his face, and then gave in and grinned. He must look like a lunatic, he thought, but who cared?! The ley line was above ground, it was three in the morning, and Blue liked him.
The whole damn world was his oyster.
