oooooh trippy dream sequence for the wip game?
So this one is basically two entirely unconnected dream sequences that are vaguely nightmarish and mostly about their feelings about one another. one scene is from Ronan’s pov and one from Adam’s pov….. no idea where I’m going with it it just sort of Is….
Anyway so this part is an offshoot of that angsty fic of mine where ronan is drunk and adam comes over to check on him but like. Nightmare version lmao
Ronan’s room is dark and cold. Adam is hunched over his dresser, eyeing the textbook. It has a silver lock on it, like a little girl’s diary. Chainsaw has the key in her beak, and she hands it over to Adam before he asks.
Inside, Ronan knows, with the infinite knowledge of dreams, is a journal not unlike Gansey’s. But its subject is not Welsh kings and ley lines. The journal is packed to overflowing with Adam Parrish. Prose and poetry, pictures that come to life when you look at them, pretty songs that play as you turn the pages. There are sketches of his hands, his eyes, the wry twist of his mouth.
Stop, Ronan thinks, but he can’t move, and he can’t speak. He can only watch as Adam flips through page after page of obsession. Adam’s shoulders start to shake. Ronan wonders if he’s crying, but then he hears it. Laughter.
Acid fills the pit of Ronan’s stomach. He finally forces his lips to form the word, “Stop.”
His head spins around on his neck, independently of his body. When he opens his mouth, black tar pours from it in a thick stream. It soaks his chin, his throat, the back of his shirt. It drips onto the floor.
Adam says, “Lynch,” venomous, like the word lynch, not like his name. Ronan closes his eyes. “Lynch. Look at me, Lynch.”
When Ronan does, Adam’s body spins around with a series of sickening cracks. He throws the journal across the room. Pages scatter all over the ground. While Ronan’s eyes are on it, Adam stalks toward him like a predator.
A hand, gentle and warm, caresses his cheek, and forces Ronan to look up.
Adam says, “You’re pathetic, do you know that?”
Ronan can smell the acrid stench of the slick black coating his teeth. His long legs straddle Ronan’s lap and he cradles Ronan’s face so carefully. “You can’t possibly think that I could ever want you.”
Tagged by Thee @kelliealtogether ty lovelyyy 🥰
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