@rnortalboys || gansey ;;
he’s coping, maybe not well, but coping nonetheless. two years in a strange place. strange people, and none of his friends here to soften the blow; he was alone. again.
adam has his routine, get up, get ready, eat then go to work. his job is a welcome distraction, leaving him pleasantly tired and filthy at the end of the day. then it’s back home for a shower and hopefully a dreamless sleep.
adam parrish has a routine. he clings to it like a lifeline, and when it’s disrupted for any reason, it leaves him shaking and almost always on the verge of a panic attack.
but this - this is something else entirely.
he could never forget that smell, like old musty book pages and mint leaves.
or those ridiculous shoes. those stupid shoes.
that regal tilt of that head. heavy is the head that wears the crown, but he wears it well. like he wears his insomnia, like he wears his obsessions: with uneasy grace.
and now he’s here and adam’s never been so relieved to have his routine broken.
“g-gansey? what are you - where have you - how?” he’s never been as eloquent as richard campbell gansey the third but this is just ridiculous. if his mouth could work, that’d be great.