#trcsecretsanta

Blue sat on her floor, back against the edge of her bed, writing notes into a journal. Gansey was asleep on the bed. He’d wanted to hang out, but she’d taken one look at him and had pushed him onto the bed with a stern look.

“When is the last time you slept? Like actually slept?”

“When I got back to Monmouth last night, after I dropped you off.”

“Uh-huh. For how long?”

Gansey shrugged and Blue let out a small sigh.

“Take a nap, then. I need to work on this project anyway,” she gave him a small smile as she held up the notebook in reference. “We can get pizza once you wake up.”

That had been half an hour ago and she’d made little progress on the project in question, too busy glancing back at Gansey every few minutes. No one had slept well since everything a few weeks ago, but Gansey especially had been having recurrent nightmares of the night. She’d had a few, most featuring Noah, and both Adam and Ronan had new shadows under their eyes.  To be fair, those could also be from the stress of raising a sudden child, too, but Blue was sure there was something else to them.  None of them had escaped entirely unscathed from Cabeswater.

Blue shook her head and forced herself to look down at her notes.  Her project on Arthurian Quests was due at the end of the week and she was still working on creating a list of sources she’d need. Too bad she couldn’t use her personal experiences as a reference. Once there was a King named Glendower, she imagined writing—could almost picture the incredulous face her teacher would make upon reading it. Ms. Sargent, this was meant to be a literary and historical analysis, not a work of Fiction. If only.

Behind her, Gansey let out a small whimper.

Blue looked over her shoulder at her and quickly put down her notebook. Another nightmare. She stood up and kneeled on her mattress, leaning close to him but still keeping some distance. She didn’t want to make him feel smothered.

“Hey,” she whispered. He didn’t respond, but his eyes were moving with frightening speed beneath his eyelids and there were tears streaming down his cheeks. “Come one, Gansey, wake up.”

He did not.

“It’s not real. It’s a nightmare. You have to wake up,” she told him, slightly louder. She repeated the phrases interchangeably, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. She’d been raised to respect the dangers of nightmares and their power. She didn’t want to accidentally contribute to making it worse for Gansey.

It took almost a minute of speaking before Gansey opened his eyes and gasped. He looked in her direction, but his eyes were glassy and it was clear he was still grappling with the remnants of his dream. As his labored breathing calmed, Gansey rubbed at his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t be—it’s not your fault.”

“Feels like it is. Like all of it is.”

“Yeah well, at least remember that none of us blame you. We were all there for a reason and I for one do not regret it,” Blue said frankly. Nothing she could say would make him feel better, not for a while. Trauma didn’t just go away because of kind words. Still, it couldn’t hurt to remind him.

“Sure,” was all Gansey said.

They sat in silence for a while, Gansey looking at his hands in his lap, or staring at the window, or watching her walls as if they were about to change in front of him. He did not once look at Blue.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Blue said finally, nudging her knee against his. Gansey gave a small smile, and that was that.

“On that note, I think it’s time for pizza. What do you say, Jane?”

“Why not—I could eat, I guess.” Blue gave a small sigh and stood up. She held out a hand to him. Gansey stared at it for a moment before grabbing onto it and pulling her back down onto the bed. She let out a disgruntled noise as she fell down, but it was quieted by his arms around her. They sat like that for another minute or so before Gansey let go. His stomach grumbled. He looked at her and gave a genuine smile and then stood up.

“Guess that means it’s time to go,” he said, heading for the door, eyes sparkling. Blue followed, watching his back. Words might not heal trauma, she pondered, but hugs might. Pizza, too, and spending time with their people.

Hi, I’m sorry I didn’t this this until now--I haven’t been on much because of finals and because I don’t have my laptop atm. Finals went well, I think! I’m just waiting for grades to be posted now.

HI there! I’m doing okay--I’m in finals right now, so it’s a bit rough, but so far I’m staying afloat. How’re you? I hope you’re having a good day!

Oh my god, okay I love art school AUs. One of my favorite fics for TRC is an art school au. I’m very attached to them because I went to an art school for HS and I’m doing art (writing and theatre) in Uni and yeah. Also god yes, Adam with ceramics and sculpture nd Ronan as a painter (can you image him having a show in Uni and like having to wear nice clothes and network and people asking about his inspiration for his paintings??)

The fifth Pharaoh → H A T S H E P S U T