maskormenacelogs | i could've loved you longer.

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i could've loved you longer.

WHO: Ronan Lynch & Declan Lynch (with a possible ghost appearance)
WHERE: Declan's apartment
WHEN: February 2
WHAT: Ronan came back. Kylo did not.
WARNINGS: Heavy suicidal ideation aka Ronan's gonna Ronan.

The promise was this: It would be the last time.

He made that promise to himself because otherwise it would have been impossible to start. He let himself know love with the caveat that he would never again know its absence. I don't want a life without you, Ronan had told Kylo, and Kylo had promised, I will take you with me, even into the dark. The vows they'd made to each other weren't for life, but for death. And because it was Kylo who went first, it's Ronan who has to honor them.

The urge is to do it immediately, of course. As soon as he realizes that he and all the others who were missing have returned, but Kylo isn't among them. He's read his Shakespeare, though, and he's not eager to recreate any famous tragedies. It's not unusual for an imPort to vanish for only a day or two, and he doesn't want Kylo to return to a world without him any more than he wants to live in this world without Kylo. He has to be patient. Kill himself slowly.

He knows himself too well to believe he can survive a second night alone in their bed. He has to get out of their bedroom, out of their home, to a place where the absence doesn't hang heavy and poisonous in the air.

His brother's apartment is empty when he first stumbles in, which suits him well, because it allows him to rummage through the liquor without facing judgment. He's sprawled on the floor and halfway through a Jameson when Declan returns, which is a pity, because the bottle's pried from his hands before he gets to finish it. They exchange snarled words while Declan fights to haul him off the floor and onto the couch, but just when it seems like Ronan might resort to throwing punches, he... turns his back on Declan and tucks his face into the cushions and goes dangerously quiet.

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Declan finds himself wishing this was the first time he's ever found Ronan drunk on the floor. The bottle goes first for two reasons: he isn't interested in seeing Ronan destroy his liver in real time, and he doesn't want to risk that the bottle will be smashed and used against him as a weapon for what comes next.

He expects the fight when he pulls Ronan off the floor and he answers Ronan's bite with a familiar degree of his own venom. The kind of fights they had after Niall died. The kind of fights they had when Declan was doing his damnedest to keep Ronan from dying, either actively or passively. Seeing him like this again makes something twist in his stomach, but at least Declan gets him onto the couch without getting another black eye.

He stands there, looking at Ronan's back: another familiar view. For a minute, there's nothing but the sound of their breathing. Then Declan turns away to pick up the bottle and cap it. He disappears into the kitchen and returns not long later: water, ibuprofin, crackers. They go onto the side table near Ronan's head.

Only then does Declan finally get a chance to loosen his tie, to shrug out of his suit jacket, because of course he went to work. He sinks down into the arm chair near the couch and just sits there for a moment, face obscured by his hand as he leans into it. If he can't get Ronan into a bed, both of them will be sleeping out here. Well, Ronan might sleep. Declan, most certainly, will not.

"Do I get to know what his is about?" he asks into the impenetrable silence between them.

The poetic string of curses Ronan unleashed a few minutes ago conveyed his turmoil well enough, but he lacks eloquence when it comes to reason. What is this about? Ronan's life coming to an end. Saying so will earn him nothing but a 72-hour psychiatric hold, though, and he hates the smell of hospitals. He also hates the way his brother looks while visiting him in hospitals. In fact, he would hate the way Declan is looking at him right now, if he could see it.

"Do your thing," Ronan utters finally, preferring to issue an order rather than offer an answer. "The thing with your power. The null thing. I'm gonna sleep and I don't wanna wreck your shit."

Declan realizes he wasn't actually expecting a real answer when Ronan fails to give one at all. He lifts his head, brows drawn together at the request. A few thoughts occur simultaneously: the memory of what happened the last time he used his power, the fact that he hasn't exactly had time to practice with it since then, and the alternative.

He knows what not dreaming will do to Ronan. Will he have to deal with some errant dream-thing or the possibility of his brother dissolving from the inside out?

"What about the nightwash?" he makes himself ask. It likely won't make an appearance after just one night, but it will eventually.

Ronan's shoulders shake with a single silent laugh.

"If I start melting, turn it off."

Nightwash won't take him that fast, though. Weeks would have to pass before the lack of dreaming unravels Ronan's existence. He'll have killed himself well before suffering through that, or Kylo will be back and Ronan will have someone to dream for and Declan will have nothing to worry about.

Declan remembers when Ronan dreamt for himself; maybe it's for the best that he can't completely see into his brother's head right now. Slowly, feeling forty years older than he is, Declan gets out of his chair. He lets his mind drift and he lets himself think of every moment he's been terrified for Ronan. Sitting by his hospital bed, watching him recklessly court his own destruction, the worry and fear he felt when they were both much younger, the hollow feeling he got when he left Ronan to bring Jordan and Matthew to the Barns.

He hates it, but it works.

Rather than hitting hard, it feels more like a blanket this time, or a wave washing over Ronan to pull him under. And then, nothing.

Declan hates that the thing he can do here is to take away some essential part of Ronan, even if it's at Ronan's request.

"Did it work?" he asks quietly.

Miles away, a thousand creatures full of Ronan's life have plunged into a sudden sleep. But without any of them here, there's no sign that announces the loss of his magic. He has to reach for it, to try to find the border between Ronan the boy and Ronan the dream, to cross it and slip into the subconscious of the universe.

There's nothing there.

Ronan remains unmoving, his back still turned to Declan, his face hidden away. "Yes," he answers in a hollow voice.

"There's a spare room," he offers. "Might be better than the couch."

The couch isn't bad, though. Declan has already slept there a few times. Ronan's stillness makes him aware of the rush of his own blood, of his racing thoughts. The press of silence that fills the space between words and the hollowness in Ronan's voice is oppressive.

Declan hates this.

"I was good on the floor."

The truth is, Ronan can't bear the thought of climbing into bed alone, of drifting to sleep without Kylo's warmth draped over his back. It's awful enough just being Ronan, being himself by himself, existing as a single thing. All he wants to do right now is sink into Kylo, get swept up and swallowed by him, to possess him and be possessed by him. How did he ever survive without a master? How do humans live like this?

He can't.

"Yeah, I know."

It sounds like they'll be sleeping out here then. Well, Ronan will be sleeping; Declan will be awake. He doesn't know if his power will work while he's unconscious; he isn't even sure if it will eventually start to dissipate on its own if his concentration drifts too far away. He pushes himself out of his chair and finds an innocuous throw blanket. Ronan doesn't need it, but Declan gives him the makings of a cocoon all the same.

He lets Ronan stay where he is. Forcing him into a bed will only involve hauling his brother's dead weight or potentially offering another opportunity for a fight. Declan disappears from the living room just long enough to get changed and to get a few things out of his room: a book, a notebook, a pen, his phone charger. He wishes Matthew was here. That ball of sunshine could pull anyone out of the dark, and he always seemed to know how to fill the awkward spaces between Ronan and Declan. Places that felt like they just hadn't healed right, or at all.

He realizes, somewhat belatedly, that he should do something for dinner. Pizza. Maybe he can talk Ronan into eating if there's something here that he likes when he wakes up. Or at least something he doesn't find offensive.

Edited 2020-02-05 06:32 (UTC)

Ronan isn't sleeping, either.

He tries. He really does. With the promise of a dreamless sleep, he wants to spend as much time as possible unconscious, waking only when Kylo has finally returned to retrieve him.

Instead his thoughts circle and circle around the horrible possibility that Kylo is trapped forever in an alternate life, that he believes he's alone, that he'll never know the depth of Ronan's love for him. He'll never know Ronan as anything other than his resentful prisoner. When Ronan thinks of every bitter thought he had and every horrible word he spoke to Kylo, he feels like he's going to choke on the memories.

"He's gone," Ronan says, breaking the silence to answer a question Declan asked nearly an hour ago.

Declan's settled in, reading and apparently taking notes or something. He anticipates a long night and he isn't sure how much Ronan will talk. That it only takes an hour for the silence to break is unexpected.

It also takes him a moment to respond as the weight of he's gone sinks in. He remembers that other world, that entire other life. And he remembers losing Ronan and how it felt to find the empty locker room. That life is not this one. But it is still difficult for him to lament Kylo beyond the pain his disappearance is causing Ronan.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. After a breath he adds, "I'm glad you're here." Alive. Willing to see Declan's apartment as a safe place to go. All of it. He knows how much loss Ronan has faced. There is nothing Declan can really do to keep loss from happening.

Fuck he's bad at this. Declan lives in cliches but all of them feel utterly useless in moments like this. He wants to offer Ronan comfort and he doesn't know how. Matthew's easy, he usually just wants a hug or attention or an easy distraction.

He eases his chair a little closer to the couch, close enough that he can run his hand over Ronan's hair the way Aurora would.

"You're not fucking sorry."

Ronan knows this can't be anything other than a relief to Declan. Especially if he remembers everything that happened in that other life. After that, there would probably have been no hope to reconcile, even if Kylo did come back. But it looks like Declan's going to win the custody battle by default, anyway.

Which means there's no point to Ronan kicking and screaming about it. He just sounds tired now, the life draining out of him with every moment he spends without Kylo.

"Christ, Ronan."

Declan lets his hand slip away and he sits back. He doesn't know anything about Kylo beyond what he's seen and experienced. Ronan never spoke of him before that unfortunate meeting, which did little to make him feel okay with the co-dependent depth of the relationship.

"Please don't think that I'm thrilled to see you this broken up. I take no joy in your misery. I'm an asshole but I'm not that asshole."

God help him, he wants to fight. He pushes the feeling down into his stomach with his ulcer and hopes it will die there. All that's happened since he's arrived here has been one shitty situation after another, none of which he'd been even remotely prepared for. And somehow it is still his fault that everything went to shit. He should have done more. Should have pushed for answers. Should have, should have, should have.

The hollow sound in Ronan's voice, the defeat and the utter lack of light is killing him. When did Ronan become someone that would just lay down and die? Why isn't he fighting?

Ronan has always been - sometimes too literally - someone who would lay down and die for the one he loves. The only thing that's truly exceptional about this behavior is that now he's doing it where Declan can see it.

And he's not sure why. He certainly doesn't want Declan to be the one to find him, when he finally does it. He doesn't want to be the first corpse Declan ever discovers. His brother managed to avoid finding their father, their mother. It meant that he made it to adulthood as a functional person, while Ronan fell apart. This isn't a curse Ronan wants to pass along.

Maybe it was a mistake to come here, actually.

He rolls over, onto his back, and untangles himself from the nest of blanket. "Thanks for the nap," he sighs as he sits up on his elbows, gathering the strength to get up and leave. If this is just going to be a night of Declan feigning sympathy, Ronan might as well go hang himself now.

Functional is one word for it.

"Don't."

It comes out as soon as Ronan starts moving like he's going to get up, makes overtures to leave.

"I'll shut the fuck up if you stay. Please."

If Ronan wants silence Declan will give it to him if it means Ronan will stay. He'll break out the booze again and they can both get good and trashed. He doesn't want to think about what will happen if his brother disappears out the door. Sitting by Ronan's bedside in the hospital is not an experience he wants to repeat.

At least if he's here, Declan can pretend that he's in one piece. Maybe he hadn't discovered any corpses, but the people closest to him kept disappearing from his life. What reason does he have to keep going if he loses his brothers, too?

Ronan stops and looks at his brother.

Declan probably thinks that he doesn't know. That, being so spoiled and so self-centered, Ronan doesn't realize how much he's given up in life just to ensure that Ronan has one. But, while Ronan spent most of his youth naive and ignorant of the precise role Declan played in his upbringing, he has always known that he was taking from his brother. Taking the attention, the respect, the love that should have been Declan's.

He doesn't know why his older brother wants so badly to save him. All he knows is that Declan will only have something of his own when Ronan is finally gone.

"You don't have to care anymore, you know," Ronan tells him. "No one knows about Dad, or the business, or where you fit into all this shit. You could pick your own name. You could run for Congress. You could pretend you don't know who I am. In two months, I bet all these assholes will love you."

Ronan sits all the way up and plants his feet on the floor, sighing.

"What I'm saying is, it won't be your fault. This was never your job."

"You say that like it's something I can just turn off."

They don't know about Niall or the Fairy Market; Niall's debts and secrets don't exist here. Maybe he's safer here than he'd ever been in their world, but Declan doesn't know how to not care about Ronan.

Ronan tries to absolve him of caring, as if Declan has not loved him since the moment he was born. And he doesn't know how to explain that to someone that seems so intent on this idea that Declan will be free without him.

"I love you, Ronan," he says quietly. "I will never stop loving you, or caring about you, or wanting you to be safe and sound and happy. So if you think you would be doing me some great favor by disappearing or dying, you are wildly mistaken."

Ronan believes that Declan believes that. But those words are met with a miserable stare, and if he could access his powers right now, he'd already be gone. He's done nothing to earn the kind of love and devotion Declan has shown him. He certainly hasn't reciprocated it. And after years of stumbling through life without his brother there to catch him, it's difficult to justify dragging Declan back into his problems.

If Declan insists on getting tangled up in them anyway, Ronan will have to cut him free with a knife.

"Who the fuck are you trying to impress?" he sneers, canines flashing as his lips curl. Having been recently confronted with this ugly fact, Ronan knows that when he looks like this, he looks exactly like Niall Lynch. "Do you think Dad's waiting around the corner to give you a pat on the back for taking such good care of me while he was gone? He never did. He never will. There's nobody left to fucking notice you, Declan, so why don't you fuck off and get a life already?"

Ronan does look just like Niall, and he can be cruel like Niall could be. More than that, Ronan knows more about the role Declan played in the business as well as in the family and it gives him new ammunition. Declan feels the proverbial knife slip between his ribs, but he doesn't flinch.

His meeting with the new Fenian pops into his head unwanted. Everything that rushed through him at that moment, everything he felt when the man looked at him the way Declan didn't realize he'd wanted Niall to. I don't offer things I can't give. This head still loves you like you were mine. I'm proud of you.

Jesus, not now. It doesn't matter, because Ronan isn't going to cut him out.

"I'm not doing this for Dad, Ronan. I never was."

"Keep telling yourself that," Ronan snaps. "You lie to everyone else. Why not yourself, while you're at it?"

He has to get out of here. He's going to end up doing it here if he stays. There are so many weapons everywhere - his belt, the kitchen knives, Declan's sleeping pills - and he can't stop thinking about the City. He can't stop thinking about Kylo trapped there, alone. What if the key to getting back there is taking himself out of this world? The last time he died, after all, he went home...

Ronan picks himself up, already putting out a hand to shove Declan away from him if he has to.

Declan's on his feet as quickly as Ronan is, running right into his brother's hand. Sure, there are ways for Ronan to kill himself here, but there are a hundred more ways he could do it out there. Step off a curb, get into a fight, more knives and more pills and more rope to hang himself. No. Declan can't let him go while he's like this.

He shoves Ronan back, both hands rather than the one, and he braces himself with the expectation that what comes next will not be nearly as restrained.

Ronan stumbles back onto the couch, his weight too unbalanced to counter the force of that shove. But he's not down for long. Instead of trying to get up again, he launches himself directly at Declan's middle, throwing all of his weight into knocking Declan to the floor.

He might have done better to keep Ronan too drunk to move.

Declan is expecting a punch; when Ronan hits his middle, they both go down with a heavy thud. He is, maybe, regretting taking the Jameson away. It's been a while since they got into a drag out fight, maybe it was about time.

Reacting on well-trained instinct, Declan punches down. Ronan's too close to his legs to get a good kick in but he drives a knee up anyway to plant his foot and shove off the floor, intent on rolling them over or otherwise getting out from under his brother. Ronan might not be fall down drunk but Declan can still smell the alcohol.

Lifting his head too fast makes him dizzy; he must have bounced off the floor harder than he thought. No time to think right now. He feels a limb hit him and throws another punch.

Noah gives Ronan his space for a little while, but he's worried that - with the state he's in - Ronan will get himself into trouble or hurt or worse, so it's only a matter of hours before he goes to check on him. Tries to, anyway. Ordinarily, all he has to do is will himself to Ronan's side, wherever he may be. This time something blocks him. He ends up on the sidewalk in front of an apartment building in De Chima, no Ronan in sight.

Naturally, he panics.

It takes him a few minutes of frantic looking around before he spies a familiar last name on the row of mailboxes and another few to make it up to Declan's apartment where, out of breath and disheveled, he slumps against the door and knocks. Loudly. Please still be there, please, please.

This is the second time Noah has seen Declan looking a little rough after a fight, though rather than a bathrobe he's in the very rumpled button down and slacks that he'd worn to work.

Noah's the first person to physically try to track Ronan down. Declan isn't sure if he's grateful that Noah didn't show up mid-brawl or if it would have spared him what might be a mild concussion if he had.

"Good evening, Noah."

Alright he's been drinking a little bit. Ronan's been drinking more.

"Guess you should uh. Come in."

He can't just leave him standing on the doorstep.

Ronan doesn't stir from his place on the couch. The softness of the knocking tells him that's definitely not Kylo at the door, which means there's no point in getting up.

In fact, he probably looks like he's passed out altogether. Limbs sprawled everywhere. Head resting back against the sofa's arm. A half-melted ice pack covering his entire face. The bottle of whiskey he's been working through sits nearly empty on the floor beside his limp hand. His knuckles are decidedly bruised, which probably tells enough of the story.

Enough of his weight was resting on the door that Noah takes a falling step inside when Declan opens it. He catches himself and heaves a sigh at the sight of Ronan on the couch. It's definitely not his first time seeing the aftermath of a Lynch brothers brawl and, compared to the thoughts that flashed through his mind on the way up here, it's actually sort of a relief.

"Thanks," he pants. "I couldn't- It was like he was gone." Probably that won't make much sense to Declan, but he can't be bothered to explain.

Noah crosses the room and crouches next to the couch, peels the ice pack up about an inch off Ronan's face to uncover an eye. "Hey."

"He turned up a few hours ago."

Declan closes the door and locks it once Noah's inside. It sounds like Noah ran all the way here; Declan trails after him and plucks up the glass he's been drinking out of on the way. He's been helping Ronan with the bottle, if only to make sure this doesn't turn into a trip to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.

He sinks back down in his chair and picks up his own ice pack to rest it against his jaw. Maybe he'll call out sick tomorrow.

Ronan's eye slides open to fix on Noah. Ordinarily, Noah's appearance would instantly lift his mood, but the darkness that's settled on him since he came back from the City refuses to abate. It's impossible to comprehend anything other than misery as long as he knows Kylo is trapped in some other world without him, unaware of the life they built together.

He jokes weakly, "We keep running into each other like this."

You know. Noah fretting over him on his deathbed.

It's an awful joke and Noah makes a face. "Can we stop?"

Even from this short distance, the wash of pain he's expecting from Ronan never comes. Nothing overflows his boundaries and invades his perception. All Noah feels is his own concern, a sick twisting in his guts, at how lost Ronan seems. In his head it's jarringly quiet except for his own thoughts. It gives everything an air of unreality that only adds to his disquiet.

"You really freaked me out."

Ronan doesn't know what to say. In all honesty, Noah should be freaked out. His instinct is one hundred percent correct. Ronan intends to be dead before the week is out, and he'd be dead already if not for preventative measures in the form of his brother.

He settles on: "Sorry." Because he is.

And then the vague truth: "I didn't know what else to do."

"I know. But you were gone and I... couldn't get to you like I usually can. I guess picking a fight with Declan isn't the worst thing you could have done." His mouth twists into a shape that wants to be a smile, but isn't quite. It would be something else entirely if he weren't currently limited by human awareness. He has no idea just how dark Ronan's thoughts have become.

Noah adjusts the ice pack a little more and combs his fingers loosely through Ronan's hair. "It's going to be okay. He's just late."

Or at least, so he hopes. Kylo Ren isn't... his most favorite person, but Ronan loves him and Noah loves Ronan. If Kylo comes back tomorrow, he'll organize the welcome home party himself, complete with box mix confetti cupcakes.

Declan watches without watching; it feels like something private and he tries to let it stay that way without actually leaving the room. Noah clearly cares about Ronan and it's a relief to have someone else in the room that wants Ronan to live as much as Declan does. Noah even earns a rare apology.

He rubs his forehead and finishes what he has in his glass. He doesn't trust Kylo, he doesn't like who Ronan has become entwined with him and that power. But right this second, all he wants is for his brother to make it out of whatever comes next in one piece and breathing.

"You should stay, Noah."

Declan isn't sure if the overt invitation is necessary, but it's there.

Unnecessary, but appreciated.

"I will," he says with the briefest of glances Declan's way. Noah isn't going anywhere. If Declan kicked him out, he would probably end up camping in the hallway or something. Haunting the building. Obviously he'd prefer not to do that, but he would if it came to it.

As much as he adores Noah, this isn't exactly a development that thrills Ronan. He had counted on eventually slipping away whenever Declan finally dropped his guard or fell asleep. Now the two of them will be able to take shifts, a pair of eyes on Ronan at all times. And even if Ronan manages to sneak off, Noah will know it immediately and find him.

"You don't have to," Ronan tells him. "I'm just getting shitfaced. It's not really a party."

"Noah can get shitfaced, too, that's practically a party."

It's the theme of the night, why not? Declan can babysit; he's trying not to drink too much. He's impressed whatever he's done hasn't lifted yet and he doesn't want to risk it. He picks up the bottle of ibuprofen he left on a side table for Ronan and takes a few with a whiskey chaser.

Jesus, he has to work tomorrow. If he's lucky, the bruises won't look quite so bad. Nanites are at least good for something,

"Are you hungry, Noah?"

It's not like he came expecting a good time and Ronan's attempt to discourage that sounds like all the more reason he should stay. Noah fixes him with a long-suffering, 'do you think I'm stupid' sort of look. They have a history of this, even if Ronan doesn't remember most of it. Watching over him when he's a mess is nothing new. That's just what Noah does.

"I'd rather be here," he maintains, quiet but firm. "The house is lonely without you in it."

He's definitely not getting shit-faced though. He feels off-kilter enough as it is with his missing sixth sense and, anyway, someone should be sober. When Declan asks if he's hungry, Noah shakes his head without actually considering the question. It's hard to tell if he is or not sometimes, unless his stomach protests, and at the moment he's too anxious to notice. "Not really."

Ronan was not implying that he hoped to turn this into a party.

He pulls the icepack off his face and tosses it over his shoulder. It hits the floor with a slightly more dramatic clatter than he'd meant, but then again, it's appropriate to the flash of anger that comment just stirred up in him.

No one fucking gets it. His entire reason for living is either trapped in another universe or entirely wiped out, and here are these two, practically throwing a party over it. Declan is tired and Noah is lonely, but they get to feel better now, because the gang's all here and no one has to wonder where Ronan is or what he's doing. What a relief for them.

"I'm going to bed."

Declan was mostly being sarcastic about having a thrilling night in his apartment, but seeing the ice pack go sailing doesn't really surprise him. Ronan's upset, everything is going to be offensive. That Kylo Ren has somehow become his brother's only reason to live is a creeping horror he'll have all night to contemplate.

That relief, as real as it is, is tenuous at best, even when Ronan announces he's going to bed. Declan has removed or hidden anything Ronan could use to easily hurt himself; that hour his brother was curled up on the couch had been somewhat productive, at least. He'll have to depend on Noah to keep Ronan from using the bed linens to hang himself or throwing himself out a window.

Jesus. The windows. And the bathroom mirror.

He didn't plan to sleep tonight anyway. There won't be any relief for a while.

"Bed's made." The one Ronan had refused when Declan first offered it. "Fridge is full if either of you want anything."

Noah flinches at the noise, but he's used to this too. He withdraws, sitting back on his heels and slowly scooting away from the couch to the middle of the floor. Giving Ronan space for his exit.

Again, Declan's words don't totally register. Noah nods vague acknowledgement in his direction, but that's all. Now that Ronan is going to try and sleep, there's nothing for him to do except hang out here. Keep vigil.

Given the destruction Ronan wrought upon his own living space, Declan should consider himself lucky that the icepack is the only thing his brother has tossed since he got here. As far as Ronan's grief-fueled outbursts go, it's a tame one.

Then again, he's only been here for a few hours.

But sleep is actually the only thing he has planned for the night. The only part of this that was planned all along, in fact. And while he doesn't know what the hell he's going to do when he wakes up, he doesn't expect it'll be something terrible. The combined presence of Noah and Declan not only eliminates the opportunity, but erodes his will, too. He's trying not to hurt them. That he drove here instead of straight into a telephone pole is evidence of that.

Without another word, he drags himself off the couch. He kicks the icepack at the wall when he encounters it on the way to the guest room, then slams the door behind him.

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i could've loved you longer.

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