cribellate | Declan Lynch | The Raven Cycle

[ Matthew continues to rub the sleep from his eyes and nods absently, though it's not clear which part he's acknowledging. Finally he drops his hand and looks at Declan again. The food will get him out of the room, and his own simple faith and longing for familiarity will get him to church but before that-- ]

Can we really not go back? [ He's asked this question already, twice, since the reading of the will, but he still can't understand the answer. ]

Just to check on mom, I mean; we wouldn't have to stay.

[ She should be coming with them today. She missed the funeral but she never misses church. ]

[ He doesn't want to tell the truth; it would be so easy to lie. We can go back someday - except that they may never see their home again. They may never see their own mother again, fast asleep, like their father's puppet, her strings cut.

Declan knew about Matthew.

He didn't know about Aurora. ]

No.

[ He says it, not unkindly, but not softly, either. They can't go back. ]

The nurses will let us know.

[ God, he hopes Matthew doesn't cry. ]

[ Matthew trembles a little and his eyes are wet but he doesn't cry. He's going to try not to, today.

With some effort, he forces himself to actually climb out of the bed now, not wanting to make Declan wait on him. ]

You'll keep your phone on? Even in church?

[ Of course he will, how else is their mom supposed to get ahold of them when she snaps out of... whatever happened to her? But Matthew has to ask, because nothing is simple and nothing makes sense anymore. ]

[He knows why Matthew is asking, Matthew is hoping for a miracle, Matthew is making them go to church to pray for one, while Declan knows better. She was the miracle; now she's deadweight. Alive but not alive. The nurses tell him she's perfectly healthy, but asleep. That the doctors don't know what happened, still. But there she is, in that house, where none of her sons can reach her.]

I won't turn it off, I promise.

[It's an easy promise to make. Aurora used to confiscate his phone - Ronan could be trusted not to take his, and Matthew forgot his most of the time, but Declan wasn't so good about it.

He holds that back, the ache in his chest more a burn. This is the first time since he was 12 and got his first one that his mother isn't there to ruffle his curls and take his phone and slip it in her purse. It's the first time she won't hand him his rosary with a kiss and a scolding every time, Declan.

He reaches for his tie.]

Don't worry, we'll know when she wakes up. It's grief. That's all.

[ Matthew draws in a breath and believes Declan completely. ]

Okay. Maybe they'll call today.

[ The thought of their mother being that sad puts another lump in his throat though and he reminds himself again, try not to cry. She's always happy, she's always laughing or loving or working cheerfully--

And now she's gone. Not like Dad, who's gone and never coming back this time, but gone until she isn't anymore. He wants someone to promise him that will be soon but no one has. Ronan's gone, too, he went to Gansey instead of staying with them and that's one of the few things Matthew sort of understands why, but it still makes for another hole in the world.

Declan's fraying, too, he knows it, snapping around the edges; the fight was evidence of that. Ronan broke all at once, transformed by Niall's death--he always loved their dad the most. Matthew doesn't want to be any more afraid, but he's scared because what if Declan is coming off in pieces.

He sniffs as he pushes himself around the room, changing into his new clothes because they weren't allowed to keep the old ones, clumsily buttoning his stiff shirt. ]

[All three of them are grieving in such separate and distinct ways.

The black eye is fading, the split lip is starting to finally heal. That doesn't hurt as much. He watches Matthew getting the parts of his suit together and he remembers the things Aurora used to have to to. He has a cowlick. He forgets to button his cuffs. It's nothing that's obviously messy, but combined, he looks orphaned, more than Declan thought.

He remembers their father pressing Matthew's hair down when they were together, his fingers catching the curls.

So he does that now, absently, but entirely there. It's meant to be an unintentional gesture, but he doesn't want Matthew to look like no one loves him, when Declan does, so fiercely.

God, he's so pissed at Ronan. How could he leave them?]

I'll be right outside, meet me.

[He goes to stand just outside their room, breathing, trying to keep his own signs of unloved boy from showing. A double check. His phone. His rosary, black and spare. His wallet. Buttoned collar. Tied tie. Fresh curls.]

[ The gesture is Niall's but when Matthew looks up at the smoothing of his hair, he doesn't imagine their father, he sees Declan. He sees Declan's bruised face and loves him, too--loves him and needs him desperately.

If Declan goes away, it's all over.

Matthew tries not to think about it. He doesn't want to be more afraid.

He emerges from the room a few minutes later, more or less pressed and ready to go. The cologne he's taken to wearing is absent, because buying more certainly hasn't been a priority. But he eventually remembered to button his cuffs, and the knot of his tie is passable. His shirt is tucked, curls are settled; he's made himself presentable for God and Declan, maybe in that order. He unthinkingly reaches for his brother's sleeve. ]

Breakfast?

[ Food is still a successful lure. ]

Yeah.

[He leads the way to the dining hall; there's almost no one awake except for the ragged few members of the lacrosse team, up early for an extra practice, and another couple of boys who go to church, too, looking disgruntled and well-maintained. But even so breakfast is good - Declan lets Matthew grab what he wants without comment. Aurora used to make them breakfast. That was just two weeks ago. Just two weeks ago they were sitting at their table at the Barns and she had made oatmeal and Ronan was complaining that it was boring.

God, Declan pushes that thought away.

He gets toast and dumps his eggs on them and then sits, and eyes what Matthew put on his plate.]

[ Matthew sits down at the table with a fair heap of food, though his thoughts are traveling along a similar line as Declan's.

He ends up just pushing the eggs around on his own plate--they aren't right, somehow; it's like for the first time in his life he can actually taste what he's eating--but almost makes up for it in the amount of bacon he causes to disappear. The bacon is about the same.

They get a look or two from the other early risers. It's not every day that Aglionby boys get kicked out of their homes, and speculations are bound to be wild.

Matthew, thankfully, isn't aware of this kind of thing. When he's eaten enough to take the edge off his hunger and is poking at the leftovers with his fork, that's when he works up the courage to ask-- ]

Is Ronan coming today?

[Declan's facade cracks a little when Matthew mentions Ronan. They were friends before; they were almost best friends before. The three of them always had their own friends, their own social worlds, but they were close, they liked each other. He's never gone a week without Ronan like this.

He curls his hands around his fork, because he can't, he can't.

It's a very ugly moment, but it's just a moment.]

You asked him, and he still likes you.

[Its not my fault, he wants to say. He didn't ask dad to make all those stupid rules, he didn't ask dad to exile them, he didn't ask dad to put him in charge. But he's the oldest and the most boring so here he is.]

[ Matthew quickly drops his eyes away from Declan and stares at the eggs he can't eat. So it's still not a good idea to mention Ronan. Not that he expected it to be suddenly okay, but...

How long is it going to be like this? How long is their own brother going to be off limits?

He's just sad, Matthew wants to say, but they're all sad. He doesn't realize you're doing everything, but that would just be more salt in the wound.

He still likes you, but he's a little terrified it isn't true. ]

If he does come... [ you won't fight at church, will you? ] Can I sit in the middle?

[Declan looks down at his eggs and there's a rush of shame; Matthew knows and it isn't Matthew's fault that he and Ronan fought, but he's the one who has to bear the brunt of this, he's the one who has to deal with-

He takes some eggs.]

Sure.

[There's gratitude, too, slightly desperate. He just stares at his eggs. God, he's not hungry at all.]

You-

You can always go see him.

[As if Ronan was ever off-limits. Declan likes Gansey, Ronan is okay with Gansey, he thinks, and so is Matthew.]

[ Matthew looks up again, considering this with newfound hope. Will Ronan want him to visit? It's not like he and Matthew fought. He and Matthew have never fought. That hasn't changed too, has it? ]

Yeah. Yeah, I want to do that.

[ And Matthew likes Gansey. To be fair, Matthew likes everyone, but he appreciates Gansey, particularly what Gansey is to Ronan. He knows it's not like Gansey took their brother away; he just offered Ronan a different home. They've been thick as thieves since they met.

It's good, at least, that Ronan isn't pushing everyone away.

He's done with breakfast, despite the uncharacteristic amount of food left on his plate, but he waits for Declan to decide when they should leave. ]

[He pokes at his food. He wants to be selfish, he wants to ask Matthew to not stay over if he goes, to make sure and come home. Whatever home is, now. He wants Matthew to choose him over Ronan.

But he doesn't do that. He pokes at his food, stabs at his eggs without any real menace, and finally he lifts up from the table.]

You're done?

[That's only half of what he usually eats, the black hole that he is. He takes a pause.]

Are you sure?

[ Declan makes the right choice by not asking. Of course Matthew could never choose. ]

Yeah, I'm not hungry anymore.

[ And he's not. Maybe he didn't eat as much as usual but he's in no danger of starving. He looks at Declan's plate, too. ]

Are you ready?

[ He's almost anxious to go now, to get to church, to pray for his miracle. ]

[He doesn't know how to fix that. He's pretty sure Matthew has never uttered those words in that order before without a question mark at the end of the sentence. But Declan pushes his plate away and gets up, and runs a hand through his hair.]

He might not come.

[Really, Ronan might just decide to blow them off. Ronan might not come. Mom might not wake up. Dad might have fucked them over royally. But Declan can only parse out so much truth in any day. Lies are so much easier.]

[ Matthew scrambles from his seat when Declan stands up, and reaches for both plates because he's been helping Aurora clear the table since he was four and begged her to give him his own chores. (Neither Declan nor Ronan ever had to beg for such a thing.) ]

I know.

[ But... ]

But he might.

[Ever had to, or ever wanted to.

Declan doesn't move to help because Declan is both occasionally an ass, and because he's really not used to helping. When Matthew's cleared up he moves forward, hands in his trouser pockets.]

I don't want you to be disappointed.

[He's already been disappointed enough this week.]

[ Matthew absently brushes a few crumbs from his sleeve and falls into step with Declan again. ]

I won't be disappointed. [ He watches his feet. ] He might not want to come.

[ This is what he says aloud, because he's trying not to make anything even more difficult, but he's hardly capable of switching his feelings on and off. ]

[He wonders if Matthew is learning to lie.

He's quiet until they get to the car, quiet as they drive through Henrietta. It's like the whole world is different, even though everything is the same. The church is quiet. There are a lot of people wearing black; Niall was not popular but Aurora was, and the three of them, the last three Lynches, people know them. One of the women comes by, she reaches to give Matthew a hug, and belatedly gives Declan one, too.

Declan tries a smile out.

It's easier than he thought it would be. Than it has any right to be.]

Maybe we should-

[He looks over at Matthew.]

Maybe you want to pick out a spot.

[A new spot, maybe? A new start? He looks over at the pew they usually sit at.]

[ In one way being surrounded by the familiar faces of their church settles Matthew, calms the surreptitious but ever-present fear that has clung to him like a shadow since the day Ronan found Niall in the driveway.

Someone murdered their father, at their home, and he doesn't have the faintest idea why. But this is such a safe place; he can't be afraid here, not amidst the hugs and condolences of people he's known for so long.

At the same time it makes him feel very heavy again, like he's moving in slow motion.

Ronan isn't here, or he isn't here yet.

Matthew is definitely disappointed, and definitely trying not to show it.

He follows Declan's gaze over to their usual pew and for a moment he imagines them sitting in a different place. A spot where he doesn't have the very lines of the wooden pew memorized. A spot where they'll have to sit and look at everything from a different angle--the faces, the building, the service. ]

Can we sit in the usual place?

[He looks over at the spot, and then back at Matthew, and he takes Matthew's hand, easily. When Matthew was very little - four, so ten years ago - Declan used to do this all the time. He would hold his hand, right up until Declan got too old to do it unless under orders or duress.

Ronan kept it up for longer, but Ronan always loved Matthew most.

But now he leads them, and he goes in first. If Ronan shows up, he can just sit next to Matthew. It's their usual space. It just feels odd, because usually Aurora sat next to Matthew and Declan on the other side, bracketing them in, with Ronan in the middle. Unless their father was there. Then he sat at the end. ]

Edited 2016-02-28 17:56 (UTC)

[ Matthew clings to Declan's hand, like no time has passed at all. If he had his way, they'd keep it up the whole service because he wants the reminder that Declan is still here.

They end up leaving enough space on the pew for two people to join them.

Once they're seated another parishioner approaches to offer condolences and prayers, and then to inquire about Aurora, and while Matthew doesn't notice she's being a little overly pushy for the details that is when he starts to tune her out. He focuses on the sound of the organ, the music that draws people so gently through the doors.

It's one of their mother's favorite hymns, and one of their father's least favorite. ]

[What Matthew might notice is Declan's hand tightening around his, even as he speaks, even as he explains - oh, no, their mother is still stricken, no, they're fine, yes, Aglionby has been supportive, yes, Ronan is just running late, no, they don't need anything but of course they'll say, yes, thank you.

And then he looks down at Matthew and they're in public but Declan pulls him a bit, so they're sitting close together, so he can squeeze every time it looks like Matthew is gong to cry.]

The organist is off his game.

[They're all, in a way, musicians, although Matthew was no good at it, he can still appreciate it.]

He keeps missing the count.

[ Matthew exhales when Declan pulls him closer, the kind of sigh that accompanies a release of tension. Then he blinks, and listens for a moment. ]

Oh.

[ The corner of his mouth gives the faintest quirk, because he can hear it now and that's the kind of thing that probably would have gotten points with their dad if he were here. He always wanted his sons to be good at the things he found important, and Matthew's always wanted to be good at things. ]

You're right.

[ He squeezes Declan's hand back now, maybe a bit delayed but still there. ]

Declan Lynch | The Raven Cycle

You kind of are and I can't complain

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)