Ronan was still trying to puzzle out how he'd gotten stuck babysitting some girl even days after the picnic. Who would even want to trust him with that? The only good thing seemed to be that the girl (what was her name again? Clara?) seemed to be pretty cool with him fucking off so he'd done just that ( Read more... )

St. Mark's Eve had come and gone, taking with it the semester and the specter of his dead father. He'd spent the night perched on top of the roof, trying to catch glimpses of anyone walking the Corpse Road on this tiny island. He'd seen no one. The night had grown chilly and Ronan had gotten bored and gone inside ( Read more... )

Sleep.

Ronan had tried to fight it off, tried to find other things to distract him from sleeping but, in the end, sleep had won. He'd sprawled flat on his back, headphones still pressed against his ears. Chainsaw was sitting on the nightstand, quiet for once, but her dark, beady eyes were watching Ronan.

My boy ( Read more... )

After the dance, Ronan had gone out and found a real party. It was amazing what you could fall into after challenging some rich kid in a visor to a road race after midnight. Those rich kids did some funny things when you beat their asses (not literally) like inviting you to some party with the promise of booze and girls. The latter wasn't ( Read more... )

There were eleven voicemails on Ronan's phone ( Read more... )

Whatever had been going on with the island seemed to be over. That stupid freaking crown was gone and Ronan could finally think about things that weren't Glendower, things that weren't finding and getting that favor. It'd been stupid to hope. Stupid. Hope was for people that weren't him. Hope was for Gansey and Blue and maybe even Noah ( Read more... )

Ronan couldn't remember the last time he'd really slept. Maybe...three days ago? Four? He didn't know. He was tired but it was an easy thing to ignore. The crown in front of him made it easy. Chainsaw was hopping around beside the crown, pecking at some food he'd gotten her. Ronan reached out and rubbed his finger against her feathers, ( Read more... )

Ronan was face down, head pressed into his pillow. Chainsaw was pecking silently at something on his nightstand. She was patiently waiting for him to wake up but it didn't look like Ronan was going to be doing that anytime soon. He was dreaming.

( Dream A Little Dream For Me... )

Eventually, insomnia (that's what Ronan was going to blame it on, at least) caught up to him. Eventually, he had to sleep. And even though he'd fought it for so long, he also had to dream.

( Dreaaaaaaaaaaaaaamweaver )

Once again, Ronan had woken up feeling fidgety and full of pent up energy that needed to be released in some very, very dirty ways. He'd thought the other night might have satisfied him (because it'd been damn good) but as soon as that high had worn off, he was back to feeling like every other person on the island ( Read more... )