iwasmore | (no subject)

Someone was hollering a friendly greeting, so Ronan had no reason to believe it was for him. Cheng had told him about a portal, a doorway to another Darrow. For a foolish moment, Ronan had let himself be hopeful that he would wind up in Henrietta and not Darrow. Not that Henrietta was any less of a shitshow, but he had the Barns back home, and all of the peace and quiet he wanted. When he could be bothered with school, he inspired distance. That was how he liked it.

One particular Kerah sounded like a warning, and that made Ronan turn his head just in time to see a boy -- a pale boy with shoulders slumped down like the world had pushed him into it -- fall into step beside him.

"The fuck you mean?" Ronan asked lowly, growled, and flicked his eyes up to Chainsaw to see how she felt about this turn of events. She was watchful but still swooping about contentedly. Not a day went by where Ronan didn't wish he was that bird.

"I don't know. I thought she might say my name," Noah says, sheepishly. Usually she acknowledges him in some way, or, as he sometimes hopes, she'll perch on his shoulder. But she seems to be having a good time flying around, so it doesn't matter.

"So what's up with you?" he asks, nudging Ronan's arm lightly with his elbow. He's been trying to give Ronan space, not wanting to upset things, desperately wanting everything to just go back to normal. So he'll just pretend now that he's here, because what else can he do? "I'm off work today because the front window shattered so they have to get it fixed. All the windows on Park broke, did you hear about it?"

"She won't," Ronan assured him, because: a) who the fuck was this guy, and b) did he think Ronan's name was Kerah? Both of these added up to something so stupid that Ronan nearly balked. Then, the boy tried to touch him and he jerked his shoulder back.

"Don't touch me," Ronan warned. People didn't always get warnings. Maybe watching Chainsaw loop around feeling free made him feel something like that, too. Maybe he'd been in a moment of peace away from everything he already knew and some little waif was sad-sacking all over his borderline-pleasant afternoon.

Noah's already frowning, he knows Chainsaw has a special sound she makes for him, but when Ronan jerks away from him his expression goes stricken. "Sorry," he blurts out, taken aback. He thought Ronan might be upset, or conflicted or whatever, but he didn't think Ronan was mad at him.

"I won't touch you," he adds quietly. He doesn't want to make it worse, but he isn't sure how he's supposed to act now. Maybe Ronan doesn't want to see him at all anymore. "Are you mad at me?"

The line of Ronan's shoulder shrank as the muscles wound tighter. The more offended this boy became by him, the more he wanted to lash out. He didn't know this boy and he was so fucking generic-looking that he could have been any shitstained Aglionby student that simpered in his wake. The only good place about Darrow was that it wasn't Henrietta. He'd hoped this Darrow would be different. Unsurprisingly, he had been wrong. This was the price of optimism.

"What the fuck does it matter, fuckwagon?" Ronan spat, sneering his distaste about how his heart beat faster in anger. It was a thing that seized him, the only thing he liked to feel besides drunk. And the two tended to go together.

Noah's whole face goes hot, his heart beating fast and his throat tightening to a point where it's a wonder he can reply at all. But he does, and he does it without thinking first because Ronan's anger directed at him either makes him shrink or get angry himself, though this time it's not really either of those.

"Because I care about you! Do you think I've been avoiding you because I don't? I love you, too, okay? So it's not just you," he says, trailing off, feeling like he might throw up for saying it out loud.

Ronan was already a distance away. He didn't actually care what it mattered because Ronan was indebted to no one, and least of all this little shitbag. Many words had been hurled at him as he stalked away, but none like this. It was something he hadn't heard since the last time his mother was awake. They were not words to be cast like stones -- not words meant for his ears, now and forever.

He whirled around and he laughed. It was a high, manic sound, from a deep place where mirth usually lived. That was a reserve that had dried up long ago, and the death of Niall Lynch had filled the empty space with something much darker. Something terrible. There were only two things he cared about in the entire shitty world and one was perching herself on his shoulder. She emitted a high-pitched, cruel, rolling sound, like they were sharing this laugh at Noah's expense.

Ronan lunged himself forward, displacing Chainsaw but she didn't seem to mind, she swooped about them and continued her cackling caws. He seized Noah by the shirt sneering in his face.

"Fuck off, faggot." And he let him go, shoving him back firmly. Chainsaw replaced herself on his shoulder. She was suddenly, eerily silent.

Something is wrong. It's all Noah can think when Ronan starts laughing. Something is wrong because even Chainsaw sounds cruel. He keeps thinking it like a skipping record in his head, like how he used to watch Whelk hitting him with his skateboard over and over. Something is wrong. Which is why he doesn't push Ronan away when he grabs his shirt, which is why when Ronan shoves him he stumbles back and falls instead of catching himself, palms scraping the sidewalk unnoticed, tendrils of fear hooked in his ghost heart, hammering in his chest.

Braced on his arms, he just stares at Ronan, uncomprehending. This isn't his Ronan. He doesn't know how, but it isn't. It can't be.

Chainsaw notices first, her screech unlike any Ronan's heard before, high and sharp and clearly upset. She flaps wildly before tucking her wings and swooping down low, beak pointed forward and, frowning, Ronan follows the trajectory to where a guy with broad shoulders and a beanie and another version of Chainsaw is standing -- looming -- over Noah.

What the fuck?

Chest seizing tight, Ronan breaks out into a run. He gets to them nearly as quickly as Chainsaw, but not before the other raven hears their approach and lets out a sharp screech of her own. She pushes up into the air, Chainsaw fast on her tail, their wings an inky black cloud in the sky that Ronan registers for only half a second before he has a hand twisted in the fabric on the guy's shoulder and yanks him back, eyes wide with fury and fear, his other hand balled into a tight fist.

"The fuck do you think you are?"

Even without his Chainsaw's warning, he would have heard the footsteps; industrial-type boots crunching gravel as someone charged him. He turned just in time to see--

What the fuck?

Undeterred by Ronan Prime's "menacing" handful of his hoodie, Ronan 2 stared up at the sky, watched his chainsaw swoop and dodge the other's. They swirled around each other, and Ronan 2 wasn't sure if it was a game or a fight. It might have been both.

With both hands, Ronan 2 shoved his doppleganger hard, dislodging him from his personal space. For a split second, Ronan realized it was bizarre to push himself out of his own personal space, but this other Ronan looked soft and breakable and it made Ronan 2 righteously angry. It was a good angry, the kind that he liked to let sit in his chest.

"Your conscience," Ronan deadpanned, tugging a cigarette pack from seemingly nowhere and lighting it. It wasn't that this mirror image of himself wasn't threatening, it was that he would sooner put the cigarette out in his eye than let him know he was rattled. "Seemed like you needed a couple reminders." He scowled sidelong at Noah, not bothering to look at him all crumpled and pathetic on the ground.

Edited 2016-09-24 02:43 (UTC)

Noah feels like he's having a panic attack, like he can't breathe, which is so stupid considering he doesn't need to. But there are two Ronan's. Not Ronan and someone who looks like Ronan, but two different Ronan Lynch's. And one has no idea who he is, which explains the reaction but is little comfort because there are two Ronan's.

And he told the not-Ronan he loves him.

This is definitely a panic attack.

But it's okay, he can still think. He can remind himself he's dead, ghosts can't have panic attacks. He has total control over this body because of the spell. He can breathe and stand up and not be a total idiot about this. Think. Breathe. Stand.

So Noah stands in that fluid way that's more ghost than boy, going from sitting to standing without really moving.

"Ronan--" he starts to say, looking between them until his gaze settles on his Ronan. "I'm fine."

This other Ronan isn't like any terror he's ever seen or dreamt into being, but the dread that curdles low in his belly feels the same even before he's being shoved backward. He's always known the difference between his dreams and reality, but suddenly Ronan's second-guessing fucking everything as he watches a mirror image of himself pull out a pack of cigarettes.

Out the corner of his eye, he sees Noah suddenly on his feet. Noah, who looks just as shaken as Ronan feels.

Above them, Chainsaw and her own doppelgänger screech and flap wildly, the sound of it matching the mess under Ronan's ribcage.

It's Noah's voice that draws him back, the quiet words meant as reassurance. Except none of this fucking fine. Ronan has no idea what the fuck is going on, but it's not Goddamn fine.

He lunges, lips pulled back in a violent sneer as swings his fist straight at the imposter's face.

Either Lynch wasn't expecting this flaccid cock to hit him or he welcomed it. The punch connected to his jaw and Lynch sprayed blood and spit and smoke out. He clutched the other Ronan's jacket and pulled him down to knee him squarely in the stomach. Shame; he'd been aiming a little lower. Maybe the little shit had caught him off-guard. He was wearing his face and he punched like someone who liked dick way less than he obviously did. Good. That meant Niall Lynch had taught him to fight and that meant that his father was a constant in all universes. Good. He deserved to be.

Lynch's cigarette was still smoldering stubbornly in the gravel just within arm's reach. Cigarettes were infinite -- anything was to the Greywaren -- but this particular one had Ronan Prime's irritation all over it and that made it valuable. To make sure Ronan could not stop him, Lynch kicked his leg out from under him and bent for the cigarette. He spat red on the spot where the cigarette had laid and picked it up, inspected it quickly, and took a deep pull.

Just in case that little albino fucker was getting any ideas, Ronan warned, "don't come any closer, shitstain." Maybe he'd consider pulling his punches (not that he had) with his likeness, but not some snotnosed little ghost-looking waif with all of the constitution of a dirty sock.

Noah's eyes raise to the two Chainsaws fighting above him, his heart racing with the speed of their movements, his anxiety spiking from the thought of either of them getting hurt. And then Ronan lunges at his double, pulling Noah's attention back to them. He flaps his hands like he's the one who's been punched, cowardice like lead around his feet.

A memory flashes through his mind, of Ronan speeding in the Pig with a night horror on its roof. You could help!

They can't fight, if this other Ronan is anything like his Ronan they'll never stop. So Noah disappears, re-manifesting between them where he can tell Ronan is already in the midst of getting to his feet. Noah grabs Ronan to help him up, but then tries to push him back and away from the other. "Don't, please. Ronan."

Ronan doubles over at the blow, wind knocked out of him as the other Ronan kicks at his leg and sends him dropping to his knees. It's exactly the kind of hit Ronan should've expected given it's exactly the kind of hit he'd make himself in the same position and fury rockets through him as he seethes up at his own face.

Ignoring the ache in his belly, Ronan jumps back to his feet, but then Noah's right between them, his hands against Ronan's chest and eyes wide, tone pleading.

"Noah," Ronan growls, a low warning as he tries to push past him, tries to reach for the fucking cigarette so he can shove it down his throat. "I'm gonna fucking rip your head off and piss down your throat, asswipe. Where did you even come from?"

The news that this transparent turd is supernatural was something of a shock to Lynch, but you'd never know it. The only tell was a pulled-back sneer, but maybe that was more for his counterpart's obvious bravado.

"You handsome faggot," Ronan chuckle-growled, stepping out of reach to take a languid, satisfying drag on his cigarette. "Pretty far fuckin' cry from Dick Dick Dick's dick." Ronan reached for Lynch again and he plunged the tip of his cigarette into Ronan's hand, between the first and second knuckle. The one he wanted to harm, the other he didn't care if he did or didn't. He stepped out of reach and re-lit his cigarette on principal.

"Does the poor kid you're fucking know about you and the albino?"

The moment the other Ronan shoves a lit cigarette against Ronan's hand, Noah snaps. This isn't a fight. This isn't yelling and slurs and punches, there's something about the cigarette, burning Ronan that sets Noah off. He turns without turning, he's just suddenly in front of the other Ronan, the air around them dropping a few dozen temperatures until it feels like the middle of winter instead of the end of summer. His body grows larger, stretches the way a body shouldn't so that he can tower over the other Ronan, his skin transparent to show the dark and the wispy essence of whatever he is underneath it all. His skull, bashed and shadowed, shows through the facade that is his face, but the stone-cold dead glare is unmistakable.

He grabs both of the other Ronan's hands, locking his own ice cold fingers around them, crushing the extinguishing the cigarette and holding him there.

"Get out of here," he says, his voice like gravel, low and menacing and just for the other Ronan. "Get out, before I posses you. Before I turn you into a vegetable."

He lets go of the other Ronan's hands, but remains in front of him, a wall between each Lynch.

Edited 2016-09-29 21:07 (UTC)

Ronan feels the burn before he knows what's happening, sharp and bright-hot, and he lets out a strangled groan as he yanks his hand back. Noah's suddenly between them then, his back to Ronan and... fuck, huge. Expanding. Close as he is, Ronan can see his skin thinning and bones stretching, can see the decaying corpse beneath the beautiful boy and he stumbles back further.

Noah's voice is ice, entirely directed at the other Ronan, the other him. Above them, both Chainsaws screech wildly, one of them diving straight for Noah before the other swoops in to block her, both birds tumbling away in a mess of beating feathers.

"Noah," Ronan shouts, cradling his burnt hand against his chest. Noah's a ghost and virtually indestructible, but Ronan has no idea what this other fucker is capable of and he's not about to let Noah get in the middle of it.