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(only love can) set you free

I wish I had the brain for in-depth meta rn but instead here I am, with a fluffy hc with side of angst

Ronan spends a large portion of their aimless drive playing some of his darker more inaccessible tracks. The angry repetition of Alessandro Adriani’s The Man With The Deadly Dreams and Shed’s I Come By Night both cut a sharper edge after a shambolic night’s sleep. Adam woke up next to him covered in blood and feathers and fear for Ronan, not of Ronan, which Ronan still can’t understand. The last straw is Orphx’s Aurora, which causes Ronan to drive a little faster these days. He becomes a storm cloud gaining momentum, eating up the landscape in his path.

Adam can take no more.

He goes for goading. Goading works for them. He aims for a rise, for a distraction.

“God, Lynch, are you aware that major chords are still a thing?”

Ronan just keeps driving. Adam doesn’t relent. “Is Murder Squash the only goddamn song that makes you smile? Actually, no. That’s a miracle in and of itself, I don’t think music could possibly bring me joy again after this, this is fucking traumatic.”

Ronan’s hands tighten on the wheel for a moment, and Adam worries he’s misjudged, that his tone didn’t hit right. He questions whether he only knows how to be sharp with the people he cares about, whether he doesn’t know how to care the right way at all.

But then Ronan let’s out a quiet breath, a huff too small to be considered anything approaching a laugh - but maybe -

Ronan looks to his phone, tapping through Spotify before returning to the task of driving. A song starts to fade in. And Adam can’t help a howl of laughter when it registers for him, feeling a dusty pink flush across his face as Ronan watches him and quirks his mouth into a smile for the first time all day.

Adam feels his heart clench as the speakers blast:

“When I wake each morning As the storm beats down on me And I know we belong together Only love can set you free”

He bites his lip and Ronan’s eyes dart for a second to follow the movement.

“Oh look, it seems you’re experiencing joy again Parrish. What a miracle. I guess I’m a fucking saint.”

You’re something alright, Adam thinks, then berates himself for how dumb of a line that is.

“Joy is pretty big.” He prods, like he always does with Ronan. Goading has got him this far, after all. “You surprised me. You don’t know if it’s joy or if I’m laughing because you’re actually a fucking sap.” “Which is it then? Why are you laughing?”

Adam stares at the full blown grin that’s taken up residence on Ronan’s face now. He takes in the tattoo peaking out of his shirt and follows it along to the newfound lightness in his shoulders. It burns him and the song fans the flames.

“Because I feel free.” He says.

From Ronan’s face, he know that’s not all he’s said. Not really. Not with this song playing. Ronan, for all his edges, looks soft at his words, warm like the late evening sun approaching the horizon ahead of them.

Ronan doesn’t know how he looks but he feels, for a moment, speechless.

The look between them is suspended in time. Both delicate and weighty. Adam wants to be careful with it, wants to keep them light together.

“Free of the demonic earache you’ve been subjecting me to this whole time.” He quips.

The moment defuses, but doesn’t dissolve as Ronan laughs. “I told you, I’m a saint, a demon comes for you and I slay its ass. No matter what.”

Ronan’s tone is as light as Adam was hoping for, but his words leave Adam feeling unmade.

And the look on Adam’s face sets Ronan free.

He drops a hand onto Adam’s, lacing their fingers together as the music plays on.