MORE THAN SURVIVE ( trc. )

𝐈𝐈𝐈

—MORE THAN SURVIVE—
chapter three

HE IGNORED DECLAN'S look as he bounced slightly while waiting outside of Monmouth Manufacturing, the home to Gansey, Ronan and Noah.

The plan had not been to be with them at that moment, of course, as Ronan would have definitely enjoyed seeing the look on his brother's face when he realized Julius was there. Them meaning Adam, Declan, and Ashley, who was actually quite unremarkable, at least physically, despite the talk that preceeded her.

However, he had ended up stuck outside with the rest of the non Monmouth residents as his older brother, Alexander, had taken a bit too long fixing his look and he ended up being late to the place.

Either way, Ronan was supposed to be in class, a product of Declan's planning for him to be away, so he wouldn't hace seen his older brother's reaction.

"Thanks for meeting us," Julius frowned, confused for a second before he realized Declan had been talking to Adam. Because if course he had been.

"No problem," came the reply.

The silence that followed was awkward and tense, and Julius felt the urge to just run off. His bouncing got more pronounced.

"Will you stop that?" Declan snapped.

Julius glared at him but made an effort to stop, although his hand continued to tap a rhythm on his pants.

Ashley looked uncomfortable, and Julius couldn't blame her. Or maybe he could. This was, after all, fully dedicated to her meeting the Monmouth residents.

Which Julius hadn't been invited to be present at anyways. Declan's look felt heavier, but Julius suspected that was more in result to his own train of thought than to anything changing in how Declan was looking at him.

"Should I call?" The eldest Lynch brother finally asked, breaking the silence once again.

"Probably not." Said Julius, but received only a thinly conceiled glare in response.

Which, alright, not unexpected.

Instead of giving an actual answer, Adam went forward and jammed his kneee onto the knob, lifting the door's hinges and then opening it.

Julius gave a quiet cheer as they stepped in.

The apartment looked as messy as always, and just like every other time he stepped into the place, Julius felt as if he were entering a different dimension, one that only the oddities of Gansey's followers could exist in.

(Followers, followers, followers, is that all they were?)

Gansey sat on a desk, scribbling furiously into the worn out journal he always carried with himself, completely oblivious to the sudden intrusion in his space.

The place was Gansey's soul laid bare on the walls of a room too big to feel so cramped. Walls covered in maps marked with a recounting of the boy's journey in lines and dots and occasional annotations. And books covered the floor, many of which Julius knew Gansey had spent hours upon hours studying and translating and trying to understand. He knew because he, too, had spent those times on the floor reading the same line over and over again, looking for a deeper meaning.