Call Down the Hawk

You are made of dreams and this world is not for you.

Does any part of you still look at the sky and hurt?

Ronan hadn't known anything about who Adam was then and, if possible, he'd known even less about who he himself was, but as they drove away from the boy with the bicycle, this was how it had begun: Ronan leaning back against his seat and closing his eyes and sending up a simple, inexplicable, desperate prayer to God: Please.

Dreams are not the safest thing to build a life on.

We used to hear the stars, too. When people stopped talking, there was silence. Now you could shut every mouth on the planet and there’d still be a hum. Air-conditioning groaning from the vent beside you. Semi trucks hissing on a highway miles away. A plane complaining ten thousand feet above you. Silence is an extinct word. It bothers you, doesn’t it?

I want it too much," Adam said. That sentence, Ronan thought, was enough to undo all bad feeling he might have had meeting Adam's Harvard friends, all bad feeling about looking like a loser, all bad feeling about feeling stuck, all bad feeling, ever. Adam Parrish wanted him, and he wanted Adam Parrish.

This was as Ronan remembered it. Adam's ribs fit against his ribs just as they had before. His arms wrapped around Adam's narrow frame the same way they had before. His hand still pressed against the back of Ronan's skull the way it always did when they hugged. His voice was missing his accent, but now it sounded properly like him as he murmured into Ronan's skin: "You smell like home.

It felt like sadness was like radiation, like the amount of time between exposures was irrelevant, like you got a badge that eventually got filled up from a lifetime of it, and then it just killed you.

Do you understand? For you, reality is not an external condition. For you, reality is a decision.

Tamquam,’ said Adam. 'Wait,’ said Ronan. 'Tamquam,’ he said again, gently. 'Alter idem,’ Ronan said, and found himself alone.

But joy is a small, tenacious crop, especially in soil that hasn't grown any for a long time.

The opposite of magical is not ordinary. The opposite of magical is mankind. The world is a neon sign; it says HUMANITY but everything is burnt out except MAN.

Belonging in more than one world means that you end up belonging in none of them.

He had blue eyes. People generally think blue eyes are pretty, but his were not. They were not cornflower, sky, baby, indigo, azure. His were iceberg, squall, hypothermia, eventual death.

That's me," Ronan said. "He saves people; I take their lunch money.

There's such thing as an emotional cost,” Adam said. “Investing in someone else's survival isn't free, and some people's emotional banks are already overdrawn.

So there was burnished Gansey, who might not have saved Ronan's life in high school, but at the very least kept it mostly out of Ronan's reach so that he could not take it down and break it.

He looked like his brother, in a harder way, like Declan Lynch had been inserted into a pencil sharpener and Ronan Lynch had been taken out after Declan's teeth were even; Ronan's were bared. Declan's eyes were narrow; Ronan's were arrow slits. Declan's hair was curled; Ronan's was obliterated. Declan looked like the kind of person you forgot you'd ever seen. Ronan looked like the kind of person that made you cross to the other side of the street.

There was only the quiet that came after all those things. There was only the quiet that came when you were the only one left. Only the quiet that came when you were something strange enough to outsurvive the things that killed or drove away everyone you loved.

Everyone thinks their world is the only one. A flea believes a dog is the world. A dog believes the kennel is the world. The huntsman thinks his country is the world. The king believes the globe is the world. The farther out you get, the wider you get, the higher you get, the more you see you have misunderstood the bounds of what is possible. Of what is right and wrong. Of what you can truly do. Perspective, Ronan Lynch.

Funny, Ronan thought, how sad an empty house felt and how preferable an empty landscape was.

Declan hated that he loved someone who wasn't real.

He sucked in more longing with every inhale, he exhaled some of his happiness on the other side. How miserable.

It's the stuff between stars, the space between roots, the thing that makes electricity get up in the morning. It fucking hates us

Ronan reached, and the darkness reached back.

You want me to trust you? Save her. Really save her. It’s going to mean telling her what you are. It will cost you emotionally." "Did it cost you to save me?" There was a long silence. The mist shimmered darkly in the trees. The rain sighed. Bryde said finally, "You are the most expensive thing I have ever saved.

Lindenmere was beautiful and complicated in ways that the real world was not. Air and music were two different things in the real world; in Lindenmere, they were not always. Water and flowers were similarly confused in this forest. Hennessy felt the truth of it as they walked. There were creatures you didn't want to meet in person if you weren't with Ronan Lynch. There were places you might get trapped forever if you weren't with Ronan Lynch. It was feral and confusing, but in the end, if followed on rule: Ronan Lynch. His safety, his desires, his thoughts. That was Lindenmere's only true north.