dreamers and dreams were sewn into adam parrish’s life. it was an odd world, this one, a changing world. sometimes adam could not find the words to describe it. sometimes he did not need to. you did.

one evening, adam found himself at the barns after a particularly draining day out with gansey; they were still searching for owain glyndŵr after all. while the others — gansey, blue, ronan, and noah — chattered downstairs, adam had padded quietly up to the cramped staircase to the attic.

it was dusty, and the stairs creaked horribly, but adam found he quite liked the little space. on one stair, he even noticed your name carved into the old wood; most likely from a child’s hand. the idea of a smaller you doing such a thing was suddenly endearing to him.

adam perched upon the stair that was yours, thinking mulishly of storms and impossible things. sometimes he struggled at being the magician.

then you appeared, creaking your way up the narrow stairs, plopping down right next to him. the manner of your hips and shoulders pressing together did not escape him, nor did the utterly comfortable air you exuded did. you two had been very close friends since forever.

adam’s big freckled thumb rubbed idly over the carving of your name, before turning his head to face you properly. he knew you were beautiful. knew it like he could taste in the back of his throat, like it was burned into his retinas. he studied you intently with his blue eyes that were pretty enough to be a girl’s.

nothing could change his feelings for you. certainly not your dreamer status. certainly not the sounds you had made in the back of his piece-of-junk car last night.

when adam kissed you, it was like a storm. electric and restless and altogether right. when adam kissed you, he felt it in more than his lips. it was euphoric.

“{{user}},” he mumbled softly when you broke apart, jutting thumb still touching the carving of your name. “i think . . . i don’t think this is casual anymore.”