If an epilogue of The Later Years comes out after The Raven King and Ronan Lynch is NOT the Latin teacher at Aglionby I’m going to be super disappointed. Just imagine Ronan at thirty in front of a class of posh brats. He thinks he’s this hardass jerk that all the kids are afraid of but it turns out he’s actually a really good teacher (like his dad) and, even worse, that the posh brats actually kind of adore him, and he has no idea what to do with that.
“Fuck off, they’re lame,” says Ronan, at the table in his and Adam’s dining room, aggressively writing passable at the top of his best student’s perfect quiz, and then adding a gold star.
Adam says “sure, yeah,” in that way that means he thinks Ronan is full of shit.
“I hate them,” says Ronan, filling out the form to volunteer as a chaperone on the sophomore trip to Rome.
“Right,” says Adam, patting the top of his head.
“Education is a farce,” Ronan whispers, up for four days straight writing letters of recommendation to colleges.
Adam is asleep, but his mouth breathing agrees.
“This fucking job is the fucking worst,” says Ronan, half-glum and half-proud as he watches the seniors who won’t be back next year graduate.
“Yeah,” Adam says, nudging Ronan’s shoulder with his own, unbearably fond. “The worst.”