day fourteen: let me rest (in pieces) - trey atwood - the oc - fanfiction
Title: let me rest (in pieces)
Rating: PG
Fandom: The OC
Pairing: none
Characters: Trey Atwood; cameo by Summer Roberts
Word Count: 603
Spoilers: Through to 3x25, "The Graduates".
Summary: you find out a few weeks after it happens.
Note: Day fourteen of my 25 Fics In 25 Days Challenge. Written for me. I re-watched the end of season two/beginning of season three of The OC today, and this came to mind. Honestly? I really loved Trey, and I wondered how he'd react to Marissa's death when I first watched the show, but I was in my non-writing funk then. Luckily I'm not this time, so I finally got to write it. :D
Warnings: character death.
Originally Posted: 15th December, 2007
You find out a few weeks after it happens - you’re taking out the recycling at work and the paper on top of the pile is open to the obits, and there she is. Marissa Cooper, 18, dies in car accident. You stumble out in the back alley and wretch up what you’ve eaten that day.
A fucking car accident - it’s so mundane and ordinary and wrong. Marissa was one of those girls that’d be more likely to go out in the glamour of od’ing; either that or dying in her sleep when she’s fucking eighty, curled up next to your baby brother. This is just…it’s just fucking pathetic is what it is.
You storm back into the bar and sink back three shots in rapid succession; one for you, one for her, and one for Ry.
-
You try to call Ryan a few days later, but Seth picks up the phone and you’re too fucking gutless to ask for your brother so you just hang up. You pound your fist into the wall of your shitty apartment after that, bang bang bang and you shudder deeply as you remember the shot of a gun and a sharp sting in your back.
When you sleep that night, you dream of sand and blood and writhing crying girls and angry little brothers. You see the guy down the hall the next morning about getting you the strongest sleeping pills he can get his dealing hands on.
-
Out of their little gang of four, the last one you ever expected to hear from again was her. Summer calls one night in early spring, her voice soft as she asks if you heard about ‘Rissa.
“Yeah,” you grunt, “uh, sorry Roberts. She didn’t deserve to go out that way.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment and then, “no she didn’t.” Another pause. “Sorry we didn’t call you earlier.”
“Nah, I get it. I’m not exactly high on your priority list,” you mutter darkly, your fingers scratching over the wood of your kitchen table, digging angry grooves. “Listen, uh, can you do me a favour?” She doesn’t say anything so you shrug your shoulders and continue, “um, can you just…just make sure your little boyfriend is a good brother.” Another empty silence, and for a moment you think she’s hung up on you.
“He always has been,” she whispers and then there’s a click and all you can hear is static.
-
You visit her grave in winter; although it’s not like you can tell the difference in seasons in this hellhole town. It’s a nice grave - marble headstone with an appropriately cheesy line about how she was an amazing person carved into it (probably something her mom picked out, you think with a snort). There’s a little picture on it; you bend down to look closely and almost smile at the younger Marissa you see before you. She looks lighter, happier. Not at all how you remember her in your mind, which is almost a relief. Maybe she wasn’t always damaged.
You lay down the wildflowers you brought back in Vegas; they’re wilting and not far from dead, and they feel appropriate for her in a twisted way.
With a sigh, you straighten up and back away. Your lips contort into a grimace as you scratch your head, thinking of something right to say. Eventually you just shrug to yourself, pull out your flask and take a long swig, letting the bourbon burn a trail deep into you.
“Rest in peace Coop,” you mutter roughly; and with a final lingering glance, you walk away.
Rating: PG
Fandom: The OC
Pairing: none
Characters: Trey Atwood; cameo by Summer Roberts
Word Count: 603
Spoilers: Through to 3x25, "The Graduates".
Summary: you find out a few weeks after it happens.
Note: Day fourteen of my 25 Fics In 25 Days Challenge. Written for me. I re-watched the end of season two/beginning of season three of The OC today, and this came to mind. Honestly? I really loved Trey, and I wondered how he'd react to Marissa's death when I first watched the show, but I was in my non-writing funk then. Luckily I'm not this time, so I finally got to write it. :D
Warnings: character death.
Originally Posted: 15th December, 2007
You find out a few weeks after it happens - you’re taking out the recycling at work and the paper on top of the pile is open to the obits, and there she is. Marissa Cooper, 18, dies in car accident. You stumble out in the back alley and wretch up what you’ve eaten that day.
A fucking car accident - it’s so mundane and ordinary and wrong. Marissa was one of those girls that’d be more likely to go out in the glamour of od’ing; either that or dying in her sleep when she’s fucking eighty, curled up next to your baby brother. This is just…it’s just fucking pathetic is what it is.
You storm back into the bar and sink back three shots in rapid succession; one for you, one for her, and one for Ry.
-
You try to call Ryan a few days later, but Seth picks up the phone and you’re too fucking gutless to ask for your brother so you just hang up. You pound your fist into the wall of your shitty apartment after that, bang bang bang and you shudder deeply as you remember the shot of a gun and a sharp sting in your back.
When you sleep that night, you dream of sand and blood and writhing crying girls and angry little brothers. You see the guy down the hall the next morning about getting you the strongest sleeping pills he can get his dealing hands on.
-
Out of their little gang of four, the last one you ever expected to hear from again was her. Summer calls one night in early spring, her voice soft as she asks if you heard about ‘Rissa.
“Yeah,” you grunt, “uh, sorry Roberts. She didn’t deserve to go out that way.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment and then, “no she didn’t.” Another pause. “Sorry we didn’t call you earlier.”
“Nah, I get it. I’m not exactly high on your priority list,” you mutter darkly, your fingers scratching over the wood of your kitchen table, digging angry grooves. “Listen, uh, can you do me a favour?” She doesn’t say anything so you shrug your shoulders and continue, “um, can you just…just make sure your little boyfriend is a good brother.” Another empty silence, and for a moment you think she’s hung up on you.
“He always has been,” she whispers and then there’s a click and all you can hear is static.
-
You visit her grave in winter; although it’s not like you can tell the difference in seasons in this hellhole town. It’s a nice grave - marble headstone with an appropriately cheesy line about how she was an amazing person carved into it (probably something her mom picked out, you think with a snort). There’s a little picture on it; you bend down to look closely and almost smile at the younger Marissa you see before you. She looks lighter, happier. Not at all how you remember her in your mind, which is almost a relief. Maybe she wasn’t always damaged.
You lay down the wildflowers you brought back in Vegas; they’re wilting and not far from dead, and they feel appropriate for her in a twisted way.
With a sigh, you straighten up and back away. Your lips contort into a grimace as you scratch your head, thinking of something right to say. Eventually you just shrug to yourself, pull out your flask and take a long swig, letting the bourbon burn a trail deep into you.
“Rest in peace Coop,” you mutter roughly; and with a final lingering glance, you walk away.