it's not all about the angst. sometimes it's about the love.
I'm still not sure how this story came to me last Friday as I sat outside with a cigarette, cursing the Chicago winds. But, 40 pages later, I'm actually kind of glad that it did.
Title: Confessions of an Expatriate (2/2)
Rating: R
Summary: Winter isn’t always so cold.
Disclaimer: The mistakes are mine. The characters are not.
Confessions of an Expatriate
Part Two: Prodigal Sons
“turn me back into the pet that I was when we met.
I was happier then with no mind-set.
and if you'd 'a took to me like
a gull takes to the wind.
well, I'd 'a jumped from my tree
and I'd a danced like the king of the eyesores
and the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.”
--The Shins
IV: New Slang
Staring out the car window on the ride home from the airport, Seth was struck by how green and new everything in California looked, even in the fading sunlight. After only a few months amid the grey pallor of the wintry Chicago sky, it was easy to forget that trees actually had leaves, and that people left their houses without outfitting themselves as if for Antarctic expeditions.
As the BMW rocketed over the bumps of the streets of Newport Beach, Seth glanced fondly over at his dad, who was having the time of his life singing along to a British Invasion compilation CD, having eschewed Seth’s pleading offers to let him choose the music before the bags had even been stowed in the trunk.
This must have been what Ryan felt like when Sandy drove them back to Newport, Seth thought as he turned his head back to the window. Outside stoic, inside all apprehension and killer Africanized butterflies. Except Seth had a feeling Ryan probably wasn’t subject to an off-key rendition of “Mellow Yellow” on his voyage.
Seth had been back to California before, obviously. His parents had even managed to slip into conversations that Ryan had visited them on occasion, although always when Seth was away at school. But this time just felt different.
He wondered if Ryan would be different.
He wondered if Ryan would think *he* was different.
One and a half years didn’t feel so long in terms of growing up, but when Seth thought of all the ways he’d changed since leaving for college, it felt like centuries.
It wasn’t just the fact that he had firmly planted his flag in the “gay” camp. It was the way he now drank his coffee: black; or his new “preferred” beverage: Natty Light, warm cases, stolen from the coat closet at frat parties. It was the new morning routine of two-cups-of-coffee-cigarette-SparkNotes for the book he should have read the night before.
Although, thank god, the dreaded eyebrows hadn’t grown in.
But when it came to the things that counted, like Ryan, in the grand scheme of things he didn’t think he’d changed so much.
The singing mercifully stopped as the car pulled up the sloping driveway of the Cohen house, and his dad laid a hand on Seth’s shoulder gently.
“Seth? You awake?”
Seth’s forehead lifted from the window, and he used the cuff of his dark grey sweatshirt to buff the glass clean. “Yeah.”
“Good. Because I’m not lugging your suitcases.” Sandy said with a wide grin.
“I get no love.” Seth rolled his eyes, half-smiled and reached across his body to unbuckle his seatbelt. Luggage-hauling aside, there were many perks to being home. Beginning with not needing to put on eighteen layers before he stepped outside.
And ending with Ryan.
“Aloha!” Sandy called through the open door as Seth followed a few steps behind, grudgingly dragging an overstuffed black canvas duffel over the stoop.
“Seth!” his mom strode over to him practically before he had crossed the threshold and enveloped him in a choking embrace.
Seth, arms pinned to his sides, put up his hands, as if to ward off the Attack of the Tiny Blonde Mom. “Whoa, whoa, mom, lay off, you just saw me in September.”
Kirsten loosened her grip and Seth stepped back until he was at arms length. “I’m not allowed to express my delight at seeing my son again?”
“If it means I end up in an iron lung, no.”
Sandy clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder and pulled an unyielding Seth into him. “Good to see your black humor is still intact!”
“Hey, Dad, you do know black humor doesn’t mean Dave Chapelle jokes, right?”
Sandy’s eyes widened and he turned to Kirsten in feigned shock. “And the mocking’s intact too. Incredible!”
Kirsten brought a hand to her lipsticked mouth to cover a smile as Seth glared at his parents in mock-deprecation.
Kirsten cleared her throat and her hand fell back to her side. “By the way, Summer left a message. She wanted to know if you were in yet.”
Aside from his parents, Summer was the only person left in Newport that Seth still talked to. It had only taken few hang-ups on Seth’s end of the phone for her to learn to stop bringing up Ryan or Marissa to him. Seth never told her what had happened, but between Marissa and the rest of the Newport gossip train, he had a feeling that she knew the story.
So he supposed it wasn’t all that much of a surprise when Summer seemed unaffected when Seth finally confessed he was gay a few weeks into college. She was just disappointed to learn that he wasn’t gay enough to go shopping with her.
She had proven to be surprisingly sensitive for a person who had more shoes than tact.
“Dude, was she trying to get me to go to the mall with her again?” Seth groaned.
“You know, I dimly recall something about accessories…” Sandy ribbed at Summer’s expense.
Seth shook his head slowly and hefted the strap of his bag back over his shoulder, feeling the weight of nearly three months of un- and under-washed laundry.
Kirsten went back into mom-mode. “Seth do you want something? Water? Food? I bought some of the cereal that’s all sugar that you like.”
Seth held up a hand, declining, and then moved to massage the back of his neck.
“Actually, I think I’m gonna turn in. I’m kind of shot. Still on Central time.” Not to mention the fact that he was going to see Ryan in less than 24 hours, and he was in dire need of the beauty sleep that had eluded him between finals and thinking about Ryan.
Beauty Sleep? Seth groaned inwardly as he walked to the steps leading upstairs. Summer had obviously rubbed off on him more than he’d thought.
As Seth grabbed the stair railing, Kirsten interrupted haltingly.
“Ryan…” Seth paused midstep, body tensed. “…will be here tomorrow night.”
Seth may have been thinking about Ryan non-stop for the past week, but to hear his mom say the words. Out loud. To him. Was sort of a shock. Not a shock like finding out Darth Vader was your father or realizing you were in love with your best friend after almost two years.
But it was enough to trap a pocket of air in his throat.
“I know. He left a message.” Seth spoke to the wall, feeling the strain of the bag on his shoulders, but he didn’t dare put it down or turn around.
Kirsten twisted the rings on her left hand absently as Sandy looked on, heavy eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Oh, good, I gave him your number, I didn’t know…. We’re practically the only family he’s got, Seth. Please don’t make this hard on him.”
Seth didn’t take his eyes off the painted wall, the tiny hole a nail had left where a picture was once hung. “I won’t.” His voice came out raspy and foreign-sounding.
He only hoped that Ryan would have mercy on him as well.
*
Okay. So. Ryan was downstairs. In Seth’s house. He’d *been* downstairs for a few hours, yet so far all Seth could do was hide on the landing and practice his eavesdropping skills. Very suave, very non-stalker. Right.
If Seth strained, he could hear Ryan’s voice, laughing with Sandy and Kirsten about some unknown topic, and if he actually worked up enough balls to go downstairs in the near future, he could probably even smell Ryan’s earthy-scented cologne.
God, did Ryan even wear cologne anymore?
Seth felt very Lion-in-the-Wizard-of-Oz. He was in desperate need of courage at the moment. In fact, he wouldn’t say no to a heart or a brain either, since both of his seemed to be malfunctioning at the moment.
“Walk downstairs, don’t trip on your jeans, or your feet, or the carpet, say hi, how hard can it be?” Seth muttered to himself, heartbeat reverberating in his eardrums as he sat on the carpet at the top of the main staircase.
With a deep breath, Seth put his hands on the edge of the step where he sat, pushed off the landing, and trotted down the stairs. As he passed the mantel, he noticed Ryan’s stocking, in the spot that had hung empty the year before.
When he reached the doorway of the living room, his parents and Ryan stopped their conversation and looked up at Seth expectantly, and Seth had a momentary lapse in confidence.
He was torn. Jump Ryan, or flee from the room in nervous terror? They both had their advantages.
He had never been good with choices.
Fortunately, neither was a viable option, so he just stood and stared.
Ryan’s sandy hair was longer, it curled up more around the neck than it used to. His jaw had a shadow a few days old, and there were lines in Ryan’s forehead that Seth hadn’t remembered being there a year and a half before. His faded blue button down shirt was pressed up over his elbows, revealing forearms that were a shade that made Seth feel momentarily ashamed of his winter pallor.
Most of all, he looked good. Seth wanted to walk up to the couch where Ryan sat and inspect every part of him, turn his hands over and look for wounds, put his lips to Ryan’s throat to seek out a pulse. Something, anything, to prove he was real and not a ghost of Chrismukkah past.
If only he could get his feet to move.
It was the sound of Ryan’s voice that jarred him back to reality.
“Hey.” Ryan’s voice was hesitant, muscles straining in his neck and jaw.
Ghosts didn’t talk, they just rattled chains and looked scary, right? Seth may have had his ideas about ghosts all messed up, but, yeah, that was definitely Ryan.
“Hey.” Seth brought his hands together and began tapping his fingers against each other nervously, then stopped when he realized he probably looked like Mr. Burns.
Excellent.
The family looked around the room at each other for a few moments, and when Seth made no motion to move from the doorway, Sandy took a deep breath and finally nodded in Seth’s direction, bobbing his head up and down. “So, Ryan was just telling us about the classes he’s taking up at the Community College.”
“It’s nothing, really.” Ryan pressed his lips against each other and re-aligned his body in Seth’s direction. “So, you’re still an English major?”
“Yeah, because everybody needs words.” Seth remarked off-handedly.
Kirsten jumped in. “Seth, why don’t you tell Ryan about the short story you had published?”
Seth suddenly found his shoelaces very interesting. One was frayed at the end where it had lost its plastic protector. “It was just the school magazine. It’s not like I’m Hemingway or something.”
Ryan smiled halfheartedly, eyes wide and nervously searching. He looked like a bug caught in a spiderweb. Well, if bugs wore open shirts over wifebeaters.
Ryan’s mouth opened and closed. “You look good,” he offered to Seth. It was almost a question.
“Cheap beer works wonders on my Adonis-like physique.” Seth said sarcastically, patting a stomach that was as flat as ever.
“Seth.” His mom was stern, raising an eyebrow, but Seth didn’t notice.
He really had to get new shoelaces.
“Ryan’s looking for a place not too far from here now.” Sandy covered. “What is it, Ryan, five miles?”
“Maybe five and a half. Numbered streets. We’ll see.”
Seth nodded distractedly. There was another long silence where nobody spoke, and Seth felt the muscles in his legs twitch insistently.
“Uh, I think I forgot about…yeah…something that I have to…” Seth backed up slowly, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and when he was out of sight, turned and bolted up the stairs to his room, slamming and locking the door behind him with shaking hands.
God. Fuck. He let his body fall heavily onto the center of the bed and sprawled limply, limbs askew, staring at the ceiling.
Seth was the biggest idiot ever. What could he have said with his parents there, though? “Hi, Ryan, sorry I told you to fuck off once upon a time, I was the cover boy for Modern Asshattery, but now I think I kinda still love you. Let’s go back to my room and make out?”
Actually, the making out part didn’t sound so bad. It was the rest that stymied him.
Seth stood up and roamed aimlessly around the edges of his room, eyes darting about as if he could find something there that could rectify a year and a half of wrongs and misunderstandings. He stopped short at his window and stared through the pane. Ryan was walking down the driveway.
Ryan leaving now would be very bad. Not to mention bereft of holiday spirit. But instead he just made it to the spot where the driveway met the street. The flare of a cigarette lighter lit the night and Ryan lowered himself to the curb.
Seth bit his bottom lip and pivoted sharply, down the stairs and out the front door.
He scuffed down the driveway, accompanied by the sound of rubber soles on concrete. His hands were firmly tucked in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, to prevent them from flying about in their typical sporadic fashion or doing imitations of Simpsons characters. Suave and disaffected. Check.
Ryan turned over his left shoulder at the noise, his light hair gleaming in the streetlight.
“Smoking again, huh?” Seth offered by way of greeting.
Ryan shrugged.
“Can I bum one?” Seth sank to the curb, careful not to invade Ryan’s space.
“I didn’t think you’d ever become the smoking type.” Ryan said as he reached into a pocket and handed over the pack of Camel Lights and a bright red Bic lighter.
“It’s practically a requirement for jaded intellectuals these days.” Seth’s long fingers deftly withdrew a cigarette, flipped it between his lips and applied the flame to the end, shielding the lighter between cupped hands.
Seth slid the lighter inside the pack and offered it back to Ryan, who slipped it back into his pocket with something not too far off from a smile.
“So.” Seth began.
“So.” Ryan echoed, gripping the speckled tan filter of his cigarette and ashing into the gutter. He licked his lips as he stared into the darkness of the street. “I kind of thought you never wanted to see me again.”
“I didn’t.” Seth replied, too quickly.
Hello, foot. Meet mouth.
Ryan shot Seth a sidelong glance that he couldn’t read, and Seth opened his mouth again before Ryan could misinterpret.
“I mean, for a while. Then I wanted it more than that new 100 gig iPod.” Seth took a drag and held it for a moment before exhaling slowly. “I was kind of a ginormous tool, like Carson Daly and that dude from Joe Millionaire.”
Ryan sat and stared at the glowing end of his cigarette, king of the non-reaction. Seth waited a beat longer than a moment before speaking again.
“Dude, I kind of don’t know what to say to you.” Seth admitted.
“That’s a first.” A glance, and a smile. Seth was encouraged.
“What can I say, college has made me a new man.”
“A smoking man.” Ryan pointed out.
“What do I need lungs for anyway? I’m thinking of upgrading to gills.”
“Fish still have lungs.”
Seth smiled sheepishly and lowered his chin to his chest. “My roommate’s always telling me there’s a reason I’m not a bio major.”
Seth tapped his Adidas-clad foot against the curb and gazed down pensively at the bright red ember at the tip of his cigarette.
“Do you like your school?” Ryan asked, looking out into the street.
Seth surprised himself by responding, “Yeah. I do. I mean it’s cold and far away and the classes sometimes suck, but I do.”
The smoke swirled in eddies around the two boys for what seemed to Seth a very long while, the only sound the puff of their breaths as they inhaled and exhaled.
“Do you like…” Seth squinted into the distance and tried to think of a way to phrase his words so that they wouldn’t sound completely stupid. “…what you’re doing?”
Stupidity: 1, Seth Cohen:0.
“It’s better than what I thought I’d be doing back when I lived in Chino.” Ryan shrugged and extinguished his cigarette against the curb.
Seth nodded slowly, then tossed his spent cigarette into the street, watching sparks fly along the asphalt.
“I’m gonna…” Seth stood and gestured back to the house. “Did you want to…”
“I think I’m gonna have another smoke.” The pack appeared again from Ryan’s pocket, and Seth was mildly pleased when Ryan held it in his direction.
“One’s enough for me. Trying to be less jaded.” Seth tilted his head awkwardly and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the asphalt. “But, thanks…for the cigarette. It’s good to see you again.”
“You too, man, you too.”
Their gazes met and Seth almost changed his mind and asked for another smoke, but then Ryan pressed a hand against the ground and got to his feet. He took a tentative step in Seth’s direction.
Seth’s body responded on its own accord and he opened his arms. Ryan stepped inside them quickly and wrapped his arms around Seth. The hug felt strange, as most spontaneous things tended to do, but the feeling of Ryan’s chest warm against his alleviated the strangeness somewhat.
A few stilted pats on the back later, Ryan stepped back, placed an unlit cigarette between his lips, and resumed his position on the curb.
Seth observed Ryan for a few moments in wonder, then, to keep from breaking the moment, turned and started walking back to the house, dimples deepening on his cheeks. As he made his way up the driveway, for the first time in what felt like ages, he realized he was honestly happy to be home.
*
“at times you find that the truth is the best way out
ooh well now sometimes telling the truth is the best way out
and it's the wrong words that make you prick up your ears
when later alone”
--Spoon
V: Stay Don’t Go
Insomnia and Seth were rapidly becoming new best friends. It had already surpassed video games, comic books, and masturbating on the short list, and was threatening to overtake drinking to clinch the top spot.
Seth threw his covers into a heap at the foot of his bed and sat up, gripping the edge of the mattress until his knuckles turned white. As he began playing his own version of “Good Idea, Bad Idea” in his head, he stood up and started to pace around his bedroom, the shrine to his youth and despite his best efforts to banish the feeling after high school, reminder of all things Ryan.
After a short deliberation, he shrugged on an old plaid flannel robe over his t-shirt and boxers and walked outside quickly so he wouldn’t lose his nerve. When he crossed the patio next to the pool, he faltered for a moment before knocking on a glass door, then opened it slowly without waiting for an answer.
Remembering how to breathe was taking up all his time. He couldn’t concern himself with proper poolhouse etiquette.
Ryan was still awake and dressed, sitting on the bed with an open copy of Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land resting on his knees. Huh. Seth thought to himself. How oddly appropriate.
Ryan cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at Seth, silently taking stock as only he knew how.
Seth half smiled and looked around the room before meeting Ryan’s eye again. “So. The poolhouse, huh? Kind of like old times.”
“Your parents offered me a guest room. This just felt…” Ryan gestured to the chairs, the kitchen. “Well, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” Seth’s eyes traveled to Ryan’s knees. “Good book.”
“I think it’s yours. It was sitting over on the shelf.”
Seth dimly recalled leaving it in the poolhouse on one September morning before he left for school.
Okay, so far, so good. Time for step two. Seth rubbed the top of his curly head and pointed to a wicker chair. “Can I?”
Ryan shook his head in affirmation, closed the book gently and placed it beside him on the futon.
Seth’s robe pooled around him as he sat, and he hugged the fabric tightly to his chest for a second before relaxing his arms. “So, it seems like you’ve talked to my mom and dad a lot.”
Ryan nodded, clear blue eyes never wavering, taking Seth in.
“They sound like they miss you. Not that they tell me that. I mean, I didn’t let them talk about you to me too much. Or, at all. Even though I wanted to know, a part of me didn’t. You know?”
“Yeah.” Ryan’s voice was more air than words. Seth raised his hand to his mouth and rubbed the back of his nails against his lips.
“I was angry with you for a long time.” Seth admitted, moving his hand from his mouth only to tug on the “do not remove under penalty of law” tag that was attached to the chair cushion. “And now it just seems stupid.”
“Me too. Except. I was more angry with myself.”
Seth blinked rapidly. This Ryan was different than he remembered. The old Ryan wouldn’t just sit placidly in front of you and volunteer things about himself. He wouldn’t even volunteer things about himself if you tied him up and threatened him with an ice pick.
Not that Seth ever tied Ryan up. Or thought about tying Ryan up. Ever.
Seth had enough experience with Ryan to know that pushing really wasn’t the way to go, but he couldn’t help the words. “Why were you angry?” he asked softly.
“I wasn’t fair to you. Or Marissa.”
“You still talk to her? Marissa?”
“Sometimes. Not much. But enough. Enough for her to let me know she doesn’t blame me anymore for what happened. But I still can’t help but feel I let her down that night.” Ryan continued. “If I’d just been honest with her, not tried to protect her all the time, then she wouldn’t have…” Ryan’s hands flexed and clenched.
“No, it wasn’t your fault dude. That night…I ran into Marissa on the beach.”
Ryan looked up at Seth with plaintive eyes. “She never told me that.”
“Some of the stuff I said…” Seth shook his head. “I felt horrible, man. *Feel* horrible. But what it was like, watching you choose her over me, again and again and again…you don’t know what that was like either.”
“I can imagine.”
Seth inhaled deeply, enjoying the sensation of air in his lungs, because it meant that he didn’t have to talk for two more seconds. Which was odd, really, because talking was pretty much his favorite thing ever. He rushed into it, words tumbling over one another.
“It was my fault, Ryan. Her OD. She wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t told her on the beach that you didn’t want her. Didn’t love her. And I let you blame yourself, because I didn’t want to feel like it was my fault.” Seth paused, looking up at Ryan, then down at his lap again. “I never told anyone that,” he mumbled.
Ryan’s concerned eyes didn’t leave Seth’s face.
“And then I ignored you because I didn’t know what else to do. You were so wrapped up in her…it was easy. But, shit, Ryan, if I’d just told you then, instead of taking my guilt out on you, maybe we wouldn’t have had to go through all this. I wouldn’t have had to spend a year missing you.”
“That’s not true.” Ryan said, voice ragged and heavy.
“What? I hate to eat the whole cake at my own pity party, but did your ears fall off? Ryan, it was my fault.”
“I didn’t leave because of you, or even because of Marissa. I mean, it was part of it, but…” Ryan trailed off and swallowed, throat constricting. “I left because of myself.”
Seth gazed at Ryan quizzically, still not knowing what to say. He wondered if Summer’s stepmom had a pill that could use to treat the problem, because he didn’t like it one bit.
“I told you that.” Ryan said, eyebrows furrowing. “I mean, I wrote you that.”
The note. That little blue lined scrap of paper that Ryan had slid under Seth’s door they day he disappeared. The one that Seth ended up wishing that he could dredge up out of the city dump and pore over word by word. Seth let out a breath. “I kind of, uh, I kind of didn’t read it.”
It felt like telling George Lucas that he didn’t like the Star Wars prequel trilogy.
“Oh.” Ryan sounded weary.
“What did it say?” Sympathetic lines formed at the corners of Seth’s hazel eyes.
“That I’d hurt too many people here. Just by trying to protect them. Or, keep them safe. That I needed to figure things out before I hurt anyone else. That I hoped you’d understand. Forgive me.”
“Oh.” Seth’s brow furrowed as Ryan’s words hit him and settled like day old pizza in a spot below his stomach. “So where did you go, man?”
“Everywhere. Traveled. Spent my savings and the money your parents gave me for graduation on a cheap old Buick and drove around. I went to Austin, looking for my mom’s ex, got a job there for a while. It’s pretty there in the spring, but summer’s a bitch. And I thought. About Marissa. About trusting people to make their own mistakes. I thought about my mistakes.” Ryan licked his lips. “And I thought about you.”
That definitely wasn’t Ryan flirting with Seth while talking about his own personal Pancake Tour. Not the way his eyes were still locked onto Seth, making little sparks explode behind Seth’s eyes. No. Because…well, Seth couldn’t think of a reason why not without ending up charging Ryan on the bed and removing his clothes with his teeth, so he just settled on changing the subject.
“So, where are you living now?” Seth asked awkwardly, scratching at a spot behind his ear.
“With friends. Not too far from here.”
“Why didn’t you come back to stay with my parents?” Seth asked, shifting his body towards Ryan and tucking his legs under his thighs. “I mean, after I left. It would have made things easier on you.”
“I don’t know. Coming back here, without you…”
“But you are now, right? I mean, my dad said…”
“But not this house. Not these memories. Not when you obviously didn’t want to see me.”
“I did. I just didn’t know I did.”
It was kind of like the first time Ryan kissed him. Seth didn’t know he wanted it until it was happening, and then he wondered how he’d lived without it for so long.
Seth extricated his legs from under himself, stood, and tentatively stepped nearer to the futon.
It wasn’t so much that he wanted to sit on the bed, one leg pressing up against Ryan’s, as that he *needed* to.
Seth settled in and rested his chin on his bare knee, which was drawn up to his chest, studying Ryan intently.
“I’m sorry, Ry.”
Ryan reached a hand out and let his rough fingertips touch Seth’s cheek, grazing them slowly over Seth’s jawline. Seth closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, nerve endings sending sparks so sharp that they were almost painful.
His eyes were still closed when he felt the soft puff of air on his face, then Ryan’s lips were on his, gently, then more urging, the hair on his chin scratching at Seth. Seth opened his mouth and let his tongue tease the tip of Ryan’s, tasting smoke and toothpaste. His heart surged into his throat and settled there.
This is what Superman must have felt like when he saved the world for the nine bazillionth time. Except without another guy’s tongue in his mouth.
Seth placed his hands on Ryan’s shoulders and ran them up to Ryan’s neck, trying to erase a year and a half of memories through the press of lips and tongue, when he felt resistance and opened his eyes. Ryan pulled back sharply, as if he’d been slapped.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” Ryan stuttered, pressing his back against his headboard.
“No, no, yes you should. We should.” Seth insisted, still feeling the wetness that was Ryan on his mouth, and leaned back in.
“It’s just…” Ryan’s eyes were wide, afraid, and he shrugged helplessly instead of finishing his sentence.
“Yeah, no.” Seth gestured animatedly, then rested a hand on his cheek, wrinkling his mouth pensively. “You know Ryan, I don’t think that’s so much of a good idea because I read this study about how if you repress your feelings, you know, bottle it all up inside, you get cancer. And cancer’s just not good for your health.”
Ryan’s face relaxed into a skeptical expression, and his gaze darted from Seth to the pack of cigarettes lying next to the bed and then back to Seth again.
“Okay, fine, maybe you’re right, we should quit smoking *and* not hide our emotions. I’ll get right on that. Should we go with Nicorette or the patch?”
“Seth. It’s just been a long time.”
Seth sighed, knowing that no amount of babble could win this one. Even superheroes had to lose battles sometimes. “I know.”
“Let’s take things slow. Catch up with each other first?”
Seth nodded, absorbing the words like a Bounty paper towel of language. Even if he wasn’t a superhero at the moment, at least he was essential to housewives everywhere.
Dude, he really had to stop ditching class to watch daytime television.
“I mean, it’s Chrismukkah. I’ll be here for a while. It’s not like…it’s not like I’m not going to be here tomorrow.” Ryan continued, gauging Seth’s response.
“Okay.” Seth wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth slowly, as though extraneous movement helped his decision making process.
Ryan let out a sigh of relief. “Okay.” His eyes softened. “It’s really good to see you again.”
“Yeah, I think we already covered that, but do you know what we haven’t covered? Playstation.” Seth leapt off the bed. “And I think I know a guy who can’t beat my Dolphins at Madden to save his life.” He baited Ryan, watching him expectantly.
Ryan’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. “You’re on.”
This definitely had the potential to be the best Chrismukkah ever.
*
There were moments that sent electrical pulses through Seth’s winter break, like when Ryan’s body brushed past his as they passed each other in the kitchen in the mornings, or when their eyes met over a massive pile of perfectly wrapped presents on Christmas morning.
But, of course, Ryan was true to his word, and there were absolutely no kissing hijinks to be had. Playstation hijinks, sure. Even quasi-criminal hijinks during lazy day when Seth attempted to teach Ryan how to pick a lock, a finely honed trick learned out of necessity when he’d stumbled home drunk without his keys.
Seth wasn’t sure whether he was glad or not that the Cohen’s locks proved to be more resistant to his efforts than his dorm room door.
But definitely no kissing. And Seth was okay with that, really. Because if you tell yourself something enough times it becomes true. He hoped.
So when Ryan left to go stay with his friends again the day after Christmas, promising Seth that he’d back to see him before he headed back to college, Seth had to cling to those little platonic, brotherly moments.
The rest of break really didn’t pass so slowly, even without Ryan hanging around. Summer convinced him to go shopping with her up at South Coast Plaza, and when he grudgingly yet proudly brought up his reconciliation with Ryan, she had squealed, pounded Seth on the back like he’d just choked on a Christmas peppermint, and stated firmly, “This is an occasion when you need new clothes, Cohen.” Then she forced him in and out of fitting rooms for three and a half hours.
Summer came away from the trip with four more pairs of shoes, two pairs of earrings, three shirts, a belt, and some god-awful sunglasses with bright purple frames “because even when you have a hangover, you need to look stylish.”
Seth came out with disheveled hair and a solemn promise to himself that he would never go shopping with Summer again.
The day Seth left Newport was bright with temperatures in the lower 60’s. Ryan drove up in the morning and they sat on the rusty hood of his car in the driveway, talking about everything under the sun: how much Seth hated his roommate's habit of leaving chewed pieces of gum on the alarm clock when he went to bed; how Ryan was going to transfer to a four year school eventually, when he had some money, because even though community college wasn't so bad it wasn't great; and how Seth would be home and Ryan would be there during Spring Break and they'd make some plans like the old days.
Seth fleetingly wondered what kind of Spring Break plans Ryan had in mind, but shook it off because reading into things really wasn't going to help him get through three cold months.
When Seth wasn't talking, and even when he was, he mostly sat, staring at Ryan, and tried to memorize the way Ryan’s right thumb had a hangnail and the tiny black grease stain on the cuff of his shirt.
“I’ll see you in the spring?” Ryan asked, hopeful, as they said their goodbyes on the front step of the house.
Seth nodded, head dropping to his right as he half smiled. Then he pulled Ryan in for a hug, desperate and tight. As they fell back to arms length Ryan’s fingers lingered on the inner curve of Seth’s elbow and Ryan’s eyes were fixed on Seth’s face and now would be the perfect time for Ryan to just lean in and kiss him, Seth thought, but instead Ryan dropped his arm to his side and slid around to the driver’s side door.
“Well, I’ll see ya.” Ryan said, and clambered in. The door slammed shut with a solid Detroit steel clank and Ryan smiled at Seth as he put the car in gear.
“See ya.” Seth echoed, and watched Ryan wave through the half-open window as the blue car rattled down the slope of the Cohen’s driveway and out of sight.
Spring really wasn’t so far away, just a few months. After a year and a half of being an expert on waiting, this was something he could do, right?
At least he hoped so.
*
“I could leave but I’ll just stay
All my stuff’s here anyway”
--Barenaked Ladies
VI: Pinch Me
Being back at school was fine, really. Because this semester, Seth had thrown down and was going to be all about the studying, and not at all about the thinking of Ryan. Like Ryan said, that could wait until spring, when he was home and Ryan was home and they could figure out what was going on between them, and everything would be fine if Seth could just *concentrate* and not remember the way Ryan’s fingers had felt as they trailed across his jaw.
Right.
So, sure, that had lasted all of three and a half minutes, until Seth got off the plane at O’Hare and saw a cute blond guy as he passed under the cascading rainbow lights of the United tunnel. The guy bore only a passing resemblance to a certain kid from Chino, but Seth felt his resistance sputter and fail, and realized that living in forced denial would make for a really long semester.
So Seth’s latest compromise with himself was that he would study first, *then* think about Ryan.
Even so, Seth played the scenes from winter break over and over like his head was a TiVo: during his three hour long Psych lecture; as the shower alternated between icy and scalding depending on who flushed the toilet; as he ran on the treadmill at Henry Crown; while watching people trip over the icy spots that dotted the campus sidewalks. It was all Ryan, all the time.
He was amazed that he’d managed to make it through a week of classes without blurting out Ryan’s name in response to a professor’s question.
It was better than TiVo because it had really happened, Seth mused as he lounged on his extra-long twin bed with a dog-eared spiral-bound notebook propped on his legs, trying to think up an essay topic for Dramatic Lit 110.
He’d narrowed the choice down to either sex roles in M. Butterfly or a compare-and-contrast of Miller’s Death of a Salesman and the movie American Beauty when he was interrupted by pounding on his door.
“Yeah. Come in, it’s unlocked.” Seth bellowed, intent on his work.
The door swung open on creaking hinges and Seth scribbled in his notebook for a moment longer before looking up.
When he saw the figure leaning against the doorway, he did a double take, and when that still didn’t convince him, a triple take.
Okay, he so had to have fallen asleep doing his homework again, because there was absolutely no way that was Ryan standing in his room, arm against the chipped white paint of the doorframe, with a backpack slung over his shoulder, cheeks blotchy and red, a coy smile on his face.
Seth dropped his pen and applied his index finger and thumb to the inside of his left arm, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise.
Okay. Either he was awake or he was just a really really masochistic dreamer.
“What are you doing here, man? How did you get in the building?” Seth brushed the notebook off of his thighs onto the mussed covers and stood up, face already aching from the strength of his smile.
“Next stop on the Pancake tour. And the outside door was propped.” Ryan continued to smile. If Seth’s eyes judged correctly, Ryan even looked a bit smug. It was a new look, for Ryan, but he pulled it off with panache.
“What happened to getting a place in Newport? Settling down?” Seth stammered as Ryan took a step into the room, letting go of the door so it swung back into place with a soft thud.
“Turned out there was nothing that I wanted there.”
Ryan shrugged off a navy jacket that was way too light for January in Chicago, never taking his gaze off a still stunned Seth. The jacket and bag fell at his feet as he stepped into Seth’s personal space.
“And you think you can find something you want here?” Seth breathed, eyes narrowing and tongue darting out, wetting his upper lip.
Ryan’s face was just inches away from Seth’s, and with one short lean inward, he closed the distance until they were almost touching. His eyes wandered over Seth’s face questioningly. “I guess I’m gonna have to find out.”
Then their lips were mashed together, Ryan’s tongue pressing against Seth’s, wet and insistent. Seth’s hands went up to Ryan’s face, cupping red cheeks with both hands as Ryan’s hands moved down Seth’s back searchingly until his fingers reached the inch of bare skin between Seth’s t-shirt and the polka dot boxers that hung over the top of his jeans.
Seth flinched and drew back from Ryan slowly, still smiling. “Your hands are freezing.”
“That’s because you go to college at the North Pole.” The tip of Ryan’s nose brushed against Seth’s and Ryan nipped at his lower lip.
“It’s not the North Pole. Its just Illinois.” Seth said semi-seriously. Ryan pulled back a few inches and gave Seth one of his famous looks. “Yeah, I see your point.” Seth conceded then leaned back into Ryan, his grin spreading again.
Ryan leaned forward, pressing against Seth and Seth stumbled back, over a green and white sneaker left on the cluttered floor, ass hitting the wooden crossbar of his desk chair. He overcompensated as his hands sought out Ryan’s hips, trying regain his balance, and their teeth clicked together audibly.
Ryan’s hands were still cold as they ran under the fabric of Seth’s faded t-shirt, tracing the line of his spine with slowly warming fingertips. Seth pressed up against Ryan again, more carefully this time, attempting to maneuver them onto the bed, but failed as Ryan’s shoulder ran into the edge of the open closet door.
“Your room is really small.” Ryan whispered into Seth’s ear as he ran his tongue around the pink outer shell.
“Not everyone can have their own poolhouse,” Seth groaned and finally succeeded in pulling Ryan onto the unmade bed.
Ryan rolled slowly on top of Seth, easing his knee between Seth’s blue-jeaned legs as he supported himself on one arm.
“Ah. Wait.” Seth arched, reaching an arm under his lower back, and pulled out his notebook. The pages fluttered as he sidearmed it onto the floor, landing in a heap as Seth placed a hand on the back of Ryan’s neck and drew him back to his mouth.
Ryan’s face was still chilled from the outside air, and as his cheek rubbed against Seth’s, it felt like a cool washcloth on a fever.
Seth groped Ryan’s back, fingers roaming first outside, then inside Ryan’s shirt and down to his ass, feeling Ryan already hard against him.
Ryan kissed the hollow of Seth’s throat and pulled him up off the bed, hooking his fingers into the fabric lifting Seth’s t-shirt over his head in one swift movement, then removing his own just as adroitly. Their chests met and a moan rattled in the back of Seth’s throat. Then Ryan’s hand was on Seth’s jeans, tugging, and the button fly popped open like a bottle of champagne.
Seth grabbed at the bunched sheets as Ryan’s tongue left a wet trail down the center of his chest, his breath coming hard enough to drown out the rattle of the ancient heating vents.
“Wait, wait, dude,” he managed. “Are you really here?”
Ryan slid up Seth’s body slowly, running his hands up Seth’s torso, thumbs passing delicately over nipples, making Seth groan again, until his head was directly over Seth’s, blue meeting hazel eyes.
He nodded, moving his gaze to Seth’s mouth. “Yeah,” he said softly and confidently between light kisses. “I am.”
“This is a dorm, dude, you know you can’t live here. Or you could, and we could really freak out Dave, which now that I think about it, yes, Ryan, live here.”
“I’ll figure something out.” Ryan slid off Seth, manipulating their bodies together until they were spooning, and nuzzled the back of Seth’s neck as his arm reached across Seth’s bare stomach and pulled him closer with a promise of things to come.
“You promise?” Seth mumbled happily, reaching behind himself to stroke the back of Ryan’s head.
Ryan just wrapped his arms more tightly around Seth’s torso and snuggled in like he was settling in for a long winter. And, with Ryan there, Seth didn’t mind the winter at all.
--finis--
Author’s Notes:
First of all, I must express awe and delight for everyone who commented on Part One. Y’all rock, and I hope you found the conclusion worth waiting for. Especial thanks to rage_blackouts, who assured me I was going in the right direction when I was having fic paranoia.
This couldn’t have been written without The Shins’ “Oh Inverted World,” Tori Amos’ “Little Earthquakes,” Elliott Smith’s “XO,” and songs by Voxtrot, which is the band of a friend of a friend (no album yet). You can download “Start of Something” at www.voxtrot.net
PSA: You know, I never wanted to make Seth a smoker. But it was what Dark!Seth and the muses wanted. So, don’t smoke, kids. It ruins your lungs. And despite what you may have heard otherwise, you can’t replace them with gills.
Title: Confessions of an Expatriate (2/2)
Rating: R
Summary: Winter isn’t always so cold.
Disclaimer: The mistakes are mine. The characters are not.
Confessions of an Expatriate
Part Two: Prodigal Sons
“turn me back into the pet that I was when we met.
I was happier then with no mind-set.
and if you'd 'a took to me like
a gull takes to the wind.
well, I'd 'a jumped from my tree
and I'd a danced like the king of the eyesores
and the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.”
--The Shins
IV: New Slang
Staring out the car window on the ride home from the airport, Seth was struck by how green and new everything in California looked, even in the fading sunlight. After only a few months amid the grey pallor of the wintry Chicago sky, it was easy to forget that trees actually had leaves, and that people left their houses without outfitting themselves as if for Antarctic expeditions.
As the BMW rocketed over the bumps of the streets of Newport Beach, Seth glanced fondly over at his dad, who was having the time of his life singing along to a British Invasion compilation CD, having eschewed Seth’s pleading offers to let him choose the music before the bags had even been stowed in the trunk.
This must have been what Ryan felt like when Sandy drove them back to Newport, Seth thought as he turned his head back to the window. Outside stoic, inside all apprehension and killer Africanized butterflies. Except Seth had a feeling Ryan probably wasn’t subject to an off-key rendition of “Mellow Yellow” on his voyage.
Seth had been back to California before, obviously. His parents had even managed to slip into conversations that Ryan had visited them on occasion, although always when Seth was away at school. But this time just felt different.
He wondered if Ryan would be different.
He wondered if Ryan would think *he* was different.
One and a half years didn’t feel so long in terms of growing up, but when Seth thought of all the ways he’d changed since leaving for college, it felt like centuries.
It wasn’t just the fact that he had firmly planted his flag in the “gay” camp. It was the way he now drank his coffee: black; or his new “preferred” beverage: Natty Light, warm cases, stolen from the coat closet at frat parties. It was the new morning routine of two-cups-of-coffee-cigarette-SparkNotes for the book he should have read the night before.
Although, thank god, the dreaded eyebrows hadn’t grown in.
But when it came to the things that counted, like Ryan, in the grand scheme of things he didn’t think he’d changed so much.
The singing mercifully stopped as the car pulled up the sloping driveway of the Cohen house, and his dad laid a hand on Seth’s shoulder gently.
“Seth? You awake?”
Seth’s forehead lifted from the window, and he used the cuff of his dark grey sweatshirt to buff the glass clean. “Yeah.”
“Good. Because I’m not lugging your suitcases.” Sandy said with a wide grin.
“I get no love.” Seth rolled his eyes, half-smiled and reached across his body to unbuckle his seatbelt. Luggage-hauling aside, there were many perks to being home. Beginning with not needing to put on eighteen layers before he stepped outside.
And ending with Ryan.
“Aloha!” Sandy called through the open door as Seth followed a few steps behind, grudgingly dragging an overstuffed black canvas duffel over the stoop.
“Seth!” his mom strode over to him practically before he had crossed the threshold and enveloped him in a choking embrace.
Seth, arms pinned to his sides, put up his hands, as if to ward off the Attack of the Tiny Blonde Mom. “Whoa, whoa, mom, lay off, you just saw me in September.”
Kirsten loosened her grip and Seth stepped back until he was at arms length. “I’m not allowed to express my delight at seeing my son again?”
“If it means I end up in an iron lung, no.”
Sandy clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder and pulled an unyielding Seth into him. “Good to see your black humor is still intact!”
“Hey, Dad, you do know black humor doesn’t mean Dave Chapelle jokes, right?”
Sandy’s eyes widened and he turned to Kirsten in feigned shock. “And the mocking’s intact too. Incredible!”
Kirsten brought a hand to her lipsticked mouth to cover a smile as Seth glared at his parents in mock-deprecation.
Kirsten cleared her throat and her hand fell back to her side. “By the way, Summer left a message. She wanted to know if you were in yet.”
Aside from his parents, Summer was the only person left in Newport that Seth still talked to. It had only taken few hang-ups on Seth’s end of the phone for her to learn to stop bringing up Ryan or Marissa to him. Seth never told her what had happened, but between Marissa and the rest of the Newport gossip train, he had a feeling that she knew the story.
So he supposed it wasn’t all that much of a surprise when Summer seemed unaffected when Seth finally confessed he was gay a few weeks into college. She was just disappointed to learn that he wasn’t gay enough to go shopping with her.
She had proven to be surprisingly sensitive for a person who had more shoes than tact.
“Dude, was she trying to get me to go to the mall with her again?” Seth groaned.
“You know, I dimly recall something about accessories…” Sandy ribbed at Summer’s expense.
Seth shook his head slowly and hefted the strap of his bag back over his shoulder, feeling the weight of nearly three months of un- and under-washed laundry.
Kirsten went back into mom-mode. “Seth do you want something? Water? Food? I bought some of the cereal that’s all sugar that you like.”
Seth held up a hand, declining, and then moved to massage the back of his neck.
“Actually, I think I’m gonna turn in. I’m kind of shot. Still on Central time.” Not to mention the fact that he was going to see Ryan in less than 24 hours, and he was in dire need of the beauty sleep that had eluded him between finals and thinking about Ryan.
Beauty Sleep? Seth groaned inwardly as he walked to the steps leading upstairs. Summer had obviously rubbed off on him more than he’d thought.
As Seth grabbed the stair railing, Kirsten interrupted haltingly.
“Ryan…” Seth paused midstep, body tensed. “…will be here tomorrow night.”
Seth may have been thinking about Ryan non-stop for the past week, but to hear his mom say the words. Out loud. To him. Was sort of a shock. Not a shock like finding out Darth Vader was your father or realizing you were in love with your best friend after almost two years.
But it was enough to trap a pocket of air in his throat.
“I know. He left a message.” Seth spoke to the wall, feeling the strain of the bag on his shoulders, but he didn’t dare put it down or turn around.
Kirsten twisted the rings on her left hand absently as Sandy looked on, heavy eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Oh, good, I gave him your number, I didn’t know…. We’re practically the only family he’s got, Seth. Please don’t make this hard on him.”
Seth didn’t take his eyes off the painted wall, the tiny hole a nail had left where a picture was once hung. “I won’t.” His voice came out raspy and foreign-sounding.
He only hoped that Ryan would have mercy on him as well.
*
Okay. So. Ryan was downstairs. In Seth’s house. He’d *been* downstairs for a few hours, yet so far all Seth could do was hide on the landing and practice his eavesdropping skills. Very suave, very non-stalker. Right.
If Seth strained, he could hear Ryan’s voice, laughing with Sandy and Kirsten about some unknown topic, and if he actually worked up enough balls to go downstairs in the near future, he could probably even smell Ryan’s earthy-scented cologne.
God, did Ryan even wear cologne anymore?
Seth felt very Lion-in-the-Wizard-of-Oz. He was in desperate need of courage at the moment. In fact, he wouldn’t say no to a heart or a brain either, since both of his seemed to be malfunctioning at the moment.
“Walk downstairs, don’t trip on your jeans, or your feet, or the carpet, say hi, how hard can it be?” Seth muttered to himself, heartbeat reverberating in his eardrums as he sat on the carpet at the top of the main staircase.
With a deep breath, Seth put his hands on the edge of the step where he sat, pushed off the landing, and trotted down the stairs. As he passed the mantel, he noticed Ryan’s stocking, in the spot that had hung empty the year before.
When he reached the doorway of the living room, his parents and Ryan stopped their conversation and looked up at Seth expectantly, and Seth had a momentary lapse in confidence.
He was torn. Jump Ryan, or flee from the room in nervous terror? They both had their advantages.
He had never been good with choices.
Fortunately, neither was a viable option, so he just stood and stared.
Ryan’s sandy hair was longer, it curled up more around the neck than it used to. His jaw had a shadow a few days old, and there were lines in Ryan’s forehead that Seth hadn’t remembered being there a year and a half before. His faded blue button down shirt was pressed up over his elbows, revealing forearms that were a shade that made Seth feel momentarily ashamed of his winter pallor.
Most of all, he looked good. Seth wanted to walk up to the couch where Ryan sat and inspect every part of him, turn his hands over and look for wounds, put his lips to Ryan’s throat to seek out a pulse. Something, anything, to prove he was real and not a ghost of Chrismukkah past.
If only he could get his feet to move.
It was the sound of Ryan’s voice that jarred him back to reality.
“Hey.” Ryan’s voice was hesitant, muscles straining in his neck and jaw.
Ghosts didn’t talk, they just rattled chains and looked scary, right? Seth may have had his ideas about ghosts all messed up, but, yeah, that was definitely Ryan.
“Hey.” Seth brought his hands together and began tapping his fingers against each other nervously, then stopped when he realized he probably looked like Mr. Burns.
Excellent.
The family looked around the room at each other for a few moments, and when Seth made no motion to move from the doorway, Sandy took a deep breath and finally nodded in Seth’s direction, bobbing his head up and down. “So, Ryan was just telling us about the classes he’s taking up at the Community College.”
“It’s nothing, really.” Ryan pressed his lips against each other and re-aligned his body in Seth’s direction. “So, you’re still an English major?”
“Yeah, because everybody needs words.” Seth remarked off-handedly.
Kirsten jumped in. “Seth, why don’t you tell Ryan about the short story you had published?”
Seth suddenly found his shoelaces very interesting. One was frayed at the end where it had lost its plastic protector. “It was just the school magazine. It’s not like I’m Hemingway or something.”
Ryan smiled halfheartedly, eyes wide and nervously searching. He looked like a bug caught in a spiderweb. Well, if bugs wore open shirts over wifebeaters.
Ryan’s mouth opened and closed. “You look good,” he offered to Seth. It was almost a question.
“Cheap beer works wonders on my Adonis-like physique.” Seth said sarcastically, patting a stomach that was as flat as ever.
“Seth.” His mom was stern, raising an eyebrow, but Seth didn’t notice.
He really had to get new shoelaces.
“Ryan’s looking for a place not too far from here now.” Sandy covered. “What is it, Ryan, five miles?”
“Maybe five and a half. Numbered streets. We’ll see.”
Seth nodded distractedly. There was another long silence where nobody spoke, and Seth felt the muscles in his legs twitch insistently.
“Uh, I think I forgot about…yeah…something that I have to…” Seth backed up slowly, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and when he was out of sight, turned and bolted up the stairs to his room, slamming and locking the door behind him with shaking hands.
God. Fuck. He let his body fall heavily onto the center of the bed and sprawled limply, limbs askew, staring at the ceiling.
Seth was the biggest idiot ever. What could he have said with his parents there, though? “Hi, Ryan, sorry I told you to fuck off once upon a time, I was the cover boy for Modern Asshattery, but now I think I kinda still love you. Let’s go back to my room and make out?”
Actually, the making out part didn’t sound so bad. It was the rest that stymied him.
Seth stood up and roamed aimlessly around the edges of his room, eyes darting about as if he could find something there that could rectify a year and a half of wrongs and misunderstandings. He stopped short at his window and stared through the pane. Ryan was walking down the driveway.
Ryan leaving now would be very bad. Not to mention bereft of holiday spirit. But instead he just made it to the spot where the driveway met the street. The flare of a cigarette lighter lit the night and Ryan lowered himself to the curb.
Seth bit his bottom lip and pivoted sharply, down the stairs and out the front door.
He scuffed down the driveway, accompanied by the sound of rubber soles on concrete. His hands were firmly tucked in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, to prevent them from flying about in their typical sporadic fashion or doing imitations of Simpsons characters. Suave and disaffected. Check.
Ryan turned over his left shoulder at the noise, his light hair gleaming in the streetlight.
“Smoking again, huh?” Seth offered by way of greeting.
Ryan shrugged.
“Can I bum one?” Seth sank to the curb, careful not to invade Ryan’s space.
“I didn’t think you’d ever become the smoking type.” Ryan said as he reached into a pocket and handed over the pack of Camel Lights and a bright red Bic lighter.
“It’s practically a requirement for jaded intellectuals these days.” Seth’s long fingers deftly withdrew a cigarette, flipped it between his lips and applied the flame to the end, shielding the lighter between cupped hands.
Seth slid the lighter inside the pack and offered it back to Ryan, who slipped it back into his pocket with something not too far off from a smile.
“So.” Seth began.
“So.” Ryan echoed, gripping the speckled tan filter of his cigarette and ashing into the gutter. He licked his lips as he stared into the darkness of the street. “I kind of thought you never wanted to see me again.”
“I didn’t.” Seth replied, too quickly.
Hello, foot. Meet mouth.
Ryan shot Seth a sidelong glance that he couldn’t read, and Seth opened his mouth again before Ryan could misinterpret.
“I mean, for a while. Then I wanted it more than that new 100 gig iPod.” Seth took a drag and held it for a moment before exhaling slowly. “I was kind of a ginormous tool, like Carson Daly and that dude from Joe Millionaire.”
Ryan sat and stared at the glowing end of his cigarette, king of the non-reaction. Seth waited a beat longer than a moment before speaking again.
“Dude, I kind of don’t know what to say to you.” Seth admitted.
“That’s a first.” A glance, and a smile. Seth was encouraged.
“What can I say, college has made me a new man.”
“A smoking man.” Ryan pointed out.
“What do I need lungs for anyway? I’m thinking of upgrading to gills.”
“Fish still have lungs.”
Seth smiled sheepishly and lowered his chin to his chest. “My roommate’s always telling me there’s a reason I’m not a bio major.”
Seth tapped his Adidas-clad foot against the curb and gazed down pensively at the bright red ember at the tip of his cigarette.
“Do you like your school?” Ryan asked, looking out into the street.
Seth surprised himself by responding, “Yeah. I do. I mean it’s cold and far away and the classes sometimes suck, but I do.”
The smoke swirled in eddies around the two boys for what seemed to Seth a very long while, the only sound the puff of their breaths as they inhaled and exhaled.
“Do you like…” Seth squinted into the distance and tried to think of a way to phrase his words so that they wouldn’t sound completely stupid. “…what you’re doing?”
Stupidity: 1, Seth Cohen:0.
“It’s better than what I thought I’d be doing back when I lived in Chino.” Ryan shrugged and extinguished his cigarette against the curb.
Seth nodded slowly, then tossed his spent cigarette into the street, watching sparks fly along the asphalt.
“I’m gonna…” Seth stood and gestured back to the house. “Did you want to…”
“I think I’m gonna have another smoke.” The pack appeared again from Ryan’s pocket, and Seth was mildly pleased when Ryan held it in his direction.
“One’s enough for me. Trying to be less jaded.” Seth tilted his head awkwardly and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the asphalt. “But, thanks…for the cigarette. It’s good to see you again.”
“You too, man, you too.”
Their gazes met and Seth almost changed his mind and asked for another smoke, but then Ryan pressed a hand against the ground and got to his feet. He took a tentative step in Seth’s direction.
Seth’s body responded on its own accord and he opened his arms. Ryan stepped inside them quickly and wrapped his arms around Seth. The hug felt strange, as most spontaneous things tended to do, but the feeling of Ryan’s chest warm against his alleviated the strangeness somewhat.
A few stilted pats on the back later, Ryan stepped back, placed an unlit cigarette between his lips, and resumed his position on the curb.
Seth observed Ryan for a few moments in wonder, then, to keep from breaking the moment, turned and started walking back to the house, dimples deepening on his cheeks. As he made his way up the driveway, for the first time in what felt like ages, he realized he was honestly happy to be home.
*
“at times you find that the truth is the best way out
ooh well now sometimes telling the truth is the best way out
and it's the wrong words that make you prick up your ears
when later alone”
--Spoon
V: Stay Don’t Go
Insomnia and Seth were rapidly becoming new best friends. It had already surpassed video games, comic books, and masturbating on the short list, and was threatening to overtake drinking to clinch the top spot.
Seth threw his covers into a heap at the foot of his bed and sat up, gripping the edge of the mattress until his knuckles turned white. As he began playing his own version of “Good Idea, Bad Idea” in his head, he stood up and started to pace around his bedroom, the shrine to his youth and despite his best efforts to banish the feeling after high school, reminder of all things Ryan.
After a short deliberation, he shrugged on an old plaid flannel robe over his t-shirt and boxers and walked outside quickly so he wouldn’t lose his nerve. When he crossed the patio next to the pool, he faltered for a moment before knocking on a glass door, then opened it slowly without waiting for an answer.
Remembering how to breathe was taking up all his time. He couldn’t concern himself with proper poolhouse etiquette.
Ryan was still awake and dressed, sitting on the bed with an open copy of Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land resting on his knees. Huh. Seth thought to himself. How oddly appropriate.
Ryan cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at Seth, silently taking stock as only he knew how.
Seth half smiled and looked around the room before meeting Ryan’s eye again. “So. The poolhouse, huh? Kind of like old times.”
“Your parents offered me a guest room. This just felt…” Ryan gestured to the chairs, the kitchen. “Well, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” Seth’s eyes traveled to Ryan’s knees. “Good book.”
“I think it’s yours. It was sitting over on the shelf.”
Seth dimly recalled leaving it in the poolhouse on one September morning before he left for school.
Okay, so far, so good. Time for step two. Seth rubbed the top of his curly head and pointed to a wicker chair. “Can I?”
Ryan shook his head in affirmation, closed the book gently and placed it beside him on the futon.
Seth’s robe pooled around him as he sat, and he hugged the fabric tightly to his chest for a second before relaxing his arms. “So, it seems like you’ve talked to my mom and dad a lot.”
Ryan nodded, clear blue eyes never wavering, taking Seth in.
“They sound like they miss you. Not that they tell me that. I mean, I didn’t let them talk about you to me too much. Or, at all. Even though I wanted to know, a part of me didn’t. You know?”
“Yeah.” Ryan’s voice was more air than words. Seth raised his hand to his mouth and rubbed the back of his nails against his lips.
“I was angry with you for a long time.” Seth admitted, moving his hand from his mouth only to tug on the “do not remove under penalty of law” tag that was attached to the chair cushion. “And now it just seems stupid.”
“Me too. Except. I was more angry with myself.”
Seth blinked rapidly. This Ryan was different than he remembered. The old Ryan wouldn’t just sit placidly in front of you and volunteer things about himself. He wouldn’t even volunteer things about himself if you tied him up and threatened him with an ice pick.
Not that Seth ever tied Ryan up. Or thought about tying Ryan up. Ever.
Seth had enough experience with Ryan to know that pushing really wasn’t the way to go, but he couldn’t help the words. “Why were you angry?” he asked softly.
“I wasn’t fair to you. Or Marissa.”
“You still talk to her? Marissa?”
“Sometimes. Not much. But enough. Enough for her to let me know she doesn’t blame me anymore for what happened. But I still can’t help but feel I let her down that night.” Ryan continued. “If I’d just been honest with her, not tried to protect her all the time, then she wouldn’t have…” Ryan’s hands flexed and clenched.
“No, it wasn’t your fault dude. That night…I ran into Marissa on the beach.”
Ryan looked up at Seth with plaintive eyes. “She never told me that.”
“Some of the stuff I said…” Seth shook his head. “I felt horrible, man. *Feel* horrible. But what it was like, watching you choose her over me, again and again and again…you don’t know what that was like either.”
“I can imagine.”
Seth inhaled deeply, enjoying the sensation of air in his lungs, because it meant that he didn’t have to talk for two more seconds. Which was odd, really, because talking was pretty much his favorite thing ever. He rushed into it, words tumbling over one another.
“It was my fault, Ryan. Her OD. She wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t told her on the beach that you didn’t want her. Didn’t love her. And I let you blame yourself, because I didn’t want to feel like it was my fault.” Seth paused, looking up at Ryan, then down at his lap again. “I never told anyone that,” he mumbled.
Ryan’s concerned eyes didn’t leave Seth’s face.
“And then I ignored you because I didn’t know what else to do. You were so wrapped up in her…it was easy. But, shit, Ryan, if I’d just told you then, instead of taking my guilt out on you, maybe we wouldn’t have had to go through all this. I wouldn’t have had to spend a year missing you.”
“That’s not true.” Ryan said, voice ragged and heavy.
“What? I hate to eat the whole cake at my own pity party, but did your ears fall off? Ryan, it was my fault.”
“I didn’t leave because of you, or even because of Marissa. I mean, it was part of it, but…” Ryan trailed off and swallowed, throat constricting. “I left because of myself.”
Seth gazed at Ryan quizzically, still not knowing what to say. He wondered if Summer’s stepmom had a pill that could use to treat the problem, because he didn’t like it one bit.
“I told you that.” Ryan said, eyebrows furrowing. “I mean, I wrote you that.”
The note. That little blue lined scrap of paper that Ryan had slid under Seth’s door they day he disappeared. The one that Seth ended up wishing that he could dredge up out of the city dump and pore over word by word. Seth let out a breath. “I kind of, uh, I kind of didn’t read it.”
It felt like telling George Lucas that he didn’t like the Star Wars prequel trilogy.
“Oh.” Ryan sounded weary.
“What did it say?” Sympathetic lines formed at the corners of Seth’s hazel eyes.
“That I’d hurt too many people here. Just by trying to protect them. Or, keep them safe. That I needed to figure things out before I hurt anyone else. That I hoped you’d understand. Forgive me.”
“Oh.” Seth’s brow furrowed as Ryan’s words hit him and settled like day old pizza in a spot below his stomach. “So where did you go, man?”
“Everywhere. Traveled. Spent my savings and the money your parents gave me for graduation on a cheap old Buick and drove around. I went to Austin, looking for my mom’s ex, got a job there for a while. It’s pretty there in the spring, but summer’s a bitch. And I thought. About Marissa. About trusting people to make their own mistakes. I thought about my mistakes.” Ryan licked his lips. “And I thought about you.”
That definitely wasn’t Ryan flirting with Seth while talking about his own personal Pancake Tour. Not the way his eyes were still locked onto Seth, making little sparks explode behind Seth’s eyes. No. Because…well, Seth couldn’t think of a reason why not without ending up charging Ryan on the bed and removing his clothes with his teeth, so he just settled on changing the subject.
“So, where are you living now?” Seth asked awkwardly, scratching at a spot behind his ear.
“With friends. Not too far from here.”
“Why didn’t you come back to stay with my parents?” Seth asked, shifting his body towards Ryan and tucking his legs under his thighs. “I mean, after I left. It would have made things easier on you.”
“I don’t know. Coming back here, without you…”
“But you are now, right? I mean, my dad said…”
“But not this house. Not these memories. Not when you obviously didn’t want to see me.”
“I did. I just didn’t know I did.”
It was kind of like the first time Ryan kissed him. Seth didn’t know he wanted it until it was happening, and then he wondered how he’d lived without it for so long.
Seth extricated his legs from under himself, stood, and tentatively stepped nearer to the futon.
It wasn’t so much that he wanted to sit on the bed, one leg pressing up against Ryan’s, as that he *needed* to.
Seth settled in and rested his chin on his bare knee, which was drawn up to his chest, studying Ryan intently.
“I’m sorry, Ry.”
Ryan reached a hand out and let his rough fingertips touch Seth’s cheek, grazing them slowly over Seth’s jawline. Seth closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, nerve endings sending sparks so sharp that they were almost painful.
His eyes were still closed when he felt the soft puff of air on his face, then Ryan’s lips were on his, gently, then more urging, the hair on his chin scratching at Seth. Seth opened his mouth and let his tongue tease the tip of Ryan’s, tasting smoke and toothpaste. His heart surged into his throat and settled there.
This is what Superman must have felt like when he saved the world for the nine bazillionth time. Except without another guy’s tongue in his mouth.
Seth placed his hands on Ryan’s shoulders and ran them up to Ryan’s neck, trying to erase a year and a half of memories through the press of lips and tongue, when he felt resistance and opened his eyes. Ryan pulled back sharply, as if he’d been slapped.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” Ryan stuttered, pressing his back against his headboard.
“No, no, yes you should. We should.” Seth insisted, still feeling the wetness that was Ryan on his mouth, and leaned back in.
“It’s just…” Ryan’s eyes were wide, afraid, and he shrugged helplessly instead of finishing his sentence.
“Yeah, no.” Seth gestured animatedly, then rested a hand on his cheek, wrinkling his mouth pensively. “You know Ryan, I don’t think that’s so much of a good idea because I read this study about how if you repress your feelings, you know, bottle it all up inside, you get cancer. And cancer’s just not good for your health.”
Ryan’s face relaxed into a skeptical expression, and his gaze darted from Seth to the pack of cigarettes lying next to the bed and then back to Seth again.
“Okay, fine, maybe you’re right, we should quit smoking *and* not hide our emotions. I’ll get right on that. Should we go with Nicorette or the patch?”
“Seth. It’s just been a long time.”
Seth sighed, knowing that no amount of babble could win this one. Even superheroes had to lose battles sometimes. “I know.”
“Let’s take things slow. Catch up with each other first?”
Seth nodded, absorbing the words like a Bounty paper towel of language. Even if he wasn’t a superhero at the moment, at least he was essential to housewives everywhere.
Dude, he really had to stop ditching class to watch daytime television.
“I mean, it’s Chrismukkah. I’ll be here for a while. It’s not like…it’s not like I’m not going to be here tomorrow.” Ryan continued, gauging Seth’s response.
“Okay.” Seth wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth slowly, as though extraneous movement helped his decision making process.
Ryan let out a sigh of relief. “Okay.” His eyes softened. “It’s really good to see you again.”
“Yeah, I think we already covered that, but do you know what we haven’t covered? Playstation.” Seth leapt off the bed. “And I think I know a guy who can’t beat my Dolphins at Madden to save his life.” He baited Ryan, watching him expectantly.
Ryan’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. “You’re on.”
This definitely had the potential to be the best Chrismukkah ever.
*
There were moments that sent electrical pulses through Seth’s winter break, like when Ryan’s body brushed past his as they passed each other in the kitchen in the mornings, or when their eyes met over a massive pile of perfectly wrapped presents on Christmas morning.
But, of course, Ryan was true to his word, and there were absolutely no kissing hijinks to be had. Playstation hijinks, sure. Even quasi-criminal hijinks during lazy day when Seth attempted to teach Ryan how to pick a lock, a finely honed trick learned out of necessity when he’d stumbled home drunk without his keys.
Seth wasn’t sure whether he was glad or not that the Cohen’s locks proved to be more resistant to his efforts than his dorm room door.
But definitely no kissing. And Seth was okay with that, really. Because if you tell yourself something enough times it becomes true. He hoped.
So when Ryan left to go stay with his friends again the day after Christmas, promising Seth that he’d back to see him before he headed back to college, Seth had to cling to those little platonic, brotherly moments.
The rest of break really didn’t pass so slowly, even without Ryan hanging around. Summer convinced him to go shopping with her up at South Coast Plaza, and when he grudgingly yet proudly brought up his reconciliation with Ryan, she had squealed, pounded Seth on the back like he’d just choked on a Christmas peppermint, and stated firmly, “This is an occasion when you need new clothes, Cohen.” Then she forced him in and out of fitting rooms for three and a half hours.
Summer came away from the trip with four more pairs of shoes, two pairs of earrings, three shirts, a belt, and some god-awful sunglasses with bright purple frames “because even when you have a hangover, you need to look stylish.”
Seth came out with disheveled hair and a solemn promise to himself that he would never go shopping with Summer again.
The day Seth left Newport was bright with temperatures in the lower 60’s. Ryan drove up in the morning and they sat on the rusty hood of his car in the driveway, talking about everything under the sun: how much Seth hated his roommate's habit of leaving chewed pieces of gum on the alarm clock when he went to bed; how Ryan was going to transfer to a four year school eventually, when he had some money, because even though community college wasn't so bad it wasn't great; and how Seth would be home and Ryan would be there during Spring Break and they'd make some plans like the old days.
Seth fleetingly wondered what kind of Spring Break plans Ryan had in mind, but shook it off because reading into things really wasn't going to help him get through three cold months.
When Seth wasn't talking, and even when he was, he mostly sat, staring at Ryan, and tried to memorize the way Ryan’s right thumb had a hangnail and the tiny black grease stain on the cuff of his shirt.
“I’ll see you in the spring?” Ryan asked, hopeful, as they said their goodbyes on the front step of the house.
Seth nodded, head dropping to his right as he half smiled. Then he pulled Ryan in for a hug, desperate and tight. As they fell back to arms length Ryan’s fingers lingered on the inner curve of Seth’s elbow and Ryan’s eyes were fixed on Seth’s face and now would be the perfect time for Ryan to just lean in and kiss him, Seth thought, but instead Ryan dropped his arm to his side and slid around to the driver’s side door.
“Well, I’ll see ya.” Ryan said, and clambered in. The door slammed shut with a solid Detroit steel clank and Ryan smiled at Seth as he put the car in gear.
“See ya.” Seth echoed, and watched Ryan wave through the half-open window as the blue car rattled down the slope of the Cohen’s driveway and out of sight.
Spring really wasn’t so far away, just a few months. After a year and a half of being an expert on waiting, this was something he could do, right?
At least he hoped so.
*
“I could leave but I’ll just stay
All my stuff’s here anyway”
--Barenaked Ladies
VI: Pinch Me
Being back at school was fine, really. Because this semester, Seth had thrown down and was going to be all about the studying, and not at all about the thinking of Ryan. Like Ryan said, that could wait until spring, when he was home and Ryan was home and they could figure out what was going on between them, and everything would be fine if Seth could just *concentrate* and not remember the way Ryan’s fingers had felt as they trailed across his jaw.
Right.
So, sure, that had lasted all of three and a half minutes, until Seth got off the plane at O’Hare and saw a cute blond guy as he passed under the cascading rainbow lights of the United tunnel. The guy bore only a passing resemblance to a certain kid from Chino, but Seth felt his resistance sputter and fail, and realized that living in forced denial would make for a really long semester.
So Seth’s latest compromise with himself was that he would study first, *then* think about Ryan.
Even so, Seth played the scenes from winter break over and over like his head was a TiVo: during his three hour long Psych lecture; as the shower alternated between icy and scalding depending on who flushed the toilet; as he ran on the treadmill at Henry Crown; while watching people trip over the icy spots that dotted the campus sidewalks. It was all Ryan, all the time.
He was amazed that he’d managed to make it through a week of classes without blurting out Ryan’s name in response to a professor’s question.
It was better than TiVo because it had really happened, Seth mused as he lounged on his extra-long twin bed with a dog-eared spiral-bound notebook propped on his legs, trying to think up an essay topic for Dramatic Lit 110.
He’d narrowed the choice down to either sex roles in M. Butterfly or a compare-and-contrast of Miller’s Death of a Salesman and the movie American Beauty when he was interrupted by pounding on his door.
“Yeah. Come in, it’s unlocked.” Seth bellowed, intent on his work.
The door swung open on creaking hinges and Seth scribbled in his notebook for a moment longer before looking up.
When he saw the figure leaning against the doorway, he did a double take, and when that still didn’t convince him, a triple take.
Okay, he so had to have fallen asleep doing his homework again, because there was absolutely no way that was Ryan standing in his room, arm against the chipped white paint of the doorframe, with a backpack slung over his shoulder, cheeks blotchy and red, a coy smile on his face.
Seth dropped his pen and applied his index finger and thumb to the inside of his left arm, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise.
Okay. Either he was awake or he was just a really really masochistic dreamer.
“What are you doing here, man? How did you get in the building?” Seth brushed the notebook off of his thighs onto the mussed covers and stood up, face already aching from the strength of his smile.
“Next stop on the Pancake tour. And the outside door was propped.” Ryan continued to smile. If Seth’s eyes judged correctly, Ryan even looked a bit smug. It was a new look, for Ryan, but he pulled it off with panache.
“What happened to getting a place in Newport? Settling down?” Seth stammered as Ryan took a step into the room, letting go of the door so it swung back into place with a soft thud.
“Turned out there was nothing that I wanted there.”
Ryan shrugged off a navy jacket that was way too light for January in Chicago, never taking his gaze off a still stunned Seth. The jacket and bag fell at his feet as he stepped into Seth’s personal space.
“And you think you can find something you want here?” Seth breathed, eyes narrowing and tongue darting out, wetting his upper lip.
Ryan’s face was just inches away from Seth’s, and with one short lean inward, he closed the distance until they were almost touching. His eyes wandered over Seth’s face questioningly. “I guess I’m gonna have to find out.”
Then their lips were mashed together, Ryan’s tongue pressing against Seth’s, wet and insistent. Seth’s hands went up to Ryan’s face, cupping red cheeks with both hands as Ryan’s hands moved down Seth’s back searchingly until his fingers reached the inch of bare skin between Seth’s t-shirt and the polka dot boxers that hung over the top of his jeans.
Seth flinched and drew back from Ryan slowly, still smiling. “Your hands are freezing.”
“That’s because you go to college at the North Pole.” The tip of Ryan’s nose brushed against Seth’s and Ryan nipped at his lower lip.
“It’s not the North Pole. Its just Illinois.” Seth said semi-seriously. Ryan pulled back a few inches and gave Seth one of his famous looks. “Yeah, I see your point.” Seth conceded then leaned back into Ryan, his grin spreading again.
Ryan leaned forward, pressing against Seth and Seth stumbled back, over a green and white sneaker left on the cluttered floor, ass hitting the wooden crossbar of his desk chair. He overcompensated as his hands sought out Ryan’s hips, trying regain his balance, and their teeth clicked together audibly.
Ryan’s hands were still cold as they ran under the fabric of Seth’s faded t-shirt, tracing the line of his spine with slowly warming fingertips. Seth pressed up against Ryan again, more carefully this time, attempting to maneuver them onto the bed, but failed as Ryan’s shoulder ran into the edge of the open closet door.
“Your room is really small.” Ryan whispered into Seth’s ear as he ran his tongue around the pink outer shell.
“Not everyone can have their own poolhouse,” Seth groaned and finally succeeded in pulling Ryan onto the unmade bed.
Ryan rolled slowly on top of Seth, easing his knee between Seth’s blue-jeaned legs as he supported himself on one arm.
“Ah. Wait.” Seth arched, reaching an arm under his lower back, and pulled out his notebook. The pages fluttered as he sidearmed it onto the floor, landing in a heap as Seth placed a hand on the back of Ryan’s neck and drew him back to his mouth.
Ryan’s face was still chilled from the outside air, and as his cheek rubbed against Seth’s, it felt like a cool washcloth on a fever.
Seth groped Ryan’s back, fingers roaming first outside, then inside Ryan’s shirt and down to his ass, feeling Ryan already hard against him.
Ryan kissed the hollow of Seth’s throat and pulled him up off the bed, hooking his fingers into the fabric lifting Seth’s t-shirt over his head in one swift movement, then removing his own just as adroitly. Their chests met and a moan rattled in the back of Seth’s throat. Then Ryan’s hand was on Seth’s jeans, tugging, and the button fly popped open like a bottle of champagne.
Seth grabbed at the bunched sheets as Ryan’s tongue left a wet trail down the center of his chest, his breath coming hard enough to drown out the rattle of the ancient heating vents.
“Wait, wait, dude,” he managed. “Are you really here?”
Ryan slid up Seth’s body slowly, running his hands up Seth’s torso, thumbs passing delicately over nipples, making Seth groan again, until his head was directly over Seth’s, blue meeting hazel eyes.
He nodded, moving his gaze to Seth’s mouth. “Yeah,” he said softly and confidently between light kisses. “I am.”
“This is a dorm, dude, you know you can’t live here. Or you could, and we could really freak out Dave, which now that I think about it, yes, Ryan, live here.”
“I’ll figure something out.” Ryan slid off Seth, manipulating their bodies together until they were spooning, and nuzzled the back of Seth’s neck as his arm reached across Seth’s bare stomach and pulled him closer with a promise of things to come.
“You promise?” Seth mumbled happily, reaching behind himself to stroke the back of Ryan’s head.
Ryan just wrapped his arms more tightly around Seth’s torso and snuggled in like he was settling in for a long winter. And, with Ryan there, Seth didn’t mind the winter at all.
--finis--
Author’s Notes:
First of all, I must express awe and delight for everyone who commented on Part One. Y’all rock, and I hope you found the conclusion worth waiting for. Especial thanks to rage_blackouts, who assured me I was going in the right direction when I was having fic paranoia.
This couldn’t have been written without The Shins’ “Oh Inverted World,” Tori Amos’ “Little Earthquakes,” Elliott Smith’s “XO,” and songs by Voxtrot, which is the band of a friend of a friend (no album yet). You can download “Start of Something” at www.voxtrot.net
PSA: You know, I never wanted to make Seth a smoker. But it was what Dark!Seth and the muses wanted. So, don’t smoke, kids. It ruins your lungs. And despite what you may have heard otherwise, you can’t replace them with gills.