[oc] Yelling. Chapter one.
You know, I'm sitting here and I can't believe I'm doing this. I might have only worked on this story for three months, but I thought of very little but this story for those three months. It was... well, not only time consuming but it was very much like a bad dream, it caught me and didn't let me go. God. I'm very proud of it, not only because I've finished it.
You might know this story as what I used to call The Dark Story, and you can see all my rantings about this right there. *nods* Writing it, half the time, wasn't pretty, but now it's done and mygod, it's amazing. *nods*
Anyway, it is here, and I'm here, and I'm posting it. Threaten me later. *nods*
Title: Yelling
Author: M. F. Luder
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Pre-slash.
Rating: PG-13. Ratings will change depending on the chapter.
Category: Angst.
Warnings: And this is when it gets funny. Mostly because this is the first time I have the need to put warnings, but this are BIG WARNINGS. *nods* This story is not pretty. Not under any definition of the word. This is as ugly as it comes.
So let me repeat this, just in case. Warnings: Underage violence. Non-consensual. Dark themes.
I can very well add other stuff (lots of pain, people will hate me and some will love me, I have no idea which one scares me the most) and tons more, but I will stop myself from saying that.
Author's note: I started this on very dark night, three months ago to the hour. I have no idea what I was thinking, except that the mere idea of writing this story had been bugging me for about two weeks, and had enough of a time line to actually feel confident enough to actually write it.
This story totally belongs to l_vera01, who pushed and nudged and kicked and screamed and even threatened with body harm if it did not get done today, and guess what? I finished it last night. Yes. It's done. And this is all because of her. *hugs tight* I love you to pieces babe.
Betad by the one storydivagirl, the only, there is no other like her. *nods* She adores this story, says I hurt (insert character name here after you've read it) like no other and she loves me for this. Bare in mind she adores angst, so that might not say good things about this story.
I have nothing else to say except, read at your own risk. *nods* Believe me.
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten
Yelling
Chapter one
She knows what she says will change everything
She laid through so many sleepless nights
Sarah Yellin'. Three Doors Down
Ryan tilts his head to the side, smile on his face. It's funny, in a way he can't quite decipher, to see Kirsten this anxious. He doesn't remember the last time something like this happened. He's almost sure it hasn't.
He grins, turning to look at Seth, sitting right next to him, matching grin on Seth's face. They are both enjoying this too much.
It's barely eight at night, but Seth has the box of cereal in his hand, and he offers it to Ryan. He reaches out, hand into the box and takes out a handful.
Kirsten takes the box from Seth's hands. "We're having dinner in fifteen minutes. Can't you wait?"
Seth frowns, seeming to ponder the question. "Well, woman, let me see. Me, hungry. Waiting. Me, still hungry. Fifteen minutes, waiting? Nope. Sorry. No can do."
Seth tries to reach for the box, but Kirsten is faster than him. She shakes her head, placing the box inside the top cupboard. "Ten minutes boys. Ten minutes. I need you both to be hungry."
Seth shakes his head in surprised. "Mom, we're hungry. What part of we're hungry didn't you get?"
She rolls her eyes, turning around to look at the kitchen. Ryan's gaze falls on the set of Pyrex, seven in total, three squares and four round ones, filled with food. Catered, of course, because if they are having company, poisoning them with Kirsten's cooking really isn't the way to greet guests.
And this isn't exactly an everyday dinner either. This is special. Catered food, dining room, silverware. Hundred something years-old bottle of wine. Sandy with a jacket. This is big, though neither Ryan, or Seth knows why. Seth doesn't know because Seth can't keep a secret and he would have babbled to Ryan the moment he found out.
"Old friend of the family," Kirsten had said three days ago when she announced that Friday night was busy, don't make any plans and if you already have some, then cancel, I need you both here.
She took Seth's blue jacket to the dry cleaners, got Ryan a new black jacket and matching pants. Bought three new dress shirts for each one, so they had options. Still, jacket was not optional. If Sandy was wearing one, well, they were both screwed. Pretty much.
Ryan picks at the lapel and runs a hand through his hair. Weird, really, to be dressed up when they are not going out. Even Sandy feels weird, obviously.
"If he doesn't arrive in ten minutes," Sandy says, shifting against the edge of the counter, "I'm taking this thing off honey. I love you, but this thing has to go."
She doesn't say anything, only glances at him and Sandy smiles, grinning, and she shakes her head. "Jacket, all three of you. At times I wonder how I manage to make you all put on tuxes."
"That's with a threat mom, you know. You've done it before."
She doesn't answer Seth either. Ryan grins. Well, at least the waiting is fun.
"I need this to be perfect."
"Mom, really, secrecy is not funny. It's not this year, either." Seth's getting desperate, if quoting Summer is any indication. "Who is this man?"
"Friend of the family," she says again, but this time it won't cut it, that much is obvious.
Seth shakes his head. "Nope, not getting off that easy. Who. Is. He?"
Ryan watches Kirsten pick up the last of the Pyrex and take it into the dining room. She's so nervous and he wonders if he should worry.
"He used to be really close with dad," she says when she returns. She sighs, leans against the edge of the kitchen island as Sandy takes her hand. "I don't know what happened. I think he moved away, but I think dad had stopped seeing him before that. I'm not sure." She shrugs. "Either way, he's been investing all around the world. Made a fortune, then another one, over the past five years."
"And now?"
She turns around, looks at Sandy and smiles. "Well, now Newport Group needs him."
Sandy grins at her, leaning forward to give her a small kiss. "My wife, the manipulative mastermind."
"It's not like that."
Seth doesn't buy that. He snorts. "Yes, it is. It totally is. You're taking advantage of the old man, of his friendship with grandpa. Mom, you should be ashamed of yourself."
"If anyone will benefit from this, it'll be him. He'll be able to make a name for himself in Orange County."
"Yes, honey," Sandy says, very patronizing, "whatever helps you sleep at night."
She's about to complain, probably, when the doorbell rings. "Oh, that's gotta be him."
Sandy chuckles as she takes his hand in hers, pulling him in direction of the living room. She looks over her shoulder at them. "You too," she says.
Seth shrugs, nudges Ryan on the shoulder and they both make their way, slowly, to the front door. She's standing by it, waiting for them, and Seth grins. "Hold your horses."
"Wife?"
Kirsten shakes her head at Sandy's question. "He's divorced. Couple of years ago, as far as I know."
When all four of them are ready, waiting, looking as good as they can, she takes a deep breath and opens the door.
The man standing on the other side is about Caleb's age, no wonder they were friends. He has the same aura around him, an air of money and decision and no bullshit. It's not surprising, really. He has dark eyes and hair, turning gray around the sides, white skin, not as many wrinkles as he should have. He's well build, probably jogs at nights, as he takes a glass of whiskey and goes over his earnings in the stock market that day. He's taller than Sandy by a good head.
Ryan's breath catches in his throat, his chest tight. His jaw doesn't tremble, nor do his lips, mostly because he can't move, he can't even breathe.
The man looks imposing.
Just like Ryan remembers him.
*****
His mom pushed him into the house through the back door, the door designed for the service, and wasn't he part of it? Wasn't his mom?
He sighed, taking a seat at the small table inside the kitchen, though the kitchen was nothing if not small. Bigger than their whole apartment, that's for sure. Huge. Everything looked brand new, and steel, and rich. Very rich. Ryan didn't like it.
"Now, keep quiet, will you? I have to keep this job."
Ryan snorted. Right. Like it's his fault she didn't keep the last one, or the one before, or the one before that. Like it's his fault his mom can't keep anything she starts. Sure, he's eleven, but he's no idiot. Whatever.
Ryan picked up his backpack from the floor and placed it on top of the table. He got out his Math book and his notebook. He had homework to do, anyway. It's not like he's going to bug her until she pays attention to him. Ryan was way past that point.
He read the third exercise, wondering how exactly he was supposed to do this multiplication. Multiplication of two figures weren't really his thing. He was still trying to get hold of the trick for the eights, thank you very much.
Still, this was homework, and homework needed to get done.
He was looking through the book for the second time, trying to find a problem that looked like this one so he could copy the method, when the door leading outside opened. To the living room and dining room, of course. Not that Ryan had seen either of those two. First time there and all that. It was his mom's first week working in this fancy house as well.
A man with a small smile, almost amicably, walked inside. He was very tall, taller than Ryan's dad that's for sure. As tall as his math teacher, actually. Not like his teacher, though. This man had dark eyes, not blue, and dark hair, looking very serious, not funny like Ryan's teacher. He looked slightly frightening and very much imposing.
"Dawn?"
"Yes, sir."
Ryan watched his mom turn around, look at him almost nervously and pick at the edge of her maid's dress.
The man's gaze shifted to Ryan, pausing to look at him for a moment. Ryan bit his lower lip, stood as composed as he could and pretended he didn't want to fidget.
"And who is this young man?"
Ryan wanted to glare. Young man, oh please. Like he was going to win Ryan's admiration with that phrase alone.
"Oh, I'm sorry. This is my son, Ryan. He got off school and I didn't want to leave him alone at home." She was sweating, his mom. And trying her best to keep her cool. "He won't disturb you at all, or the Mrs., but if you don't want him here..."
The man shook his head. "No, no. It's alright."
He closed the space between Ryan and himself in three quick strides, not something Ryan thought could be done. He stood before Ryan, looked down at him, towering over him and Ryan tilted his head back to look at him in the eye. Very dark eyes. Almost black. Very black.
"I'm Richard Dart. Nice to meet you."
The man -- Mr. Dart -- extended his hand and Ryan looked at it for a moment before taking it. He shook it, Mr. Dart's hand bigger than his and tightening a little bit too much for Ryan's comfort. Ryan nodded.
"Ryan Atwood."
Mr. Dart grinned, nodded, and Ryan felt a shiver run through his spine.
*****
Ryan takes a deep breath and his chest hurts because of the effort. The man hugs Kirsten one more time before letting go of her and taking Sandy's hand in his, shaking it slightly. He's smiling, from ear to ear, like he's finally come together with his long lost family. Ryan wants to spit on him.
Kirsten's grinning as well, and takes a step forward. "This is Seth, my son. You remember him, right?"
Ryan's lower lip trembles and he bites down on it. He knows Seth? He... he can't. If he knows Seth--
"Yeah," he says, and watches Seth shrug before taking his hand and shaking it as well. "God, you've grown. Last time I was saw him, Seth was... what? Five? Six?"
"Seven," Kirsten says, smiling. "Ten years since you last saw him. God. How time flies."
"Indeed." The man turns around and looks at Ryan, appraising him with dark eyes, dark as darkness itself, and Ryan stands very still, not moving, lips into a thin line.
Ryan waits for recognition in those eyes but finds none, nothing. It might not be there, he thinks, but it might, and he's just hiding it. And isn't he, like Ryan, very good at hiding things?
"And who is this young man?"
Staying calmed and controlled is more difficult than Ryan remembered. He's pretty sure this has something to do with pushing that thought, that ugly and horrible thought out of his mind, down six years of other memories, better memories. So very down, it had drowned on everything over it and had almost been forgotten. Almost, though not quite.
Ryan doesn't answer, it takes him a moment to find it in himself to pronounce a word, and before he can Kirsten is answering it for him.
"Our son," she says, with a different kind of smile. A proud smile, a tender smile. Something inside Ryan's chest relaxes. "He's adopted." She shrugs good-naturedly. "It's a long story."
"Well, I have nothing but time."
Kirsten grins, nodding, and she motions for them to make their way to the dining room. Dick nods, following Kirsten and Sandy.
Ryan takes a deep breath, watching them walk by the side of the living room. His hand is shaking. His right hand is shaking, very much, and he tries to steady it but it's not working. Oh, god. Everything is fucking falling out of place, out of whack, and if he doesn't get a grip on himself, well, shit, no need to pretend everything is okay, is there? They'll know. They'll fucking know from his face and his hyperventilation and his bawling, that's for sure.
And they can't know, can they? No, no, of course not. They can't know. No need to. That's water under the bridge. That's way past this, past this fucking point of no return. That's not even in the mat.
Ryan handled it. He dealt with it. It was over. Long over when his mom quit, more like she was fired by the then Mrs. Dick Dart because she had gotten plastered one Sunday night and show up high for work on Monday, remember? Yes, yes, that perfect Monday afternoon, of course. How could he forget? It had been the stuff of dreams, not to have to go back to that house ever again.
He shoves his hand inside his pocket, takes another deep breath and tries to count to ten in his mind. He only gets as far as two when there's a hand on his shoulder and he bites so hard on the inside of his cheek, he can feel blood on his tongue already.
"Dude, Ryan?"
Ryan blinks out of his stupor, out of his fucking fear and he turns around to look at Seth. Seth, who's looking back at him with concern in his brown and caring eyes. God, Seth. Ryan's breath is shaky as he lets it out. God, Seth. Don't do this. Please. Just... fuck, don't do this. Don't ask, don't tell policy, ok? So just don't.
"Yeah?" Ryan says, and his voice is hoarser than it should be, so he clears his throat.
"Are you ok?" Seth asks, head tilted to the side.
He's worried, Ryan realizes. Seth's so worried, and he should be. And you knew Dick? Fuck, Seth, you knew him? But you didn't know him like I did, and I know you didn't because I would have noticed if you did. I would have known. I know I would have known.
But Seth was only seven, and knowing Kirsten, not like Dawn at all, she wouldn't have left Seth alone with Dick. She would have been there, every second, making sure seven year old Seth didn't tumble and fall. And that allows Ryan to breathe because thank god for small miracles and Kirsten's mothering.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
Ryan snorts. Not a ghost, per say, but a memory. A very fucked up memory from the very fucked up side of my brain, thank you very much. Fuck.
"Nah, I'm okay." Ryan nods, and it only takes him another moment to feel his breathing ease up and for his mind to clear. He can do this. This is now, and that was then. There's a world of difference in between those two times, that's for sure.
Ryan's a man now, for one thing. And he can put up quite a fight, much more than he could back in the day. On that day. In those days. He can put up a fight and he won't go down as easily, no sir. Besides, this is Kirsten's house, and this is Kirsten's show, and she would know. She would fucking know in a second.
He nods, at ease, save inside his little bubble of encouraging thoughts.
"Come on." Ryan nudges Seth in the ribs and Seth laughs, shaking his head. It makes it a little bit better for Ryan. "Your mom will kill us."
"Hey, dude, sorry to break this to you, but it was you who froze there for a second."
"Whatever."
Seth glares at Ryan, but it doesn't work, not at all, and Ryan allows himself a small smile, his mood not as dark as a moment before.
They make their way toward the dinning room, where everyone is sitting already. Ryan takes the seat by Sandy's left, Seth on his side, and he feels protected. He's got Seth, and he's got the Cohens, and that's more than he had back then. Way more.
Sandy passes him one of the containers before opening the three hundred dollar bottle of wine. Ryan takes it, serving himself a portion of chicken breast and hands it to Seth. When his plate is full, he picks up his fork and doesn't look up from his plate as conversation starts.
*****
Rather short, I know, but still. *bounces* I'm so excited. This thing is finally getting posted. And nobody said it had to be nice, now, did they? *g*
Leaving now. *bounces* So very excited and embarrassed and proud and God knows what else. Let me know you what you think. *winks*
You might know this story as what I used to call The Dark Story, and you can see all my rantings about this right there. *nods* Writing it, half the time, wasn't pretty, but now it's done and mygod, it's amazing. *nods*
Anyway, it is here, and I'm here, and I'm posting it. Threaten me later. *nods*
Title: Yelling
Author: M. F. Luder
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Pre-slash.
Rating: PG-13. Ratings will change depending on the chapter.
Category: Angst.
Warnings: And this is when it gets funny. Mostly because this is the first time I have the need to put warnings, but this are BIG WARNINGS. *nods* This story is not pretty. Not under any definition of the word. This is as ugly as it comes.
So let me repeat this, just in case. Warnings: Underage violence. Non-consensual. Dark themes.
I can very well add other stuff (lots of pain, people will hate me and some will love me, I have no idea which one scares me the most) and tons more, but I will stop myself from saying that.
Author's note: I started this on very dark night, three months ago to the hour. I have no idea what I was thinking, except that the mere idea of writing this story had been bugging me for about two weeks, and had enough of a time line to actually feel confident enough to actually write it.
This story totally belongs to l_vera01, who pushed and nudged and kicked and screamed and even threatened with body harm if it did not get done today, and guess what? I finished it last night. Yes. It's done. And this is all because of her. *hugs tight* I love you to pieces babe.
Betad by the one storydivagirl, the only, there is no other like her. *nods* She adores this story, says I hurt (insert character name here after you've read it) like no other and she loves me for this. Bare in mind she adores angst, so that might not say good things about this story.
I have nothing else to say except, read at your own risk. *nods* Believe me.
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten
Yelling
Chapter one
She knows what she says will change everything
She laid through so many sleepless nights
Sarah Yellin'. Three Doors Down
Ryan tilts his head to the side, smile on his face. It's funny, in a way he can't quite decipher, to see Kirsten this anxious. He doesn't remember the last time something like this happened. He's almost sure it hasn't.
He grins, turning to look at Seth, sitting right next to him, matching grin on Seth's face. They are both enjoying this too much.
It's barely eight at night, but Seth has the box of cereal in his hand, and he offers it to Ryan. He reaches out, hand into the box and takes out a handful.
Kirsten takes the box from Seth's hands. "We're having dinner in fifteen minutes. Can't you wait?"
Seth frowns, seeming to ponder the question. "Well, woman, let me see. Me, hungry. Waiting. Me, still hungry. Fifteen minutes, waiting? Nope. Sorry. No can do."
Seth tries to reach for the box, but Kirsten is faster than him. She shakes her head, placing the box inside the top cupboard. "Ten minutes boys. Ten minutes. I need you both to be hungry."
Seth shakes his head in surprised. "Mom, we're hungry. What part of we're hungry didn't you get?"
She rolls her eyes, turning around to look at the kitchen. Ryan's gaze falls on the set of Pyrex, seven in total, three squares and four round ones, filled with food. Catered, of course, because if they are having company, poisoning them with Kirsten's cooking really isn't the way to greet guests.
And this isn't exactly an everyday dinner either. This is special. Catered food, dining room, silverware. Hundred something years-old bottle of wine. Sandy with a jacket. This is big, though neither Ryan, or Seth knows why. Seth doesn't know because Seth can't keep a secret and he would have babbled to Ryan the moment he found out.
"Old friend of the family," Kirsten had said three days ago when she announced that Friday night was busy, don't make any plans and if you already have some, then cancel, I need you both here.
She took Seth's blue jacket to the dry cleaners, got Ryan a new black jacket and matching pants. Bought three new dress shirts for each one, so they had options. Still, jacket was not optional. If Sandy was wearing one, well, they were both screwed. Pretty much.
Ryan picks at the lapel and runs a hand through his hair. Weird, really, to be dressed up when they are not going out. Even Sandy feels weird, obviously.
"If he doesn't arrive in ten minutes," Sandy says, shifting against the edge of the counter, "I'm taking this thing off honey. I love you, but this thing has to go."
She doesn't say anything, only glances at him and Sandy smiles, grinning, and she shakes her head. "Jacket, all three of you. At times I wonder how I manage to make you all put on tuxes."
"That's with a threat mom, you know. You've done it before."
She doesn't answer Seth either. Ryan grins. Well, at least the waiting is fun.
"I need this to be perfect."
"Mom, really, secrecy is not funny. It's not this year, either." Seth's getting desperate, if quoting Summer is any indication. "Who is this man?"
"Friend of the family," she says again, but this time it won't cut it, that much is obvious.
Seth shakes his head. "Nope, not getting off that easy. Who. Is. He?"
Ryan watches Kirsten pick up the last of the Pyrex and take it into the dining room. She's so nervous and he wonders if he should worry.
"He used to be really close with dad," she says when she returns. She sighs, leans against the edge of the kitchen island as Sandy takes her hand. "I don't know what happened. I think he moved away, but I think dad had stopped seeing him before that. I'm not sure." She shrugs. "Either way, he's been investing all around the world. Made a fortune, then another one, over the past five years."
"And now?"
She turns around, looks at Sandy and smiles. "Well, now Newport Group needs him."
Sandy grins at her, leaning forward to give her a small kiss. "My wife, the manipulative mastermind."
"It's not like that."
Seth doesn't buy that. He snorts. "Yes, it is. It totally is. You're taking advantage of the old man, of his friendship with grandpa. Mom, you should be ashamed of yourself."
"If anyone will benefit from this, it'll be him. He'll be able to make a name for himself in Orange County."
"Yes, honey," Sandy says, very patronizing, "whatever helps you sleep at night."
She's about to complain, probably, when the doorbell rings. "Oh, that's gotta be him."
Sandy chuckles as she takes his hand in hers, pulling him in direction of the living room. She looks over her shoulder at them. "You too," she says.
Seth shrugs, nudges Ryan on the shoulder and they both make their way, slowly, to the front door. She's standing by it, waiting for them, and Seth grins. "Hold your horses."
"Wife?"
Kirsten shakes her head at Sandy's question. "He's divorced. Couple of years ago, as far as I know."
When all four of them are ready, waiting, looking as good as they can, she takes a deep breath and opens the door.
The man standing on the other side is about Caleb's age, no wonder they were friends. He has the same aura around him, an air of money and decision and no bullshit. It's not surprising, really. He has dark eyes and hair, turning gray around the sides, white skin, not as many wrinkles as he should have. He's well build, probably jogs at nights, as he takes a glass of whiskey and goes over his earnings in the stock market that day. He's taller than Sandy by a good head.
Ryan's breath catches in his throat, his chest tight. His jaw doesn't tremble, nor do his lips, mostly because he can't move, he can't even breathe.
The man looks imposing.
Just like Ryan remembers him.
*****
His mom pushed him into the house through the back door, the door designed for the service, and wasn't he part of it? Wasn't his mom?
He sighed, taking a seat at the small table inside the kitchen, though the kitchen was nothing if not small. Bigger than their whole apartment, that's for sure. Huge. Everything looked brand new, and steel, and rich. Very rich. Ryan didn't like it.
"Now, keep quiet, will you? I have to keep this job."
Ryan snorted. Right. Like it's his fault she didn't keep the last one, or the one before, or the one before that. Like it's his fault his mom can't keep anything she starts. Sure, he's eleven, but he's no idiot. Whatever.
Ryan picked up his backpack from the floor and placed it on top of the table. He got out his Math book and his notebook. He had homework to do, anyway. It's not like he's going to bug her until she pays attention to him. Ryan was way past that point.
He read the third exercise, wondering how exactly he was supposed to do this multiplication. Multiplication of two figures weren't really his thing. He was still trying to get hold of the trick for the eights, thank you very much.
Still, this was homework, and homework needed to get done.
He was looking through the book for the second time, trying to find a problem that looked like this one so he could copy the method, when the door leading outside opened. To the living room and dining room, of course. Not that Ryan had seen either of those two. First time there and all that. It was his mom's first week working in this fancy house as well.
A man with a small smile, almost amicably, walked inside. He was very tall, taller than Ryan's dad that's for sure. As tall as his math teacher, actually. Not like his teacher, though. This man had dark eyes, not blue, and dark hair, looking very serious, not funny like Ryan's teacher. He looked slightly frightening and very much imposing.
"Dawn?"
"Yes, sir."
Ryan watched his mom turn around, look at him almost nervously and pick at the edge of her maid's dress.
The man's gaze shifted to Ryan, pausing to look at him for a moment. Ryan bit his lower lip, stood as composed as he could and pretended he didn't want to fidget.
"And who is this young man?"
Ryan wanted to glare. Young man, oh please. Like he was going to win Ryan's admiration with that phrase alone.
"Oh, I'm sorry. This is my son, Ryan. He got off school and I didn't want to leave him alone at home." She was sweating, his mom. And trying her best to keep her cool. "He won't disturb you at all, or the Mrs., but if you don't want him here..."
The man shook his head. "No, no. It's alright."
He closed the space between Ryan and himself in three quick strides, not something Ryan thought could be done. He stood before Ryan, looked down at him, towering over him and Ryan tilted his head back to look at him in the eye. Very dark eyes. Almost black. Very black.
"I'm Richard Dart. Nice to meet you."
The man -- Mr. Dart -- extended his hand and Ryan looked at it for a moment before taking it. He shook it, Mr. Dart's hand bigger than his and tightening a little bit too much for Ryan's comfort. Ryan nodded.
"Ryan Atwood."
Mr. Dart grinned, nodded, and Ryan felt a shiver run through his spine.
*****
Ryan takes a deep breath and his chest hurts because of the effort. The man hugs Kirsten one more time before letting go of her and taking Sandy's hand in his, shaking it slightly. He's smiling, from ear to ear, like he's finally come together with his long lost family. Ryan wants to spit on him.
Kirsten's grinning as well, and takes a step forward. "This is Seth, my son. You remember him, right?"
Ryan's lower lip trembles and he bites down on it. He knows Seth? He... he can't. If he knows Seth--
"Yeah," he says, and watches Seth shrug before taking his hand and shaking it as well. "God, you've grown. Last time I was saw him, Seth was... what? Five? Six?"
"Seven," Kirsten says, smiling. "Ten years since you last saw him. God. How time flies."
"Indeed." The man turns around and looks at Ryan, appraising him with dark eyes, dark as darkness itself, and Ryan stands very still, not moving, lips into a thin line.
Ryan waits for recognition in those eyes but finds none, nothing. It might not be there, he thinks, but it might, and he's just hiding it. And isn't he, like Ryan, very good at hiding things?
"And who is this young man?"
Staying calmed and controlled is more difficult than Ryan remembered. He's pretty sure this has something to do with pushing that thought, that ugly and horrible thought out of his mind, down six years of other memories, better memories. So very down, it had drowned on everything over it and had almost been forgotten. Almost, though not quite.
Ryan doesn't answer, it takes him a moment to find it in himself to pronounce a word, and before he can Kirsten is answering it for him.
"Our son," she says, with a different kind of smile. A proud smile, a tender smile. Something inside Ryan's chest relaxes. "He's adopted." She shrugs good-naturedly. "It's a long story."
"Well, I have nothing but time."
Kirsten grins, nodding, and she motions for them to make their way to the dining room. Dick nods, following Kirsten and Sandy.
Ryan takes a deep breath, watching them walk by the side of the living room. His hand is shaking. His right hand is shaking, very much, and he tries to steady it but it's not working. Oh, god. Everything is fucking falling out of place, out of whack, and if he doesn't get a grip on himself, well, shit, no need to pretend everything is okay, is there? They'll know. They'll fucking know from his face and his hyperventilation and his bawling, that's for sure.
And they can't know, can they? No, no, of course not. They can't know. No need to. That's water under the bridge. That's way past this, past this fucking point of no return. That's not even in the mat.
Ryan handled it. He dealt with it. It was over. Long over when his mom quit, more like she was fired by the then Mrs. Dick Dart because she had gotten plastered one Sunday night and show up high for work on Monday, remember? Yes, yes, that perfect Monday afternoon, of course. How could he forget? It had been the stuff of dreams, not to have to go back to that house ever again.
He shoves his hand inside his pocket, takes another deep breath and tries to count to ten in his mind. He only gets as far as two when there's a hand on his shoulder and he bites so hard on the inside of his cheek, he can feel blood on his tongue already.
"Dude, Ryan?"
Ryan blinks out of his stupor, out of his fucking fear and he turns around to look at Seth. Seth, who's looking back at him with concern in his brown and caring eyes. God, Seth. Ryan's breath is shaky as he lets it out. God, Seth. Don't do this. Please. Just... fuck, don't do this. Don't ask, don't tell policy, ok? So just don't.
"Yeah?" Ryan says, and his voice is hoarser than it should be, so he clears his throat.
"Are you ok?" Seth asks, head tilted to the side.
He's worried, Ryan realizes. Seth's so worried, and he should be. And you knew Dick? Fuck, Seth, you knew him? But you didn't know him like I did, and I know you didn't because I would have noticed if you did. I would have known. I know I would have known.
But Seth was only seven, and knowing Kirsten, not like Dawn at all, she wouldn't have left Seth alone with Dick. She would have been there, every second, making sure seven year old Seth didn't tumble and fall. And that allows Ryan to breathe because thank god for small miracles and Kirsten's mothering.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
Ryan snorts. Not a ghost, per say, but a memory. A very fucked up memory from the very fucked up side of my brain, thank you very much. Fuck.
"Nah, I'm okay." Ryan nods, and it only takes him another moment to feel his breathing ease up and for his mind to clear. He can do this. This is now, and that was then. There's a world of difference in between those two times, that's for sure.
Ryan's a man now, for one thing. And he can put up quite a fight, much more than he could back in the day. On that day. In those days. He can put up a fight and he won't go down as easily, no sir. Besides, this is Kirsten's house, and this is Kirsten's show, and she would know. She would fucking know in a second.
He nods, at ease, save inside his little bubble of encouraging thoughts.
"Come on." Ryan nudges Seth in the ribs and Seth laughs, shaking his head. It makes it a little bit better for Ryan. "Your mom will kill us."
"Hey, dude, sorry to break this to you, but it was you who froze there for a second."
"Whatever."
Seth glares at Ryan, but it doesn't work, not at all, and Ryan allows himself a small smile, his mood not as dark as a moment before.
They make their way toward the dinning room, where everyone is sitting already. Ryan takes the seat by Sandy's left, Seth on his side, and he feels protected. He's got Seth, and he's got the Cohens, and that's more than he had back then. Way more.
Sandy passes him one of the containers before opening the three hundred dollar bottle of wine. Ryan takes it, serving himself a portion of chicken breast and hands it to Seth. When his plate is full, he picks up his fork and doesn't look up from his plate as conversation starts.
*****
Rather short, I know, but still. *bounces* I'm so excited. This thing is finally getting posted. And nobody said it had to be nice, now, did they? *g*
Leaving now. *bounces* So very excited and embarrassed and proud and God knows what else. Let me know you what you think. *winks*