[oc] Empty space: Part two
The story was too long, can you believe it? *shrugs*
Empty space: Part one
Empty space
Part two
January, 2007
He's in the middle of class, Mechanics of Fluids, when he feels his cell phone vibrating in his pants pocket. He pauses for a minute, watching the teacher draw a open channel network on the blackboard, write an equation by its side. Somehow, he knows it's Seth. It has to be. God, it has to be. He takes out his cell phone and stares down at the name on the liquid screen.
Seth, it says, loud and clear, and he lets out a soft sigh. He looks up at the teacher, and it's a nudge on his side that makes him turn around. Claire is grinning, from ear to ear, fully knowing who that has to be, for Ryan to react like that.
He doesn't say anything, only puts everything inside his bag -- notebooks, books and pens -- and pushes back his chair and stands up. He should hesitate, he shouldn't be so willing to cut class, especially in a subject so difficult that almost half the class always flunks. But he doesn't. With Seth here, with Seth needing him, he can't quite care. He watches from the corner of his eyes how the professor glances at him, not quite caring that he's leaving the class. He's gonna need to borrow Claire's notes, again.
The moment he's out of the classroom, he answers the phone. "Where are you?"
Maybe, in other situation, Seth would have made a joke about it. What, dude, no hellos, now how are yous? But if it were another situation, Ryan's certain Seth wouldn't have traveled all the way here. He checks his watch in Seth's silence, and it's only nine in the morning, god, did Seth catch the red eye, again?
"There's this coffee shop, about a block from Foothill--"
Ryan nods. He's very familiar with that place, has had more than one cup of coffee and a bagel there. Sandy told him, not so long ago, that that place had the best bagels. "Ask for a bagel and a mocha for me," he says after a moment, sighing as he does so. "I'll be there in five minutes."
Seth doesn't say anything, and neither does he, only closing his cell phone and making his way to the coffee shop.
Ryan doesn't return to his Mechanics of Fluids class, but he does go to Strength of Materials, mostly because attendance is mandatory. Seth crashes his class, again, and then they have lunch together, with Claire and Tatiana and Patrick and Charles. Eve has a lab report to finish, so she skips lunch, and Seth asks Ryan if he ever does, skip a meal for homework.
Tatiana grins, placing her hand on top of Seth's on the edge of the table. "Don't worry, sweetie," she tells him, glancing at Ryan over her shoulder, "we're taking good care of him for you."
Ryan almost chokes on his Coke, and Seth blushes, ducking his head. Ryan asks Seth about his classes at RISD, detouring the girls from that line of conversation.
He wonders, as Seth speaks of shades of light coming through a window, the importance of light and shadow in a picture, if he minds missing class. It's Tuesday, and Seth must have things to finish, papers to get done, drawing to get started on, shouldn't he?
As if answering Ryan's unasked question, Seth turns around and gives him a small smile. "Semester has just started," he says, shrugging as he does so. "There's not really much to miss, you know?"
Ryan sighs, ducking his head as he does so, because he can't help but be surprised at how easy it is for Seth to read him, to know that he's worrying, will ever be worrying for him.
He doesn't say anything as Seth continues his story where he left off, and he certainly doesn't say anything when Claire winks at him, or Tatiana kind of grins at him funny.
They don't do much after lunch. Ryan should get started on the Technology of Concrete assignment due next week, but he can't quite think about homework with Seth in town. They play videogames, instead, until Casey calls for take out.
It's easy, in a way, not to think much about the way they make their way to Ryan's bedroom afterwards, the way Ryan just takes off his clothes, and Seth does the same.
But then, Ryan sighs, sitting heavily in nothing but boxers and tight v neck t-shirt, on the edge of the bed, on what he has started to think of as his side of the bed. And as much as he enjoys these visits, as much as he looks forward to them even-- God. He images the next four years, Seth stopping by every other month, and his breath catches in his throat. And then his hands clench on the edge of the mattress when he thinks about spending the next four years only seeing Seth in the summers and holidays.
"You can't keep doing this."
Silence is his answer and Ryan wants nothing more than to turn around, to face Seth, to read him the way he used to be able to, to see in Seth's face that which Seth can't quite say. Yet, yet, God, it feels easier, somehow, to see nothing but darkness as he speaks.
"The money alone--" Ryan continues, half grabbing at straws, trying to find reasons behind all this.
"I told the mom," Seth says, his voice filling the room, and Ryan has to close his eyes at the sound. "I told her, explained. I--"
Silence, nothing but silence. Fucking pressing silence.
Like a band aid, Ryan thinks, it needs to be pulled off all at once, so it doesn't hurt as much. Not seeing Seth unless they go back home to visit the parents. Or to let the wound fester, root, slowly, perhaps more painful, or merciful, for Seth to keep on coming, to visit, making Ryan suffer even more each time he has to leave.
"You can't keep doing this," he repeats, tired, exhausted, and somewhere in the deep end of his wits, afraid. "Seven hours, Seth. You arrived at nine. What time were you at the airport, to catch the red eye? Midnight, one? God, Seth." He shakes his head, his hands clutch the mattress even tighter. "Same as the first time. What time did you two fight? Nine, ten the night before? Spent all that time in the airport?"
Seth doesn't answer, like Ryan knew he wouldn't. He sighs, shakes his head, and curses under his breath. He lies down on the bed because he can't do anything else. He breathes in and out, feels the bed dip with Seth's weight. He doesn't speak, neither does Seth. They just lie there, not saying a word, the darkness in between saying more than enough.
It's almost half an hour later that Seth falls asleep, and Ryan can tell almost to the second, the way Seth's breathing evens out, the way his body seems to relax next to Ryan's. And it's only a minute after that, that Seth shifts, moves, accommodates, and his body seeks Ryan's in a way that he doesn't when awake. He turns to the left, one arm over Ryan's chest, head finding a home on Ryan's breastbone.
Ryan sighs, his throat tight, his hands touching Seth carefully, hesitantly. Finally, he sighs once again, and tangles his fingers in Seth's hair because he can't do anything else. He looks down at Seth's head, brown curls over his chest, Seth's breath hot against his own skin, and closes his eyes in pain because, truth is, he can't do anything but.
*****
March, 2007
Ryan scratches his eyebrow, turning the page over, reading the letters and yet not understanding a word. And this is supposed to be the book that will dissipate each and every single doubt he's ever had about Mechanics of Fluids, which, to tell the truth, are many.
"What ya want," Casey asks, and Ryan looks over his shoulder from his small desk, toward his open door and the living room, "pizza or Thai?"
"Pizza," he yells over his shoulder, turning around to look at the book again. Nope, still doesn't make sense. He groans in the back of his throat, shaking his head as he does so. He rubs his palms over his face, trying to go over the variables in his head.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Seth's name is whispered, softly, almost imperceptibly, and Ryan presses his lips into a thin line. He shouldn't, really. He shouldn't. He shouldn't worry about the one who doesn't call, who has almost forgotten Ryan so much as exists. He shouldn't worry, because if Seth hasn't called, hasn't appeared out of thin air, then maybe that means whatever was going on between him and Summer has been fixed, and Ryan should be happy for Seth. He should be.
He sighs, standing up as he does so, and makes his way to the threshold. "I hate Mechanics of Fluids, have I told you before?"
Casey chuckles, shifting the phone from one ear to the other. "Yep," she says, grin on her lips, "but I can't wait to hear what that subject has done now."
"Well, it all started the moment the teacher introduced it to us," Ryan says with a grimace, and Casey chuckles once again. He's about to keep on complaining, to say that he hates it, can't help but hate it, and the feeling is very much mutual, when his cell phone rings.
He doesn't look up, only gets his cell phone out of his pants pockets, and stares at the name on the screen. He shouldn't need to see it, shouldn't need at all, but the name, those four letters, even after all this time, can still take his breath away.
He flips it open and whispers, "Seth?"
"Hey, dude."
The words, the tone, the very voice, sound natural, almost normal, and yet Ryan can't stop himself from frowning. "Where are you?"
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and that's enough for fear to grip Ryan's heart.
"Seth?" He asks again, and this time, Seth answers.
"I'm, hmm." Another pause, a sigh. "I'm at the San Francisco airport. I'm kinda stuck. I, hmm, I don't have money to go to Berkeley."
"Where exactly are you?" Ryan asks, making his way into his bedroom to take out his jacket, car keys and wallet. Making sure he has everything, he makes his way back out.
"In the waiting area. I'm, just, you know, broke."
Ryan nods, giving Casey a small smile, and she shrugs. "Go," she mouths, and Ryan nods once again.
"I'll be there in half an hour, okay? Just wait for me. I'll be there in half an hour."
Seth doesn't quite answer, only makes a sound akin to a sigh, and Ryan closes his phone shut. He doesn't think much as he reaches the first floor and makes his way out of the dorm building. All he can think of is Seth, sitting there, in the airport, alone.
He's got the pedal to the floor, going as fast as he can without killing himself before he so much as takes notice of it, of him being already in the car, twenty minutes from the airport.
What happened, he can't help but wonder. What the hell happened this time? They fought, of course, when don't they fight? They fought and Seth got tired of it, of Summer going all hysterical over something, and figured he can very well make his way to Berkeley and find comfort in Ryan, in a dark room on the second floor of Foothill Dormitory.
It's almost ten by the time Ryan arrives at the airport, and it takes him a good twenty minutes to find somewhere to park. It takes him another ten minutes to find the waiting area, and when he checks his watch, it's been almost an hour since Seth called. He doesn't want to think about when Seth left Rhode Island, about how long it took him to find a flight, or why the hell Seth, of all people, is broke.
When he finally sees Seth, sitting in one of the plastic chairs in an empty area, he breathes in, tiredly, relieved, emotions all crashing down into him at once. He breathes in and crosses the space slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. Seth looks up, his brown eyes wide yet hollow, and he's hiding something, something he doesn't want Ryan to know. Ryan knows this the same way he knows where the Cohen house is, he just knows.
Seth doesn't say anything, doesn't explain himself, doesn't mention the reasons for this visit, nor the fact that he didn't have enough money to get a cab from the airport to the Berkeley campus.
By the time they arrive at the dorm, Casey has already turned in for the day; it's almost eleven at night. Ryan sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and opens the fridge door. There's the box of pizza left over from what she ordered tonight.
"Pizza?" He asks over his shoulder, and when no answer is forthcoming, he turns around to realize that Seth is no longer in the living room. Ryan can imagine him in the bedroom, sitting on the bed, taking off his clothes.
He slams the fridge door shut, muttering nothings under his breath, half pissed off at Seth, half pissed off at himself. He's not hungry, he tells himself. I'm not hungry, I'm just-- And he doesn't complete that sentence because he doesn't know what he's just, he doesn't. And if he does, Ryan wonders if he wants to know at all.
He makes his way into his bedroom and the lights are turned off, like he expected them, the street light coming through the ajar of the curtains, lighting the place in shadows. He can see Seth standing next to his desk, hand on a book. The Mechanics of Fluids book, the one he told himself he'd finish reading tonight, would understand, whatever the hell it meant, and had come to postpone, yet again. Interrupted, actually, by Seth arriving, not that he could tell Seth that.
He watches Seth, the curve of his neck, the stance of his shoulders. He remembers watching him like this, in those days they would stay up late in the pool house. Seth used to love to watch the pool shinning under the moon, and Ryan would be able to watch Seth.
Stay, he wants to tell Seth. Stay. Stay here, with me. Stay and don't go back to her, not anymore. Stay.
But he's weak, or fearful, or both, and he keeps quiet. He sits on the edge of the bed, again, hands on the mattress, and he remembers the words he spoke to Seth the last time he was here.
You can't keep doing this, he told Seth. You can't keep doing this, and he had believed that perhaps not seeing him again would be easier somehow. It has been two months since he last saw Seth and Ryan knows differently now. Not seeing Seth only helps to make his heart bleed, somewhere, inside his chest.
He takes off his clothes like always, and lies down on the bed. He doesn't say a word, doesn't see the point of it. Instead, he lies there, waiting. It takes a moment, a minute, an eternity even, for Seth to make his way to bed. He undresses slowly, and Ryan forces himself not to watch. He feels the bed dipping under Seth's weight, and closes his eyes when Seth shifts.
"Ryan?"
The word, spoken softly, nothing but air leaving Seth's lungs, takes Ryan by surprise. He blinks, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness once again. Seth's propped up in one elbow, looking back at him with wide eyes, brown eyes, and Ryan blinks once again.
Ryan wants to ask him about Summer, about the latest fight, but finds it too difficult in himself to say the words. Instead, he watches as Seth takes in a shallow breath, can almost see the indecision, the hesitation in his very moment, and then Seth leans forward, downward, and presses his lips against Ryan's.
The kiss is soft and tender, short and yet loving, and when Seth pulls back, he looks straight into Ryan's eyes and says, "Don't say you didn't know."
Ryan doesn't say anything, he doesn't think he could.
He watches almost in amazement as his own hand reaches up to touch Seth's hair. His fingers gently run through the soft strands -- soft, softer than he had expected -- and then he reaches to cup Seth's cheek in his palm.
Beautiful, Ryan thinks, stupidly. Why hadn't he seen that Seth was beautiful? Only, he had, yet he hadn't let himself take notice, acknowledge, find it in himself. He reaches out with his other hand, catches a curl and rubs it meditatively between his fingers. "Why?"
Seth sighs, breath against Ryan's cheekbone, and says, "Why not?"
Ryan shakes his head, in anger and fear. "Summer. You always went back to Summer--"
"I'm done. No more of that. I knew..." Seth sighs, lying down on the bed and it's like Seth just fits there, against his body.
Ryan tries to resist, but Seth always had the upper hand in this, in all this, because Ryan could never refuse Seth anything. He wraps his arms around Seth's back, and feels Seth's arms come around him in the darkness. Seth is warm and hard and masculine and Ryan has never been more comfortable in his life.
"It's never been her," Seth says after a moment, voice against Ryan's collarbone. "It has never been her, Ryan. It was always you."
And he remembers Tatiana's words, and Seth has always found his way back to Ryan, and he might not leave this time.
"Stay," Ryan whispers, even to his own ears the word doesn't sound particularly inviting. "Stay with me," he amends, and cleared his throat.
There is no answer to that request, to that almost question, there's only Seth touching his lips, one of his hands finding its way to Ryan's hair, the other to Ryan's hip, pushing forward, pushing closer, and Ryan moans in the back of his throat, a sound deep and personal. There's no need for an answer, because they could always speak best with no words in between. And the way Seth moves, the way Seth pushes himself against Ryan, hands touching, lips kissing his collarbone, his earlobe, says everything Seth doesn't say.
I like you like this, Seth's kisses say. I love you like this, shifting and moving. I love it when you moan, Seth says when his teeth catch Ryan's earlobe and Ryan does as requested, moaning and shifting and grinding his hips against Seth's, because he has never felt like this before, this good, this goddamn good, he has never felt so much, so much, to anyone, for anyone.
Seth kisses him, or Ryan kisses him, he's not sure, but it's only minutes before he can only feel, feel, feel Seth's hands on his skin and Seth's kisses on his soul and before he knows he's panting, he's sweating and he comes with Seth's name as a whisper on his lips.
When he can breathe again, when he can think again, he looks up at Seth, looking back at him, a lopsided smile on his lips, looking sated and pleased and in sheer heaven, nothing but love in his eyes. And Ryan reaches out again and traces Seth's features with his index finger, slides his finger across Seth's forehead, down his nose, across his cheek, trailing it down slowly across his lips.
"I've got you," Seth whispers, soft and tender, and Ryan nods, sighing as he does so.
"You've got me," Ryan whispers back.
There will be time for questions and answers, there will be time to ask what happened, for Ryan to learn that Seth told Summer this time, that was it, there was no going back, he was leaving, for good, for California and Berkeley and Ryan. And Summer freaked out, like Ryan assumed she would, and took the jacket Seth had in his hands and threw it into the chimney in their small apartment, his wallet inside. That didn't stop Seth from leaving the place, and he barely had enough for the plane ticket in his drawer in the nightstand.
There will be time, because Ryan will make sure of it.
"You've got me," Ryan whispers once again, and raises his head to kiss Seth's smile, to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him.
*****
Okay now, that's it. That's the end of it. mswalter, did you like it? Let me know. *g*
Empty space: Part one
Empty space
Part two
January, 2007
He's in the middle of class, Mechanics of Fluids, when he feels his cell phone vibrating in his pants pocket. He pauses for a minute, watching the teacher draw a open channel network on the blackboard, write an equation by its side. Somehow, he knows it's Seth. It has to be. God, it has to be. He takes out his cell phone and stares down at the name on the liquid screen.
Seth, it says, loud and clear, and he lets out a soft sigh. He looks up at the teacher, and it's a nudge on his side that makes him turn around. Claire is grinning, from ear to ear, fully knowing who that has to be, for Ryan to react like that.
He doesn't say anything, only puts everything inside his bag -- notebooks, books and pens -- and pushes back his chair and stands up. He should hesitate, he shouldn't be so willing to cut class, especially in a subject so difficult that almost half the class always flunks. But he doesn't. With Seth here, with Seth needing him, he can't quite care. He watches from the corner of his eyes how the professor glances at him, not quite caring that he's leaving the class. He's gonna need to borrow Claire's notes, again.
The moment he's out of the classroom, he answers the phone. "Where are you?"
Maybe, in other situation, Seth would have made a joke about it. What, dude, no hellos, now how are yous? But if it were another situation, Ryan's certain Seth wouldn't have traveled all the way here. He checks his watch in Seth's silence, and it's only nine in the morning, god, did Seth catch the red eye, again?
"There's this coffee shop, about a block from Foothill--"
Ryan nods. He's very familiar with that place, has had more than one cup of coffee and a bagel there. Sandy told him, not so long ago, that that place had the best bagels. "Ask for a bagel and a mocha for me," he says after a moment, sighing as he does so. "I'll be there in five minutes."
Seth doesn't say anything, and neither does he, only closing his cell phone and making his way to the coffee shop.
Ryan doesn't return to his Mechanics of Fluids class, but he does go to Strength of Materials, mostly because attendance is mandatory. Seth crashes his class, again, and then they have lunch together, with Claire and Tatiana and Patrick and Charles. Eve has a lab report to finish, so she skips lunch, and Seth asks Ryan if he ever does, skip a meal for homework.
Tatiana grins, placing her hand on top of Seth's on the edge of the table. "Don't worry, sweetie," she tells him, glancing at Ryan over her shoulder, "we're taking good care of him for you."
Ryan almost chokes on his Coke, and Seth blushes, ducking his head. Ryan asks Seth about his classes at RISD, detouring the girls from that line of conversation.
He wonders, as Seth speaks of shades of light coming through a window, the importance of light and shadow in a picture, if he minds missing class. It's Tuesday, and Seth must have things to finish, papers to get done, drawing to get started on, shouldn't he?
As if answering Ryan's unasked question, Seth turns around and gives him a small smile. "Semester has just started," he says, shrugging as he does so. "There's not really much to miss, you know?"
Ryan sighs, ducking his head as he does so, because he can't help but be surprised at how easy it is for Seth to read him, to know that he's worrying, will ever be worrying for him.
He doesn't say anything as Seth continues his story where he left off, and he certainly doesn't say anything when Claire winks at him, or Tatiana kind of grins at him funny.
They don't do much after lunch. Ryan should get started on the Technology of Concrete assignment due next week, but he can't quite think about homework with Seth in town. They play videogames, instead, until Casey calls for take out.
It's easy, in a way, not to think much about the way they make their way to Ryan's bedroom afterwards, the way Ryan just takes off his clothes, and Seth does the same.
But then, Ryan sighs, sitting heavily in nothing but boxers and tight v neck t-shirt, on the edge of the bed, on what he has started to think of as his side of the bed. And as much as he enjoys these visits, as much as he looks forward to them even-- God. He images the next four years, Seth stopping by every other month, and his breath catches in his throat. And then his hands clench on the edge of the mattress when he thinks about spending the next four years only seeing Seth in the summers and holidays.
"You can't keep doing this."
Silence is his answer and Ryan wants nothing more than to turn around, to face Seth, to read him the way he used to be able to, to see in Seth's face that which Seth can't quite say. Yet, yet, God, it feels easier, somehow, to see nothing but darkness as he speaks.
"The money alone--" Ryan continues, half grabbing at straws, trying to find reasons behind all this.
"I told the mom," Seth says, his voice filling the room, and Ryan has to close his eyes at the sound. "I told her, explained. I--"
Silence, nothing but silence. Fucking pressing silence.
Like a band aid, Ryan thinks, it needs to be pulled off all at once, so it doesn't hurt as much. Not seeing Seth unless they go back home to visit the parents. Or to let the wound fester, root, slowly, perhaps more painful, or merciful, for Seth to keep on coming, to visit, making Ryan suffer even more each time he has to leave.
"You can't keep doing this," he repeats, tired, exhausted, and somewhere in the deep end of his wits, afraid. "Seven hours, Seth. You arrived at nine. What time were you at the airport, to catch the red eye? Midnight, one? God, Seth." He shakes his head, his hands clutch the mattress even tighter. "Same as the first time. What time did you two fight? Nine, ten the night before? Spent all that time in the airport?"
Seth doesn't answer, like Ryan knew he wouldn't. He sighs, shakes his head, and curses under his breath. He lies down on the bed because he can't do anything else. He breathes in and out, feels the bed dip with Seth's weight. He doesn't speak, neither does Seth. They just lie there, not saying a word, the darkness in between saying more than enough.
It's almost half an hour later that Seth falls asleep, and Ryan can tell almost to the second, the way Seth's breathing evens out, the way his body seems to relax next to Ryan's. And it's only a minute after that, that Seth shifts, moves, accommodates, and his body seeks Ryan's in a way that he doesn't when awake. He turns to the left, one arm over Ryan's chest, head finding a home on Ryan's breastbone.
Ryan sighs, his throat tight, his hands touching Seth carefully, hesitantly. Finally, he sighs once again, and tangles his fingers in Seth's hair because he can't do anything else. He looks down at Seth's head, brown curls over his chest, Seth's breath hot against his own skin, and closes his eyes in pain because, truth is, he can't do anything but.
*****
March, 2007
Ryan scratches his eyebrow, turning the page over, reading the letters and yet not understanding a word. And this is supposed to be the book that will dissipate each and every single doubt he's ever had about Mechanics of Fluids, which, to tell the truth, are many.
"What ya want," Casey asks, and Ryan looks over his shoulder from his small desk, toward his open door and the living room, "pizza or Thai?"
"Pizza," he yells over his shoulder, turning around to look at the book again. Nope, still doesn't make sense. He groans in the back of his throat, shaking his head as he does so. He rubs his palms over his face, trying to go over the variables in his head.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Seth's name is whispered, softly, almost imperceptibly, and Ryan presses his lips into a thin line. He shouldn't, really. He shouldn't. He shouldn't worry about the one who doesn't call, who has almost forgotten Ryan so much as exists. He shouldn't worry, because if Seth hasn't called, hasn't appeared out of thin air, then maybe that means whatever was going on between him and Summer has been fixed, and Ryan should be happy for Seth. He should be.
He sighs, standing up as he does so, and makes his way to the threshold. "I hate Mechanics of Fluids, have I told you before?"
Casey chuckles, shifting the phone from one ear to the other. "Yep," she says, grin on her lips, "but I can't wait to hear what that subject has done now."
"Well, it all started the moment the teacher introduced it to us," Ryan says with a grimace, and Casey chuckles once again. He's about to keep on complaining, to say that he hates it, can't help but hate it, and the feeling is very much mutual, when his cell phone rings.
He doesn't look up, only gets his cell phone out of his pants pockets, and stares at the name on the screen. He shouldn't need to see it, shouldn't need at all, but the name, those four letters, even after all this time, can still take his breath away.
He flips it open and whispers, "Seth?"
"Hey, dude."
The words, the tone, the very voice, sound natural, almost normal, and yet Ryan can't stop himself from frowning. "Where are you?"
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and that's enough for fear to grip Ryan's heart.
"Seth?" He asks again, and this time, Seth answers.
"I'm, hmm." Another pause, a sigh. "I'm at the San Francisco airport. I'm kinda stuck. I, hmm, I don't have money to go to Berkeley."
"Where exactly are you?" Ryan asks, making his way into his bedroom to take out his jacket, car keys and wallet. Making sure he has everything, he makes his way back out.
"In the waiting area. I'm, just, you know, broke."
Ryan nods, giving Casey a small smile, and she shrugs. "Go," she mouths, and Ryan nods once again.
"I'll be there in half an hour, okay? Just wait for me. I'll be there in half an hour."
Seth doesn't quite answer, only makes a sound akin to a sigh, and Ryan closes his phone shut. He doesn't think much as he reaches the first floor and makes his way out of the dorm building. All he can think of is Seth, sitting there, in the airport, alone.
He's got the pedal to the floor, going as fast as he can without killing himself before he so much as takes notice of it, of him being already in the car, twenty minutes from the airport.
What happened, he can't help but wonder. What the hell happened this time? They fought, of course, when don't they fight? They fought and Seth got tired of it, of Summer going all hysterical over something, and figured he can very well make his way to Berkeley and find comfort in Ryan, in a dark room on the second floor of Foothill Dormitory.
It's almost ten by the time Ryan arrives at the airport, and it takes him a good twenty minutes to find somewhere to park. It takes him another ten minutes to find the waiting area, and when he checks his watch, it's been almost an hour since Seth called. He doesn't want to think about when Seth left Rhode Island, about how long it took him to find a flight, or why the hell Seth, of all people, is broke.
When he finally sees Seth, sitting in one of the plastic chairs in an empty area, he breathes in, tiredly, relieved, emotions all crashing down into him at once. He breathes in and crosses the space slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. Seth looks up, his brown eyes wide yet hollow, and he's hiding something, something he doesn't want Ryan to know. Ryan knows this the same way he knows where the Cohen house is, he just knows.
Seth doesn't say anything, doesn't explain himself, doesn't mention the reasons for this visit, nor the fact that he didn't have enough money to get a cab from the airport to the Berkeley campus.
By the time they arrive at the dorm, Casey has already turned in for the day; it's almost eleven at night. Ryan sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and opens the fridge door. There's the box of pizza left over from what she ordered tonight.
"Pizza?" He asks over his shoulder, and when no answer is forthcoming, he turns around to realize that Seth is no longer in the living room. Ryan can imagine him in the bedroom, sitting on the bed, taking off his clothes.
He slams the fridge door shut, muttering nothings under his breath, half pissed off at Seth, half pissed off at himself. He's not hungry, he tells himself. I'm not hungry, I'm just-- And he doesn't complete that sentence because he doesn't know what he's just, he doesn't. And if he does, Ryan wonders if he wants to know at all.
He makes his way into his bedroom and the lights are turned off, like he expected them, the street light coming through the ajar of the curtains, lighting the place in shadows. He can see Seth standing next to his desk, hand on a book. The Mechanics of Fluids book, the one he told himself he'd finish reading tonight, would understand, whatever the hell it meant, and had come to postpone, yet again. Interrupted, actually, by Seth arriving, not that he could tell Seth that.
He watches Seth, the curve of his neck, the stance of his shoulders. He remembers watching him like this, in those days they would stay up late in the pool house. Seth used to love to watch the pool shinning under the moon, and Ryan would be able to watch Seth.
Stay, he wants to tell Seth. Stay. Stay here, with me. Stay and don't go back to her, not anymore. Stay.
But he's weak, or fearful, or both, and he keeps quiet. He sits on the edge of the bed, again, hands on the mattress, and he remembers the words he spoke to Seth the last time he was here.
You can't keep doing this, he told Seth. You can't keep doing this, and he had believed that perhaps not seeing him again would be easier somehow. It has been two months since he last saw Seth and Ryan knows differently now. Not seeing Seth only helps to make his heart bleed, somewhere, inside his chest.
He takes off his clothes like always, and lies down on the bed. He doesn't say a word, doesn't see the point of it. Instead, he lies there, waiting. It takes a moment, a minute, an eternity even, for Seth to make his way to bed. He undresses slowly, and Ryan forces himself not to watch. He feels the bed dipping under Seth's weight, and closes his eyes when Seth shifts.
"Ryan?"
The word, spoken softly, nothing but air leaving Seth's lungs, takes Ryan by surprise. He blinks, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness once again. Seth's propped up in one elbow, looking back at him with wide eyes, brown eyes, and Ryan blinks once again.
Ryan wants to ask him about Summer, about the latest fight, but finds it too difficult in himself to say the words. Instead, he watches as Seth takes in a shallow breath, can almost see the indecision, the hesitation in his very moment, and then Seth leans forward, downward, and presses his lips against Ryan's.
The kiss is soft and tender, short and yet loving, and when Seth pulls back, he looks straight into Ryan's eyes and says, "Don't say you didn't know."
Ryan doesn't say anything, he doesn't think he could.
He watches almost in amazement as his own hand reaches up to touch Seth's hair. His fingers gently run through the soft strands -- soft, softer than he had expected -- and then he reaches to cup Seth's cheek in his palm.
Beautiful, Ryan thinks, stupidly. Why hadn't he seen that Seth was beautiful? Only, he had, yet he hadn't let himself take notice, acknowledge, find it in himself. He reaches out with his other hand, catches a curl and rubs it meditatively between his fingers. "Why?"
Seth sighs, breath against Ryan's cheekbone, and says, "Why not?"
Ryan shakes his head, in anger and fear. "Summer. You always went back to Summer--"
"I'm done. No more of that. I knew..." Seth sighs, lying down on the bed and it's like Seth just fits there, against his body.
Ryan tries to resist, but Seth always had the upper hand in this, in all this, because Ryan could never refuse Seth anything. He wraps his arms around Seth's back, and feels Seth's arms come around him in the darkness. Seth is warm and hard and masculine and Ryan has never been more comfortable in his life.
"It's never been her," Seth says after a moment, voice against Ryan's collarbone. "It has never been her, Ryan. It was always you."
And he remembers Tatiana's words, and Seth has always found his way back to Ryan, and he might not leave this time.
"Stay," Ryan whispers, even to his own ears the word doesn't sound particularly inviting. "Stay with me," he amends, and cleared his throat.
There is no answer to that request, to that almost question, there's only Seth touching his lips, one of his hands finding its way to Ryan's hair, the other to Ryan's hip, pushing forward, pushing closer, and Ryan moans in the back of his throat, a sound deep and personal. There's no need for an answer, because they could always speak best with no words in between. And the way Seth moves, the way Seth pushes himself against Ryan, hands touching, lips kissing his collarbone, his earlobe, says everything Seth doesn't say.
I like you like this, Seth's kisses say. I love you like this, shifting and moving. I love it when you moan, Seth says when his teeth catch Ryan's earlobe and Ryan does as requested, moaning and shifting and grinding his hips against Seth's, because he has never felt like this before, this good, this goddamn good, he has never felt so much, so much, to anyone, for anyone.
Seth kisses him, or Ryan kisses him, he's not sure, but it's only minutes before he can only feel, feel, feel Seth's hands on his skin and Seth's kisses on his soul and before he knows he's panting, he's sweating and he comes with Seth's name as a whisper on his lips.
When he can breathe again, when he can think again, he looks up at Seth, looking back at him, a lopsided smile on his lips, looking sated and pleased and in sheer heaven, nothing but love in his eyes. And Ryan reaches out again and traces Seth's features with his index finger, slides his finger across Seth's forehead, down his nose, across his cheek, trailing it down slowly across his lips.
"I've got you," Seth whispers, soft and tender, and Ryan nods, sighing as he does so.
"You've got me," Ryan whispers back.
There will be time for questions and answers, there will be time to ask what happened, for Ryan to learn that Seth told Summer this time, that was it, there was no going back, he was leaving, for good, for California and Berkeley and Ryan. And Summer freaked out, like Ryan assumed she would, and took the jacket Seth had in his hands and threw it into the chimney in their small apartment, his wallet inside. That didn't stop Seth from leaving the place, and he barely had enough for the plane ticket in his drawer in the nightstand.
There will be time, because Ryan will make sure of it.
"You've got me," Ryan whispers once again, and raises his head to kiss Seth's smile, to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him.
*****
Okay now, that's it. That's the end of it. mswalter, did you like it? Let me know. *g*