[oc] A Shadow Across. Chapter eleven.

[sdlucly]

I'm not even going to try to excuse myself, because there really isn't an excuse. I finished this story a while back, I think just before Jose came to back to visit Lima, and I still haven't finished posting it. For that, my deepest apologies.

Here, another chapter. I'll try to post the next one in a week, and then just one more for the end. *g*

Title: A Shadow Across
Chapter: Chapter eleven
Pairing: Ryan/Seth.
Category: Future fic. First time.
Spoilers: AU to the whole show. *g* I'm evil like that.
Author's note: Written and winner of NaNo2007.
Special thanks: To 60schic for the amazing beta. Thanks babe!



A Shadow Across

XI.

The house is empty. He's standing outside, in the front yard, but he knows. He doesn't know why, he doesn't know how, but he knows. He knows.

He also knows that he'll push the door open and look around the wide open space that used to hold a small two piece living room set, and a table with a very old TV they bought from a guy selling it out of the trunk of his car. The small pots and pans that used to be in the kitchen, that she never really cared to use, will be gone as well. He'll wonder for a moment, why the hell she took them, when she always made it very clear that she wasn't going to be making anyone any breakfast or lunch, that they were on their own.

What will shock him the most will be that even his bedroom, the small one that he used to share with Trey, will be empty. The closets will have their doors wide open, the two mattresses won't even have the ragged sheets on top. The two pairs of jeans he bought with the money he made over the last five months, the couple of semi decent shirts and some underwear. It will all be gone, Trey's and his, it will all be gone. Later on, he'll ask himself if the reason she took them was because she was planning on selling them on the street.

Everything will be empty all around him. Everyone he ever knew, everyone he ever cared for, will be gone. And Ryan will stand there and think, where do I go from here?

I choose you--

Ryan blinks with a gasp of breath, opens his eyes and doesn't move. He can see the edge of the bedroom, bright with clear white and blue light. It's morning.

It was night last night, it was night, it was--

Seth

He doesn't know what he expects, doesn't know what he doesn't, but what he sees is Seth, asleep, cheek over Ryan's chest. Seth's arm is wrapped around Ryan, falling to his side. Ryan sighs, tilts his head back, closes his eyes. He'd think he's fucked, only he isn't, he wasn't. He bites off a little hysterical laughter in the back of his throat, lifts his right hand to bite on it, and it's then that he realizes that his left arm is lying on Seth's back. He squeezes his eyes shut.

I shouldn't have--

I touch you and I can't breathe

What the hell does that mean?

I choose you

It takes some maneuvering, and Ryan learns that Seth sleeps like the dead -- he grimaces, and the thought pains him, and it hurts to take in a breath -- as he, very carefully, pulls away from under Seth until he's standing by the side of the bed, looking down at him. Seth barely even stirs, only burrows his face deeper in Ryan's pillow -- Ryan's pillow, and Seth doesn't have a side of the bed, fuck you very much -- and half turns around, almost lying on his stomach.

Ryan looks around the bedroom, at the clothes neither of them even thought about picking up last night. Not after what happened, and the words Ryan couldn't say, and then Seth kissing him again, slowly, luxuriously, like they had all the time in the world. And for a moment there Ryan might have thought that they did, but then he decided he'd rather not think about time at all. It wasn't late, but it'd been a long day, a strenuous day, and Ryan was tired and Seth was sleepy with love, and they ended up curled on the bed, falling asleep before Ryan knew it.

Ryan shakes his head, mostly to dislodge the memory, and then he makes his way to his closet, to find something that doesn't smell like sweat and rain and pain. He takes the clothes with him to the bathroom, takes a short shower and changes in a hurry. It's not even six in the morning, but the sky has started to lighten already, the sun making its way up, and Ryan walks down the stairs to the first floor, doesn't walk into the kitchen but into the living room instead.

The curtains are wide open; he never got around to pulling them closed last night. He must have forgotten. He shouldn't have. Mrs. Landingham doesn't like it when--

He grimaces, and he can feel his chest tighten, like a hand with iron claws has gotten hold of it and it's squeezing, squeezing, and it hurts. Holy fuck, it hurts. He doesn't remember when it hurt this bad only he does, but it was a different kind of pain. It was physical then, it was always physical and it was good, it was right, that he could deal with. This. This--

He folds his arms over his chest, closes his eyes. He remembers it was May, a Tuesday, and it had been drizzling for a while. He remembers it had all been an accident and he hadn't wanted to do it, not at first, not ever, but he'd barely had two bucks in his pocket and he was hungry and dirty and tired. He had been afraid at first, and then he wasn't. It's superimposed with the memory of an August afternoon, bright sun hitting his face.

But most of all, he remembers an elderly woman with gray hair and a big smile and decision in her eyes. He remembers her clearly, popping out from the picture in his memory.

He even remembers what she said.

Well, hello, I'm--

"--Mrs. Landingham." The woman smiled at him, hand outstretched.

Ryan blinked at her, eyebrow furrowed. He wondered where she came from. He'd seen the guy, Joseph, start taking down the first box before he reached for the next one to help. Joseph had said he didn't have to, and he was right, Ryan didn't have to. But he wanted to. Because this was a small town and he didn't mind a little work. For years, all he'd wanted was a little work, and maybe, just maybe, he could get something here, just enough to get him through the week, out of here and somewhere else.

He'd finished getting the last box inside, gone back out for his backpack -- and for a moment he'd worried about it, what the fuck he'd been thinking, leaving it out like that; what if it had been taken, what if he'd lost what little he actually had -- when she'd been standing there, looking at him like she was expecting him and he was just a little bit late.

Her smile grew wider, her hand not yet dropping.

Ryan reached for it because he didn't know what else to do. She had a firm handshake. "Nice meeting you, ma'am," he said, because he might have lost a lot, but he sure as fuck hadn't lost his manners.

She shook it, one last time, before letting his hand drop. And then she was looking at him, looking at him like she had been expecting him, alright, and now he was here, and she was keeping him. And Ryan didn't know that at the time, but he would, in the later days, he'd realize that was what her eyes were telling him, he just didn't know what to look for.

He heard Joseph out in the small store's backroom. Ryan looked over his shoulder at Joseph, who was smiling at the woman -- Mrs. Landingham.

"Mrs. Landingham, and how ya doing, this fine afternoon?"

Mrs. Landingham turned to look at Joseph, nodded at him. "I'm very good, Joseph, thank you. I was just meeting the newest member of our town, here." She turned to look at him, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, bag of groceries in her hand. "You didn't tell me your name, young man."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Ryan nodded either way. "Ryan. Ryan Atwood."

She nodded, like she had known his name, she'd just been expecting him to say it back. Like she knew him. Like she knew everything she could possibly learn from him, with just a glance. "Well, a pleasure meeting you, Ryan Atwood."

"He's just passing through, Mrs. Landingham," Joseph said with a jerk of his head toward the truck. "I gave him a ride into a town, because it was in the way."

Mrs. Landingham nodded, and Ryan saw the way her blue eyes twinkled. They twinkled, Ryan saw, clear and sure. He should have been afraid, or worried, but was only curious. "Hmpf," she said, a smile on her lips. She looked at Ryan, and Ryan looked back at her. She grinned.

Ryan doesn't know how long he stands there, arms crossed over his chest, and at one point they've lowered slightly until it feels like he's hugging himself. The sun has gotten high in the early morning, and it's playing different colors on the grass, bright green, on the road, clear white and beige, and on the window, yellows and oranges and pinks. Or maybe he's just seeing things.

He hears the stairs creak before seeing Seth from the corner of his eyes. He'd tried his best not to think about last night, and had been half successful. There was no point in dwelling on it, not really. It was done, they had done it, there was no taking it back. There was only now, today, right now. There was only--

Seth's arms around him, crossing over his own. A chin on top of his shoulder, breath against the side of his face. A smile against his skin, followed by a petal soft kiss.

Ryan would close his eyes and lean into the touch if he could, if he'd allow himself.

"You're brooding."

Ryan smiles, he allows himself that much. Yes, he is, and Seth is the one that has a way with words, he's the one that talks just to make noise. He's the only one who can say what he feels, consequences be damned.

He doesn't say anything, but he sighs, and, very consciously, he leans a little bit back, hears Seth sigh as well, place a kiss where his jaw meets his neck. He closes his eyes and tells himself to enjoy it, because it might not last. It will probably not last.

He pats the wrapped arms around his middle, the hands intertwined over the hollow between his ribs. He can feel Seth hesitate for a moment, a second, before sighing and letting go of him. Ryan doesn't turn around to look at Seth, instead, just takes a step to the side, makes his way to the kitchen. His breath hitches in his throat for a second, as he walks past the stove, and he thinks this feeling won't go away overnight. It probably won't go away in the following months.

He starts the coffee, and then reaches for jam in the cupboard. It's blueberry, almost out of season but still useable. Mrs. Landingham made it, last Sunday. He swallows, places it on the table. He doesn't know if Seth likes marmalade. Ryan himself didn't much care for it until he tasted Mrs. Landingham's. He remembers sitting in this very kitchen, only a month or two after coming here to live and Mrs. Landingham placing a jar just like that one on the center of the table, very much like Ryan himself has done a moment ago. She'd picked up the knife herself, spread the jam over the slice of bread herself, before handing it to Ryan.

"I don't like jam," Ryan had said, looking down at the slice of bread in his hands.

She'd smiled at him, and Ryan had only just begun to realize how much he liked to see her smile. "You've never tasted mine." Ryan had frowned. She had grinned at him. "Go on, give it a bite. If you don't like it, I won't push again."

He had liked her, and soon after blueberry had become his favorite.

"Ryan?"

He looks up as he turns around, at Seth standing by the coffee maker, the coffee already done. He blinks, and wonders how long he's been standing here, and how he's been losing time as of late. He sighs, glances back at the table, at the jam and can't help but feel his chest tighten, his face fall into a grimace. That will be the last batch she'll ever make, the last one he'll ever like.

He swallows, looks away and makes his way to the fridge. He opens it, and it takes him a moment to ask himself why exactly he's here, and what it is he's doing. Eggs, he thinks, and nods to himself before taking them out.

"Eggs? Scrambled or fried?" Ryan asks, surprised for a moment that he doesn't know. Then again, the mornings Seth spent here, Mrs. Landingham had almost everything one could have for breakfast at the table, and the past few days--

walking into the kitchen, the phone ringing, Seth's hand on his arm, fingers on the inside of his elbow, a smile and a nod and a touch

--have gone in a blur, and eating hasn't exactly been a fixed need in his schedule.

"Fried," Ryan hears Seth say, before cracking the eggs over the pan, and flipping them when the time is right.

He finishes with the eggs, and after placing them on a plate, he makes his way to the table. Seth's already there, waiting for him, and he's reminded of the last two days, of finding middle ground with Seth only long enough to share a meal. This is very similar. He can feel an itch right under his skin, and he wants nothing more than to run and hide, use work as an excuse once again. And what a better excuse, really, considering it's Monday and he does have work to do.

Seth leans to his left, and kisses Ryan, catching him by surprise as he's sitting down. Seth's right hand goes to Ryan's cheek, pulling him closer, guiding him along. The kiss is slow and sweet, the tip of Seth's tongue touching his lower lip, his upper lip. Ryan licks the inside of Seth's lip, in the corner, and hears Seth's moan. And for all Ryan's indecision, that sound goes a long way to convince him that maybe this isn't half as bad, maybe--

Seth pulls away after a moment, and when Ryan blinks his eyes open, Seth's looking back at him with a question in his eyes. Ryan wonders if he has an answer for him. He wonders if Seth will like it.

Ryan tries his best to give him half a smile, but he thinks it feels more like a grimace on his face than a smile. But Seth smiles back, big and wide, like he's encouraging Ryan to smile. Ryan snorts, because that's just like Seth, and he can feel the muscles of his cheeks relaxing, he can feel himself relaxing, smiling, comfortable and right.

Seth's right hand has fallen to Ryan's neck, and Ryan can feel the thumb caressing the curve of his throat, where it meets his jaw. Seth's smiling, and Ryan feels something inside him loosening, letting go.

"I really like it when you smile," Seth says, whispers, and then he's leaning forward once again, placing a kiss where his thumb has been only second before.

Ryan closes his eyes at the feeling, bites on his upper lip. He wants this, God, how he wants this, but there are things to be said. And no matter how much Seth might say that he doesn't care, Ryan thinks he will, Ryan's certain he will. And he has to tell him. He has to. And he will. Just... just not right now.

"You have work today," Seth whispers against Ryan's throat, and Ryan's smiling at the sound, at the feel of it. Seth licks the words on his skin. Ryan's breath catches in his throat. If Seth keeps doing that, God, if he keeps doing that... "I'd like to go with you."

Ryan blinks, glances down at the top of Seth's head, at the curl hair poking his nose and lips, at the feel of Seth's lips on his collarbone. "Sure," he says, because that's the only thing he can say, because he wants this, he does, and in a selfish moment he thinks that if he doesn't take it, it will go away. If he doesn't choose now, it will be too late.

Seth smiles against Ryan's skin.

If Bobby is surprised to see Ryan walk into the shop Monday morning with Seth in tow, he doesn't say. He usually says very little, which sits just fine with Ryan.

Instead, Bobby grunts something about stupid Terrence and his stupid truck. It's not really a truck, is a Ford Explorer, a little bit worse for wear, and Ryan doesn't point this out because then Bobby will start grumbling about how a pick up truck isn't good enough for them, they had to go with the SUV.

The poor gal is only five years old, but she's seen more miles than she should have, or at least than she signed up for when she was bought. There's nothing this old gal hasn't done.

He sits down on the dolly and pauses before lying down, pulling himself under her. Seth's sitting on the floor, laptop on his legs, back against the wall. And Ryan remembers those two days spent with Seth. He remembers Seth, all skin and bones, like Mrs. Landingham used to say, hesitant and afraid, saying I've got it, like if Ryan didn't hand him back the bags, it would prove Seth's too weak, too everything. He remembers Seth not quite yanking the bags from Ryan's hand, and he remembers how it felt, to see him and know, just know, and this was something he needed to do, to prove himself.

Only that was then and this is now, and this Seth reaches for his wrist to turn him around, kisses back with as much strength, as much force. This Seth can cover Ryan's body with his own and make him moan, make him lose himself. This Seth leans forward to kiss him as they sit at the kitchen table during breakfast, and this Seth takes Ryan's hand in his right before they park by the side of the garage, runs his thumb over the back of Ryan's knuckles, over the inside of his palm. This Seth doesn't need a kiss in front of everyone to stake his claim.

He swallows, looks down, and knows. Knows that he likes this Seth as much as he liked that one, and that he's falling in love, ever so slowly, probably has been since the first time he touched Seth’s hand, in a freaky second where the laptop tilted just right and time felt as if it was standing still and Seth's touch felt like home. And he remembers, God, he remembers that, and he remembers what he had thought back then, in that second, thought that he'd look back to this, that moment, and remember, and know. And he does. Right now, he does.

He glances over at Seth, sitting on the floor, eyes glued to the screen, fingers touching here and there, in a rapid, staccato typing. He smiles, and looks down before Seth has time to notice he's being watched, before he can lift his own eyes. Instead, Ryan leans back on the dolly and pushes himself to the underbelly of Terrence's SUV.

The morning goes by in the flutter of eyelashes, between one typed word and the next. Ryan works on Terrence's SUV with the lull of the sound of Seth's fingers against keys, the soft mutter of a word here and there, a whisper of negation or the acceptance of a sentence Seth tries on his tongue before typing it up. Ryan can almost imagine Seth's eyes narrowed as the speed of his fingers picks up, and then there's a pause, long and heavy, before the fingers go back to the movement, to the symphony they seem to be performing for Ryan's ears alone.

He's listening to the sound of Seth's silent words with such attention that he doesn't realize Bobby's calling him until the man hits the hood of SUV's trunk so loud, it makes Ryan's ears ring for a second. It's the Redmans, Bobby says, and their temperamental Ford. She's acting up again, and at least she's not so bad off that he has to go up there instead of them bringing her here. And before he knows it, it's already past noon and Laura has come and picked Bobby up for lunch, glancing over at Seth on her way out. He thinks he sees her smile, grin, but he can't really be sure. And through it all, Seth has barely stopped his furious typing, and if he has lifted his eyes from the screen, Ryan never saw.

Ryan can feel the movement of the hours in the way the back of his neck starts to tingle, nothing but a whisper of the pain he'll feel later tonight. He jerks his head to the right, waiting to hear the pop of the vertebrae but hears nothing and he grumbles under his breath. With feet on either side of the dolly, he pushes himself up, takes the five steps to the side of the wall and leans against it. Seth's so deep in his work that he doesn't look up, not even as Ryan tries his best to crane his neck to peak at the screen. He can't see crap.

Instead, he squats by Seth's side, and pokes him on the shoulder. Seth jumps in surprise, a small gasp escaping his mouth. Ryan grins. "Well, hello there."

Seth blinks, and it feels as if he's coming out of a long sleep, swimming his way back, stroke by stroke, word by word. Seth blinks, again and again, and after a minute his eyes actually focus on Ryan, and he smiles. "Hey."

Ryan smiles back, "Hey."

They look at each other for a moment before Seth frowns, glancing at the truck Ryan was working on -- not the Explorer but a very old Ford, and he can almost see Seth asking himself when did Ryan changed cars -- and then glancing at the corner of the screen. "God, is that the time?"

Ryan chuckles, but nods. Deep under, alright. "Yeah. Twelve thirty, I think."

"Twelve thirty three, yeah. Damn it, I'm starving."

To be expected, considering the hour and that Seth has proven to have a very healthy appetite. "Come on, then," Ryan says, standing up as he does so. He hears something creak, his right knee, and grimaces. "God, I'm getting old."

"You're--" Seth starts, and then pauses. "You're twenty two."

Ryan smiles softly, nods. "Yeah, I am." But there's a frown between Seth's eyes, like he's doing math, and hard math at that, and it takes Ryan only a second to realize that Seth's counting back on. He can almost read it in Seth's eyes--

if you turned twenty two not a month ago and you've been here for over four years then you weren't really eighteen when you got here, which would mean--

--and he sure as fuck doesn't like what he's seeing. He smiles, he thinks he smiles, but it feels weird and tight on his cheeks. He swallows. "We should go eat now."

"How old were you when you first arrived?" Seth asks, the frown still between his eyes, in the three lines on his forehead.

Ryan doesn't want to get into this, not here, not now. Probably not ever. He remembers the moment it slipped, with him under the belly of a car, he forgets which one, and Seth leaning back against the wall, the second day Seth was here. He realized only what he'd said long after he'd said it, and Seth hadn't done the math then, so he'd kicked himself inwardly and decided to let it go, as long as Seth never mentioned it. He'd told everyone he was eighteen, the minute they started asking questions. It was a big fucking lie, because he was still seven months shy of his eighteen birthday, nevermind that he'd been pretty sure neither Mrs. Landingham nor anyone in town had actually believed him. It'd felt like they had just not asked about it.

He bites on his lower lip, on the corner of his lip, and looks at Seth. Seth, whose face has smoothed out from the frown, who's looking back at Ryan with nothing in his eyes: no question, no judgment. Just waiting.

Ryan sighs. "Seventeen."

And that should be more than enough, because Seth knows he arrived in August and if he was seventeen at the time, then he would have been about to start his senior year of high school and if he was here and didn't go to school then that would mean--

And then Seth's smiling at him, not tight or fake, but real, and comfortable, and nods. "You're right, we should eat. I'm starving."

Ryan swallows, tightly, wonders what the fuck happened . Seth should have asked, Seth should have demanded, Seth should have-- Then again, Seth hasn't exactly being playing it by the book, has he? He hasn't been doing anything he should have done. Ryan should have long ago given up on trying to predict Seth Cohen.

He nods, feels his pulse starting to slow down to something near normal. "Sure."

Seth nods, grins, and before Ryan knows what's happening, before he can take a step back or one to the side, Seth leans forward and places a quick kiss to his lips . Just a brush of lips against lips, quick and innocent, the kind of kiss lovers give each other in passing. Ryan's breath catches in his throat, but for a different reason, a more positive reason. When Seth pulls away, he's smiling, softly, tenderly, and Ryan nods, and licks his upper lip.

If he can feel himself shaking, with emotion or undiluted shock, he doesn't ask himself. He clears his throat. "Nellie's?"

He had no idea how this happened. One second he's outside the grocer's -- Wilson, the man, Joseph, said -- and the next the old woman -- Mrs. Landingham -- is sitting across a booth from him, inside a small restaurant/diner at the corner of the street. There's another woman by his side, big smile, big eyes, trained on him. From what he gathered, this woman owns the place, Nellie. She's smiling at him like he has something she had lost.

"Go on, order something."

Ryan glanced back at Mrs. Landingham, his eyes narrowed. There was something going on, and fuck if he knew what it was. "No, I'm fine thanks."

"Hmpf. You're nothing but skin and bones. Have you had lunch?"

Ryan told himself he didn't react to the question, but he was pretty sure he flinched, or at the very least his left eye twitched, because the next thing he knows, Mrs. Landingham is asking for chicken and gravy and mashed potatoes for him.

"I really can't--" He started, but Mrs. Landingham smiled, shaking her head. Like she knew, and everything was going to be fixed, right here, right now.

"Don't worry about it, boy. My treat."

"I can't," Ryan said again, but Mrs. Landingham only smiled more, bigger, wider. Ryan narrowed his eyes. She looked at him and grinned.

"Nellie?"

Ryan looked over his shoulder at Nellie serving a tall glass of coke as she looked up, at the opening door and the sound of a bell chime.

"Matthew, Zoe! What brings you over here?"

Ryan glanced at the two people making their way into the diner. A thirty something man, in uniform, and a young woman that looked green even to Ryan's untrained eyes, also in uniform. The cops. Ryan sighed, looked down at his hands. He was so fucked. They had to know, somehow, they had to know, and now they were going to arrest him for prostitution and God fucking knew what else and--

Matthew shrugged, before turning to look at Ryan. No surprise there, considering it was him and two girls sitting at the counter, that couldn't be more than eight year old having a chocolate milkshake each, their mother sitting next to them. Both girls had turned around to look at him the moment he had walked in, and hadn't stopped whispering and giggling about him. He had noticed the woman had tried to calm them down, keep them quiet, but she had finally just given up.

"I heard Joseph picked something more than just the groceries from his trip out to the city." Matthew said, glancing at their booth. Ryan could feel his right hand close into a fist, and anger in the back of his neck. Fuck, he wasn't that person anymore. He wasn't. He had left Austin for that very fucking reason, fuck you very much. He had--

Nellie chuckled, a low sound in her throat. "You could say that. It's that nice boy, over there. Mrs. Landingham ran into them as she was coming out of Wilson's." Nellie looked her way, and in her wide smile, Ryan could see each and everyone of her forty something years. "Isn't he as cute as pie?"

Ryan bit back the desire to roll his eyes. Cute as pie? Yeah, sure. Whatever.

The girl with Matthew, Zoe, apparently, was looking apprehensively between him and Matthew. Like she had no idea what the man would do. Well, that makes two of us, woman.

"Matthew, sweetie. Come over here, say hello to an old woman."

Ryan turned around, eyes moving to Mrs. Landingham and the way her hand was waving them -- the cops! -- over. He noticed from the corner of his eyes how Matthew ducked his head, and the blush that made its way to his cheeks. Okay, that was something. This woman, Mrs. Landingham, had some pull with the cop. Well, considering the woman looked like everyone's grandmother and the guy couldn't have been more than forty, she had probably caught him stealing pears from her tree or what the fuck knows.

"Mrs. Landingham," Matthew said as he took off his hat, pulling a chair from the next table over. He turned it around, straddling it and folding his arms over the back. Zoe stood behind the man, trying to look imposing but only managing to look impossibly young. She couldn't be more than four or five years older than him, but in that moment, Ryan felt like he could have taught her a thing or two about life.

"Well, Matthew. What brings you over here? I would have thought you'd be patrolling the streets," Mrs. Landingham said with a twinkle in her eye, like it was an inside joke he didn't really get. "He letting you at least drive, Zoe? You should really tell him to let you drive. It's the least he can do."

Zoe blushed, right there and then, bright red, and only managed to lower her head and grimace.

"Mrs. Landingham--" Matthew started, but Mrs. Landingham didn't let him finished. Ryan thought that was very much like her.

"Joseph found this boy here, Ryan, walking by the side of the road, over by Carter." Mrs. Landingham turned to him, gave him a big smile. "He was kind enough to give him a ride. I need to thank Joseph again."

Matthew nodded, though to Ryan it seemed forced. "That's what I heard. I just wanted to ask him a few questio--"

"Questions?" Mrs. Landingham raised one eyebrow, her head cocked to the side. "What in the Lord's name for?" She looked at Ryan before turning to look at Matthew once again. Her eyes were narrow. Ryan feared her, in that moment. He was sure so did Matthew. "The boy was probably lost, and it's nothing but sheer damn luck that Joseph found him when he did." Her eyes narrowed even more. "Anything else Matthew?"

Matthew looked like he wanted to refute everything she had said, but he could only sigh. He opened his mouth, but the sound of the two girls grumbling filled the quiet diner.

Ryan turned to look at the woman standing there , trying to push both girls in the direction of the door, but they couldn't be discouraged. It only took Ryan ten seconds to realize what from.

They both rushed to the side of the booth Ryan was at. They were grinning, from ear to ear. The tallest one had dark hair and dark eyes, but a big smile on her face. The younger one, on the other side, had long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. They weren't related at all, Ryan realized.

"Hi," said the taller one, only to be followed half a second later by the younger one saying, "who are you?"

"Lainy!" The mother said in surprise, shaking her head. She stood behind both girls, reaching for the shoulders of their t-shirt before trying to pull both of them back. They shrugged off the woman's hold very quickly. "Girls--"

"Are you new?"

"Yes, he's new. Are you staying?"

"He has to! Are you old?"

"He looks old. How old are you?"

"Older than Amelia, right?"

"She's twelve, of course he's older. Older than Samuel?"

"He's twenty and in college. Are you older than Samuel?"

They both looked expectantly at Ryan, and Ryan blinked, glanced at one, then at the other, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Almost as old. I'm eighteen."

The girls took his word at face value, but Ryan could see the doubt in the pull of Mrs. Landingham's mouth, in the way her head tilted to the side. She didn't believe him. He really couldn't blame her.

"Okay girls," the woman said, finally taking a good hold on the edges of the girls' shirts and pulling them back, "that's enough inquisition for one day."

"What's inqui-something?"

The woman chuckled, and Mrs. Landingham laughed, her eyes softening. "Your daughter sure is something, Stephanie."

"And Emily isn't so far behind," the woman -- Stephanie -- said with a grin. She sighed, then pushed them closer to Ryan. They didn't stumble, but Ryan would have, had he not been sitting down. He had thought she, Stephanie, was trying to protect them from him. For a second he had the fucked up idea that maybe it was the other way around. "You've grilled the nice boy enough, the least you could do is introduce yourselves, right?"

They seemed to bounce at the idea, talking one over the other like they had done not a minute ago.

"Oh, I'm Lainy!"

"Her name is Larice but we call her Lainy. I'm Emily!"

"And that's my mom--"

"And we always ride back home together--"

"--even though Emily is a year older--"

"-- and I stay with Lainy and her mom until my mom can pick me up--"

"-- she's a nurse at the Oklahoma State Hospital--"

"--and it takes her an hour and twenty minutes to get home--"

"--but that's only for this month because they were really short handed--"

"--and the money was too good to pass up." Emily said, finally, with a grin on her face.

Stephanie grumbled under her breath. "Oh, Elizabeth will be pleased to know everyone knows her business." She sighed, then nudged one of the girls who nudged the other. "Okay, Congenial Twins. You ready to go?"

They almost seemed to bounce in their placed, and Ryan wondered the amount of patience a woman would have to have in order not to murder them in their sleep. Or actually, in the middle of a rant.

They half run to the door, but Emily, who was ahead, paused in mid step and Lainy bounced against her back. "What was your name?"

Ryan almost snorted. Almost. "Ryan."

"Nice meeting--"

"--you Ryan!"

They said in almost unison before rushing out of the diner, Stephanie sighing and following ver, very slowly.

Mrs. Landingham laughed, long and hard, and when she turned around to look at him, she was grinning. "Those two are a hoot, aren't they?"

Well, they were something, alright. Ryan ducked his head.

"We should be leaving, too," Matthew said, standing up. Zoe nodded just behind the man. Ryan bit back the desire to sigh in relief.

"Very good, Matthew," Mrs. Landingham said with a small smile, with the air of someone who had seen many kids be raised and grow old and move out of town and then come back. With the air of someone who knew everyone.

"Just one last question," he said, half whispered, turning to look at Ryan. Ryan swallowed, but held the man's eyes. "How did you end up on that small road, walking?"

Ryan thought about the million and one decent answers he could give, and then thought about what had happened. He held Matthew's eyes as he said, "the ride I was taking, it just didn't pan out."

Matthew looked right at him for a moment before nodding, letting it go. Ryan didn't take it personal. He could have. The man was just doing what he was supposed to do. Asking what he thought he should ask.

It would never be asked again.

They sit in silence in the booth, one across from the other. They've barely said two words combined. Nellie makes her way to their booth, gives Ryan a small smile, her hand on his shoulder. She asks quietly how he's doing, and that if he ever needs anything, she's only one phone call away. He swallows tightly and nods his thanks, before she clears her throat and takes their order with a grin on her face. At the lack of words being almost vomited by Seth, she can't help but frown, give Ryan a glance. A glance that Ryan could very well read for the, what's wrong with that boy?, that it was. Ryan says nothing, only gives her a tight smile and asks for a turkey sandwich, fries and a coke.

After Nellie walks away with their order, the rest of the diner busy around them, people talking and laughing and a few of them actually glancing at them -- or so Ryan thinks, feels it in the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand -- they just sit there, looking at each other, Seth giving him a small smile every now and then.

They haven't talked about this, whatever this is. Then again, whatever this is, is ending tonight, so there's really no point in talking about it at all, is there?

Nellie brings back their orders, and Ryan picks up his sandwich, looking down at the other half still on the plate. If Seth has a question in his eyes, Ryan ignores it as blatantly as he possibly can.

I'm insane
well, no, not really. it hasn't been proven. or it'd be in your permanent record as well

Ryan closes his eyes for a second. What was it that Seth said his dad does for a living? A lawyer, right. Works in this big firm back in Newport. Used to work at the DA's office.

and you know what that means, right? it means that the first thing the guy will do after Seth so much as mentions your name, will be to look for your record. and what will he find, Ryan? huh? what? come on, say it with me. he will find--

Ryan rubs his eyes with his left hand, the edge of the cast catching on his eyebrow. He swallows thickly. Better to nip this one on the butt, as Mrs. Landingham used to say. He looks up at Seth, thinks fleetingly if he should tell him at home, just the two of them, or right here, right now. At least with people around, he knows Seth won't make a scene. Then again, this is Seth he's talking about, and he should really learn not to underestimate the kid.

"I'm leaving tonight," Seth says, softly, before Ryan can find a word to open his sentence with.

"What?" Ryan asks, more as an automatic response than a real question. He remembers. He heard Seth talk with Jennifer -- at least Ryan thought it was Jennifer -- about how there was a red eye he'd be taking. Only he's not supposed to know that, right? He wasn't supposed to have heard. So maybe the what is right way to go.

Seth shrugs, a small grimace on his face. "I didn't know how to tell you. I mean, after..." He lets it hang there, glances quickly over his shoulder. The diner is full and Ryan tries to tell himself that everyone isn't looking at them, but this is a small town, and Seth has been with him every step of the way, since Wednesday morning. There's nothing for them to see that they probably don't already think is happening. Then again, Ryan would rather not give them fodder. "I just didn't know how to bring it up."

Just like this, Ryan thinks, but keeps quiet. And it's okay, because he knew, and the fact that he knew is one of the reasons --

I can't let him go thinking I hate him, I can't, I can't--

-- this whole thing happened in the first place. He swallows, shrugs. The smile on his lips doesn't hurt, because this is for the best. Because they had a small something and Ryan thinks that's more than he could have asked for. Losing things is nothing new to him. Neither is losing people.

"It's okay," Ryan says, another shrug on his shoulder. "You couldn't stay here forever."

Seth frowns, and he looks like he's about to say something when Lainy drops on the seat next to Ryan with a sigh.

"I thought you'd gotten lost somewhere."

Ryan's eyes narrow, but he doesn't answer her statement. He missed his class, last Friday. He knows Mrs. Wright won't fault him, but he feels kind of responsible for it. He should have at least called, right? "Lainy--"

She chuckles, not really paying him attention. She does that, sometimes. Not hear a word he says but just keep on talking. "No, really. Everyone's been really worried. They won't tell you because they are adults and they are Supposed To Know Better, but they were. My mom was."

Ryan sighs, ducks his head. This is one of the things he likes about a small town, that everyone knows each other, and this is exactly the kind of thing he hates about a small town. "I'm fine, Lainy."

"Oh, I know you are. You're a grown up, you're supposed to be. But--" She shrugs, glances over her shoulder. There's Claire with both her girls, and Constance, Dr. Richardson's wife, and both women are looking at him before giving him small smiles and turning around. Lainy turns back to him with a grin on her face. "I don't think they got the memo."

He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. Mrs. Landingham had once told him that he'd always be a boy to her. He'd gotten the feeling, back then, that he wouldn't, not only to her. He hadn't been wrong. Almost every woman over forty in this town, at one point or another had called him, boy. He couldn't fault them, he hadn't even been eighteen when he arrived, even if they didn't know that. But he's twenty two now, and he's trying his best to find a way to break up with Seth that doesn't sound like a break up considering they were never really together. And he doesn't think he can do that with an audience. Hell, he doesn't think he could do it without one either.

Lainy turns around, glances at Seth, and gives him a big smile. "Hey, Seth."

Seth smiles back at her, and Ryan can't help but watch the exchange with one raised eyebrow, wondering when exactly they--

"Hey, Lainy," Seth answers back. "How's school?"

Lainy shrugs. "It's there, it says hello."

Seth chuckles, shakes his head slightly, and Ryan thinks that this is more than just a mere exchange. They know each other. They've talked before. They've-- "Give your mom my best, okay?"

Lainy nods, standing up as she does so. She turns to look at Ryan, really look at him, with that way in her eyes that lets him know that she might be eleven but she's not a kid, not the little girl that would ask him questions as fast as she could come up with them, Emily right by her side, the first day he ever stepped foot into town.

She looks at Ryan before shifting her eyes to Seth, and smiling softly, as if she knows a secret. As if she knows.

Ryan gives her a smile, but it feels tight on his cheeks, on his lips. If she notices, he can't really read it in her eyes. "Today --" He starts, not really sure what he wants to say. He's supposed to go to her house this afternoon, but he doesn't think he could handle it.

She waves it off. "Don't worry about it. My mom knows, and I understand. Maybe next week, huh?" She says, smiles at him. "I'll tell her," Lainy says with a glance to Seth, as an afterthought, before turning away and making her way to the counter. It's only now that Ryan can see Nellie waiting for her by the counter, brownie in hand. Lainy takes it, thanks her, before walking out of the diner.

"She's a piece of work, isn't she?"

Ryan turns around to look at Seth, bites on his lower lip. He wants to ask Seth where he knows Lainy from, but for some stupid reason he's half afraid of the answer. He doesn't answer, but Seth doesn't really look like he was expecting one. They both go back to their lunches, in half comfortable silence. He doesn't want to bring up what they were talking about

I didn't know how to tell you
you couldn't stay here forever

and Seth sure as hell doesn't say a word about it. Not five minutes after, Ryan hears Claire telling the girls to hurry up, that Lucy still has all those exercises to finish and that she hasn't forgotten that Lila has those A's to go over.

"But mooommm--" Ryan hears Lila complain, and he smiles, because she's almost five now and he can't really believe he's known her almost all of her life, from the moment Claire came back home.

Claire says no, no buts on this, "we're heading home right now. And if both of you behave, we could have a bit of ice cream before dinner."

"Really?"

That's Lucy and Ryan grins, because he's always known she was a cool mom, he just never knew how cool.

Claire laughs, and Ryan remembers, those first few months when he was here, when he'd run into her at the store or in the shop, or even in the middle of the street. He remembers the look in her eyes, that haunted look of a person who has lost someone too dear to them, of a lifetime of hurt visible in the shade of the eyes. He remembers looking at her looking like that, and being humbled by it, feeling for her and wishing there was something he could do.

He had babysat for her a couple of times, hours at a time so she could get out of the house, drive for hours if that was what she wanted. Hope Baker, Claire's mom, is a few years younger than Mrs. Landingham, but she can't really keep up with two kids like those girls. She used to make him blueberry pie.

They make their way out of the diner passing by their booth, and Claire pauses before them for a second. "Ryan, Seth," she says with a smile, looking between the two of them.

Ryan says his hellos, turning to look at Lucy. Lucy, who blushes and ducks her head, says, "Hello, Ryan," with a sweet smile on her face.

Ryan smiles at her. "Hey, Lucy."

Lucy's about to turn seven, and she's young but not stupid, and she knows. She knows Mrs. Landingham is dead, because Claire took both girls to the church that morning. Only Claire went to the funeral that afternoon. She lifts her eyes at him. "I'm sorry," she says, and he thinks she told him that before. He blinks, opens his mouth to say something, before there's a rush of movement and suddenly he has his arms filled with a seven year old that couldn't stand still if they paid her for it.

Ryan looks down at the top of her head, and with him sitting down, she can hide her face in the crook of his neck. He can hear her sniffling, can feel a tear or two on his neck. Her arms are tight around his neck, and he places his own around her small body, hands resting on her back.

"I'm really, really sorry," she whispers against his skin, close to his ear.

Ryan swallows, his throat suddenly dry and tight. He's known Lucy for most of her life. He watched her go into the store with Claire, to buy her books and pencils for her first day in kindergarten. He's helped set up the stages for almost all of her school plays. He's watched her fall down from her bike and helped her back up, given her a smile and brushed her tears away. He's known her all that long and she knows him, she knows that he's hurting and she's trying her best to stop that hurt, in any way she can. He's known this town for four years and they've known him for four years and suddenly it feels like this could be home, if he could just let himself--

"I know," he says, softly, blinking away the sting in his eyes. He clears his throat, swallows thickly.

She squeezes him tight once, twice, before letting go. She stands up straight, breathes in through her mouth, the sound coming up wet. She nods rapidly, running the back of her hand over her eyes in one quick movement. She nods once again, all grown up in that second, before taking Lila's hand and making her way toward the door. Claire places her hand on Ryan's shoulder, squeezes softly. "If you ever need to talk," she says, shrugs as she does so. "You know where to find us."

"Thanks," he says, because it's the right thing to do, but he doesn't think he could ever talk about this with anyone. He's barely talked about it with Seth as it is.

Claire smiles at him one more time, says her goodbyes to both him and Seth -- like they know Seth, like they all know Seth -- before leaving.

Ryan sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel a headache starting to pound in between his eyes, and maybe it would have been a better idea to bring something from home, or skip lunch altogether.

"Should I be jealous?"

Ryan looks up, blinking, surprised. Seth's smiling, big and wide, his eyes light. Seth's joking, personal and intimate. And Seth's smiling, and that should be enough. It almost is. Ryan opens his mouth to say something, but has no idea what that should be, so he closes his mouth once again.

Seth laughs, loud and carefree, head tilted to the side. "Eve told me that Lucy there has had a crush on you for the longest time. So, should I be jealous?"

Ryan snorts, shaking his head once. Seth's insane, that's what he is. And-- he looks around the diner, and no one is really paying attention to them. They might have heard, and they might have thought it was just a stupid joke. Or they might have heard and guessed right, or they might not have heard at all. And right this minute, with Seth sitting here with him, the sun high in the sky and rays falling all around them, with a meal before him and the feeling in his chest that maybe, maybe, soon enough it won't hurt quite as much as it does at the moment, that's enough.

Ryan smiles back at him, chuckles softly under his breath, shaking his head once more. Seth's smiling at him, big and wide, and Ryan's smiling back. Yeah, it could be enough.

There. Not difficult at all to post it, right? Nope, not at all. Now, do me a huge favor and comment, because I really wanna know if anyone is still reading it, and what do you think of it. *nods* Thanks!