OC Fic : three TDB drabbles
So, yes, I did it again...
Spoilers : Everything up to The Dearly Beloved is fair game.
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Hope
Ryan takes the phone Sandy is handing to him and wonders how he should act.
"Don't you dare say a word," still replays in his head, on those rare occasions when Trey's last words don't monopolize his attention. "I let you into this house."
It has been days and the unspoken, "And I could decide to send you away just as easily," still hurts Ryan.
"I'm sorry," is the first thing Kirsten says. Ryan grimaces, glad she can't see his face. Dawn apologized a lot, too.
"I should be there with you," Kirsten adds. Dawn also said that a lot.
"It's okay," Ryan says automatically, and he hopes his relationship with Kirsten won't be reduced to this -- apologies, forgiveness, hope, failure, and eventually, fatalism and resignation.
"No, it's really not," Kirsten insists. That's different -- Dawn usually cried at this point, and begged for forgiveness, and told Ryan she couldn't live without him. It figures, that even in rehab, Kirsten would be more… together, than Dawn ever was, sober or not.
"You're getting help," Ryan offers, not dwelling on the fact that Dawn also got help. Several times. And that some of these times, she seemed very decided to stop drinking. And yet, she never did.
"That's not an excuse," Kirsten says, before adding in a soft voice, "I do need help, but I shouldn't."
That's different too. Dawn always had excuses, only she called them reasons. Not enough money, got laid off again, boyfriend of the month hit too hard, Trey got arrested, Ryan was a sanctimonious son of a bitch who was just waiting for her to fail and did he think it was even possible to succeed when her own son was so sure she wouldn't?
"It's okay," he says, shaking the memories.
Kirsten isn't Dawn.
Kirsten is as different from Dawn as… as Newport is from Chino. Which is a lot.
Dawn’s words usually hurt a lot.
Kirsten's words hurt a lot too, Ryan has to admit. Because he trusted her. And yes, she's sick, and yes, she lashed out at everyone, not just him.
But…
She promised, if only implicitly, that he wouldn't need to go through this again when he arrived in Newport. And Ryan believed her. It may be unfair to be mad at her for being human, but he is.
When they hang up, nothing has been resolved, which doesn't surprise Ryan.
"She'll be fine," Sandy says.
Ryan nods and smiles, forcefully pushing the memories of Dawn back where they belong -- as far away from the surface as possible. "Yeah."
There's no other option really. Ryan's tired of losing people. Ryan's tired, period, and he needs the Cohens' support more than he needs oxygen right now. For their sake, and for his, he'll carefully hope.
"We'll all be fine," Sandy adds.
"When?" Ryan asks.
Sandy looks at him helplessly. "Not soon enough," he says. "But eventually, I hope."
One way or another, Ryan reflects, it always comes down to hope.
Hero Worship
In the beginning, Seth looked at Ryan in an awed, admiring way. Ryan never minded that bit of hero worship -- it was so much better than pity -- but he never encouraged it, not really. He didn't want Seth to fall too hard when he'd find out that Ryan was only human.
Even now, Seth still looks at Ryan with admiration.
Ryan can't, for the life of him, understand why.
Of course, Seth missed all the fireworks. When he entered the room, Ryan was down and Trey had already been shot.
Seth hasn't seen Ryan and his brother killing each other, thank God for small mercies.
"So, er," Seth says.
Still, for all the admiration in Seth's eyes, there's a new tentativeness to him that wasn't there even when Ryan was just the thug from Chino that Sandy had brought home for the weekend.
Seth looks concerned. Compassionate. Seth looks like he doesn't know what to say, and it's another reason why Ryan hates Trey and loathes himself -- a kid like Seth should never look like he's at a loss for words.
"So," Ryan replies, aware that the fact that he doesn't know what to say either isn't helping.
"Tomorrow's the funeral," Seth says, carefully.
"Yeah."
"When do you want to--?"
"I'm not going," Ryan says, his tone short and cold, and Seth recoils slightly. Ryan raises a hand in apology, trying the ignore the blood he can still see on this hand, no matter how many times he washes it. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Seth says. "I just thought…"
"He's dead," Ryan replies flatly. "What difference does it make?"
If Trey was still alive, he'd offer excuses, meaningless apologies and reasons why he is the one who got screwed there.
But Trey isn't alive, and Ryan won't ever need to listen to his excuses, and the thought is more painful than it should be -- in a maddening, sharp-yet-dull way.
Seth nods, looking slightly sad, and Ryan knows Seth doesn't understand how Ryan can turn his back on his family, can decide that they don't exist, none of them. How Ryan can *not* go say goodbye to his own brother.
Ryan knows that Seth wonders if one day, Ryan will just pack and leave the Cohens behind, because one of them will have disappointed him one time too much.
What Seth doesn't understand, and what Ryan doesn't want to explain, is how many times Trey promised, how many second chances there were, and how much it hurts to be betrayed again, and again, and how deep the wounds run.
What Seth doesn't understand is that the Cohens are not like the Atwoods, and that promises here are not the same as promises in Chino.
Ryan has lost his trust in a lot of people, but he knows with an absolute certainty that no Cohen will ever drive him away like Trey did.
"Wanna go play ninja?" Seth asks when the silence grows heavy.
Ryan shrugs gratefully. "Sure."
Ambivalence
Whatever Ryan expected, it wasn't this -- the beautiful headstone, the sunny graveyard.
Trey Atwood
Beloved son and brother.
Ryan kept his word and didn't attend the funeral. Sandy and Seth went, and told him it was a simple, quiet ceremony. Everything Trey wasn't, Ryan thought, but didn't say.
Ryan can't reconcile his dead brother, the one who tried to rape Marissa and tried to kill him, with the Trey who lived in Chino -- who took punches for Ryan, who taught him how to defend himself, how to smoke pot, how to flirt with girls.
How could these two Treys be the same person?
How could Trey try to preserve a little of Ryan's innocence one day, before screwing him the next day, and sincerely apologize the day after that?
How could Trey watch Ryan's back one day, and stab him the next day?
Ryan has tried to deny it, but he misses Trey -- the good Trey, the one who was a loving brother. The one who shared a lifetime of memories with Ryan, the one who didn't need to be told what life in Chino was like, because he was there and he saw it.
Ryan lost a good part of his history when Dawn emptied their house, taking his stuff with her. He lost yet another part of himself when Trey died, and when he thinks about the scope of the loss, he wonders how come he's still in one piece.
A hand on his shoulder makes him jump.
"I knew I'd find you here," Sandy says quietly.
"I don't understand," Ryan says after a while. "I've tried, but I don't get it. How he could be… nice, sometimes."
"Ryan, it's okay if you miss him."
Ryan shakes his head. "Not after what he's done," he says firmly.
"He was your brother," Sandy insists.
To Ryan's dismay, his throat feels tight and he rubs it, half expecting to feel rough fingers squeezing it.
"He… he tried to…" He takes a breath and shudders. "How could I forgive him?"
There's a long silence, reminding Ryan of all the reasons why he loves Sandy. The man is thorough and never bullshits, never gives easy answers.
"I don't know," Sandy says at last. "I'm sorry. I should have seen…"
"Trey's the one to blame."
Ryan closes his eyes, but the words on the headstone are still clear in his mind.
Beloved brother.
"I hate him," he whispers.
Sandy pulls him close. "I know."
"I…" I love him, Ryan wants to say, but the words are caught in his throat.
"I know." Sandy rubs his hair softly for a while, and Ryan doesn't move, gritting his teeth, refusing to cry here, in front of Sandy, after everything that has happened.
It’s a lost cause, of course, and Sandy doesn't let go of him until he's done.
"Take me home," Ryan pleads, when he can finally talk.
Sandy stays silent, not offering platitudes or empty promises.
He just takes Ryan home.
Eternal gratitude to joey51 for beta'ing this! :)
Spoilers : Everything up to The Dearly Beloved is fair game.
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Hope
Ryan takes the phone Sandy is handing to him and wonders how he should act.
"Don't you dare say a word," still replays in his head, on those rare occasions when Trey's last words don't monopolize his attention. "I let you into this house."
It has been days and the unspoken, "And I could decide to send you away just as easily," still hurts Ryan.
"I'm sorry," is the first thing Kirsten says. Ryan grimaces, glad she can't see his face. Dawn apologized a lot, too.
"I should be there with you," Kirsten adds. Dawn also said that a lot.
"It's okay," Ryan says automatically, and he hopes his relationship with Kirsten won't be reduced to this -- apologies, forgiveness, hope, failure, and eventually, fatalism and resignation.
"No, it's really not," Kirsten insists. That's different -- Dawn usually cried at this point, and begged for forgiveness, and told Ryan she couldn't live without him. It figures, that even in rehab, Kirsten would be more… together, than Dawn ever was, sober or not.
"You're getting help," Ryan offers, not dwelling on the fact that Dawn also got help. Several times. And that some of these times, she seemed very decided to stop drinking. And yet, she never did.
"That's not an excuse," Kirsten says, before adding in a soft voice, "I do need help, but I shouldn't."
That's different too. Dawn always had excuses, only she called them reasons. Not enough money, got laid off again, boyfriend of the month hit too hard, Trey got arrested, Ryan was a sanctimonious son of a bitch who was just waiting for her to fail and did he think it was even possible to succeed when her own son was so sure she wouldn't?
"It's okay," he says, shaking the memories.
Kirsten isn't Dawn.
Kirsten is as different from Dawn as… as Newport is from Chino. Which is a lot.
Dawn’s words usually hurt a lot.
Kirsten's words hurt a lot too, Ryan has to admit. Because he trusted her. And yes, she's sick, and yes, she lashed out at everyone, not just him.
But…
She promised, if only implicitly, that he wouldn't need to go through this again when he arrived in Newport. And Ryan believed her. It may be unfair to be mad at her for being human, but he is.
When they hang up, nothing has been resolved, which doesn't surprise Ryan.
"She'll be fine," Sandy says.
Ryan nods and smiles, forcefully pushing the memories of Dawn back where they belong -- as far away from the surface as possible. "Yeah."
There's no other option really. Ryan's tired of losing people. Ryan's tired, period, and he needs the Cohens' support more than he needs oxygen right now. For their sake, and for his, he'll carefully hope.
"We'll all be fine," Sandy adds.
"When?" Ryan asks.
Sandy looks at him helplessly. "Not soon enough," he says. "But eventually, I hope."
One way or another, Ryan reflects, it always comes down to hope.
Hero Worship
In the beginning, Seth looked at Ryan in an awed, admiring way. Ryan never minded that bit of hero worship -- it was so much better than pity -- but he never encouraged it, not really. He didn't want Seth to fall too hard when he'd find out that Ryan was only human.
Even now, Seth still looks at Ryan with admiration.
Ryan can't, for the life of him, understand why.
Of course, Seth missed all the fireworks. When he entered the room, Ryan was down and Trey had already been shot.
Seth hasn't seen Ryan and his brother killing each other, thank God for small mercies.
"So, er," Seth says.
Still, for all the admiration in Seth's eyes, there's a new tentativeness to him that wasn't there even when Ryan was just the thug from Chino that Sandy had brought home for the weekend.
Seth looks concerned. Compassionate. Seth looks like he doesn't know what to say, and it's another reason why Ryan hates Trey and loathes himself -- a kid like Seth should never look like he's at a loss for words.
"So," Ryan replies, aware that the fact that he doesn't know what to say either isn't helping.
"Tomorrow's the funeral," Seth says, carefully.
"Yeah."
"When do you want to--?"
"I'm not going," Ryan says, his tone short and cold, and Seth recoils slightly. Ryan raises a hand in apology, trying the ignore the blood he can still see on this hand, no matter how many times he washes it. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Seth says. "I just thought…"
"He's dead," Ryan replies flatly. "What difference does it make?"
If Trey was still alive, he'd offer excuses, meaningless apologies and reasons why he is the one who got screwed there.
But Trey isn't alive, and Ryan won't ever need to listen to his excuses, and the thought is more painful than it should be -- in a maddening, sharp-yet-dull way.
Seth nods, looking slightly sad, and Ryan knows Seth doesn't understand how Ryan can turn his back on his family, can decide that they don't exist, none of them. How Ryan can *not* go say goodbye to his own brother.
Ryan knows that Seth wonders if one day, Ryan will just pack and leave the Cohens behind, because one of them will have disappointed him one time too much.
What Seth doesn't understand, and what Ryan doesn't want to explain, is how many times Trey promised, how many second chances there were, and how much it hurts to be betrayed again, and again, and how deep the wounds run.
What Seth doesn't understand is that the Cohens are not like the Atwoods, and that promises here are not the same as promises in Chino.
Ryan has lost his trust in a lot of people, but he knows with an absolute certainty that no Cohen will ever drive him away like Trey did.
"Wanna go play ninja?" Seth asks when the silence grows heavy.
Ryan shrugs gratefully. "Sure."
Ambivalence
Whatever Ryan expected, it wasn't this -- the beautiful headstone, the sunny graveyard.
Trey Atwood
Beloved son and brother.
Ryan kept his word and didn't attend the funeral. Sandy and Seth went, and told him it was a simple, quiet ceremony. Everything Trey wasn't, Ryan thought, but didn't say.
Ryan can't reconcile his dead brother, the one who tried to rape Marissa and tried to kill him, with the Trey who lived in Chino -- who took punches for Ryan, who taught him how to defend himself, how to smoke pot, how to flirt with girls.
How could these two Treys be the same person?
How could Trey try to preserve a little of Ryan's innocence one day, before screwing him the next day, and sincerely apologize the day after that?
How could Trey watch Ryan's back one day, and stab him the next day?
Ryan has tried to deny it, but he misses Trey -- the good Trey, the one who was a loving brother. The one who shared a lifetime of memories with Ryan, the one who didn't need to be told what life in Chino was like, because he was there and he saw it.
Ryan lost a good part of his history when Dawn emptied their house, taking his stuff with her. He lost yet another part of himself when Trey died, and when he thinks about the scope of the loss, he wonders how come he's still in one piece.
A hand on his shoulder makes him jump.
"I knew I'd find you here," Sandy says quietly.
"I don't understand," Ryan says after a while. "I've tried, but I don't get it. How he could be… nice, sometimes."
"Ryan, it's okay if you miss him."
Ryan shakes his head. "Not after what he's done," he says firmly.
"He was your brother," Sandy insists.
To Ryan's dismay, his throat feels tight and he rubs it, half expecting to feel rough fingers squeezing it.
"He… he tried to…" He takes a breath and shudders. "How could I forgive him?"
There's a long silence, reminding Ryan of all the reasons why he loves Sandy. The man is thorough and never bullshits, never gives easy answers.
"I don't know," Sandy says at last. "I'm sorry. I should have seen…"
"Trey's the one to blame."
Ryan closes his eyes, but the words on the headstone are still clear in his mind.
Beloved brother.
"I hate him," he whispers.
Sandy pulls him close. "I know."
"I…" I love him, Ryan wants to say, but the words are caught in his throat.
"I know." Sandy rubs his hair softly for a while, and Ryan doesn't move, gritting his teeth, refusing to cry here, in front of Sandy, after everything that has happened.
It’s a lost cause, of course, and Sandy doesn't let go of him until he's done.
"Take me home," Ryan pleads, when he can finally talk.
Sandy stays silent, not offering platitudes or empty promises.
He just takes Ryan home.
Eternal gratitude to joey51 for beta'ing this! :)