[oc] Yelling. Chapter eight.
I wasn't planning on updating this, I really wasn't. I wanted to update another story, but then I checked my email and realized that my dearest Mare had emailed me the betad version. *bounces* Mon, as your request...
Title: Yelling
Author: M. F. Luder
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating: PG-13.
Category: Angst.
Author's note: You might know this story as what I used to call The Dark Story, and you can see all my rantings about this right there. *nods*
This story totally belongs to l_vera01, who pushed and nudged and kicked and screamed and even threatened with body harm if it did not get done. *hugs tight* I love you to pieces babe.
Betad by the one storydivagirl, the only, there is no other like her. *nods* She adores this story, says I hurt Ryan like no other and she loves me for this. Bare in mind she adores angst, so that might not say good things about this story.
I have nothing else to say except, read at your own risk. *nods* Believe me.
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten
Yelling
Chapter eight
I love you now, don't worry about me, you know I'll be fine.
- Be somebody. Three doors down.
On Tuesday afternoon, Seth and Ryan sit down at the kitchen table and do their homework. Seth would rather they did it upstairs in his bedroom, but Ryan has a set of graphics to make and they always come out rather shaky when he draws them on his lap.
Ryan sighs, wonders why physics has to mean graphics and formulas that at times he really wishes he didn't have to learn, to know. Still, he tilts his head and looks up at Seth. Seth, who has his head bent forward, eyes glued to the screen of his laptop. He has a paper due tomorrow, AP Literature, and because he's Seth and that's the way he does things, he left it to the last minute.
Ryan gives him a small smile even though the other boy doesn't see it. "How are you doing?"
Seth shakes his head. "I hate this," he says, even as he keeps on moving the mouse.
Ryan frowns, head tilted. He should be writing, not clicking, Ryan notices. He stands up, making his way around the table and standing behind Seth. Word is not opened and the analysis of one of the books he had to read is not started. Instead, Seth is playing Bejeweled, in silence, clicking away the stones, looking for a power ball.
Ryan nudges Seth's shoulder with his elbow and Seth chuckles as he completes his map.
"Dude," Seth complains with a chuckle when Ryan nudges him again.
"I thought you had a paper due tomorrow," says Ryan with a smile and another nudge. "I thought you were freaking out because it wasn't getting done."
Seth shrugs, clicking another ball and making the switch, but it doesn't work. "It's getting done."
"Really?" Ryan lifts an eyebrow as Seth tilts his head back, lips forming a grin. Seth nods, looking upside down at Ryan.
"Yeah." Seth presses alt+tab on the keyboard and the game switches to the word document so Ryan can see that three pages have been written. "See?"
Ryan shakes his head. "Seth, by tonight, you'll be on the verge of a nervous breakdown because you're still not done with it."
Seth gasps in mock outrage. "I will not!"
Ryan snorts. "Sure. Whatever you say."
By seven pm, Seth has played three games of Bejeweled, done a lot of internet surfing and looked at the new games that should be out by the end of the month, going over their reviews, so he knows exactly which ones to buy. And, of course, as expected, the paper has not gotten done. Ryan has finished his physics homework, only taking him two hours more than he thought he'd need.
Kirsten walks into the kitchen, two bags in her hands, one of them with the seal of the Thai place they like so much. Ryan stands up from his seat and hurries to her side to help her. "Thanks, sweetie," she tells Ryan with a smile.
"Seth?" Sandy asks as he walks in, two more groceries bags in his hands.
Seth waves off his dad. "Sorry dad, but I have to get this done." He's tying as fast as he can, which Ryan notices that, with only four fingers, isn't that quickly at all.
"I thought it was done," Ryan says loftily, grinning, taking out the white containers while Kirsten puts the groceries away.
Seth glares in Ryan's direction and Ryan chuckles, shaking his head. Seth states, "I'm making some corrections."
Ryan snorts. "Sure you are."
But Seth still has to cut short his last minute sense of responsibility, as dinner is being served. Ryan stacks his books one on top of the other and places them on the kitchen counter, while Seth closes his laptop and puts it by the books.
After dinner, Kirsten gets a phone call from one of the construction foremen, and with annoyance in her voice, she walks out of the kitchen toward her office. Ryan hopes it's something they can fix.
"I've been thinking," Sandy says, picking up the plates and putting them in the dishwasher, "I think it's time for us to start visiting campuses."
Ryan pauses as he rinses the glasses, hands stilling. Seth places the empty containers in the trashcan, shrugging as he does so. "Sure," Seth says, pulling the string of the bag, ready to be taken out tonight. "Your turn." Seth jerks his head in Ryan's direction.
Ryan nods, mostly out of inertia than anything else.
"I thought we'd start with USC and Berkeley," Sandy continues, closing the dishwasher. He towels his hand with a cloth. "They both have great Architecture programs, as well as English." He turns around, looking at Ryan. "You're still thinking about Architecture, right?"
There are no words forming on his lips, nothing but silences and this knot in his throat. He frowns, opening his mouth to speak, but words fail him and there's only a gust of air that leaves his lips.
Seth chuckles, shaking his head. "He's thinking about Civil Engineering, actually." He frowns, head tilted, eyes looking over at Ryan as his dad does the same, almost like he's never looked at him before. "Why, I have no idea, but apparently Ryan here has decided he likes math and would like to see more of it. For the rest of his natural life."
Sandy looks pleased, Ryan notices, if only a portion of his brain is working. At least that much gets through the fog that has clouded it. Sandy's actually beaming. "Really?"
"Yeah," Seth says, "Probably took it from mom's side of the family, dad. We Cohens are more about the arts and non-science stuff. We're not nerds, thank you very much."
Ryan only reacts at the adjective, because he's certain it does not define him. "I haven't decided yet, ok?" He says after a moment, shaking himself out of whatever it was that had made him lose touch with the here and now. "I'm just..." he shrugs. "I'm thinking about it," he continues, turning around and staring down at his hands. He still has one glass in between his fingers, soap around the edges. He rinses it under the spray.
There's a pat on his should and when he looks up, Sandy is standing behind him, grin on his lips, nodding and looking so very happy, so very proud. Ryan ducks his head, feeling his cheeks flushing.
"I'm sure Kirsten will love it." Sandy nods, pats Ryan again, and continues, "Berkeley has the best Civil Engineering program. Then again, you could aim higher, and further, which might not make Kirsten so happy. Princeton? Brown, perhaps Yale. Yeah, we haven't thought Yale or Harvard."
Ryan hears Seth coughing somewhere behind him. "Dad, Harvard? Dude, aren't you going a little bit overboard."
"Why?" Sandy asks, though only Ryan can hear the voice. He has his head ducked, chin touching his chest because he's not getting in the middle of this. Berkeley is fine with him. Yale? Yale sounds expensive and too far away and too good. "This is you guys we're talking about," Sandy continues. "Yale is very much a possibility. It can be that, or NYU, or Princeton, you know? It can be anything, really."
"Dad--"
"We don't have to talk about this right now and we certainly don't have to discuss this right now. We have time."
And time they really do have, because they still have one more year before going to college.
The next morning, however, the subject doesn't seem dropped. When Ryan went to bed, Kirsten was still in her office, fighting whoever had messed up a site, so Ryan didn't know if Sandy told her about it. But when Ryan walks into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, leaving his bag on top of the table, and Kirsten smiles at him, big and wide and with so much emotion in her eyes, he knows Sandy told her, about college, and about Engineering.
"Oh, sweetie," Kirsten says before Ryan knows what's happening, and she places her cup of coffee on the table and puts her arms around him, hugging him tight. Ryan doesn't know what to do for a moment, and when he's thinking that he should hug her back, she pulls away at arms length, beaming at him. "Oh, Ryan," she says again, leaning forward and resting her left cheek against his right one.
"Mom, come on! You're smothering him."
When Kirsten pulls away, she turns around and glares at Seth. "I am not." She turns to look at Ryan, smiling at him. "I'm not, am I?"
Ryan doesn't dare to tell her that yes, she's very much smothering him and he can hardly breathe for a moment. He only gives her a shaky smile.
"Sandy's right," she says after a moment. "You boys should start looking at schools. You can have the weekend. Make a trip out of it."
"I can't this weekend," Sandy says as he takes a bite of his bagel. Kirsten hasn't exactly let go of Ryan's forearms. Sandy shakes his head and pulls at his wife. "Do let go of Ryan, sweetie." Kirsten chuckles, shaking her head. "Anyway, I can't this weekend." He narrows his eyes, seeming to mentally go over his schedule. "I think I have a thing on Saturday, a deposition, but we could do it the week after next? Leave Friday right after school, come back Sunday night."
"Excellent," Kirsten says and before Ryan knows what's happening, it's decided. It's just a matter of choosing which school they'll go to first, this week, because Kirsten wants to book the tickets and the hotel and have a few things ready for the boys to see.
That day, during History class, because life is like this when it comes to him, groups are made for a paper that's due in two weeks. It's the teacher who makes the group, of course, and Ryan has Sarah and Bridget and Nell in his group if only because all their last names start with an array of A, B and C.
"Okay, so," says Nell as soon as they get together, and Sarah looks at her like she knows Nell will take the reigns of the group, "when can we get together?"
"I can't tomorrow." Bridget shrugs. "I have to babysit."
"Thursday? After class?" Nell picks up her notebook, where she wrote down the theme for their paper. "We can either stay here after class or we can go to my house, search the net. Or just gather what we've found so far--"
"I can't," Ryan says before it's set on stone. All three girls turn around to look at him. He swallows, face set and calm, even though his hands start to tremble; he places them under the table. "Hmm. I have a thing. Any other day, though?"
"We only have two weeks," Nell says, slight annoyance on her voice. "It has to be next week. We should--"
"Yes, yes, it needs to get done," Sarah says with a chuckle. "Dude, Nell, chill. It's not that big of a deal and we will get it done."
Nell glares at Sarah, who waves it off.
"Anyway, I can't Monday. What about Tuesday?"
And it's settled. Tuesday, after class, they'll do it at Sarah's house because it's the closest and her mom will probably leave something for them to eat and Bridget was gonna go to her place after class anyway.
Later that day, at lunch, when Seth asks Ryan what's new with his classes after bitching about the Literature paper and how, if he had had more time, he could have done a better job -- at which Ryan rolled his eyes, of course -- Ryan shrugs. "I have a history paper to get done."
"Dude, really, another? I thought you were done with that one."
"The first one, yes, this is another one." The lie comes so easily from Ryan's lips, almost like the truth, and Seth doesn't sense anything's wrong.
"You know," Seth says after a moment, shrugging as he does so. "I might not know a lot about history because, dude, really? So not my thing. But I could try and help you out. I totally could."
"It's okay," Ryan says, turning to look at his plate before him, a sandwich he really doesn't feel like eating at the moment. "I can handle it."
"I could help you."
A shake of his head. "There's nothing you can do," Ryan says, telling himself there's no bitterness in his voice, no coldness either. He's not really sure about it.
Seth doesn't say anything for a moment and Ryan wonders if maybe his tone was cold and harsh and Seth might notice something's not right in this whole thing.
"Group?" Seth asks instead, and Ryan knows his lie has been well said.
Ryan nods. "Yeah, same one as before."
"Well," Seth says, picking at his sandwich. He pushes it toward Ryan, who takes out the lettuce from it before closing it down and handing it back. "At least now you know how they work."
Ryan nods, muttering a soft "sure" under his breath. Seth doesn't ask anything else about it, and Ryan doesn't offer anything else, only lets the boy talk away, words washing over him as he shudders inside, feeling touches that aren't supposed to be there and seeing the bruises in his mind's eye. He sighs, looking down at his hands on his lap as they tremble.
*****
Ryan's hands trembled, shaking slightly, like a leaf in the beginning of autumn as the wind starts to pick up.
He shook his head, his hands, and shoved them in his pockets. Friday afternoon and they were in Theresa's living room, watching a movie. Annie and Jack were also with them. Jack's hand was touching the edge of Annie's leg, and he could hear her giggling from time to time. Theresa had been eyeing him sideways for the past three scenes. Probably waiting for him to touch her, to take her hand or her leg. Ryan wasn't going to do any of that.
He could still feel the kisses on the back of his neck, could still hear the words spoken against his ear. His right hand started to shake inside his pocket when he remembers. They didn't use to, at least Ryan hadn't noticed. Maybe it was because the last time it had been different. The last time Mr. Dart had taken him to his bedroom, to kneel on his bed and Ryan had whimpered the whole time, telling himself not to cry, to be brave. Even now, Ryan felt his face contorting in pain as he remembered.
And if that hadn't been enough, Mr. Dart did it twice. It was the first time something like that had happened. Ryan had barely started putting on his pants when Mr. Dart pressed himself against Ryan's back and kissed Ryan's left ear, telling him to let go of his pants, let them fall down to the floor, "I want to taste you once again." Mr. Dart didn't last long, the second time, but Ryan was so scared, so disgusted, he picked up his pants, underwear and sweatshirt so fast, he forgot about his black t-shirt. Ryan didn't go back for it, mostly because he wasn't brave enough to face the man. He only put on his sweatshirt and his mom didn't notice the lack of t-shirt underneath.
"Ryan?"
Ryan turned around, looking at the girl by his side. For a moment, blue eyes didn't recognize the face nor the brown eyes, and Ryan blinked for her face to come into focus and he tried to smile at her. He couldn't, so he sighed and looked at her. She looked annoyed, and he never liked Theresa when she was mad at him. "Huh?"
She seemed to be debating whether to tell him something, a piece of her mind nonetheless, before sighing and shaking her head. "Forget it," she told him, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at the TV.
Ryan wanted to apologize for a moment, tell her something, anything, even if not the entire truth.
I can't touch you. He wanted to tell her. I don't want to touch you. Hell, you wouldn't want to touch me if you knew what happened yesterday, the way he touched me. He touched me.
But Ryan didn't say anything. He shook his head, pressed his lips into a thin line and knew he would lose Theresa as a friend, at least for a while, for a week, if he didn't do something right now. He wasn't in a position to lose friends now.
He could feel his fingers cold, shivering, even though it was the beginning of spring and there was this soft breeze around the room from the opened windows. He reached to his side, to her bare shoulder, her arms still folded. He touched her skin with his fingertips first, his mind screaming, words blurring inside. Beautiful, so beautiful. Lovely. Lovely. You want this. I know you want this.
Ryan swallowed, palm against her forearm. She turned around, gave him a small smile and let her arms fall to her side. It was her who took his hand and intertwined their fingers. It was her who started rubbing her thumb against his wrist. He let her because he didn't know what else to do, even though the touch seemed to be burn like acid on his skin.
*****
On Thursday afternoon, they walk out of class, Ryan gripping the strap of his backpack that falls across his chest. He knows what he told Seth, that he had the group meeting, again, this afternoon, right after school. He takes in a deep breath and hates himself for lying to Seth.
"Well," Seth says, walking down the hallway. "You have that history thing, right?"
"Yeah. I don't think it'll take long. An hour, hour and a half tops. I'll be home by five."
Seth nods, head tilted. "Sure. Want me to pick you up?"
Ryan shakes his head. "No, don't worry. Take the car. I'll take a cab back home."
"You know, I can totally do it."
Ryan swallows. Don't make me lie more to you that I already am. "No, don't worry. I think Nell lives close by. I'll get a ride with her." and the lie falls easily from Ryan's lips, surprised at the way Seth seems to think about it and nods.
"Oh, okay. Sure." He shrugs, standing before Ryan, looking slightly awkward for a moment. Ryan is about to ask him if he's okay, when Seth stretches his arm, hand in a fist and hits Ryan's shoulder.
Ryan lifts an eyebrow, head cocked to the side. Hmm, what?
Seth shrugs again. "See you at home then. Bye."
Ryan nods, smile on his lips at Seth's weird goodbye, awkward and nervous like never before. He pauses by the front entrance, watching Seth make his way down the front stairs and to the parking lot. He stands there, watching Seth open the passenger door and pull out of the parking lot.
Ryan sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. He's doing the right thing, because... well, because he is, period. Nothing else. He doesn't know how long he stands there, but a moment later, longer than Ryan would have noticed, somebody crashes into his shoulder and Ryan opens his eyes in surprise. He swallows, blinks, hand tightening on the strap of his backpack and trots down the steps of the school.
He doesn't think much about it as he leaves school and takes a cab to that house. This is the first he's done this, come here without the Rover, and it feels different somehow. He knocks, waiting for the door to open up. It's not that woman, the maid, Rosmerta, but Mr. Dart who opens.
Mr. Dart smirks at Ryan and he swallows convulsively. "I was waiting for you."
Ryan blinks, says nothing and walks inside as Mr. Dart takes a step back.
A little over an hour later, Ryan closes his eyes under the spray of water and tells himself his shoulders don't ache, his skin doesn't sting from the new bites and scratches, there isn't a renewed soreness in his back side and ass cheeks, that he's not in the middle of fucking hell. He groans in the back of his throat and rests his forehead against the cold tile, eyes closed shut.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Week three, he tells himself, the fact that he's keeping track seems to mock him. Only one more. Only one more.
He takes a deep breath, eyes opening, and moves his left hand to the pain lingering on his right shoulder. Even through the darkness around the bruise, the edges close to blue and green, he can feel the indentation under his fingertips. He grimaces as he touches it, pain ratcheting down his shoulder and to his hip, where matching bruises seem to darken. Fingertips this time, instead of teeth, but the feeling behind them it's the same. Hurt, all over, in every single place, skin that doesn't seem to belong to him at all, not anymore.
There's a knock that makes Ryan look up, gaze turning to see a silhouette at the door through the shower curtains.
"Dude, you there?"
Seth, of course, though Ryan has only been at home for ten minutes, going straight to the pool house, detouring from the front door and Seth himself.
"Yes, I'm here," Ryan says, sighing softly at the end. Where else would I be?
There's a pause that Ryan can almost see, imagining Seth standing on the other side of the door, words on his tongue and biting them somehow, for a reason Ryan can't exactly understand. But there is only silence on the other end, and Ryan tilts his head to the side, again, imagining Seth making his way to the bed and sitting down.
Ryan cuts his shower short, muscles still complaining, his inner thighs stinging under the effort, an effort he'd rather not remember. The muscles are strained, probably, most certainly, and Ryan breathes out at the remembrance.
He pushes back the curtains, picking up a towel and drying his chest first. He stands before the mirror above the sink and looks back at his face. His cheeks are flushed, red and his lower lip is slightly swollen. With one hand, he reaches out to touch it. It doesn't sting as much as it should, but he knows he bit down on it hard enough for it to bleed for a moment. The feel of blood on his lips had grounded him.
He tilts his head to the left, eyeing the bruising in the reflection. Why would he want to see it more clearly, in the bright light entering through the high windows or the furthest wall, he has no idea, but he's doing it. There's another bruise, a new one, on Ryan's left shoulder, matching the one on his right shoulder. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He lets the towel the fall and picks up his sweatshirt and pants, having learned long ago to expect Seth walking in, always, on Thursdays, as soon as he arrives.
It doesn't take him long to get changed and he walks out of the bathroom, the sting and soreness making themselves present with lucid clarity, with every step he takes. He winces, ducking his head away from Seth.
"Ryan, really. Our timing? So very sucks."
Ryan looks up to see Seth, splayed on the bed, arms wide opened. He sighs, shaking his head, something making his chest tighten and his eyes sting as well.
You don't know, Ryan thinks for reasons unbeknownst to him, and the thought is enough to make his chest hurt even more. God, you don't know. Why don't you know? You should know. You should see this. You should look at me and be able to know, to see, you should see everything. Me. Who I am and who I am not, and I'm not here, standing here, and you're not there and...
Ryan shakes his head, biting down on his swollen lip, looking down at his watch in his hand. He sighs and puts it on his wrist. "Why is that?" He asks after a moment, remembering the question in the first time.
Seth props himself up on his elbows, turning his head to the side to look at Ryan. He snorts. "Dude, I went to pick you up."
Ryan's step falters before stopping all together, one foot from the bed. "What?"
Seth shrugs. "Thought you could use the ride. I was bored here, no homework to do."
"I thought you had that calculus homework to get done. You asked me to help you with it tonight." He doesn't know why the words are coming out of his mouth, but they are, and he's quite shocked at that as he sits down on the edge of the bed, left leg crossed under him, knee touching Seth's calf.
Seth's gaze shifts to Ryan's knee, touching him, and then back at Ryan and Ryan watches him swallow. Ryan narrows his eyes, thinking there's something that he should notice about this before Seth speaks up, his voice not quite as collected as usual, and the thought is blow away.
"Yeah, well, I was bored still. Anyway, so, I went over there." Seth's swallows again, giving Ryan a strained smile that Ryan should inquire about. "And you were not there. I called your cell, you know?"
"Oh." Ryan looks over at the top of his desk, where his cell phone lies, left by the side of his keys and pocket money and backpack. He had turned it off before walking into the house, hadn't done that before, hadn't remember, but today he had and he had turned it off. "I must have had it off."
"Why?" Seth lets himself fall back down onto the bed. His gaze shifts from the ceiling to Ryan and back to the ceiling, almost nervous, though that doesn't make sense. "I mean, mom could have called, and you know how she gets when the cells are off or you don't answer. Do you really want her wrath upon you, dude? I don't think so."
No, he really doesn't, but he doesn't know how he could manage the cell ringing while he's in Mr. Dart's office. The thought makes Ryan's throat close in aching reminder, and the sensitive skin, that not long ago was pressed by a tight grip, pulsates in pain.
"We missed each other."
Ryan nods, slightly numbly, before looking at Seth. "Yes, we must have."
"You took a cab?" Seth frowns, nudging Ryan's knee with his calf before pulling his leg away, the space wider than it used to be. "Next time? I'm calling you. Period. And you're keeping your cell on or I'm telling mom."
Ryan shrugs, not really focused on the conversation, barely even listening. His hand is shaking, slightly, making it hard to concentrate as he feels his fingers ache with a coldness that shouldn't be filling him from inside.
Seth turns his head around, cheek against the covers, and he's about to say something when his gaze falls down on Ryan's left hand, a droplet of blood oozing from between his knuckles. "Dude, when did you cut yourself?"
Ryan follows Seth's gaze and stares down at his hand for a moment. Shifting his weight to his right one, he lifts his left hand and frowns. He takes the back of his hand to his lips, sucking on the skin. It stings under his touch and when he pulls away, blood no longer there, he can see the half an inch long cut.
Looking at Seth, who blinks back, eyes glazed over before brown eyes focuses on Ryan's. He clears his throat, frowning slightly and not very convincingly as he looks at Ryan's hand. "I think it's a paper cut," Seth says, voice scratchy.
Ryan thinks back to an hour ago, and though most of those memories seem to be behind a lock and five inch steel door, he thinks he can remember a stack of papers on the desk. He grimaces at the memory, even as small as it is, and sighs. "Yeah, probably."
Seth pulls himself up to his elbows and, shifting his weight to his left side, he takes Ryan's hand in his. His fingers touch the knuckles slowly, tracing the edges before falling onto the small cut. Blood is oozing from it once again, slowly, and Seth shakes his head. " You need a band aid, you know? You'll bleed all over your book otherwise."
He pauses, face leaning forward, lips not far away from the skin. He clears his throat, shakes his head and lets Ryan's hand drop.
"Come on," Seth says with another nudge, his voice scratchy, leg pulling away once again. "We've got homework to do, I'm sure, and I have phase three to beat."
"Sure," Ryan says, half heartily, standing up and picking up his cell and books from his desk.
They do get homework done that afternoon, and Ryan ends up explaining a rather complicated theorem of Calculus to Seth, after Ryan spends forty minutes trying to understand himself.
Ryan goes to bed early, barely after ten, with muscles complaining and the usual places sore and aching. He sleeps with his sweats and a dark t-shirt, self conscious of the marks on his body. It takes Ryan a moment to fall asleep, and when he does, it feels like he has hardly even blinked before hearing the doors of the pool house opening.
He blinks at the sleepiness in his eyes, rubbing them with his fist before glancing at the door. There's only darkness around him and it takes Ryan a moment for his eyes to adjust to the shadows and recognize the profile of the person slowly closing the door.
"Kirsten?"
The shadow stops by the foot of the bed, pausing, before resuming her approach. She smiles down at him, when he can finally see her face, the lines of it.
"Hey," she says softly, seeming to hesitate for a moment. She sits down on the edge of the bed, Ryan scooting to make room for her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay." He yawns, squinting at her. "What happened?" His heart seems to pause for a moment as he realizes that she's sitting in his bed in the middle of the night. "Is Seth--?"
"Everything's right," Kirsten says, reaching out to place her hand on Ryan's shoulder.
Her fingers caress the soft skin and his intake of breath is harsh and sudden as her touch sting. His left shoulder, a new bite and mark that hadn't been there until only hours before. A bruise she has no knowledge about. He swallows thickly.
"I just..." She shrugs, her hand falling down to his forearm, giving him a small smile. "I had a nightmare." She chuckles, though the sound seems nervous in Ryan's ears. "Silly, really. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
He can imagine her nightmare must have been pretty awful, to force out of bed, this late at night, and all the way down here.
"Are you okay?"
She chuckles again, waving it off with her hand. "I'm fine, don't worry. I was more worried about both of you." She tilts her head, looking down at him. Her hand rises from his shoulder and up to his cheek. He thinks maybe it's the late hour that's making her much more direct in her affection. "He had all the covers on the floor. He tends to do that."
Ryan nods, fully knowing that Seth has a thing for covers and sheets, considering Seth had crashed in the pool house more than a few times. "Yes."
"You're okay, aren't you?"
The question catches Ryan by surprise, his breath stilling in his throat. He doesn't know what to say to that without lying straight to her face, which, he remembers, he's done before, not so long ago. His throat his dry and he bites down on his lower lip, which seems that might never go down on the swelling, if Ryan keeps on biting it.
"Yes," he mutters, gaze down as he stares at the way her silk robe pools on the bed by his side.
She nods, slowly, her hand pushing away a lock of blond hair that has fallen to his eyes. He looks up at her and when she smiles at him, a motherly smile that only makes his chest hurt and everything inside him feel cold, oh so very cold, a soft gasp under his breath gets lost in between.
"I won't keep you up," she says, standing up, her fingers touching his chin one last time before dropping her arm to his side. "Sweet dreams."
He only nods, words lost on his lips and watches her turn around and close the door behind her. He sighs, head falling back onto the pillows and eyes closed shut. They sting, and his shoulder aches and his inner legs complain and his ass cheeks burn until he sees flashes of light inside dark eyelids. His breathing is nothing but ragged and his chest keeps on hurting. He lets out a shaky breath, hands pressing tightly on his eyes. It takes him minutes to get his breathing under control, and he thinks about going to the bathroom and throwing water on his face but thinks better of it.
Instead, he rolls around in bed and buries his face on the pillow and pretends his body doesn't ache even as it feels like it's not really his.
*****
Well, well. There it is. Happy now, dear? *g*
That said, did you all notice my almost new icon? In case you didn't notice, this is the "Yelling" icon and you will all come to know it very well. *g* I adore it. It's just... wow. It says so much, so very much in so very little. *bounces*
Going to bed now. It's late, it's late! *rushes off*
Title: Yelling
Author: M. F. Luder
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating: PG-13.
Category: Angst.
Author's note: You might know this story as what I used to call The Dark Story, and you can see all my rantings about this right there. *nods*
This story totally belongs to l_vera01, who pushed and nudged and kicked and screamed and even threatened with body harm if it did not get done. *hugs tight* I love you to pieces babe.
Betad by the one storydivagirl, the only, there is no other like her. *nods* She adores this story, says I hurt Ryan like no other and she loves me for this. Bare in mind she adores angst, so that might not say good things about this story.
I have nothing else to say except, read at your own risk. *nods* Believe me.
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten
Yelling
Chapter eight
I love you now, don't worry about me, you know I'll be fine.
- Be somebody. Three doors down.
On Tuesday afternoon, Seth and Ryan sit down at the kitchen table and do their homework. Seth would rather they did it upstairs in his bedroom, but Ryan has a set of graphics to make and they always come out rather shaky when he draws them on his lap.
Ryan sighs, wonders why physics has to mean graphics and formulas that at times he really wishes he didn't have to learn, to know. Still, he tilts his head and looks up at Seth. Seth, who has his head bent forward, eyes glued to the screen of his laptop. He has a paper due tomorrow, AP Literature, and because he's Seth and that's the way he does things, he left it to the last minute.
Ryan gives him a small smile even though the other boy doesn't see it. "How are you doing?"
Seth shakes his head. "I hate this," he says, even as he keeps on moving the mouse.
Ryan frowns, head tilted. He should be writing, not clicking, Ryan notices. He stands up, making his way around the table and standing behind Seth. Word is not opened and the analysis of one of the books he had to read is not started. Instead, Seth is playing Bejeweled, in silence, clicking away the stones, looking for a power ball.
Ryan nudges Seth's shoulder with his elbow and Seth chuckles as he completes his map.
"Dude," Seth complains with a chuckle when Ryan nudges him again.
"I thought you had a paper due tomorrow," says Ryan with a smile and another nudge. "I thought you were freaking out because it wasn't getting done."
Seth shrugs, clicking another ball and making the switch, but it doesn't work. "It's getting done."
"Really?" Ryan lifts an eyebrow as Seth tilts his head back, lips forming a grin. Seth nods, looking upside down at Ryan.
"Yeah." Seth presses alt+tab on the keyboard and the game switches to the word document so Ryan can see that three pages have been written. "See?"
Ryan shakes his head. "Seth, by tonight, you'll be on the verge of a nervous breakdown because you're still not done with it."
Seth gasps in mock outrage. "I will not!"
Ryan snorts. "Sure. Whatever you say."
By seven pm, Seth has played three games of Bejeweled, done a lot of internet surfing and looked at the new games that should be out by the end of the month, going over their reviews, so he knows exactly which ones to buy. And, of course, as expected, the paper has not gotten done. Ryan has finished his physics homework, only taking him two hours more than he thought he'd need.
Kirsten walks into the kitchen, two bags in her hands, one of them with the seal of the Thai place they like so much. Ryan stands up from his seat and hurries to her side to help her. "Thanks, sweetie," she tells Ryan with a smile.
"Seth?" Sandy asks as he walks in, two more groceries bags in his hands.
Seth waves off his dad. "Sorry dad, but I have to get this done." He's tying as fast as he can, which Ryan notices that, with only four fingers, isn't that quickly at all.
"I thought it was done," Ryan says loftily, grinning, taking out the white containers while Kirsten puts the groceries away.
Seth glares in Ryan's direction and Ryan chuckles, shaking his head. Seth states, "I'm making some corrections."
Ryan snorts. "Sure you are."
But Seth still has to cut short his last minute sense of responsibility, as dinner is being served. Ryan stacks his books one on top of the other and places them on the kitchen counter, while Seth closes his laptop and puts it by the books.
After dinner, Kirsten gets a phone call from one of the construction foremen, and with annoyance in her voice, she walks out of the kitchen toward her office. Ryan hopes it's something they can fix.
"I've been thinking," Sandy says, picking up the plates and putting them in the dishwasher, "I think it's time for us to start visiting campuses."
Ryan pauses as he rinses the glasses, hands stilling. Seth places the empty containers in the trashcan, shrugging as he does so. "Sure," Seth says, pulling the string of the bag, ready to be taken out tonight. "Your turn." Seth jerks his head in Ryan's direction.
Ryan nods, mostly out of inertia than anything else.
"I thought we'd start with USC and Berkeley," Sandy continues, closing the dishwasher. He towels his hand with a cloth. "They both have great Architecture programs, as well as English." He turns around, looking at Ryan. "You're still thinking about Architecture, right?"
There are no words forming on his lips, nothing but silences and this knot in his throat. He frowns, opening his mouth to speak, but words fail him and there's only a gust of air that leaves his lips.
Seth chuckles, shaking his head. "He's thinking about Civil Engineering, actually." He frowns, head tilted, eyes looking over at Ryan as his dad does the same, almost like he's never looked at him before. "Why, I have no idea, but apparently Ryan here has decided he likes math and would like to see more of it. For the rest of his natural life."
Sandy looks pleased, Ryan notices, if only a portion of his brain is working. At least that much gets through the fog that has clouded it. Sandy's actually beaming. "Really?"
"Yeah," Seth says, "Probably took it from mom's side of the family, dad. We Cohens are more about the arts and non-science stuff. We're not nerds, thank you very much."
Ryan only reacts at the adjective, because he's certain it does not define him. "I haven't decided yet, ok?" He says after a moment, shaking himself out of whatever it was that had made him lose touch with the here and now. "I'm just..." he shrugs. "I'm thinking about it," he continues, turning around and staring down at his hands. He still has one glass in between his fingers, soap around the edges. He rinses it under the spray.
There's a pat on his should and when he looks up, Sandy is standing behind him, grin on his lips, nodding and looking so very happy, so very proud. Ryan ducks his head, feeling his cheeks flushing.
"I'm sure Kirsten will love it." Sandy nods, pats Ryan again, and continues, "Berkeley has the best Civil Engineering program. Then again, you could aim higher, and further, which might not make Kirsten so happy. Princeton? Brown, perhaps Yale. Yeah, we haven't thought Yale or Harvard."
Ryan hears Seth coughing somewhere behind him. "Dad, Harvard? Dude, aren't you going a little bit overboard."
"Why?" Sandy asks, though only Ryan can hear the voice. He has his head ducked, chin touching his chest because he's not getting in the middle of this. Berkeley is fine with him. Yale? Yale sounds expensive and too far away and too good. "This is you guys we're talking about," Sandy continues. "Yale is very much a possibility. It can be that, or NYU, or Princeton, you know? It can be anything, really."
"Dad--"
"We don't have to talk about this right now and we certainly don't have to discuss this right now. We have time."
And time they really do have, because they still have one more year before going to college.
The next morning, however, the subject doesn't seem dropped. When Ryan went to bed, Kirsten was still in her office, fighting whoever had messed up a site, so Ryan didn't know if Sandy told her about it. But when Ryan walks into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, leaving his bag on top of the table, and Kirsten smiles at him, big and wide and with so much emotion in her eyes, he knows Sandy told her, about college, and about Engineering.
"Oh, sweetie," Kirsten says before Ryan knows what's happening, and she places her cup of coffee on the table and puts her arms around him, hugging him tight. Ryan doesn't know what to do for a moment, and when he's thinking that he should hug her back, she pulls away at arms length, beaming at him. "Oh, Ryan," she says again, leaning forward and resting her left cheek against his right one.
"Mom, come on! You're smothering him."
When Kirsten pulls away, she turns around and glares at Seth. "I am not." She turns to look at Ryan, smiling at him. "I'm not, am I?"
Ryan doesn't dare to tell her that yes, she's very much smothering him and he can hardly breathe for a moment. He only gives her a shaky smile.
"Sandy's right," she says after a moment. "You boys should start looking at schools. You can have the weekend. Make a trip out of it."
"I can't this weekend," Sandy says as he takes a bite of his bagel. Kirsten hasn't exactly let go of Ryan's forearms. Sandy shakes his head and pulls at his wife. "Do let go of Ryan, sweetie." Kirsten chuckles, shaking her head. "Anyway, I can't this weekend." He narrows his eyes, seeming to mentally go over his schedule. "I think I have a thing on Saturday, a deposition, but we could do it the week after next? Leave Friday right after school, come back Sunday night."
"Excellent," Kirsten says and before Ryan knows what's happening, it's decided. It's just a matter of choosing which school they'll go to first, this week, because Kirsten wants to book the tickets and the hotel and have a few things ready for the boys to see.
That day, during History class, because life is like this when it comes to him, groups are made for a paper that's due in two weeks. It's the teacher who makes the group, of course, and Ryan has Sarah and Bridget and Nell in his group if only because all their last names start with an array of A, B and C.
"Okay, so," says Nell as soon as they get together, and Sarah looks at her like she knows Nell will take the reigns of the group, "when can we get together?"
"I can't tomorrow." Bridget shrugs. "I have to babysit."
"Thursday? After class?" Nell picks up her notebook, where she wrote down the theme for their paper. "We can either stay here after class or we can go to my house, search the net. Or just gather what we've found so far--"
"I can't," Ryan says before it's set on stone. All three girls turn around to look at him. He swallows, face set and calm, even though his hands start to tremble; he places them under the table. "Hmm. I have a thing. Any other day, though?"
"We only have two weeks," Nell says, slight annoyance on her voice. "It has to be next week. We should--"
"Yes, yes, it needs to get done," Sarah says with a chuckle. "Dude, Nell, chill. It's not that big of a deal and we will get it done."
Nell glares at Sarah, who waves it off.
"Anyway, I can't Monday. What about Tuesday?"
And it's settled. Tuesday, after class, they'll do it at Sarah's house because it's the closest and her mom will probably leave something for them to eat and Bridget was gonna go to her place after class anyway.
Later that day, at lunch, when Seth asks Ryan what's new with his classes after bitching about the Literature paper and how, if he had had more time, he could have done a better job -- at which Ryan rolled his eyes, of course -- Ryan shrugs. "I have a history paper to get done."
"Dude, really, another? I thought you were done with that one."
"The first one, yes, this is another one." The lie comes so easily from Ryan's lips, almost like the truth, and Seth doesn't sense anything's wrong.
"You know," Seth says after a moment, shrugging as he does so. "I might not know a lot about history because, dude, really? So not my thing. But I could try and help you out. I totally could."
"It's okay," Ryan says, turning to look at his plate before him, a sandwich he really doesn't feel like eating at the moment. "I can handle it."
"I could help you."
A shake of his head. "There's nothing you can do," Ryan says, telling himself there's no bitterness in his voice, no coldness either. He's not really sure about it.
Seth doesn't say anything for a moment and Ryan wonders if maybe his tone was cold and harsh and Seth might notice something's not right in this whole thing.
"Group?" Seth asks instead, and Ryan knows his lie has been well said.
Ryan nods. "Yeah, same one as before."
"Well," Seth says, picking at his sandwich. He pushes it toward Ryan, who takes out the lettuce from it before closing it down and handing it back. "At least now you know how they work."
Ryan nods, muttering a soft "sure" under his breath. Seth doesn't ask anything else about it, and Ryan doesn't offer anything else, only lets the boy talk away, words washing over him as he shudders inside, feeling touches that aren't supposed to be there and seeing the bruises in his mind's eye. He sighs, looking down at his hands on his lap as they tremble.
*****
Ryan's hands trembled, shaking slightly, like a leaf in the beginning of autumn as the wind starts to pick up.
He shook his head, his hands, and shoved them in his pockets. Friday afternoon and they were in Theresa's living room, watching a movie. Annie and Jack were also with them. Jack's hand was touching the edge of Annie's leg, and he could hear her giggling from time to time. Theresa had been eyeing him sideways for the past three scenes. Probably waiting for him to touch her, to take her hand or her leg. Ryan wasn't going to do any of that.
He could still feel the kisses on the back of his neck, could still hear the words spoken against his ear. His right hand started to shake inside his pocket when he remembers. They didn't use to, at least Ryan hadn't noticed. Maybe it was because the last time it had been different. The last time Mr. Dart had taken him to his bedroom, to kneel on his bed and Ryan had whimpered the whole time, telling himself not to cry, to be brave. Even now, Ryan felt his face contorting in pain as he remembered.
And if that hadn't been enough, Mr. Dart did it twice. It was the first time something like that had happened. Ryan had barely started putting on his pants when Mr. Dart pressed himself against Ryan's back and kissed Ryan's left ear, telling him to let go of his pants, let them fall down to the floor, "I want to taste you once again." Mr. Dart didn't last long, the second time, but Ryan was so scared, so disgusted, he picked up his pants, underwear and sweatshirt so fast, he forgot about his black t-shirt. Ryan didn't go back for it, mostly because he wasn't brave enough to face the man. He only put on his sweatshirt and his mom didn't notice the lack of t-shirt underneath.
"Ryan?"
Ryan turned around, looking at the girl by his side. For a moment, blue eyes didn't recognize the face nor the brown eyes, and Ryan blinked for her face to come into focus and he tried to smile at her. He couldn't, so he sighed and looked at her. She looked annoyed, and he never liked Theresa when she was mad at him. "Huh?"
She seemed to be debating whether to tell him something, a piece of her mind nonetheless, before sighing and shaking her head. "Forget it," she told him, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at the TV.
Ryan wanted to apologize for a moment, tell her something, anything, even if not the entire truth.
I can't touch you. He wanted to tell her. I don't want to touch you. Hell, you wouldn't want to touch me if you knew what happened yesterday, the way he touched me. He touched me.
But Ryan didn't say anything. He shook his head, pressed his lips into a thin line and knew he would lose Theresa as a friend, at least for a while, for a week, if he didn't do something right now. He wasn't in a position to lose friends now.
He could feel his fingers cold, shivering, even though it was the beginning of spring and there was this soft breeze around the room from the opened windows. He reached to his side, to her bare shoulder, her arms still folded. He touched her skin with his fingertips first, his mind screaming, words blurring inside. Beautiful, so beautiful. Lovely. Lovely. You want this. I know you want this.
Ryan swallowed, palm against her forearm. She turned around, gave him a small smile and let her arms fall to her side. It was her who took his hand and intertwined their fingers. It was her who started rubbing her thumb against his wrist. He let her because he didn't know what else to do, even though the touch seemed to be burn like acid on his skin.
*****
On Thursday afternoon, they walk out of class, Ryan gripping the strap of his backpack that falls across his chest. He knows what he told Seth, that he had the group meeting, again, this afternoon, right after school. He takes in a deep breath and hates himself for lying to Seth.
"Well," Seth says, walking down the hallway. "You have that history thing, right?"
"Yeah. I don't think it'll take long. An hour, hour and a half tops. I'll be home by five."
Seth nods, head tilted. "Sure. Want me to pick you up?"
Ryan shakes his head. "No, don't worry. Take the car. I'll take a cab back home."
"You know, I can totally do it."
Ryan swallows. Don't make me lie more to you that I already am. "No, don't worry. I think Nell lives close by. I'll get a ride with her." and the lie falls easily from Ryan's lips, surprised at the way Seth seems to think about it and nods.
"Oh, okay. Sure." He shrugs, standing before Ryan, looking slightly awkward for a moment. Ryan is about to ask him if he's okay, when Seth stretches his arm, hand in a fist and hits Ryan's shoulder.
Ryan lifts an eyebrow, head cocked to the side. Hmm, what?
Seth shrugs again. "See you at home then. Bye."
Ryan nods, smile on his lips at Seth's weird goodbye, awkward and nervous like never before. He pauses by the front entrance, watching Seth make his way down the front stairs and to the parking lot. He stands there, watching Seth open the passenger door and pull out of the parking lot.
Ryan sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. He's doing the right thing, because... well, because he is, period. Nothing else. He doesn't know how long he stands there, but a moment later, longer than Ryan would have noticed, somebody crashes into his shoulder and Ryan opens his eyes in surprise. He swallows, blinks, hand tightening on the strap of his backpack and trots down the steps of the school.
He doesn't think much about it as he leaves school and takes a cab to that house. This is the first he's done this, come here without the Rover, and it feels different somehow. He knocks, waiting for the door to open up. It's not that woman, the maid, Rosmerta, but Mr. Dart who opens.
Mr. Dart smirks at Ryan and he swallows convulsively. "I was waiting for you."
Ryan blinks, says nothing and walks inside as Mr. Dart takes a step back.
A little over an hour later, Ryan closes his eyes under the spray of water and tells himself his shoulders don't ache, his skin doesn't sting from the new bites and scratches, there isn't a renewed soreness in his back side and ass cheeks, that he's not in the middle of fucking hell. He groans in the back of his throat and rests his forehead against the cold tile, eyes closed shut.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Week three, he tells himself, the fact that he's keeping track seems to mock him. Only one more. Only one more.
He takes a deep breath, eyes opening, and moves his left hand to the pain lingering on his right shoulder. Even through the darkness around the bruise, the edges close to blue and green, he can feel the indentation under his fingertips. He grimaces as he touches it, pain ratcheting down his shoulder and to his hip, where matching bruises seem to darken. Fingertips this time, instead of teeth, but the feeling behind them it's the same. Hurt, all over, in every single place, skin that doesn't seem to belong to him at all, not anymore.
There's a knock that makes Ryan look up, gaze turning to see a silhouette at the door through the shower curtains.
"Dude, you there?"
Seth, of course, though Ryan has only been at home for ten minutes, going straight to the pool house, detouring from the front door and Seth himself.
"Yes, I'm here," Ryan says, sighing softly at the end. Where else would I be?
There's a pause that Ryan can almost see, imagining Seth standing on the other side of the door, words on his tongue and biting them somehow, for a reason Ryan can't exactly understand. But there is only silence on the other end, and Ryan tilts his head to the side, again, imagining Seth making his way to the bed and sitting down.
Ryan cuts his shower short, muscles still complaining, his inner thighs stinging under the effort, an effort he'd rather not remember. The muscles are strained, probably, most certainly, and Ryan breathes out at the remembrance.
He pushes back the curtains, picking up a towel and drying his chest first. He stands before the mirror above the sink and looks back at his face. His cheeks are flushed, red and his lower lip is slightly swollen. With one hand, he reaches out to touch it. It doesn't sting as much as it should, but he knows he bit down on it hard enough for it to bleed for a moment. The feel of blood on his lips had grounded him.
He tilts his head to the left, eyeing the bruising in the reflection. Why would he want to see it more clearly, in the bright light entering through the high windows or the furthest wall, he has no idea, but he's doing it. There's another bruise, a new one, on Ryan's left shoulder, matching the one on his right shoulder. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He lets the towel the fall and picks up his sweatshirt and pants, having learned long ago to expect Seth walking in, always, on Thursdays, as soon as he arrives.
It doesn't take him long to get changed and he walks out of the bathroom, the sting and soreness making themselves present with lucid clarity, with every step he takes. He winces, ducking his head away from Seth.
"Ryan, really. Our timing? So very sucks."
Ryan looks up to see Seth, splayed on the bed, arms wide opened. He sighs, shaking his head, something making his chest tighten and his eyes sting as well.
You don't know, Ryan thinks for reasons unbeknownst to him, and the thought is enough to make his chest hurt even more. God, you don't know. Why don't you know? You should know. You should see this. You should look at me and be able to know, to see, you should see everything. Me. Who I am and who I am not, and I'm not here, standing here, and you're not there and...
Ryan shakes his head, biting down on his swollen lip, looking down at his watch in his hand. He sighs and puts it on his wrist. "Why is that?" He asks after a moment, remembering the question in the first time.
Seth props himself up on his elbows, turning his head to the side to look at Ryan. He snorts. "Dude, I went to pick you up."
Ryan's step falters before stopping all together, one foot from the bed. "What?"
Seth shrugs. "Thought you could use the ride. I was bored here, no homework to do."
"I thought you had that calculus homework to get done. You asked me to help you with it tonight." He doesn't know why the words are coming out of his mouth, but they are, and he's quite shocked at that as he sits down on the edge of the bed, left leg crossed under him, knee touching Seth's calf.
Seth's gaze shifts to Ryan's knee, touching him, and then back at Ryan and Ryan watches him swallow. Ryan narrows his eyes, thinking there's something that he should notice about this before Seth speaks up, his voice not quite as collected as usual, and the thought is blow away.
"Yeah, well, I was bored still. Anyway, so, I went over there." Seth's swallows again, giving Ryan a strained smile that Ryan should inquire about. "And you were not there. I called your cell, you know?"
"Oh." Ryan looks over at the top of his desk, where his cell phone lies, left by the side of his keys and pocket money and backpack. He had turned it off before walking into the house, hadn't done that before, hadn't remember, but today he had and he had turned it off. "I must have had it off."
"Why?" Seth lets himself fall back down onto the bed. His gaze shifts from the ceiling to Ryan and back to the ceiling, almost nervous, though that doesn't make sense. "I mean, mom could have called, and you know how she gets when the cells are off or you don't answer. Do you really want her wrath upon you, dude? I don't think so."
No, he really doesn't, but he doesn't know how he could manage the cell ringing while he's in Mr. Dart's office. The thought makes Ryan's throat close in aching reminder, and the sensitive skin, that not long ago was pressed by a tight grip, pulsates in pain.
"We missed each other."
Ryan nods, slightly numbly, before looking at Seth. "Yes, we must have."
"You took a cab?" Seth frowns, nudging Ryan's knee with his calf before pulling his leg away, the space wider than it used to be. "Next time? I'm calling you. Period. And you're keeping your cell on or I'm telling mom."
Ryan shrugs, not really focused on the conversation, barely even listening. His hand is shaking, slightly, making it hard to concentrate as he feels his fingers ache with a coldness that shouldn't be filling him from inside.
Seth turns his head around, cheek against the covers, and he's about to say something when his gaze falls down on Ryan's left hand, a droplet of blood oozing from between his knuckles. "Dude, when did you cut yourself?"
Ryan follows Seth's gaze and stares down at his hand for a moment. Shifting his weight to his right one, he lifts his left hand and frowns. He takes the back of his hand to his lips, sucking on the skin. It stings under his touch and when he pulls away, blood no longer there, he can see the half an inch long cut.
Looking at Seth, who blinks back, eyes glazed over before brown eyes focuses on Ryan's. He clears his throat, frowning slightly and not very convincingly as he looks at Ryan's hand. "I think it's a paper cut," Seth says, voice scratchy.
Ryan thinks back to an hour ago, and though most of those memories seem to be behind a lock and five inch steel door, he thinks he can remember a stack of papers on the desk. He grimaces at the memory, even as small as it is, and sighs. "Yeah, probably."
Seth pulls himself up to his elbows and, shifting his weight to his left side, he takes Ryan's hand in his. His fingers touch the knuckles slowly, tracing the edges before falling onto the small cut. Blood is oozing from it once again, slowly, and Seth shakes his head. " You need a band aid, you know? You'll bleed all over your book otherwise."
He pauses, face leaning forward, lips not far away from the skin. He clears his throat, shakes his head and lets Ryan's hand drop.
"Come on," Seth says with another nudge, his voice scratchy, leg pulling away once again. "We've got homework to do, I'm sure, and I have phase three to beat."
"Sure," Ryan says, half heartily, standing up and picking up his cell and books from his desk.
They do get homework done that afternoon, and Ryan ends up explaining a rather complicated theorem of Calculus to Seth, after Ryan spends forty minutes trying to understand himself.
Ryan goes to bed early, barely after ten, with muscles complaining and the usual places sore and aching. He sleeps with his sweats and a dark t-shirt, self conscious of the marks on his body. It takes Ryan a moment to fall asleep, and when he does, it feels like he has hardly even blinked before hearing the doors of the pool house opening.
He blinks at the sleepiness in his eyes, rubbing them with his fist before glancing at the door. There's only darkness around him and it takes Ryan a moment for his eyes to adjust to the shadows and recognize the profile of the person slowly closing the door.
"Kirsten?"
The shadow stops by the foot of the bed, pausing, before resuming her approach. She smiles down at him, when he can finally see her face, the lines of it.
"Hey," she says softly, seeming to hesitate for a moment. She sits down on the edge of the bed, Ryan scooting to make room for her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay." He yawns, squinting at her. "What happened?" His heart seems to pause for a moment as he realizes that she's sitting in his bed in the middle of the night. "Is Seth--?"
"Everything's right," Kirsten says, reaching out to place her hand on Ryan's shoulder.
Her fingers caress the soft skin and his intake of breath is harsh and sudden as her touch sting. His left shoulder, a new bite and mark that hadn't been there until only hours before. A bruise she has no knowledge about. He swallows thickly.
"I just..." She shrugs, her hand falling down to his forearm, giving him a small smile. "I had a nightmare." She chuckles, though the sound seems nervous in Ryan's ears. "Silly, really. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
He can imagine her nightmare must have been pretty awful, to force out of bed, this late at night, and all the way down here.
"Are you okay?"
She chuckles again, waving it off with her hand. "I'm fine, don't worry. I was more worried about both of you." She tilts her head, looking down at him. Her hand rises from his shoulder and up to his cheek. He thinks maybe it's the late hour that's making her much more direct in her affection. "He had all the covers on the floor. He tends to do that."
Ryan nods, fully knowing that Seth has a thing for covers and sheets, considering Seth had crashed in the pool house more than a few times. "Yes."
"You're okay, aren't you?"
The question catches Ryan by surprise, his breath stilling in his throat. He doesn't know what to say to that without lying straight to her face, which, he remembers, he's done before, not so long ago. His throat his dry and he bites down on his lower lip, which seems that might never go down on the swelling, if Ryan keeps on biting it.
"Yes," he mutters, gaze down as he stares at the way her silk robe pools on the bed by his side.
She nods, slowly, her hand pushing away a lock of blond hair that has fallen to his eyes. He looks up at her and when she smiles at him, a motherly smile that only makes his chest hurt and everything inside him feel cold, oh so very cold, a soft gasp under his breath gets lost in between.
"I won't keep you up," she says, standing up, her fingers touching his chin one last time before dropping her arm to his side. "Sweet dreams."
He only nods, words lost on his lips and watches her turn around and close the door behind her. He sighs, head falling back onto the pillows and eyes closed shut. They sting, and his shoulder aches and his inner legs complain and his ass cheeks burn until he sees flashes of light inside dark eyelids. His breathing is nothing but ragged and his chest keeps on hurting. He lets out a shaky breath, hands pressing tightly on his eyes. It takes him minutes to get his breathing under control, and he thinks about going to the bathroom and throwing water on his face but thinks better of it.
Instead, he rolls around in bed and buries his face on the pillow and pretends his body doesn't ache even as it feels like it's not really his.
*****
Well, well. There it is. Happy now, dear? *g*
That said, did you all notice my almost new icon? In case you didn't notice, this is the "Yelling" icon and you will all come to know it very well. *g* I adore it. It's just... wow. It says so much, so very much in so very little. *bounces*
Going to bed now. It's late, it's late! *rushes off*