[oc] Shadowboxing. Chapter three.
There's very little for me to say that isn't gibberish meaning I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of this chapter. *nods*
Title: Shadowboxing.
Author: M. F. Luder
Pairing: Ryan/Seth.
Rating: PG-13.
Category: Future fic. Drama. Me being evil. *nods*
Spoilers: Up to "The End's not Near, is Here", but with selective spoilers. *g*
Challenge: From fanfic100 and 24. family. The rest of the stories can be found at Big Damn Table.
Author's note: Betad by storydivagirl, who totally rocks. I have two betas working on this story because, apparently, I write too much and too fast and people have lives. *nods*
Special thanks to popmusicjunkie, who I totally adore and love and she must know this, or I'll hurt her. *winks* You put up with me while I was writing this, and you nudged and pushed and threatened with bodily harm when it was mostly needed, and for that, I will love you forever. *nods*
one | two| three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve
Shadowboxing
III.
Seth sighs as the cab pulls into the driveway, and he pauses for a moment before looking to his right at Ryan. Ryan, who has done nothing but look out the window the whole drive from the airport to the house. Ryan, who has barely said a word the entire plane ride.
It's the way Ryan sits, his head turned around, eyes glued to the window, that makes Seth sigh. Ryan doesn't look ready to leave the car, at least not yet, and Seth doesn't see the point in pushing him. And he's willing to sit there for as long as Ryan needs, and he's about to tell that to the cabby when the front door opens and the parents rush out, nineteen-month-old Sophie in Kirsten's arms, squirming to be put on the ground and allowed to rush herself at her siblings. Seth sighs, glancing at Ryan, who looks back at him.
Seth gets out of the car, watching Ryan do the same out of the corner of his eyes, as he sees his dad approaching him. His dad hugs him, his mother stays back as Sophie finds her footing and wobbles over to Ryan, hugging his knees.
"Dayan," Sophie says against his jeans, hugging as tight as she can.
Seth swallows as Ryan picks her up in his arms and gives her a sloppy kiss. "How are you kiddo?"
Sophie giggles, holding onto Ryan even as his mother to pull him into a hug.
When his dad lets Seth go, his dad is grinning, and Seth glances at Ryan, in his mother's hold but at arms length for her to look at him closely, Sophie hugging Ryan's neck so tight, slobbering all over the collar of his shirt. For a second, Seth can't help but wonder if his mother can see it, notice the difference in Ryan's eyes, that not quite there look that has taken over at the worst of times.
"You guys are early!" Kirsten says, her gaze shifting from Ryan to Seth, then back to Ryan, giving him another tight hug, careful of Sophie in his arms. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow morning. God, we wanted to pick you up from the airport."
Seth chuckles, shrugging as he does so. Yesterday afternoon, before Ryan's Structural Analysis, he had told Seth to try and find them tickets for Friday afternoon, after six. He wanted to get it over with, the sooner the better. He can't quite tell that to the parents. "We figured, well, why wait another day. Ryan finished his test, and I had nothing to get done."
"You should have called us," Sandy says, slapping Seth on the shoulder. "We could have gone and picked you boys up."
"It's okay."
They take their bags out, only one each, and Seth watches with a soft smile as they make their way to the front door, his mom hugging him before reaching the front steps, his dad hugging Ryan as well.
Ryan doesn't say anything, and after giving her big brother another wet kiss, Sophie asks to be put down, and Ryan complies. She rushes past the front door and into the house, and as the two of them walk into the house, Seth can't help but reach for Ryan's elbow, to touch it slightly, and even he can feel the change in lighting inside. The living room is brightly illuminated and that enough should throw Ryan off, and he knows Ryan doesn't want to tell the parents, not quite yet.
Ryan hesitates, halting in his step, his eyes nothing but worthless muscles that could be plucked out with a fork, for all the help they are. There are stairs leading down to the living room, three of them, and he can see the edge of them, a little bit of a blur, more than they should be. He's familiar with this room, this house, he didn't live here for three years for nothing. But it's been three months since he visited, since the holidays, and truth is that when he closes his eyes, he can't quite fill the empty spaces where furniture should be.
The hand on his elbow squeezes slightly, and there's a whisper against his ear. "Two steps and there are the stairs, three steps down, remember?"
He does. He knows.
Ryan sighs, walking forward, the hand on his forearm, touching him steadily, not once leaving him. He makes his way down the steps slowly, half afraid, because his eyes have not yet adjusted. He makes his way down the steps with so much hesitation, he's surprised the parents haven't noticed. He breathes a long sigh of relief when his feet tentatively touch the ground floor.
The hand stays with him, and as he makes his way through the living room and into the kitchen, his eyes start to adjust. When he enters the kitchen, Ryan can feel the change of light in the way his eyes sting somewhere in the back, how they burn as he blinks, and when he opens his eyes, he recognizes the island before him. He touches it with trembling fingers and clenches the edge tightly.
"You okay?"
Ryan nods, barely a movement of his head, and he keeps on blinking, the shapes around him taking form and the light slowly shining brighter in the darkness around him.
"We were just going to order dinner."
Sandy's voice, Ryan can recognize in a moment, and he turns around, looking at a shape that can only be Sandy. He blinks, nodding again, and in a moment he can see the contour of Sandy's face, the blur of his eyes, and it's not much worse than it would be if Ryan wasn't wearing his glasses.
"Boys, what do you want? Sophie, please, we're having dinner in a bit, put your toys away."
Kirsten's voice this time, on his left, closer than Sandy. Ryan turns around, completely turns around, and he can see her more clearly than h can see Sandy. The line of her mouth, the mug of coffee in her hand. He can't see her eyes, but then again, it's been so long since he was able to see anyone's eyes without his glasses. He smiles at her, tight and painful, but smiles.
"Thai will be fine," Seth answers for Ryan, and Ryan nods.
Something moves from out of the den toward them and when he looks down, it's Sophie with something in her hands and showing it to them. It's an orange block of Lego. Ryan's voice catches in his throat.
"Thanks, Sophie," he whispers, taking it from her, and then she rushes back into the den.
He glances over his shoulder, to where Seth's standing, left forearm touching his right, his only connection to the outside world. He sighs, softly, and then Seth's left hand touches the low of his back, and Ryan can only nod. He has no way of thanking Seth for answering a question he doesn't think he could have answered himself.
"Sure."
"We'll be in the den, okay? God, we're tired," Seth says, and before the parents can answer, Seth's hand is on his back, pushing him slightly, and Ryan takes the hint.
Ryan walks, slowly, hesitantly, but when they pass the fridge, Seth's hand moves to his elbow once again.
"It's okay, I'm here. It's okay."
Ryan nods, and the light coming from the den doesn't shock him this time, and when he turns the corner, he can actually see the TV set, if not recognize what's being shown. Sophie giggles and throws something and it crashes against the floor. Kirsten calls out a warning and Sophie giggles again and Ryan's heart catches, because fuck, when he turns to look at his sister -- his baby sister, only nineteen months old -- she's nothing but a blur of pink shirt and golden hair, sitting on the corner of the couch, a million toys around her.
He sighs, so tired, his very weight seeming to be pulling him down. He sits down heavily on the couch, closes his eyes and leans his head back. He bites back the desire to groan from tiredness.
"We have to tell them," Seth says, leaning to his right, to whisper in Ryan's ear. "Ryan, dude, we gotta tell them," Seth says again, his voice lowered, closer, secretive.
"Not yet," Ryan whispers back, eyes closed shut, a grimace on his face.
"How in the world are you gonna get to the pool house, huh?"
Ryan cringes at Seth's words, at the fucking truth hitting him in the face, but says nothing.
"No, no, way, Ryan. We're telling them."
"Seth--"
"We have to," Seth hisses under his breath, in Ryan's ear, and Ryan turns to look at Seth this time.
He narrows his eyes, not quite seeing Seth's eyes, and definitely no seeing Sophie because she's too far off to the left, in his blind spot, and his chest goes cold all of a sudden. "It's my secret to tell, Seth. And we're not."
Seth sighs, shakes his head and closes his eyes. Ryan glances to his left, turning his head around until he can finally, finally see Sophie with her Legos and building something before she stands up and makes her way to the kitchen. He can hear Kristen thanking Sophie and Sophie saying something he can't quite catch. He sighs again, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. The back of his shoulders ache, pressure seeming to have moved from behind his eyes down to his throat, and a second later he can feel Seth's eyes on him.
Dinner is filled with questions about the subjects they are taking, about the teachers and the lab reports. Seth talks about the books he's reading for British Authors, and ten minutes into dinner, Ryan's grinning and laughing here and there, so very easy to fool himself into believing that it's three years ago and they are both in high school and everything is right with the world. He can almost believe that he can see beyond the other side of the table, that those shapeless beige things are the cabinets and he can read the time on the clock at the other side of the kitchen. That he can see Kirsten, see the change of shades in her eyes and what she's saying with them, that he can see the lines of age in Sandy's forehead, the way Sophie laughs, with her head thrown back, like Seth used to laugh.
"What about you, sweetie?" Kirsten asks after a moment, turning to her left, handing Sophie a piece of chicken that she squeezes in one pudgy hand before nibbling on it. Kirsten caresses Sophie's face before turning to him.
Ryan can only glance to his left, Seth's elbow still touching his, and then to his right, where Sandy sits at the head of the table, grinning at him as well. He swallows. "Kirsten--"
"I mean, any girls you want to tell us about?"
Ryan chuckles, nervousness seeping from his pores, and he can feel the sweat on his palms and he can only clean them on his jeans. "Oh, that. No, nothing. I'm--" He shrugs, not sure what to say. "I've been too busy."
"Never too busy for love, Ryan. Never too busy." Sandy says with a soft and almost tender tone, and Ryan turns his head around to see Sandy looking at Kirsten. And he can't see what Sandy's saying with his eyes, but he can imagine it, and that, for him, right now, is more than enough.
He coughs into his hand, something bitter and dark uncoiling from his inside, from his stomach, and coming up to close his throat. Seth's touch, on his forearm, and Ryan shakes his head. "I'm fine."
"Ryan--?"
"Fine," he says slowly, with a glare and a tight smile, but Seth doesn't back off. He shakes his head, and he has never needed air as much as he does at the moment. "Excuse me," he says, and he has barely pushed back his chair before there's Seth's hand, holding onto his elbow, not letting him go.
"Ryan?"
Ryan gives Seth a tight smile, and hopes his eyes are saying that which he can't say at the moment, not with the parents next to him, not with them watching his every move. "I'll be right back."
Seth sighs, Ryan can almost hear the sound, before nodding and letting his hand drop. With one last smile to the table, Ryan turns around, slowly, and makes his way through the kitchen and to the living room.
Seth can only watch Ryan go, nothing but apprehension in his throat, like a hand gripping so tight he might fucking suffocate before Ryan returns. He sighs, leaning back in the chair, tiredness in his very bones, and maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come to Newport on a Friday night. They could have taken the afternoon off, rest, recuperate, recharge, whatever, before going as they had planned and coming home on Saturday morning. Bright and early and after a night where neither of them had to pretend.
"Seth, is everything okay?"
He looks up, and his mom is looking right at him, blue eyes filled with concern, and he can feel his throat closing in fear. Oh, fuck. Ryan, damn it, why did you leave me alone? I'm gonna cave, I swear to God. I'm so gonna cave.
He shrugs, swallowing as he does so. "Yeah, he's fine."
His mother's eyes, blue, very much like Ryan's but only a shade darker, narrow. "Seth, I'm your mother. I've known you all twenty years of your life. What are you not telling me?"
"Mom, God. What are you talking about? Me, hiding?" He shakes his head, chuckling as he does so, but if he can hear the nervousness in his laughter, then so can his parents. Even Sophie seems to be looking at him all weird and stuff. "Why would I ever--?"
"Seth," his dad picks up, his eyebrows frowning, leaning forward to look at him in the eye, "if Ryan's having trouble with the subjects--"
But his dad doesn't get to finish that sentence, and Seth doesn't have the time to actually cave and say everything Ryan doesn't want him to tell. There's a crash in the living room and Seth can feel his heart jumping up to his throat, and everything seems to still for a second. And then everything's rushing as he pushes his chair back, falling down in the process, and he rushes out the kitchen and to the living room.
"Oh, God," Seth whispers, barely even catching his breath, and he can see Ryan on his hands and knees, slowly pulling himself up, in the middle of the living room. "Oh, God, Ryan--"
He makes his way in between the couch and the center table, reaching out, touching Ryan's shoulder, trying not to startle him, even as Ryan cringes.
intuitively
Ryan doesn't pull away this time, when there's a hand on his shoulder, and he can remember earlier this week when he had lashed out at Seth for trying to help him. Ryan swallows, his hand bumping Seth's chest and gripping a tight fistful of Seth's shirt. "Seth?"
"I'm here, I'm right here."
And it's stupid, the way he just fell down, face first. So fucking stupid that he didn't see the couch on the right, didn't notice the center table on his left and when his shin hit it, he lost his balance and vertigo caught him for a second and that was more than enough for him to lose his footing and fall down with anything but grace.
Seth's hands, one on his right arm, the other on his left elbow holding him from behind, are the ones that help him up, and even when he's standing, Seth doesn't let go until Ryan's certain he can hold his own weight. Ryan takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and he turns around, looking over his right shoulder, wanting nothing more than to see Seth. He wants to see Seth's face, concern in brown eyes. He fucking wants to see Seth's face and this blur of color that seems to barely hold shape, to haunt him on the edges of his vision. His left hand reaches forward clumsily and Seth lets his left elbow go, allowing him to turn around in his hold, Seth's hand still on Ryan's right arm.
"It's okay. I'm here. Dude, it's okay."
He can't quite see Seth's eyes now, not after the fall and the movement, and Seth's face is nothing but this shapeless thing on top of his neck and Seth's eyes aren't even part of the shape, nothing but a blotch of brown and Ryan grimaces, shaking his head. He might not be able to see Seth, but he can hear him, the anguish in his tone, and Ryan gives him a small smile and a self conscious shrug. "I didn't see the coffee table."
Seth chuckles, but Ryan can hear tears in his voice. "I kinda thought so, dude. Clumsy you."
Ryan gives him a small smile, even through the pain in his chest, in his heart, in his very hands, and his left one reaches for Seth's waist, holding on for a moment, a second. When he looks over Seth's shoulder, the parents are looking at him, Sophie in Kirsten's arms, saying, "no, no, down, down, mommy, down." Ryan can't see their eyes either, can't even see their expression, but he doesn't need to see to know that they are looking at him with wide eyes, surprised, confused, and just a little bit scared.
Seth's hand tightens on Ryan's forearm before letting him go, and Ryan nods, silently thanking him. He takes a step to the side, a careful step as not to repeat the performance of a second ago, and bends his head down to really see the floor. He reaches the armchair at the corner of the living room and he sighs, sitting down heavily. Seth stands next to him, hand hovering over his shoulder before falling to grip the bone, tight and soft at the same time.
The parents don't say anything for a second and then Kirsten finally puts Sophie down, and closes the distance and stands right before him. His eyes sting in the back, his throat tight, and his neck burns with embarrassment because this certainly wasn't the way he wanted to break this to them.
"Ryan, sweetie, what--?"
"I think you better sit down," Seth says with a sigh, and Ryan can only look down at his hands.
After a moment, Seth squeezes his shoulders and he looks up at Seth. Seth gives him a small smile, close to encouraging, but Ryan can imagine it tastes bittersweet in Seth's tongue.
Ryan nods, turns around, Kirsten's sitting on the armrest of the couch to his right, Sandy taking a seat on the coffee table, his hand gripping Kirsten's tightly.
"Sophie--" Kirsten starts, but doesn't get to finish her sentence.
"Le'oos!" She says, making her way to the kitchen and the den.
Kirsten sighs, obviously torn, before saying, "give me a sec. I'll bring her bucket of Legos," and she leaves the room after Sophie.
They wait, silence heavy with expectation, before Kirsten returns with Sophie in her hands, and places her on the carpet, right by her knees, bucket of Legos for Sophie to do as she pleases.
Ryan takes in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "I have something to tell you."
He wishes he knew how to start this, this sentence, this moment in time that will change his future. He wishes he didn't have to tell them, that they could just know, intuitively, and that he didn't have to do this, to say this, to go through the words once again, like he did three weeks ago with Seth.
The only way he can start, he thinks, is at the beginning.
"Five weeks ago, I went to the optometrist to have my eyes checked." He sighs, turning around, giving Sandy and Kirsten a sideways glance before looking down at his hands. He can't, he can't look at them and say this. He's not strong enough. "I thought it was nothing. I thought I only needed a new prescription."
He snorts, because he doesn't know what else to do with that memory. Certain he was going to have to call Kirsten, explain the two hundred bucks he withdrew from his and Seth's expense account, having to accept that yes, he needs new contacts and new glasses. He has given up on the contacts, they only irritate his retinas, and the glasses make things look blurry at the best of times and make his head hurt at the worst.
Ryan glances to his right, at Kirsten. He can see the contour of her face, the outline of her hair and her shoulders, the way her hands are folded on her lap, but he can't see her eyes. They look like a blur of blue, with no shades in between, like a stroke of a brush on a skin colored canvas. Just a blotch of blue. Her eyes, he thinks, and swallows thickly, looking down at his hands. The edges of his own fingers look as if something had blurred them while the paint was still drying.
"I was told to see an ophthalmologist."
He pauses, closing his eyes, and remembers his nights at Berkeley, in their two bedroom apartment. At night, he can hear nothing but the wind and his fear, darkness pulling around the corners of his very eyes. He blinks, opening his eyes, and though he knows Seth's on his left -- sitting on the armrest of the armchair he's occupying at the moment -- Seth's too far to his side. In his blind spot, in his ever decreasing peripheral vision. He can feel Seth's warmth as Seth's elbow touching his forearm, but when he glances at Seth from the corner of his eyes, all he can see is layers of black. It's like hands have been placed on either side of his head and he has not noticed them moving, slowly closing around on him, closer and closer, until he will have nothing left to see.
"Sweetie, whatever it is, it's okay."
Kirsten's words don't quite reach him, and it's not until there's a hand on his knee that he flinches, the touch suddenly too much, too bright, too strong, too everything, and he takes in a shaky breath.
Ryan wants to snort. "No, it's not."
She doesn't gasp, or if she does, he doesn't hear her, but she does squeeze his knee once before pulling her hand away.
"Mommy?"
Ryan glances down at Sophie, looking up at Kirsten with a frown on her beautiful face, her eyebrows scrunched up, and Ryan can't help it, he reaches out, caresses her face and grimaces.
I won't see you turn ten, probably. I might not even see you turn five, Sophie. I'm sorry.
"It's okay, baby," Kirsten says after a moment, but her voice catches, and Ryan doesn't know if she's talking to Sophie or to him.
He sighs, and he wishes he knew how to start this, when his chest seems compressed by fear alone and all he can hear is his heartbeat beating in his temples, he sighs and says, "I have retinitis pigmentosa."
Ryan doesn't glance at them, like he did when he told Seth. He doesn't think he could take it, the confusion in their eyes, the worry that comes from knowing that a confession like this can't hold anything good.
In his mind, Ryan can almost see them. Kirsten blinking, confused, and at the same time worried about him. He can see Sandy, shaking his head, in denial, concern but at odds, and he can see Seth's reaction all over again, looking at Ryan knowing there was more to those words than what met the eye.
"Ryan--?"
"There are things I need to explain first," Ryan whispers, his voice low, his hands clutching each other in a death grip. "Please."
They don't say anything for a moment, and Ryan wishes he was strong enough to look at them and see what they are thinking, if only this time. He sighs, and gives in, and looking up, he can only see Kirsten, the outline of her face, the curve of her lips. He can't see her eyes, not anymore, and wonders if it's his eyes that are tired or if he's too late to see her eyes now.
Sandy reaches for Kirsten's hand, and holds onto it tightly, and Ryan blinks, looking up at Sandy. Sandy's eyes, Ryan remembers, so much like Seth's, and so different at the same time. His eyes, though reassuring, aren't as open as Seth's. His eyes, Ryan remembers, because he can't see them anymore, were the one thing that made him trust Sandy in the first place.
And so he starts, the litany of words and sentences that have become his life, his ever- changing present, the light that no longer shines in his eyes, but around him, and he has been blinded to. There's not much to be said, nothing to add to what he told Seth, and yet this time, it seems to weigh him down twice as much as it did weeks ago.
At some point in his story, Sophie stands up, noticing that the mood around her has changed, and goes to her mother, holding out her hands. Kirsten picks her up and settles her on her lap and Sophie buries her face in Kirsten's chest. Ryan closes his eyes for a second before continuing.
It's the Cohens he gets to see now, to hear fall quiet in shock and surprise. He might not be able to see the change of color in their eyes as the words pour from him, the explanations, the small story that will be told in less than ten minutes, but he can see it still. In a way. He can see them shift, from worried to sorrowful, and then to something akin to denial, very much like Seth had been three weeks ago.
Ryan explains and repeats himself, there's nothing to be done, there's nothing, I'm sorry, but this is the way it is. There's no medicine to make him better, no treatment that would help, no doctor that knows a way. And so it takes them almost an hour to finally be done with the subject, for Ryan to let them know that yes, it's happening, in that very minute.
"I'm sure there's something we can do," Kirsten says, conviction in her voice, and Ryan sighs, tiredly, sick of this conversation.
"Mom--"
"You haven't looked enough, you haven't talked with any specialists, have you?" Kirsten shakes her head, looking at Ryan and he wishes he could do something, tell her something that will give her peace of mind, that will make her stop. Sophie sniffs against her and she placates her child. "There's research, clinical trials, we're always raising funds for medical research--"
"There's nothing, mom, would you quit it?" Seth sighs, turning to look at Ryan, who can't help but look down at his hands. "We've tried, okay? We looked, and I did the very same thing you're doing right now and this is the fucking end of the race, okay?"
Kirsten gasps, probably surprised Seth can so much as talk to her like that. Ryan sighs, and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "Seth Ezekiel--"
"At times I think the only reason you gave me that middle name is so you could yell at me," Seth says with a glare, his eyes narrowing.
It's Sandy's hand that prevents her from saying anything else. She looks down at Sandy, now sitting next to her on the couch, having moved there somewhere along the explanation, holding onto her hand. "Kirsten, please," Sandy says.
Ryan blinks, turning to look at Sophie, her eyes closed, her mouth down in a pout. Sandy sounds like Seth did, sadness lacing his voice. Sandy sounds broken, at the very end of his rope, and it pains Ryan that he put that there. That he did this to him, to them.
Kirsten sighs, tiredly, and nods. Sandy gives her a small smile that looks more like a grimace on his lips. He turns to look at both boys, and whispers, "How long have you known?"
The question makes Ryan's chest grow cold, his hands shake and he clenches them even more in his lap. He has lied to them, Ryan knows, if only by omission. But how was he supposed to say this? How could he look at them, when he could actually see them, and tell them that he's doing this to them now, after everything that happened when he was in high school? How could he break them like this?
Ryan has to answer, he knows, he owes them that much at the very least.
"Three weeks," Ryan says, his voice low, his eyes not leaving his hands.
It's the lack of response that makes Ryan look up, at Kirsten, looking broken, sitting right there, never so fragile as this moment, this minute. He's hurting her, he's hurting her and he wishes he didn't have to. She's his mom, and Ryan's hurting her with this.
"All this time..." Kirsten takes in a deep breath that sounds as if it could end up in a sob. "My God, all this time, and you never told us?"
Ryan sighs, and this time there's no need for his eyes to work, for him to be able to see the change of shade in her blue eyes, the way the lines around her lips tighten or how her face crumbles into a grimace of pain and sorrow, because he can hear that in her voice alone.
"I didn't know how to tell you," Ryan says, his voice nothing but a whisper in the otherwise silent room. "I didn't know how to--" He shrugs, and pauses for a moment, and in that second he's the same person he was all those years ago, with his head ducked, his voice so low. "I didn't know how to say it."
"Oh, sweetie," Ryan hears Kirsten say and looks up in time to see her shift Sophie to Sandy and then stand up and pull him to her chest.
And it's the angle, Ryan sitting and her standing, that allows her to press him to her stomach, like he feels she has done before, to Seth, probably, when he was young, a kid in her arms. "Oh, baby."
Ryan doesn't say anything, his throat choked up from the emotion. He wants to put his arms around her, he wants to bury his face in her stomach, but doesn't even know how to start to do so. Instead, he sighs, his hands holding onto her hips, and he breathes in. It's easy to recognize her perfume, traces of cotton in her blouse, and the softness coming not from the feminine in her, but the mother in her very breath.
It's almost a minute before they pull away, before Kirsten places him at arm's length and looks at him.
"You don't have to keep anything a secret, Ryan. Everything you want to tell us, everything you don't ever want to tell us--" She pauses as her voice quivers, and she chuckles, tears in her eyes and her voice. "Oh, sweetie. We're your parents, you gotta believe that. We love you. We--" She shakes her head. "You can tell us everything, please. Don't do this again, okay? Don't keep this to yourself again."
It's not a question, but Ryan can only nod, closing his eyes as he does so.
She nods as well, giving him a small hug before sitting down once again, her hands trembling in her lap. Sandy takes them in between his and kisses them, over Sophie's head.
"What do you wanna do now?" Sandy asks, because he knows someone has to, and Kristen is too heartbroken to think beyond the now and the two months they had not known about this.
Ryan sighs, blinking, trying to find the beginning of the sentence to that question. It's not as if he hasn't thought about this, that very answer, for the past three weeks. He hasn't been able to do much but think, to do research for areas of work, to think about it over and over again, until all he could come up with was giving up the pretense that graduating was even worth it.
"I want to finish the semester, then--" Ryan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes start stinging from the back all the way up to his forehead. He sighs. "I don't know. I don't know if I can graduate, I don't even know if I'll be able to go to school next year. And Dr. McKay suggested that I start considering the rest of my options."
Kirsten looks back at him, giving him a small smile, a sad smile, and leans forward to take his right hand in both of hers.
"It's okay, sweetie," she says, conviction in her voice that Ryan knows she's telling herself she feels. "We'll--" She takes in a deep breath. "We can look into things. There's no need to rush into anything."
Ryan looks at her, leaning forward, so close to him that he can see the redness around the white of her eyes, the tight lines around the corners, and he sighs.
There's nothing we can do, Ryan wants to tell her again. There's nothing anyone can do. But he says nothing.
It will not happen overnight, Ryan tells himself in his mind, and that is his only comfort when there's nothing but darkness surrounding him, and it's still never enough.
"Look," Seth after a moment, when the pressure behind Ryan's eyes has been too much and he starts pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're tired, Ryan more so, and this won't change between tonight and tomorrow, so how about we go to bed and then, well." He sighs. "Tomorrow we can keep talking about this."
The parents agree, reluctantly. Ryan can barely manage a couple of words to them, stupid platitudes, whispers of, "it's alright. I'm fine. I'll be fine."
Kirsten doesn't break down, but she hugs him tight, crushing him against her chest, and he can hear her tears in her breath, the edge of a sob on her throat, and it's by sheer will alone that she's composed when she pulls away.
Sandy doesn't say anything, only hugs him as well he can with Sophie still in his arms, swallows thickly, and says his goodnights as well.
Ryan kisses Sophie's cheek, who holds out her arms to him, and he picks her up for a second. She might not understand what was said, but she knows. Ryan can almost feel her asking questions with her eyes, and he can only kiss her cheek, her face, her eyes and then give her to Kirsten. He'll tell her everything, Ryan tells himself, he'll tell her everything, every detail of his disease, when she's old enough to understand him.
And after everything that has happened, after the confession that feels as if it was ripped out of his very soul, he's too tired to want to think about anything else but reaching his bed and turning around, his back to the wall, and forgetting this night ever happened.
"Come on," Seth whispers against his ear, hand on Ryan's left elbow. "Let's go to the pool house."
Ryan looks over his shoulder at Seth, half glaring, but not even having the strength to do so completely. "I can find my way there, thank you very much. I've only slept there for three years, you know?"
But he knows he's complaining to the air, and Seth knows this as well, and neither of them add anything else as they make their way through the kitchen and to the French doors. Ryan halts his step as he pushes open the French door, feet on tiled floor, the change in light catching him unprepared, even though he was waiting for it.
He breathes in shakily and can't help but take a step back, bumping his back against Seth's chest, and all Seth does is change grip, his right hand on Ryan's right elbow.
"It's okay, it's okay." Ryan closes his eyes, Seth's breath warm on his ear. "Just give it a minute. Just give yourself a minute."
Meaningless words, nothing but breath and air and sounds, Ryan's breathing turning shallow and his chest tight. The hand on his elbow tightens, almost making him hurt, but at least the pain calls his attention away from the fact that all he can see is darkness and black and no top nor bottom, no right nor left, and he takes in a breath that ends in a sigh.
"It's going to come back, Ryan. It's okay. It's not going to happen overnight."
He closes his eyes tighter against the words he has been telling himself, coming from Seth's mouth. He nods, barely a moment from his head, and when he opens his eyes again, they are finally adjusting to the change of light. He can see the edges of the house on his left, of the pool house before him, and the pool a little to his left. He can see the edges, but no details, but for him, those aren't needed as long as he has this, this much, this little.
"Ryan?"
The question shouldn't surprise him, but it does, and he blinks, taken back by Seth patiently waiting for him to feel confident enough to move. Ryan nods, not knowing what to say, how to answer that simple question, and can almost feel Seth nod behind him.
Seth shifts his hold once again, right hand on Ryan's left arm, before they make their way slowly to the pool house, five steps up to the patio, the chimney and couches around it to his right, pool to his left, then slowly to the pool house, one last step and he's inside. It's Seth who turns on the light inside the pool house and Ryan blinks, blinded once again and he bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard, he's certain he has drawn blood.
"Shit, can you--?"
Ryan can only shake his head at Seth's question, angry and frustrated all in one, and he tries to remember how far away the futon is. It can't be more than three paces, it can't be. He takes one step forward, tentatively, and Seth's hold on his left arm tightens. He shakes his head once again, pulls away harshly, and takes another step. He freezes in that moment, fear like he has never experienced before clenching around his throat and he takes in a shaky breath, lips pressed into a thin line.
It feels like he's at the edge of a cliff, nothing but blackness before him.
Another step, he tells himself, the bed can't be more than another step away.
It feels like he's at the edge of a cliff.
Just another step.
At the edge--
"Ryan--"
The hand on his elbow, wanting nothing more than to stir him to safe harbor. But he's tired of having to depend on someone, on a hand on his elbow for him to fucking see his surroundings.
"I'm fine, damn it," he hisses through his lips, jerking away from Seth's grasp.
He half turns as he moves away from Seth and that leaves him without a sense of direction, with no idea of north or south, and though a minute ago he was certain the bed had to be another step before him, now it could very well be a mile to his right for all he knows.
"Fuck." Ryan blinks, rapidly and furiously, and his eyes make no distinction between light and dark, shapes or forms. It's nothing but a dim gray before him, around him. When the hand arrives again, only fingers touching the inside of his wrist, he has to sigh and give in and let himself be led to the bed.
He walks slowly, two more steps, and Seth whispers, "right there. Slowly." In his next step, he can feel the edge of the futon against his shins and he can't help the sigh of relief that escapes his lips, turning around carefully and sitting down.
It's only when he can feel the covers against the back of his legs, the edge of the futon underneath the clenching of his own hand, that he leans forward, neck tingling with anger and embarrassment that burns deep inside him and lets him know that he's coming closer to the day when he blinks, the dark will stay.
His breathing is loud in his ears, akin to pounding in surround sound, and for a moment he wonders if Seth can hear it too, if he can understand the reason he has his fingers in his hair, his eyes covered with the heels of his palms.
"I'm gonna go for our bags."
Hesitation, fear, apprehension, all that Ryan can hear in Seth's tone, in the way the words are spoken, in the very inflection of them. Ryan snorts, somewhere inside him, because at least he can hear properly, at least he can get some input from his fucking ears now that his eyes have decided to quit on him. At least he can still read Seth by ear as he used to do by sight. The feeling is very little consolation to him now.
Ryan doesn't answer, doesn't even move, but a second later he hears Seth moving to the front door, closing it after him softly. He sighs, shaking his head once before pulling his hands down and looking around him.
His eyes are clearing, slowly, almost tiredly, and he can understand. It's been a long day, with too many shifts and changes of light, and just as he can feel his very bones heavy with exhaustion, his eyes have to be feeling the same -- worse. And yet, he can remember a time when he could have walked into the pool house and not even needed the night lamp on the nightstand. The moonlight and the lights Kirsten always left on until she went to bed on the outside of the house, surrounding both the pool and the very property, would have been more than enough.
Ryan stands with some hesitation, with doubt he hates himself for feeling, and looks out the glass panels. The catch of the light in the glass gives him a headache, his pulse thumping loudly in his temples, and his eyes seem to flicker with the light as well. He closes his eyes, turning away from it, and when he opens them, hesitant at first, he can see the edges of the lamp, the steps, and the kitchen area to his left. He sighs, and moves slowly around the bed to the bathroom.
He doesn't turn the light on inside, afraid his eyes will blink out once again, and washes his face with the dim light coming from outside. His brush is in his bag, along with the sweats and t-shirt he wears for bed, and he groans in the back of his throat.
He stares at his reflection in the mirror. He can't quite see the shape of his eyes, or the lines around them, but he can see the blur that they are now, the contour of his hair, of his cheeks and his jaw. It's like he has taken his glasses off and is now shortsighted, it's exactly like that. And still, this much sight, this moment, in the very present of his life, it almost feels like a miracle.
When he walks out, Seth's sitting on the edge of the bed, in pajamas himself, and Ryan wonders how long he was in the bathroom, staring at a shape of himself that he can barely see. It's obvious in the way Seth's there, just looking back at Ryan, that whatever he wants to tell Seth about this, about not needing company when all he's going to do is crash in his bed and close his eyes and tell himself not to think about how he can't possibly be a Civil Engineer if he can't fucking see, is going to fall on deaf ears.
Ryan sighs and makes his way to his bag on the bed. He puts on his sweatpants and white t-shirt while Seth's in the bathroom, and when the other boy walks out, Ryan's already placing the bag next to the whickered boxes that he used as a closet for years. He lies in bed in silence, pulling back the covers and lying on his right like always. Seth's takes the right side of the bed, the one closest to the night lamp, his back to Ryan, and he's the one to turn it off. Ryan blinks, and it's nothing but darkness once again, and this time he closes his eyes with nothing but a sense of defeat against the shadow of the enemy he can't fight anymore.
Seth shifts on the bed, Ryan can feel it dip and move and complain slightly, and he smiles, because this he remembers from the years of high school. Seth crawling into his bed when he was scared or worried, coming to the pool house so they could talk, so Seth could talk and Ryan could listen. Just being there, the two of them, against everything and everyone.
United, we're unstoppable. But divided--
That he remembers, and with that in his memory, it's easy to close his eyes and give in to sleep.
He's so far under, so very quickly, that he almost doesn't feel one final dip of the bed and the hand on his shoulder.
When Ryan blinks, sleepiness still around the edges of his mind, gnawing at him like cobwebs, he can see clearer than he has in a long time. He blinks once again, and opens his eyes wide, and though the curtains of the pool house are down, the light pouring inside lets him see the edges of every single piece of furniture, see details like his old desk against the furthest wall, the very wrinkles in his knuckles.
He takes in a deep breath, lighter in his chest, and is about to stand up when he takes notice of the hand on his waist, the body close to his, chest to his back, and smiles. Seth was always a snuggler. Slowly, as not to wake Seth, he lifts the hand from his hip and places it on top of the bed. He pulls back the covers and stands up, and when he walks toward the doors, he doesn't hesitate in his step. He feels nothing but confidence in his eyes for once, and doesn't dare question how long this will last, how long his eyes will last.
Ryan pushes the doors open and though the sun light hits him in the eyes, he squints and for a minute all he can see is the vast expanse of ocean before him, its blueness and bottomlessness and neverending vastness, and he has to take in a breath, slowly, carefully. He has to blink to see where the ocean meets the horizon and how the shore is nothing but light brown. There are trees and grass and the ocean and the sky, and he blinks once again, telling himself to see everything, see it now while he still can. See it now and memorize it, carve it into his skin, because the next time he comes back to visit, he might not be able to see this in all its beauty and be taken back by it just as much as he was that very first time, six years ago.
And those six years feel like nothing but a breath, a minute and a second ago. The way he breathes in, the way his hand shakes as it tightens around the knob, he might as well be fifteen and not know his way around the house, not know that there's a boy in the kitchen waiting for him to befriend, parents who will care for him when he most needs it, a future for him to start living.
He closes his eyes and he can see it all again. That morning, Seth sitting on the floor, controller in hand, looking confused and alone and young and everything in one, Sandy saying they should go to the party that night, Kirsten smiling and not quite believing he isn't going to steal the jewelry.
And yet in six years his life has changed. He has someone on his side now, who cares about what might happen to him, who cares enough to steer him to safe harbor, to be his safe harbor. He has parents who worry, who feel helpless for him, over him. He has a life, he will always have a life, even if he doesn't have the eyes to see it.
When he opens his eyes, the sun still shines over him, and the ocean is still endless, but it's right, around him. Life, if only for a second, is just right.
"Ryan?"
Ryan looks over his shoulder, and the dimness of the pool house plays tricks on his sight, and this time he can barely see the outline of Seth's form, sitting down. He can imagine Seth blinking, head cocked to the side, confusion and just the tinge of fear in his eyes. He smiles again and tells himself he doesn't need his eyes to see Seth, even though that doesn't comfort him as much as he wishes it did.
"I'm here, Seth."
Seth doesn't answer, and when his eyes have adjusted to the light, he blinks. Seth's smiling back at him, nodding, pushing back the covers. He joins Ryan by the doors of the pool house and places his hand on Ryan's shoulder, leaving it there only a second before dropping it to his side.
"Come on, let's go have breakfast."
Ryan nods, turning to his left and walking down the steps to the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder, horizon and ocean melding into a blue that burns his retinas, and when he turns around once again, Seth's looking at him. He sighs, and though he wants to smile, can't find it within himself to do so. Seth doesn't question, doesn't prod, only nods and they make their way to the kitchen with confident footing, in silence and under the bright morning light.
Yes, yes, I'm dying to hear what you have to say. That's nothing new. *bounces*
A little over a week since the last update. This time around, it was all my doing. *nods* With work and school and my dad actually using the computer one night this week, I could have updated sooner. *shrugs* Sorry.
God, now, what do I do? Do I work? Do I actually do get working on a paper I have for school? Or do I watch something? *thinks about pondering that one* *giggles*
Title: Shadowboxing.
Author: M. F. Luder
Pairing: Ryan/Seth.
Rating: PG-13.
Category: Future fic. Drama. Me being evil. *nods*
Spoilers: Up to "The End's not Near, is Here", but with selective spoilers. *g*
Challenge: From fanfic100 and 24. family. The rest of the stories can be found at Big Damn Table.
Author's note: Betad by storydivagirl, who totally rocks. I have two betas working on this story because, apparently, I write too much and too fast and people have lives. *nods*
Special thanks to popmusicjunkie, who I totally adore and love and she must know this, or I'll hurt her. *winks* You put up with me while I was writing this, and you nudged and pushed and threatened with bodily harm when it was mostly needed, and for that, I will love you forever. *nods*
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Shadowboxing
III.
Seth sighs as the cab pulls into the driveway, and he pauses for a moment before looking to his right at Ryan. Ryan, who has done nothing but look out the window the whole drive from the airport to the house. Ryan, who has barely said a word the entire plane ride.
It's the way Ryan sits, his head turned around, eyes glued to the window, that makes Seth sigh. Ryan doesn't look ready to leave the car, at least not yet, and Seth doesn't see the point in pushing him. And he's willing to sit there for as long as Ryan needs, and he's about to tell that to the cabby when the front door opens and the parents rush out, nineteen-month-old Sophie in Kirsten's arms, squirming to be put on the ground and allowed to rush herself at her siblings. Seth sighs, glancing at Ryan, who looks back at him.
Seth gets out of the car, watching Ryan do the same out of the corner of his eyes, as he sees his dad approaching him. His dad hugs him, his mother stays back as Sophie finds her footing and wobbles over to Ryan, hugging his knees.
"Dayan," Sophie says against his jeans, hugging as tight as she can.
Seth swallows as Ryan picks her up in his arms and gives her a sloppy kiss. "How are you kiddo?"
Sophie giggles, holding onto Ryan even as his mother to pull him into a hug.
When his dad lets Seth go, his dad is grinning, and Seth glances at Ryan, in his mother's hold but at arms length for her to look at him closely, Sophie hugging Ryan's neck so tight, slobbering all over the collar of his shirt. For a second, Seth can't help but wonder if his mother can see it, notice the difference in Ryan's eyes, that not quite there look that has taken over at the worst of times.
"You guys are early!" Kirsten says, her gaze shifting from Ryan to Seth, then back to Ryan, giving him another tight hug, careful of Sophie in his arms. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow morning. God, we wanted to pick you up from the airport."
Seth chuckles, shrugging as he does so. Yesterday afternoon, before Ryan's Structural Analysis, he had told Seth to try and find them tickets for Friday afternoon, after six. He wanted to get it over with, the sooner the better. He can't quite tell that to the parents. "We figured, well, why wait another day. Ryan finished his test, and I had nothing to get done."
"You should have called us," Sandy says, slapping Seth on the shoulder. "We could have gone and picked you boys up."
"It's okay."
They take their bags out, only one each, and Seth watches with a soft smile as they make their way to the front door, his mom hugging him before reaching the front steps, his dad hugging Ryan as well.
Ryan doesn't say anything, and after giving her big brother another wet kiss, Sophie asks to be put down, and Ryan complies. She rushes past the front door and into the house, and as the two of them walk into the house, Seth can't help but reach for Ryan's elbow, to touch it slightly, and even he can feel the change in lighting inside. The living room is brightly illuminated and that enough should throw Ryan off, and he knows Ryan doesn't want to tell the parents, not quite yet.
Ryan hesitates, halting in his step, his eyes nothing but worthless muscles that could be plucked out with a fork, for all the help they are. There are stairs leading down to the living room, three of them, and he can see the edge of them, a little bit of a blur, more than they should be. He's familiar with this room, this house, he didn't live here for three years for nothing. But it's been three months since he visited, since the holidays, and truth is that when he closes his eyes, he can't quite fill the empty spaces where furniture should be.
The hand on his elbow squeezes slightly, and there's a whisper against his ear. "Two steps and there are the stairs, three steps down, remember?"
He does. He knows.
Ryan sighs, walking forward, the hand on his forearm, touching him steadily, not once leaving him. He makes his way down the steps slowly, half afraid, because his eyes have not yet adjusted. He makes his way down the steps with so much hesitation, he's surprised the parents haven't noticed. He breathes a long sigh of relief when his feet tentatively touch the ground floor.
The hand stays with him, and as he makes his way through the living room and into the kitchen, his eyes start to adjust. When he enters the kitchen, Ryan can feel the change of light in the way his eyes sting somewhere in the back, how they burn as he blinks, and when he opens his eyes, he recognizes the island before him. He touches it with trembling fingers and clenches the edge tightly.
"You okay?"
Ryan nods, barely a movement of his head, and he keeps on blinking, the shapes around him taking form and the light slowly shining brighter in the darkness around him.
"We were just going to order dinner."
Sandy's voice, Ryan can recognize in a moment, and he turns around, looking at a shape that can only be Sandy. He blinks, nodding again, and in a moment he can see the contour of Sandy's face, the blur of his eyes, and it's not much worse than it would be if Ryan wasn't wearing his glasses.
"Boys, what do you want? Sophie, please, we're having dinner in a bit, put your toys away."
Kirsten's voice this time, on his left, closer than Sandy. Ryan turns around, completely turns around, and he can see her more clearly than h can see Sandy. The line of her mouth, the mug of coffee in her hand. He can't see her eyes, but then again, it's been so long since he was able to see anyone's eyes without his glasses. He smiles at her, tight and painful, but smiles.
"Thai will be fine," Seth answers for Ryan, and Ryan nods.
Something moves from out of the den toward them and when he looks down, it's Sophie with something in her hands and showing it to them. It's an orange block of Lego. Ryan's voice catches in his throat.
"Thanks, Sophie," he whispers, taking it from her, and then she rushes back into the den.
He glances over his shoulder, to where Seth's standing, left forearm touching his right, his only connection to the outside world. He sighs, softly, and then Seth's left hand touches the low of his back, and Ryan can only nod. He has no way of thanking Seth for answering a question he doesn't think he could have answered himself.
"Sure."
"We'll be in the den, okay? God, we're tired," Seth says, and before the parents can answer, Seth's hand is on his back, pushing him slightly, and Ryan takes the hint.
Ryan walks, slowly, hesitantly, but when they pass the fridge, Seth's hand moves to his elbow once again.
"It's okay, I'm here. It's okay."
Ryan nods, and the light coming from the den doesn't shock him this time, and when he turns the corner, he can actually see the TV set, if not recognize what's being shown. Sophie giggles and throws something and it crashes against the floor. Kirsten calls out a warning and Sophie giggles again and Ryan's heart catches, because fuck, when he turns to look at his sister -- his baby sister, only nineteen months old -- she's nothing but a blur of pink shirt and golden hair, sitting on the corner of the couch, a million toys around her.
He sighs, so tired, his very weight seeming to be pulling him down. He sits down heavily on the couch, closes his eyes and leans his head back. He bites back the desire to groan from tiredness.
"We have to tell them," Seth says, leaning to his right, to whisper in Ryan's ear. "Ryan, dude, we gotta tell them," Seth says again, his voice lowered, closer, secretive.
"Not yet," Ryan whispers back, eyes closed shut, a grimace on his face.
"How in the world are you gonna get to the pool house, huh?"
Ryan cringes at Seth's words, at the fucking truth hitting him in the face, but says nothing.
"No, no, way, Ryan. We're telling them."
"Seth--"
"We have to," Seth hisses under his breath, in Ryan's ear, and Ryan turns to look at Seth this time.
He narrows his eyes, not quite seeing Seth's eyes, and definitely no seeing Sophie because she's too far off to the left, in his blind spot, and his chest goes cold all of a sudden. "It's my secret to tell, Seth. And we're not."
Seth sighs, shakes his head and closes his eyes. Ryan glances to his left, turning his head around until he can finally, finally see Sophie with her Legos and building something before she stands up and makes her way to the kitchen. He can hear Kristen thanking Sophie and Sophie saying something he can't quite catch. He sighs again, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. The back of his shoulders ache, pressure seeming to have moved from behind his eyes down to his throat, and a second later he can feel Seth's eyes on him.
Dinner is filled with questions about the subjects they are taking, about the teachers and the lab reports. Seth talks about the books he's reading for British Authors, and ten minutes into dinner, Ryan's grinning and laughing here and there, so very easy to fool himself into believing that it's three years ago and they are both in high school and everything is right with the world. He can almost believe that he can see beyond the other side of the table, that those shapeless beige things are the cabinets and he can read the time on the clock at the other side of the kitchen. That he can see Kirsten, see the change of shades in her eyes and what she's saying with them, that he can see the lines of age in Sandy's forehead, the way Sophie laughs, with her head thrown back, like Seth used to laugh.
"What about you, sweetie?" Kirsten asks after a moment, turning to her left, handing Sophie a piece of chicken that she squeezes in one pudgy hand before nibbling on it. Kirsten caresses Sophie's face before turning to him.
Ryan can only glance to his left, Seth's elbow still touching his, and then to his right, where Sandy sits at the head of the table, grinning at him as well. He swallows. "Kirsten--"
"I mean, any girls you want to tell us about?"
Ryan chuckles, nervousness seeping from his pores, and he can feel the sweat on his palms and he can only clean them on his jeans. "Oh, that. No, nothing. I'm--" He shrugs, not sure what to say. "I've been too busy."
"Never too busy for love, Ryan. Never too busy." Sandy says with a soft and almost tender tone, and Ryan turns his head around to see Sandy looking at Kirsten. And he can't see what Sandy's saying with his eyes, but he can imagine it, and that, for him, right now, is more than enough.
He coughs into his hand, something bitter and dark uncoiling from his inside, from his stomach, and coming up to close his throat. Seth's touch, on his forearm, and Ryan shakes his head. "I'm fine."
"Ryan--?"
"Fine," he says slowly, with a glare and a tight smile, but Seth doesn't back off. He shakes his head, and he has never needed air as much as he does at the moment. "Excuse me," he says, and he has barely pushed back his chair before there's Seth's hand, holding onto his elbow, not letting him go.
"Ryan?"
Ryan gives Seth a tight smile, and hopes his eyes are saying that which he can't say at the moment, not with the parents next to him, not with them watching his every move. "I'll be right back."
Seth sighs, Ryan can almost hear the sound, before nodding and letting his hand drop. With one last smile to the table, Ryan turns around, slowly, and makes his way through the kitchen and to the living room.
Seth can only watch Ryan go, nothing but apprehension in his throat, like a hand gripping so tight he might fucking suffocate before Ryan returns. He sighs, leaning back in the chair, tiredness in his very bones, and maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come to Newport on a Friday night. They could have taken the afternoon off, rest, recuperate, recharge, whatever, before going as they had planned and coming home on Saturday morning. Bright and early and after a night where neither of them had to pretend.
"Seth, is everything okay?"
He looks up, and his mom is looking right at him, blue eyes filled with concern, and he can feel his throat closing in fear. Oh, fuck. Ryan, damn it, why did you leave me alone? I'm gonna cave, I swear to God. I'm so gonna cave.
He shrugs, swallowing as he does so. "Yeah, he's fine."
His mother's eyes, blue, very much like Ryan's but only a shade darker, narrow. "Seth, I'm your mother. I've known you all twenty years of your life. What are you not telling me?"
"Mom, God. What are you talking about? Me, hiding?" He shakes his head, chuckling as he does so, but if he can hear the nervousness in his laughter, then so can his parents. Even Sophie seems to be looking at him all weird and stuff. "Why would I ever--?"
"Seth," his dad picks up, his eyebrows frowning, leaning forward to look at him in the eye, "if Ryan's having trouble with the subjects--"
But his dad doesn't get to finish that sentence, and Seth doesn't have the time to actually cave and say everything Ryan doesn't want him to tell. There's a crash in the living room and Seth can feel his heart jumping up to his throat, and everything seems to still for a second. And then everything's rushing as he pushes his chair back, falling down in the process, and he rushes out the kitchen and to the living room.
"Oh, God," Seth whispers, barely even catching his breath, and he can see Ryan on his hands and knees, slowly pulling himself up, in the middle of the living room. "Oh, God, Ryan--"
He makes his way in between the couch and the center table, reaching out, touching Ryan's shoulder, trying not to startle him, even as Ryan cringes.
intuitively
Ryan doesn't pull away this time, when there's a hand on his shoulder, and he can remember earlier this week when he had lashed out at Seth for trying to help him. Ryan swallows, his hand bumping Seth's chest and gripping a tight fistful of Seth's shirt. "Seth?"
"I'm here, I'm right here."
And it's stupid, the way he just fell down, face first. So fucking stupid that he didn't see the couch on the right, didn't notice the center table on his left and when his shin hit it, he lost his balance and vertigo caught him for a second and that was more than enough for him to lose his footing and fall down with anything but grace.
Seth's hands, one on his right arm, the other on his left elbow holding him from behind, are the ones that help him up, and even when he's standing, Seth doesn't let go until Ryan's certain he can hold his own weight. Ryan takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and he turns around, looking over his right shoulder, wanting nothing more than to see Seth. He wants to see Seth's face, concern in brown eyes. He fucking wants to see Seth's face and this blur of color that seems to barely hold shape, to haunt him on the edges of his vision. His left hand reaches forward clumsily and Seth lets his left elbow go, allowing him to turn around in his hold, Seth's hand still on Ryan's right arm.
"It's okay. I'm here. Dude, it's okay."
He can't quite see Seth's eyes now, not after the fall and the movement, and Seth's face is nothing but this shapeless thing on top of his neck and Seth's eyes aren't even part of the shape, nothing but a blotch of brown and Ryan grimaces, shaking his head. He might not be able to see Seth, but he can hear him, the anguish in his tone, and Ryan gives him a small smile and a self conscious shrug. "I didn't see the coffee table."
Seth chuckles, but Ryan can hear tears in his voice. "I kinda thought so, dude. Clumsy you."
Ryan gives him a small smile, even through the pain in his chest, in his heart, in his very hands, and his left one reaches for Seth's waist, holding on for a moment, a second. When he looks over Seth's shoulder, the parents are looking at him, Sophie in Kirsten's arms, saying, "no, no, down, down, mommy, down." Ryan can't see their eyes either, can't even see their expression, but he doesn't need to see to know that they are looking at him with wide eyes, surprised, confused, and just a little bit scared.
Seth's hand tightens on Ryan's forearm before letting him go, and Ryan nods, silently thanking him. He takes a step to the side, a careful step as not to repeat the performance of a second ago, and bends his head down to really see the floor. He reaches the armchair at the corner of the living room and he sighs, sitting down heavily. Seth stands next to him, hand hovering over his shoulder before falling to grip the bone, tight and soft at the same time.
The parents don't say anything for a second and then Kirsten finally puts Sophie down, and closes the distance and stands right before him. His eyes sting in the back, his throat tight, and his neck burns with embarrassment because this certainly wasn't the way he wanted to break this to them.
"Ryan, sweetie, what--?"
"I think you better sit down," Seth says with a sigh, and Ryan can only look down at his hands.
After a moment, Seth squeezes his shoulders and he looks up at Seth. Seth gives him a small smile, close to encouraging, but Ryan can imagine it tastes bittersweet in Seth's tongue.
Ryan nods, turns around, Kirsten's sitting on the armrest of the couch to his right, Sandy taking a seat on the coffee table, his hand gripping Kirsten's tightly.
"Sophie--" Kirsten starts, but doesn't get to finish her sentence.
"Le'oos!" She says, making her way to the kitchen and the den.
Kirsten sighs, obviously torn, before saying, "give me a sec. I'll bring her bucket of Legos," and she leaves the room after Sophie.
They wait, silence heavy with expectation, before Kirsten returns with Sophie in her hands, and places her on the carpet, right by her knees, bucket of Legos for Sophie to do as she pleases.
Ryan takes in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "I have something to tell you."
He wishes he knew how to start this, this sentence, this moment in time that will change his future. He wishes he didn't have to tell them, that they could just know, intuitively, and that he didn't have to do this, to say this, to go through the words once again, like he did three weeks ago with Seth.
The only way he can start, he thinks, is at the beginning.
"Five weeks ago, I went to the optometrist to have my eyes checked." He sighs, turning around, giving Sandy and Kirsten a sideways glance before looking down at his hands. He can't, he can't look at them and say this. He's not strong enough. "I thought it was nothing. I thought I only needed a new prescription."
He snorts, because he doesn't know what else to do with that memory. Certain he was going to have to call Kirsten, explain the two hundred bucks he withdrew from his and Seth's expense account, having to accept that yes, he needs new contacts and new glasses. He has given up on the contacts, they only irritate his retinas, and the glasses make things look blurry at the best of times and make his head hurt at the worst.
Ryan glances to his right, at Kirsten. He can see the contour of her face, the outline of her hair and her shoulders, the way her hands are folded on her lap, but he can't see her eyes. They look like a blur of blue, with no shades in between, like a stroke of a brush on a skin colored canvas. Just a blotch of blue. Her eyes, he thinks, and swallows thickly, looking down at his hands. The edges of his own fingers look as if something had blurred them while the paint was still drying.
"I was told to see an ophthalmologist."
He pauses, closing his eyes, and remembers his nights at Berkeley, in their two bedroom apartment. At night, he can hear nothing but the wind and his fear, darkness pulling around the corners of his very eyes. He blinks, opening his eyes, and though he knows Seth's on his left -- sitting on the armrest of the armchair he's occupying at the moment -- Seth's too far to his side. In his blind spot, in his ever decreasing peripheral vision. He can feel Seth's warmth as Seth's elbow touching his forearm, but when he glances at Seth from the corner of his eyes, all he can see is layers of black. It's like hands have been placed on either side of his head and he has not noticed them moving, slowly closing around on him, closer and closer, until he will have nothing left to see.
"Sweetie, whatever it is, it's okay."
Kirsten's words don't quite reach him, and it's not until there's a hand on his knee that he flinches, the touch suddenly too much, too bright, too strong, too everything, and he takes in a shaky breath.
Ryan wants to snort. "No, it's not."
She doesn't gasp, or if she does, he doesn't hear her, but she does squeeze his knee once before pulling her hand away.
"Mommy?"
Ryan glances down at Sophie, looking up at Kirsten with a frown on her beautiful face, her eyebrows scrunched up, and Ryan can't help it, he reaches out, caresses her face and grimaces.
I won't see you turn ten, probably. I might not even see you turn five, Sophie. I'm sorry.
"It's okay, baby," Kirsten says after a moment, but her voice catches, and Ryan doesn't know if she's talking to Sophie or to him.
He sighs, and he wishes he knew how to start this, when his chest seems compressed by fear alone and all he can hear is his heartbeat beating in his temples, he sighs and says, "I have retinitis pigmentosa."
Ryan doesn't glance at them, like he did when he told Seth. He doesn't think he could take it, the confusion in their eyes, the worry that comes from knowing that a confession like this can't hold anything good.
In his mind, Ryan can almost see them. Kirsten blinking, confused, and at the same time worried about him. He can see Sandy, shaking his head, in denial, concern but at odds, and he can see Seth's reaction all over again, looking at Ryan knowing there was more to those words than what met the eye.
"Ryan--?"
"There are things I need to explain first," Ryan whispers, his voice low, his hands clutching each other in a death grip. "Please."
They don't say anything for a moment, and Ryan wishes he was strong enough to look at them and see what they are thinking, if only this time. He sighs, and gives in, and looking up, he can only see Kirsten, the outline of her face, the curve of her lips. He can't see her eyes, not anymore, and wonders if it's his eyes that are tired or if he's too late to see her eyes now.
Sandy reaches for Kirsten's hand, and holds onto it tightly, and Ryan blinks, looking up at Sandy. Sandy's eyes, Ryan remembers, so much like Seth's, and so different at the same time. His eyes, though reassuring, aren't as open as Seth's. His eyes, Ryan remembers, because he can't see them anymore, were the one thing that made him trust Sandy in the first place.
And so he starts, the litany of words and sentences that have become his life, his ever- changing present, the light that no longer shines in his eyes, but around him, and he has been blinded to. There's not much to be said, nothing to add to what he told Seth, and yet this time, it seems to weigh him down twice as much as it did weeks ago.
At some point in his story, Sophie stands up, noticing that the mood around her has changed, and goes to her mother, holding out her hands. Kirsten picks her up and settles her on her lap and Sophie buries her face in Kirsten's chest. Ryan closes his eyes for a second before continuing.
It's the Cohens he gets to see now, to hear fall quiet in shock and surprise. He might not be able to see the change of color in their eyes as the words pour from him, the explanations, the small story that will be told in less than ten minutes, but he can see it still. In a way. He can see them shift, from worried to sorrowful, and then to something akin to denial, very much like Seth had been three weeks ago.
Ryan explains and repeats himself, there's nothing to be done, there's nothing, I'm sorry, but this is the way it is. There's no medicine to make him better, no treatment that would help, no doctor that knows a way. And so it takes them almost an hour to finally be done with the subject, for Ryan to let them know that yes, it's happening, in that very minute.
"I'm sure there's something we can do," Kirsten says, conviction in her voice, and Ryan sighs, tiredly, sick of this conversation.
"Mom--"
"You haven't looked enough, you haven't talked with any specialists, have you?" Kirsten shakes her head, looking at Ryan and he wishes he could do something, tell her something that will give her peace of mind, that will make her stop. Sophie sniffs against her and she placates her child. "There's research, clinical trials, we're always raising funds for medical research--"
"There's nothing, mom, would you quit it?" Seth sighs, turning to look at Ryan, who can't help but look down at his hands. "We've tried, okay? We looked, and I did the very same thing you're doing right now and this is the fucking end of the race, okay?"
Kirsten gasps, probably surprised Seth can so much as talk to her like that. Ryan sighs, and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "Seth Ezekiel--"
"At times I think the only reason you gave me that middle name is so you could yell at me," Seth says with a glare, his eyes narrowing.
It's Sandy's hand that prevents her from saying anything else. She looks down at Sandy, now sitting next to her on the couch, having moved there somewhere along the explanation, holding onto her hand. "Kirsten, please," Sandy says.
Ryan blinks, turning to look at Sophie, her eyes closed, her mouth down in a pout. Sandy sounds like Seth did, sadness lacing his voice. Sandy sounds broken, at the very end of his rope, and it pains Ryan that he put that there. That he did this to him, to them.
Kirsten sighs, tiredly, and nods. Sandy gives her a small smile that looks more like a grimace on his lips. He turns to look at both boys, and whispers, "How long have you known?"
The question makes Ryan's chest grow cold, his hands shake and he clenches them even more in his lap. He has lied to them, Ryan knows, if only by omission. But how was he supposed to say this? How could he look at them, when he could actually see them, and tell them that he's doing this to them now, after everything that happened when he was in high school? How could he break them like this?
Ryan has to answer, he knows, he owes them that much at the very least.
"Three weeks," Ryan says, his voice low, his eyes not leaving his hands.
It's the lack of response that makes Ryan look up, at Kirsten, looking broken, sitting right there, never so fragile as this moment, this minute. He's hurting her, he's hurting her and he wishes he didn't have to. She's his mom, and Ryan's hurting her with this.
"All this time..." Kirsten takes in a deep breath that sounds as if it could end up in a sob. "My God, all this time, and you never told us?"
Ryan sighs, and this time there's no need for his eyes to work, for him to be able to see the change of shade in her blue eyes, the way the lines around her lips tighten or how her face crumbles into a grimace of pain and sorrow, because he can hear that in her voice alone.
"I didn't know how to tell you," Ryan says, his voice nothing but a whisper in the otherwise silent room. "I didn't know how to--" He shrugs, and pauses for a moment, and in that second he's the same person he was all those years ago, with his head ducked, his voice so low. "I didn't know how to say it."
"Oh, sweetie," Ryan hears Kirsten say and looks up in time to see her shift Sophie to Sandy and then stand up and pull him to her chest.
And it's the angle, Ryan sitting and her standing, that allows her to press him to her stomach, like he feels she has done before, to Seth, probably, when he was young, a kid in her arms. "Oh, baby."
Ryan doesn't say anything, his throat choked up from the emotion. He wants to put his arms around her, he wants to bury his face in her stomach, but doesn't even know how to start to do so. Instead, he sighs, his hands holding onto her hips, and he breathes in. It's easy to recognize her perfume, traces of cotton in her blouse, and the softness coming not from the feminine in her, but the mother in her very breath.
It's almost a minute before they pull away, before Kirsten places him at arm's length and looks at him.
"You don't have to keep anything a secret, Ryan. Everything you want to tell us, everything you don't ever want to tell us--" She pauses as her voice quivers, and she chuckles, tears in her eyes and her voice. "Oh, sweetie. We're your parents, you gotta believe that. We love you. We--" She shakes her head. "You can tell us everything, please. Don't do this again, okay? Don't keep this to yourself again."
It's not a question, but Ryan can only nod, closing his eyes as he does so.
She nods as well, giving him a small hug before sitting down once again, her hands trembling in her lap. Sandy takes them in between his and kisses them, over Sophie's head.
"What do you wanna do now?" Sandy asks, because he knows someone has to, and Kristen is too heartbroken to think beyond the now and the two months they had not known about this.
Ryan sighs, blinking, trying to find the beginning of the sentence to that question. It's not as if he hasn't thought about this, that very answer, for the past three weeks. He hasn't been able to do much but think, to do research for areas of work, to think about it over and over again, until all he could come up with was giving up the pretense that graduating was even worth it.
"I want to finish the semester, then--" Ryan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes start stinging from the back all the way up to his forehead. He sighs. "I don't know. I don't know if I can graduate, I don't even know if I'll be able to go to school next year. And Dr. McKay suggested that I start considering the rest of my options."
Kirsten looks back at him, giving him a small smile, a sad smile, and leans forward to take his right hand in both of hers.
"It's okay, sweetie," she says, conviction in her voice that Ryan knows she's telling herself she feels. "We'll--" She takes in a deep breath. "We can look into things. There's no need to rush into anything."
Ryan looks at her, leaning forward, so close to him that he can see the redness around the white of her eyes, the tight lines around the corners, and he sighs.
There's nothing we can do, Ryan wants to tell her again. There's nothing anyone can do. But he says nothing.
It will not happen overnight, Ryan tells himself in his mind, and that is his only comfort when there's nothing but darkness surrounding him, and it's still never enough.
"Look," Seth after a moment, when the pressure behind Ryan's eyes has been too much and he starts pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're tired, Ryan more so, and this won't change between tonight and tomorrow, so how about we go to bed and then, well." He sighs. "Tomorrow we can keep talking about this."
The parents agree, reluctantly. Ryan can barely manage a couple of words to them, stupid platitudes, whispers of, "it's alright. I'm fine. I'll be fine."
Kirsten doesn't break down, but she hugs him tight, crushing him against her chest, and he can hear her tears in her breath, the edge of a sob on her throat, and it's by sheer will alone that she's composed when she pulls away.
Sandy doesn't say anything, only hugs him as well he can with Sophie still in his arms, swallows thickly, and says his goodnights as well.
Ryan kisses Sophie's cheek, who holds out her arms to him, and he picks her up for a second. She might not understand what was said, but she knows. Ryan can almost feel her asking questions with her eyes, and he can only kiss her cheek, her face, her eyes and then give her to Kirsten. He'll tell her everything, Ryan tells himself, he'll tell her everything, every detail of his disease, when she's old enough to understand him.
And after everything that has happened, after the confession that feels as if it was ripped out of his very soul, he's too tired to want to think about anything else but reaching his bed and turning around, his back to the wall, and forgetting this night ever happened.
"Come on," Seth whispers against his ear, hand on Ryan's left elbow. "Let's go to the pool house."
Ryan looks over his shoulder at Seth, half glaring, but not even having the strength to do so completely. "I can find my way there, thank you very much. I've only slept there for three years, you know?"
But he knows he's complaining to the air, and Seth knows this as well, and neither of them add anything else as they make their way through the kitchen and to the French doors. Ryan halts his step as he pushes open the French door, feet on tiled floor, the change in light catching him unprepared, even though he was waiting for it.
He breathes in shakily and can't help but take a step back, bumping his back against Seth's chest, and all Seth does is change grip, his right hand on Ryan's right elbow.
"It's okay, it's okay." Ryan closes his eyes, Seth's breath warm on his ear. "Just give it a minute. Just give yourself a minute."
Meaningless words, nothing but breath and air and sounds, Ryan's breathing turning shallow and his chest tight. The hand on his elbow tightens, almost making him hurt, but at least the pain calls his attention away from the fact that all he can see is darkness and black and no top nor bottom, no right nor left, and he takes in a breath that ends in a sigh.
"It's going to come back, Ryan. It's okay. It's not going to happen overnight."
He closes his eyes tighter against the words he has been telling himself, coming from Seth's mouth. He nods, barely a moment from his head, and when he opens his eyes again, they are finally adjusting to the change of light. He can see the edges of the house on his left, of the pool house before him, and the pool a little to his left. He can see the edges, but no details, but for him, those aren't needed as long as he has this, this much, this little.
"Ryan?"
The question shouldn't surprise him, but it does, and he blinks, taken back by Seth patiently waiting for him to feel confident enough to move. Ryan nods, not knowing what to say, how to answer that simple question, and can almost feel Seth nod behind him.
Seth shifts his hold once again, right hand on Ryan's left arm, before they make their way slowly to the pool house, five steps up to the patio, the chimney and couches around it to his right, pool to his left, then slowly to the pool house, one last step and he's inside. It's Seth who turns on the light inside the pool house and Ryan blinks, blinded once again and he bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard, he's certain he has drawn blood.
"Shit, can you--?"
Ryan can only shake his head at Seth's question, angry and frustrated all in one, and he tries to remember how far away the futon is. It can't be more than three paces, it can't be. He takes one step forward, tentatively, and Seth's hold on his left arm tightens. He shakes his head once again, pulls away harshly, and takes another step. He freezes in that moment, fear like he has never experienced before clenching around his throat and he takes in a shaky breath, lips pressed into a thin line.
It feels like he's at the edge of a cliff, nothing but blackness before him.
Another step, he tells himself, the bed can't be more than another step away.
It feels like he's at the edge of a cliff.
Just another step.
At the edge--
"Ryan--"
The hand on his elbow, wanting nothing more than to stir him to safe harbor. But he's tired of having to depend on someone, on a hand on his elbow for him to fucking see his surroundings.
"I'm fine, damn it," he hisses through his lips, jerking away from Seth's grasp.
He half turns as he moves away from Seth and that leaves him without a sense of direction, with no idea of north or south, and though a minute ago he was certain the bed had to be another step before him, now it could very well be a mile to his right for all he knows.
"Fuck." Ryan blinks, rapidly and furiously, and his eyes make no distinction between light and dark, shapes or forms. It's nothing but a dim gray before him, around him. When the hand arrives again, only fingers touching the inside of his wrist, he has to sigh and give in and let himself be led to the bed.
He walks slowly, two more steps, and Seth whispers, "right there. Slowly." In his next step, he can feel the edge of the futon against his shins and he can't help the sigh of relief that escapes his lips, turning around carefully and sitting down.
It's only when he can feel the covers against the back of his legs, the edge of the futon underneath the clenching of his own hand, that he leans forward, neck tingling with anger and embarrassment that burns deep inside him and lets him know that he's coming closer to the day when he blinks, the dark will stay.
His breathing is loud in his ears, akin to pounding in surround sound, and for a moment he wonders if Seth can hear it too, if he can understand the reason he has his fingers in his hair, his eyes covered with the heels of his palms.
"I'm gonna go for our bags."
Hesitation, fear, apprehension, all that Ryan can hear in Seth's tone, in the way the words are spoken, in the very inflection of them. Ryan snorts, somewhere inside him, because at least he can hear properly, at least he can get some input from his fucking ears now that his eyes have decided to quit on him. At least he can still read Seth by ear as he used to do by sight. The feeling is very little consolation to him now.
Ryan doesn't answer, doesn't even move, but a second later he hears Seth moving to the front door, closing it after him softly. He sighs, shaking his head once before pulling his hands down and looking around him.
His eyes are clearing, slowly, almost tiredly, and he can understand. It's been a long day, with too many shifts and changes of light, and just as he can feel his very bones heavy with exhaustion, his eyes have to be feeling the same -- worse. And yet, he can remember a time when he could have walked into the pool house and not even needed the night lamp on the nightstand. The moonlight and the lights Kirsten always left on until she went to bed on the outside of the house, surrounding both the pool and the very property, would have been more than enough.
Ryan stands with some hesitation, with doubt he hates himself for feeling, and looks out the glass panels. The catch of the light in the glass gives him a headache, his pulse thumping loudly in his temples, and his eyes seem to flicker with the light as well. He closes his eyes, turning away from it, and when he opens them, hesitant at first, he can see the edges of the lamp, the steps, and the kitchen area to his left. He sighs, and moves slowly around the bed to the bathroom.
He doesn't turn the light on inside, afraid his eyes will blink out once again, and washes his face with the dim light coming from outside. His brush is in his bag, along with the sweats and t-shirt he wears for bed, and he groans in the back of his throat.
He stares at his reflection in the mirror. He can't quite see the shape of his eyes, or the lines around them, but he can see the blur that they are now, the contour of his hair, of his cheeks and his jaw. It's like he has taken his glasses off and is now shortsighted, it's exactly like that. And still, this much sight, this moment, in the very present of his life, it almost feels like a miracle.
When he walks out, Seth's sitting on the edge of the bed, in pajamas himself, and Ryan wonders how long he was in the bathroom, staring at a shape of himself that he can barely see. It's obvious in the way Seth's there, just looking back at Ryan, that whatever he wants to tell Seth about this, about not needing company when all he's going to do is crash in his bed and close his eyes and tell himself not to think about how he can't possibly be a Civil Engineer if he can't fucking see, is going to fall on deaf ears.
Ryan sighs and makes his way to his bag on the bed. He puts on his sweatpants and white t-shirt while Seth's in the bathroom, and when the other boy walks out, Ryan's already placing the bag next to the whickered boxes that he used as a closet for years. He lies in bed in silence, pulling back the covers and lying on his right like always. Seth's takes the right side of the bed, the one closest to the night lamp, his back to Ryan, and he's the one to turn it off. Ryan blinks, and it's nothing but darkness once again, and this time he closes his eyes with nothing but a sense of defeat against the shadow of the enemy he can't fight anymore.
Seth shifts on the bed, Ryan can feel it dip and move and complain slightly, and he smiles, because this he remembers from the years of high school. Seth crawling into his bed when he was scared or worried, coming to the pool house so they could talk, so Seth could talk and Ryan could listen. Just being there, the two of them, against everything and everyone.
United, we're unstoppable. But divided--
That he remembers, and with that in his memory, it's easy to close his eyes and give in to sleep.
He's so far under, so very quickly, that he almost doesn't feel one final dip of the bed and the hand on his shoulder.
When Ryan blinks, sleepiness still around the edges of his mind, gnawing at him like cobwebs, he can see clearer than he has in a long time. He blinks once again, and opens his eyes wide, and though the curtains of the pool house are down, the light pouring inside lets him see the edges of every single piece of furniture, see details like his old desk against the furthest wall, the very wrinkles in his knuckles.
He takes in a deep breath, lighter in his chest, and is about to stand up when he takes notice of the hand on his waist, the body close to his, chest to his back, and smiles. Seth was always a snuggler. Slowly, as not to wake Seth, he lifts the hand from his hip and places it on top of the bed. He pulls back the covers and stands up, and when he walks toward the doors, he doesn't hesitate in his step. He feels nothing but confidence in his eyes for once, and doesn't dare question how long this will last, how long his eyes will last.
Ryan pushes the doors open and though the sun light hits him in the eyes, he squints and for a minute all he can see is the vast expanse of ocean before him, its blueness and bottomlessness and neverending vastness, and he has to take in a breath, slowly, carefully. He has to blink to see where the ocean meets the horizon and how the shore is nothing but light brown. There are trees and grass and the ocean and the sky, and he blinks once again, telling himself to see everything, see it now while he still can. See it now and memorize it, carve it into his skin, because the next time he comes back to visit, he might not be able to see this in all its beauty and be taken back by it just as much as he was that very first time, six years ago.
And those six years feel like nothing but a breath, a minute and a second ago. The way he breathes in, the way his hand shakes as it tightens around the knob, he might as well be fifteen and not know his way around the house, not know that there's a boy in the kitchen waiting for him to befriend, parents who will care for him when he most needs it, a future for him to start living.
He closes his eyes and he can see it all again. That morning, Seth sitting on the floor, controller in hand, looking confused and alone and young and everything in one, Sandy saying they should go to the party that night, Kirsten smiling and not quite believing he isn't going to steal the jewelry.
And yet in six years his life has changed. He has someone on his side now, who cares about what might happen to him, who cares enough to steer him to safe harbor, to be his safe harbor. He has parents who worry, who feel helpless for him, over him. He has a life, he will always have a life, even if he doesn't have the eyes to see it.
When he opens his eyes, the sun still shines over him, and the ocean is still endless, but it's right, around him. Life, if only for a second, is just right.
"Ryan?"
Ryan looks over his shoulder, and the dimness of the pool house plays tricks on his sight, and this time he can barely see the outline of Seth's form, sitting down. He can imagine Seth blinking, head cocked to the side, confusion and just the tinge of fear in his eyes. He smiles again and tells himself he doesn't need his eyes to see Seth, even though that doesn't comfort him as much as he wishes it did.
"I'm here, Seth."
Seth doesn't answer, and when his eyes have adjusted to the light, he blinks. Seth's smiling back at him, nodding, pushing back the covers. He joins Ryan by the doors of the pool house and places his hand on Ryan's shoulder, leaving it there only a second before dropping it to his side.
"Come on, let's go have breakfast."
Ryan nods, turning to his left and walking down the steps to the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder, horizon and ocean melding into a blue that burns his retinas, and when he turns around once again, Seth's looking at him. He sighs, and though he wants to smile, can't find it within himself to do so. Seth doesn't question, doesn't prod, only nods and they make their way to the kitchen with confident footing, in silence and under the bright morning light.
Yes, yes, I'm dying to hear what you have to say. That's nothing new. *bounces*
A little over a week since the last update. This time around, it was all my doing. *nods* With work and school and my dad actually using the computer one night this week, I could have updated sooner. *shrugs* Sorry.
God, now, what do I do? Do I work? Do I actually do get working on a paper I have for school? Or do I watch something? *thinks about pondering that one* *giggles*