FICTION UPDATE!
LOVING RYAN-PART IV
BY: Anisapologist
Rating: Nc-17
Summary: Ryan and Hayden finally get together, but things do not go smoothly.
Disclaimer: None of this is real in any way, shape, or form.
Warnings: Drug and alcohol abuse, major angst, slash
Ryan meets you in the upstairs hallway, walking towards you, undressing you with his eyes. Your bodies meets and crash together, along with your mouths, desperate and all about need.
Ryan shoves you hard against the nearest wall, and presses himself, full length against your body, rubbing his erection against you longingly, groaning with lust.
You break the kiss, gasping for breath, “Ryan, I…” you begin.
“No words!” Ryan demands, cutting you off, “Don’t speak, just…this…”
He attacks your neck, nipping and licking it, starting to button your shirt. You let him; lean your head back against the wall, closing your eyes, just letting him have you.
When you are both naked, he pulls one of your legs upwards, hooking it over his strong arm, and lifting you. Knowing what he wants, you lift your other leg as well, wrapping both of them around his waist. He holds your body there, up against the wall and against him, positions himself at your entrance and then lets your weight go slightly, lowering you onto his cock, staring into your eyes the entire time.
You gasp in pain and pleasure as he enters you, gripping his shoulders tightly, struggling to keep your eyes open.
When is completely buried inside you, he pauses, sighing heavily and leaning against you, your foreheads touching, and lips centimetres apart. He closes his eyes and savours the feeling, before starting to thrust gently, shaking with the effort of holding you and fucking you at the same time.
You whimper when he begins to move, emotional, raw…needing it this way-needing him to claim you, own you in this way.
He comes, screaming incoherently, ramming you hard against the wall, and then stopping, holding you there for an eternal moment as he fills you with his essence, before grunting in satisfaction and relaxing. Slowly, he regains control of himself and his breath, and lowers you slowly to the ground, leaning against your shoulder, crying softly.
“Hayden…” he moans against your skin, “Oh baby…”
You hold him against you, dazed by the explosiveness of his passion. You pet the back of his hair lightly and whisper soothingly to him as his hand finds your sex, and begins to stroke.
At the last possible moment, he falls to his knees, letting your splash his face with your semen as it spurts forth from your overheated body. His mouth catches the rest, swallowing like your seed is the sweetest nectar he has ever known. You groan at the sight, continuing to spill, and watching him drink. When at last you finish, you reach out lovingly and rub the liquid that has fallen onto his cheek all over his face, marking him with your come. He closes his eyes and purrs like a wild cat as you do it, loving the feeling of your warm pleasure on his skin, “Christ, Ryan!” you moan, looking down at him, on his knees before you, “You look so fucking beautiful like this…with my come all over your face…”
“Want it everywhere…” he murmurs, sagging against your thighs, exhausted, “My face…my mouth…my ass…”
“Take me to your bed, baby,” you plead.
Ryan smiles and takes you by the hand and leads you to his room.
The next hour or so is spent in gentle exploration as you rediscover one another, until the passion flares again, and the touches and the kissing and the loving become more and more desperate.
“Need you so fucking much,” he murmured, kissing you, licking your chest, “Lay back, love…”
You did as he asked, laying back and displaying yourself for him wantonly, looking up at him with heavy lidded eyes, “Fuck me…please…” you whimpered, your voice low and husky.
Ryan smirked at you, eyes blazing with passion, reaching for the lube and stroking his impressive erection lewdly.
He laid down on the bed and took you gently, as you moaned and arched and cried….he cried too, as you made love, whimpering against your neck, his tears falling on your skin, telling you he loved you…how much he missed you…
“Love me, Ryan…love me!” you begged in coherently, thinking distantly that you had never wanted anything so badly in your life.
When he came inside you, he bit your shoulder and growled like an animal, then fell against you, telling you how much he needed that, how long it had been….he drifted to sleep before either of you could really talk about anything….you know he still loves you, but there are…other issues.
After a few hours, Ryan awakens to find you staring at him, watching him sleep, “Hey, Christensen…” he murmurs sleepily, and you smile, and take a long drag on your cigarette, offering him one, which he takes with a sly smile of his own.
There is a pause, and then, “Why are you here, Hayden?” he asks quietly, avoiding your eyes.
You look at me with anguish in your heart and tears springing to your eyes, “James is dead.” You say, and you realise that you still don’t quite believe it.
Ryan stares into middle distance and nods his head, “I know,” he says softly, “Tove called me a few weeks ago. I’m…so sorry, Hayden.”
You shake your head, feeling sick with sadness, tears streaking your face, “No…don’t…it’s not your fault…I’m sorry. I just….it still hurts to talk about it.”
“So, you’re here because he’s dead and you have to settle for me, or you’re here because you want to be with me?” Ryan asks slowly, and you know how hard it must be for him to say those words, “Please, Hayden…I need to know.”
You reach out and turn his face towards yours, tracing a finger slowly down his cheek, “I’m here because I love you, and I want to be with you. I’ve been alone for…so long. I don’t want to be alone anymore…will you still have me?”
You manage a small smile, hoping that your words came out the way you intended them too.
Ryan looks at you with his eyes full of love, “Oh, Hayden..” he whispers and leans close to you, his lips brushing against yours, “I love you so much….”
It is the start of a…complicated relationship.
You do love Ryan, and know that he loves you. You have long, deep conversations, you make one another laugh, and the sex is…simply fabulous. But…you are far from healed. You still have problems, and even with Ryan there to love you, your old demons do not disappear.
You still drink. You still experiment with drugs….and now your newest self-destructive behaviour is refusing yourself food until you are dizzy with hunger. You like punishing yourself, and this is a great way to do it. Ryan watches you with a distant, and sad expression. He has no idea how to help you.
One late afternoon, Ryan comes home to find you asleep in bed.
You groan and roll onto your stomach when Ryan switches on the light, “Turn it off!” you hiss drunkenly.
“Tough day?” Ryan says sarcastically, "Spend the whole day drinking or just half of it?”
“Fuck off!” you growl.
“I hate it so fucking much when you’re drunk!” Ryan seethes at you accusingly.
“Then why don’t you call up Breckin, or one of your fabulous, cool friends and go out with them and leave me the fuck alone?” you reply dryly, not looking up.
“How long are you going to go on doing this?” Ryan asks in anguish.
“What?” you ask, looking up at him at last.
“Blaming yourself for James? Hating yourself for what happened with him? And destroying this relationship at every turn while killing yourself in the process?”
“What? I’m not…” you begin to lie, but Ryan laughs bitterly, and rolls his eyes.
“STOP!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, silencing you instantly, “You think I don’t know, Hayden-is that it? You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know you have all those fucking photos of him that you take out and look at when I’m not around? You think I don’t ever find the letters you write to him every week-as if he’s still fucking alive? You think I don’t hear you crying at night, or calling out his name in your dreams? Do you have any idea what its like trying to compete with a dead man?”
You are humiliated by the fact that he knows what you have been doing-and also by the fact that you are still doing those things at all.
“I’m sorry…” you manage to choke out between sobs, “I just…I try to forget, I do! But then something happens to remind me, and I’m…back there, in that place with him, and…I start to miss him again, and I keep the photos because I don’t want to forget him, what he looked like…I feel like I owe it to him to remember, you know? I don’t mean to hurt you, but…I know I’m fucking up, and I can’t stop!”
Ryan nods sympathetically, and comes to sit beside you, listening to your rant.
“I love you, Ryan. Please PLEASE believe that-I swear, I do! You’re not competing with him…its just…I don’t know how to explain it…”
Ryan sits on the bed beside you, and traces his fingers down your bony back, sighing, “When was the last time you ate a proper meal, Christensen?” he asks dully.
You don’t answer, and he sighs again, louder this time, “I saw Tove today-he came to the set. He’s…he’s so worried about you, Hayden. He’s a wreck…”
You sit up, worried now, “What did you tell him?”
Ryan gives you a sad look, “Nothing…I lied. I told him you were doing better. I couldn’t…I can’t tell him the truth, can I?”
Ryan stands and walks over to the window, running his hands through his curls in frustration, “I can’t watch you kill yourself, Hayden-I love you too much to watch you die.”
“What do you want from me?” you ask, exhausted and worn thin.
Ryan comes back to the bed and takes your hands in his, staring into your eyes, “I want you to stop hurting yourself. I want you to stop…hating yourself.”
Your eyes fill with tears and you look down at your lap, “I don’t know if I can…” you admit harshly.
Ryan is sobbing now too. He takes you in tight embrace, “Let me help, Hayden-please? Let me in…”
Your resolve, tentative as it is, weakens and you dissolve into uncontrollable sobs, heaving and trembling against Ryan.
You are embarrassed by the sight of your skeletal form, and reach to turn out the light, but Ryan stops you, “It’s all right, Hayden…you don’t have to hide it from me…”
“Please, Ryan…I can’t…don’t want you to see how bad it is…”
Ryan holds your arms down, preventing you from moving, “I have too, baby…I have to know. I have to see….”
You turn your head away, ashamed, as he slowly examines your body, feeling your ribs, caressing your skin stretched over bone, hearing his gasps of shock and horror, “Oh, Hayden…what are you doing to yourself?” he asks painfully, and you shake your head because you have no answers for him.
He gets up and walks over to a chair, sitting in it heavily and lighting a cigarette with shaking hands, “You need help, Hayden-you know that, right?”
You nod, still sobbing, afraid-no, terrified-that he is about to break up with you, “Please don’t leave me,” you whisper painfully, knowing how pathetic you sound.
Ryan walks over to you and takes your face in his hands, forcing you to look up into his eyes, “Listen-I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you, Hayden. But you have to get help-and you have to let me inside your head. I have to know what you are thinking before I can begin to understand. Got it?”
You nod through your tears, “What do you want me to tell you?” you ask quietly.
“Tell me everything you think about when you think about James…that’s a good start.” Ryan says.
So, you tell him about James….
He was a wonderful lover-warm and kind and tender. He made you feel so alive when he made love to you. When his father threw him out of the house at the age of nineteen, James did not even seem to care, telling you that his father was the loser, not him. It wasn’t until years later, when he got sick, that he admitted to you how much he missed his father and wished that he could talk to him.
When you first moved to Vancouver together, you were the happiest you had ever been in your life. You spent every possible moment that you could spend with James, and you never argued. He chided you for smoking and for smoking weed, but that was it…you made love every night, and felt completely and utterly content in his arms.
When he got sick, you felt utterly helpless and useless. James told you that there was nothing you could do for him, but you felt like you should have been able to do something, anything to ease his pain and his decent into madness.
Sometimes you believed that if you just loved James enough, he would get better by sheer force of your need for him. Other times you believed that if you just prayed enough….when James was committed to the clinic, you lost what faith you ever had in a God because you would rather believe that there was no God, then believe that there could be a God who would be so cruel as to make someone as wonderful as James suffer what he did.
Tove would ask you how bad things were with James, and you would have two standard answers: “He’s okay,” -which meant that he was lucid most of the time, able to communicate, and not holding knives to your throat-or “Bad,”-which meant he was lost inside his own world, unable to reached, or hurting you. You told no one else about James or his condition. Tove was your only confidant for years.
When the pain of what was happening to James became so great that you felt as if you could no longer put one foot in front of the other; when the pain was so awful and so all-encompassing that you could not get out of bed in the morning, Tove would be there for you. He would curl his larger body around yours in your bed and hold you close, and let you cry until you had no strength and no tears left.
As his condition worsened, James became angry, bitter at what was happening to him. He became jealous of your relationship with Tove, even accusing you of fucking each other. But you never got angry with James-at least not to his face. In private, you were angry with him a lot. You resented his illness and blamed him for leaving you, even though you knew how selfish that was. Alone in your mind, you would rage at him and scream at him-but to his face, you were always kind, understanding, sympathetic-even when he was a monster, even when he accused you of incest with your own brother, even when he hit you, raped you, threatened you. You knew it wasn’t really his fault, and you loved him so much and you had always been so very submissive in your life that you could not possibly yell at him or hit him back or even defend yourself. You just let James do whatever he wanted to you, and when it was over you forgave him, but every time he hurt you, a little bit of your spirit died, a bit more of your soul was burned alive…until there was nothing left but a shell of a young man named Hayden who had once been in love with someone named James.
On the set of Episode Two, Ewan McGregor had sensed your pain and took you to lunch one day. He asked you why you were so unhappy, and you just sat there at the table and sobbed. You could not tell him the truth, so you made something up-the truth was so horrific that you did not want to speak the words out loud.
By the time Episode Three was filmed, you were a whore who would sleep with anyone who showed you the slightest kindness, and one night, drunk, you offered your body to Ewan, desperate for affection and touch. He gently refused you, and then asked you why you felt the need to give your body away to anyone and everyone.
“What’s his name?” he asked quietly.
“Who?” you asked him, bewildered by the question.
“Your boyfriend back in Canada-the one who makes you so sad?”
You found that it was impossible to speak or even breathe for a moment, and then you said, “James,”-and that was all you ever said, and Ewan never mentioned it again. When you think back on it now, you know that you probably should have confided in Ewan-or at least confided in someone-but at that point you were still in denial, hoping James would somehow recover, and the whole ordeal had left you so exposed, so raw and afraid of trusting anyone that confiding in someone was virtually impossible for you to comprehend. So you drank, and slept with strangers, and called Tove when it all became too much.
Poor Tove had gone through so much because of you. He was always there-your crutch, your shoulder to cry on. He was constantly putting his own life on hold to protect and comfort you. It made you feel guilty and sad for him, but you needed him so much that you simply could not let him go. You clung to Tove as if he were a life preserver-perhaps he was.
You tell Ryan other things that night too-about the times your father beat you up for being gay, the times that Tove had to intercede and pull him off of you. You tell him how your father has basically disowned you, and you are no longer welcome in your family home, and how much that hurts you. You tell him about those times, after the release of Episode Two, when the reviews were so bad, and the acts on your acting ability so personal and vicious that you felt as if you could not face the world, and would spend days locked in your bedroom, smoking pot, drinking and thinking about ways to kill yourself….you even tell him about that shrink that Tove made you go and see a few years ago who told you that you had something called ‘body dysmorphic syndrome’ that made you believe you were ugly when in fact, you were not.
I know the shrink guy was just trying to be nice. He didn’t want to tell that I really was ugly, so he just made all of that up…”
Ryan smiles ruefully when you say that, “No, Hayden-he didn’t make it up. It’s a real disorder-and I definitely agree that you have it.”
You stare at Ryan impassively, not sure what to say to that.
“Oh, Hayden…I remember the first time I saw you-at the Skywalker Ranch during the auditions? I thought you were amazing-so beautiful. And your smile was…so big and bright. You seemed happy then…I wish I had…talked to you more then. I wish I could have helped you…”
You smile sadly and reach out to hold Ryan’s hand; “You’re helping me now.”
Ryan looks at you and you know that he knows you are lying.
You leave the next morning, and don’t return for nearly a week. You find an old friend who sells heroin and meth, and you spend the next few days in his cheap apartment in southeast LA, getting high and trying to numb your pain. You are so confused about Ryan-you love him, but you are hurting him and you truly believe that he is better off without you. Maybe you can just overdose here and never have to face him again….
You lay on a filthy mattress and let your ‘friend’ shoot you up with heroin. He has sex with you then, as you lay there, comatose, and you are vaguely aware that he lets another guy in and lets him fuck you too. But you no longer care-you are too stoned to care.
Days go by in a blur of drugs and sex and sleep.
Then you open your eyes and see Ryan’s beautiful, concerned face staring down at you, and think you must be dreaming, “Ryan? What are you doing here?”
“Hey baby,” Ryan leans forward, stroking your hair lovingly and placing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I’m here to get you…I’ve been looking for you for a week…I was so…so worried about you, Hayden…and Tove? He’s a mess…. oh God, its so good to see you!”
He rests his face against your cheek, and sobs softly. You feel dazed and sick and not really able to respond so you just lie there and listen to him cry for a while.
At last, he pulls back and stares down at you with tears streaming down his face, “Baby…why? Why are you here? What’s happening to you? Why are you killing yourself like this?”
You stare at him and shake your head because you have no real answers. You just wanted to kill the pain…you didn’t know how else to feel good about yourself, “Needed to forget…” you moan at last, but then add, “I missed you so much…”
Ryan embraces you hard, “I’m here, baby…I’m here now…”
You smile up at him weakly, “Adam and some of the others were here. They babysat me…I don’t know where they went now…”
Ryan’s eyes flash with anger, “Yeah-great friends you have there, Christensen!” he says sarcastically.
You look away, embarrassed, as Ryan inspects the track marks on your arms, and checks your body for…other things, “Oh fuck, Hayden! What the fuck did they give you?”
“Everything…”
“I’m taking you home, baby…let’s go.”
Ryan helps you to his car, and straps you in. As he pulls away, you grab his arm and pull him back towards you, “Fuck me?” you offer, not caring that you are in a car on a public street, in the middle of the day because you are too high to notice, “Wanna make you come…”
Ryan looks at you sadly, remembering that this is almost exactly a repeat of your first date-when you went to a gay nightclub and got drunk and then he drove you to his home where you came on to him. Ryan then smiles bitterly, “No, Hayden. Not when you’re…like this…” he says, echoing what he told you that night, nearly a year ago, and thinking, sadly, that you and he have really made no real progress in all that time.
He pulls away from you slams your door, then climbs into the driver’s seat, as you look over at him forlornly, “Do you hate me?’ you ask.
“I could never hate you, Hayden-you hate yourself enough for both of us.”
You turn away and stare out the window at the LA landscape, unable to focus on anything but your pain.
But Ryan doesn’t take you to his home-he takes you to Tove’s house.
“Why are we here?” You ask, dazed, as he pulls into the driveway.
Ryan sits in his seat for a few moments, staring straight ahead, before turning to you, “I love you, Hayden-and I will never leave you. But…I can’t help you, either. Tove is going to…take you to a clinic-get you some help. I know he can get you to do what I never can….do you understand?”
You stare at Ryan with a look of utter betrayal, “You can’t handle it, so you’re giving me to Tove? Is that what you mean?”
Ryan shakes his head sadly, tears forming in his eyes, “It’s not like that, baby…”
Tove opens your door, and reaches for you, “Hey, baby boy,” he smiles slightly, but you shrink away from him angrily.
“Get the fuck off of me!” you seethe.
Realising you are going to make this harder then it needs to be, Tove reaches for you again, more deliberately this time, and scoops you up in his arms, even as you flail about, and try to get away from him, “Thanks Ryan. I’ll call you…” Tove calls out over his shoulder as he carries you inside the house.
You turn your head and scream at Ryan, “I hate you!”
The last thing you see before the front door slams is Ryan watching you from his Escalade.
He is crying.
TBC...
BY: Anisapologist
Rating: Nc-17
Summary: Ryan and Hayden finally get together, but things do not go smoothly.
Disclaimer: None of this is real in any way, shape, or form.
Warnings: Drug and alcohol abuse, major angst, slash
Ryan meets you in the upstairs hallway, walking towards you, undressing you with his eyes. Your bodies meets and crash together, along with your mouths, desperate and all about need.
Ryan shoves you hard against the nearest wall, and presses himself, full length against your body, rubbing his erection against you longingly, groaning with lust.
You break the kiss, gasping for breath, “Ryan, I…” you begin.
“No words!” Ryan demands, cutting you off, “Don’t speak, just…this…”
He attacks your neck, nipping and licking it, starting to button your shirt. You let him; lean your head back against the wall, closing your eyes, just letting him have you.
When you are both naked, he pulls one of your legs upwards, hooking it over his strong arm, and lifting you. Knowing what he wants, you lift your other leg as well, wrapping both of them around his waist. He holds your body there, up against the wall and against him, positions himself at your entrance and then lets your weight go slightly, lowering you onto his cock, staring into your eyes the entire time.
You gasp in pain and pleasure as he enters you, gripping his shoulders tightly, struggling to keep your eyes open.
When is completely buried inside you, he pauses, sighing heavily and leaning against you, your foreheads touching, and lips centimetres apart. He closes his eyes and savours the feeling, before starting to thrust gently, shaking with the effort of holding you and fucking you at the same time.
You whimper when he begins to move, emotional, raw…needing it this way-needing him to claim you, own you in this way.
He comes, screaming incoherently, ramming you hard against the wall, and then stopping, holding you there for an eternal moment as he fills you with his essence, before grunting in satisfaction and relaxing. Slowly, he regains control of himself and his breath, and lowers you slowly to the ground, leaning against your shoulder, crying softly.
“Hayden…” he moans against your skin, “Oh baby…”
You hold him against you, dazed by the explosiveness of his passion. You pet the back of his hair lightly and whisper soothingly to him as his hand finds your sex, and begins to stroke.
At the last possible moment, he falls to his knees, letting your splash his face with your semen as it spurts forth from your overheated body. His mouth catches the rest, swallowing like your seed is the sweetest nectar he has ever known. You groan at the sight, continuing to spill, and watching him drink. When at last you finish, you reach out lovingly and rub the liquid that has fallen onto his cheek all over his face, marking him with your come. He closes his eyes and purrs like a wild cat as you do it, loving the feeling of your warm pleasure on his skin, “Christ, Ryan!” you moan, looking down at him, on his knees before you, “You look so fucking beautiful like this…with my come all over your face…”
“Want it everywhere…” he murmurs, sagging against your thighs, exhausted, “My face…my mouth…my ass…”
“Take me to your bed, baby,” you plead.
Ryan smiles and takes you by the hand and leads you to his room.
The next hour or so is spent in gentle exploration as you rediscover one another, until the passion flares again, and the touches and the kissing and the loving become more and more desperate.
“Need you so fucking much,” he murmured, kissing you, licking your chest, “Lay back, love…”
You did as he asked, laying back and displaying yourself for him wantonly, looking up at him with heavy lidded eyes, “Fuck me…please…” you whimpered, your voice low and husky.
Ryan smirked at you, eyes blazing with passion, reaching for the lube and stroking his impressive erection lewdly.
He laid down on the bed and took you gently, as you moaned and arched and cried….he cried too, as you made love, whimpering against your neck, his tears falling on your skin, telling you he loved you…how much he missed you…
“Love me, Ryan…love me!” you begged in coherently, thinking distantly that you had never wanted anything so badly in your life.
When he came inside you, he bit your shoulder and growled like an animal, then fell against you, telling you how much he needed that, how long it had been….he drifted to sleep before either of you could really talk about anything….you know he still loves you, but there are…other issues.
After a few hours, Ryan awakens to find you staring at him, watching him sleep, “Hey, Christensen…” he murmurs sleepily, and you smile, and take a long drag on your cigarette, offering him one, which he takes with a sly smile of his own.
There is a pause, and then, “Why are you here, Hayden?” he asks quietly, avoiding your eyes.
You look at me with anguish in your heart and tears springing to your eyes, “James is dead.” You say, and you realise that you still don’t quite believe it.
Ryan stares into middle distance and nods his head, “I know,” he says softly, “Tove called me a few weeks ago. I’m…so sorry, Hayden.”
You shake your head, feeling sick with sadness, tears streaking your face, “No…don’t…it’s not your fault…I’m sorry. I just….it still hurts to talk about it.”
“So, you’re here because he’s dead and you have to settle for me, or you’re here because you want to be with me?” Ryan asks slowly, and you know how hard it must be for him to say those words, “Please, Hayden…I need to know.”
You reach out and turn his face towards yours, tracing a finger slowly down his cheek, “I’m here because I love you, and I want to be with you. I’ve been alone for…so long. I don’t want to be alone anymore…will you still have me?”
You manage a small smile, hoping that your words came out the way you intended them too.
Ryan looks at you with his eyes full of love, “Oh, Hayden..” he whispers and leans close to you, his lips brushing against yours, “I love you so much….”
It is the start of a…complicated relationship.
You do love Ryan, and know that he loves you. You have long, deep conversations, you make one another laugh, and the sex is…simply fabulous. But…you are far from healed. You still have problems, and even with Ryan there to love you, your old demons do not disappear.
You still drink. You still experiment with drugs….and now your newest self-destructive behaviour is refusing yourself food until you are dizzy with hunger. You like punishing yourself, and this is a great way to do it. Ryan watches you with a distant, and sad expression. He has no idea how to help you.
One late afternoon, Ryan comes home to find you asleep in bed.
You groan and roll onto your stomach when Ryan switches on the light, “Turn it off!” you hiss drunkenly.
“Tough day?” Ryan says sarcastically, "Spend the whole day drinking or just half of it?”
“Fuck off!” you growl.
“I hate it so fucking much when you’re drunk!” Ryan seethes at you accusingly.
“Then why don’t you call up Breckin, or one of your fabulous, cool friends and go out with them and leave me the fuck alone?” you reply dryly, not looking up.
“How long are you going to go on doing this?” Ryan asks in anguish.
“What?” you ask, looking up at him at last.
“Blaming yourself for James? Hating yourself for what happened with him? And destroying this relationship at every turn while killing yourself in the process?”
“What? I’m not…” you begin to lie, but Ryan laughs bitterly, and rolls his eyes.
“STOP!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, silencing you instantly, “You think I don’t know, Hayden-is that it? You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know you have all those fucking photos of him that you take out and look at when I’m not around? You think I don’t ever find the letters you write to him every week-as if he’s still fucking alive? You think I don’t hear you crying at night, or calling out his name in your dreams? Do you have any idea what its like trying to compete with a dead man?”
You are humiliated by the fact that he knows what you have been doing-and also by the fact that you are still doing those things at all.
“I’m sorry…” you manage to choke out between sobs, “I just…I try to forget, I do! But then something happens to remind me, and I’m…back there, in that place with him, and…I start to miss him again, and I keep the photos because I don’t want to forget him, what he looked like…I feel like I owe it to him to remember, you know? I don’t mean to hurt you, but…I know I’m fucking up, and I can’t stop!”
Ryan nods sympathetically, and comes to sit beside you, listening to your rant.
“I love you, Ryan. Please PLEASE believe that-I swear, I do! You’re not competing with him…its just…I don’t know how to explain it…”
Ryan sits on the bed beside you, and traces his fingers down your bony back, sighing, “When was the last time you ate a proper meal, Christensen?” he asks dully.
You don’t answer, and he sighs again, louder this time, “I saw Tove today-he came to the set. He’s…he’s so worried about you, Hayden. He’s a wreck…”
You sit up, worried now, “What did you tell him?”
Ryan gives you a sad look, “Nothing…I lied. I told him you were doing better. I couldn’t…I can’t tell him the truth, can I?”
Ryan stands and walks over to the window, running his hands through his curls in frustration, “I can’t watch you kill yourself, Hayden-I love you too much to watch you die.”
“What do you want from me?” you ask, exhausted and worn thin.
Ryan comes back to the bed and takes your hands in his, staring into your eyes, “I want you to stop hurting yourself. I want you to stop…hating yourself.”
Your eyes fill with tears and you look down at your lap, “I don’t know if I can…” you admit harshly.
Ryan is sobbing now too. He takes you in tight embrace, “Let me help, Hayden-please? Let me in…”
Your resolve, tentative as it is, weakens and you dissolve into uncontrollable sobs, heaving and trembling against Ryan.
You are embarrassed by the sight of your skeletal form, and reach to turn out the light, but Ryan stops you, “It’s all right, Hayden…you don’t have to hide it from me…”
“Please, Ryan…I can’t…don’t want you to see how bad it is…”
Ryan holds your arms down, preventing you from moving, “I have too, baby…I have to know. I have to see….”
You turn your head away, ashamed, as he slowly examines your body, feeling your ribs, caressing your skin stretched over bone, hearing his gasps of shock and horror, “Oh, Hayden…what are you doing to yourself?” he asks painfully, and you shake your head because you have no answers for him.
He gets up and walks over to a chair, sitting in it heavily and lighting a cigarette with shaking hands, “You need help, Hayden-you know that, right?”
You nod, still sobbing, afraid-no, terrified-that he is about to break up with you, “Please don’t leave me,” you whisper painfully, knowing how pathetic you sound.
Ryan walks over to you and takes your face in his hands, forcing you to look up into his eyes, “Listen-I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you, Hayden. But you have to get help-and you have to let me inside your head. I have to know what you are thinking before I can begin to understand. Got it?”
You nod through your tears, “What do you want me to tell you?” you ask quietly.
“Tell me everything you think about when you think about James…that’s a good start.” Ryan says.
So, you tell him about James….
He was a wonderful lover-warm and kind and tender. He made you feel so alive when he made love to you. When his father threw him out of the house at the age of nineteen, James did not even seem to care, telling you that his father was the loser, not him. It wasn’t until years later, when he got sick, that he admitted to you how much he missed his father and wished that he could talk to him.
When you first moved to Vancouver together, you were the happiest you had ever been in your life. You spent every possible moment that you could spend with James, and you never argued. He chided you for smoking and for smoking weed, but that was it…you made love every night, and felt completely and utterly content in his arms.
When he got sick, you felt utterly helpless and useless. James told you that there was nothing you could do for him, but you felt like you should have been able to do something, anything to ease his pain and his decent into madness.
Sometimes you believed that if you just loved James enough, he would get better by sheer force of your need for him. Other times you believed that if you just prayed enough….when James was committed to the clinic, you lost what faith you ever had in a God because you would rather believe that there was no God, then believe that there could be a God who would be so cruel as to make someone as wonderful as James suffer what he did.
Tove would ask you how bad things were with James, and you would have two standard answers: “He’s okay,” -which meant that he was lucid most of the time, able to communicate, and not holding knives to your throat-or “Bad,”-which meant he was lost inside his own world, unable to reached, or hurting you. You told no one else about James or his condition. Tove was your only confidant for years.
When the pain of what was happening to James became so great that you felt as if you could no longer put one foot in front of the other; when the pain was so awful and so all-encompassing that you could not get out of bed in the morning, Tove would be there for you. He would curl his larger body around yours in your bed and hold you close, and let you cry until you had no strength and no tears left.
As his condition worsened, James became angry, bitter at what was happening to him. He became jealous of your relationship with Tove, even accusing you of fucking each other. But you never got angry with James-at least not to his face. In private, you were angry with him a lot. You resented his illness and blamed him for leaving you, even though you knew how selfish that was. Alone in your mind, you would rage at him and scream at him-but to his face, you were always kind, understanding, sympathetic-even when he was a monster, even when he accused you of incest with your own brother, even when he hit you, raped you, threatened you. You knew it wasn’t really his fault, and you loved him so much and you had always been so very submissive in your life that you could not possibly yell at him or hit him back or even defend yourself. You just let James do whatever he wanted to you, and when it was over you forgave him, but every time he hurt you, a little bit of your spirit died, a bit more of your soul was burned alive…until there was nothing left but a shell of a young man named Hayden who had once been in love with someone named James.
On the set of Episode Two, Ewan McGregor had sensed your pain and took you to lunch one day. He asked you why you were so unhappy, and you just sat there at the table and sobbed. You could not tell him the truth, so you made something up-the truth was so horrific that you did not want to speak the words out loud.
By the time Episode Three was filmed, you were a whore who would sleep with anyone who showed you the slightest kindness, and one night, drunk, you offered your body to Ewan, desperate for affection and touch. He gently refused you, and then asked you why you felt the need to give your body away to anyone and everyone.
“What’s his name?” he asked quietly.
“Who?” you asked him, bewildered by the question.
“Your boyfriend back in Canada-the one who makes you so sad?”
You found that it was impossible to speak or even breathe for a moment, and then you said, “James,”-and that was all you ever said, and Ewan never mentioned it again. When you think back on it now, you know that you probably should have confided in Ewan-or at least confided in someone-but at that point you were still in denial, hoping James would somehow recover, and the whole ordeal had left you so exposed, so raw and afraid of trusting anyone that confiding in someone was virtually impossible for you to comprehend. So you drank, and slept with strangers, and called Tove when it all became too much.
Poor Tove had gone through so much because of you. He was always there-your crutch, your shoulder to cry on. He was constantly putting his own life on hold to protect and comfort you. It made you feel guilty and sad for him, but you needed him so much that you simply could not let him go. You clung to Tove as if he were a life preserver-perhaps he was.
You tell Ryan other things that night too-about the times your father beat you up for being gay, the times that Tove had to intercede and pull him off of you. You tell him how your father has basically disowned you, and you are no longer welcome in your family home, and how much that hurts you. You tell him about those times, after the release of Episode Two, when the reviews were so bad, and the acts on your acting ability so personal and vicious that you felt as if you could not face the world, and would spend days locked in your bedroom, smoking pot, drinking and thinking about ways to kill yourself….you even tell him about that shrink that Tove made you go and see a few years ago who told you that you had something called ‘body dysmorphic syndrome’ that made you believe you were ugly when in fact, you were not.
I know the shrink guy was just trying to be nice. He didn’t want to tell that I really was ugly, so he just made all of that up…”
Ryan smiles ruefully when you say that, “No, Hayden-he didn’t make it up. It’s a real disorder-and I definitely agree that you have it.”
You stare at Ryan impassively, not sure what to say to that.
“Oh, Hayden…I remember the first time I saw you-at the Skywalker Ranch during the auditions? I thought you were amazing-so beautiful. And your smile was…so big and bright. You seemed happy then…I wish I had…talked to you more then. I wish I could have helped you…”
You smile sadly and reach out to hold Ryan’s hand; “You’re helping me now.”
Ryan looks at you and you know that he knows you are lying.
You leave the next morning, and don’t return for nearly a week. You find an old friend who sells heroin and meth, and you spend the next few days in his cheap apartment in southeast LA, getting high and trying to numb your pain. You are so confused about Ryan-you love him, but you are hurting him and you truly believe that he is better off without you. Maybe you can just overdose here and never have to face him again….
You lay on a filthy mattress and let your ‘friend’ shoot you up with heroin. He has sex with you then, as you lay there, comatose, and you are vaguely aware that he lets another guy in and lets him fuck you too. But you no longer care-you are too stoned to care.
Days go by in a blur of drugs and sex and sleep.
Then you open your eyes and see Ryan’s beautiful, concerned face staring down at you, and think you must be dreaming, “Ryan? What are you doing here?”
“Hey baby,” Ryan leans forward, stroking your hair lovingly and placing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I’m here to get you…I’ve been looking for you for a week…I was so…so worried about you, Hayden…and Tove? He’s a mess…. oh God, its so good to see you!”
He rests his face against your cheek, and sobs softly. You feel dazed and sick and not really able to respond so you just lie there and listen to him cry for a while.
At last, he pulls back and stares down at you with tears streaming down his face, “Baby…why? Why are you here? What’s happening to you? Why are you killing yourself like this?”
You stare at him and shake your head because you have no real answers. You just wanted to kill the pain…you didn’t know how else to feel good about yourself, “Needed to forget…” you moan at last, but then add, “I missed you so much…”
Ryan embraces you hard, “I’m here, baby…I’m here now…”
You smile up at him weakly, “Adam and some of the others were here. They babysat me…I don’t know where they went now…”
Ryan’s eyes flash with anger, “Yeah-great friends you have there, Christensen!” he says sarcastically.
You look away, embarrassed, as Ryan inspects the track marks on your arms, and checks your body for…other things, “Oh fuck, Hayden! What the fuck did they give you?”
“Everything…”
“I’m taking you home, baby…let’s go.”
Ryan helps you to his car, and straps you in. As he pulls away, you grab his arm and pull him back towards you, “Fuck me?” you offer, not caring that you are in a car on a public street, in the middle of the day because you are too high to notice, “Wanna make you come…”
Ryan looks at you sadly, remembering that this is almost exactly a repeat of your first date-when you went to a gay nightclub and got drunk and then he drove you to his home where you came on to him. Ryan then smiles bitterly, “No, Hayden. Not when you’re…like this…” he says, echoing what he told you that night, nearly a year ago, and thinking, sadly, that you and he have really made no real progress in all that time.
He pulls away from you slams your door, then climbs into the driver’s seat, as you look over at him forlornly, “Do you hate me?’ you ask.
“I could never hate you, Hayden-you hate yourself enough for both of us.”
You turn away and stare out the window at the LA landscape, unable to focus on anything but your pain.
But Ryan doesn’t take you to his home-he takes you to Tove’s house.
“Why are we here?” You ask, dazed, as he pulls into the driveway.
Ryan sits in his seat for a few moments, staring straight ahead, before turning to you, “I love you, Hayden-and I will never leave you. But…I can’t help you, either. Tove is going to…take you to a clinic-get you some help. I know he can get you to do what I never can….do you understand?”
You stare at Ryan with a look of utter betrayal, “You can’t handle it, so you’re giving me to Tove? Is that what you mean?”
Ryan shakes his head sadly, tears forming in his eyes, “It’s not like that, baby…”
Tove opens your door, and reaches for you, “Hey, baby boy,” he smiles slightly, but you shrink away from him angrily.
“Get the fuck off of me!” you seethe.
Realising you are going to make this harder then it needs to be, Tove reaches for you again, more deliberately this time, and scoops you up in his arms, even as you flail about, and try to get away from him, “Thanks Ryan. I’ll call you…” Tove calls out over his shoulder as he carries you inside the house.
You turn your head and scream at Ryan, “I hate you!”
The last thing you see before the front door slams is Ryan watching you from his Escalade.
He is crying.
TBC...