[oc] In the Shadow of Lone Gunmen
I'm bored, I'm restless, mostly because I'm finally making some progress on SG-1 season six, now that I've found my momentum and I'm looking forward to actually seeing Daniel in season seven. Ergo, I need to post a story. I think, well, it's October 30th somewhere in the world, right?
Now, I proudly present the story written with The OC season four in mind. *bounces*
Title: In the Shadow of Lone Gunmen
Author: M. F. Luder
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Ryan/Seth.
Rating: PG-13.
Category: Angst. Pre-slash. Drama. Me being weird, again.
Spoilers: Set after "The College Try".
Challenge and prompt: Written first and foremost for "The Advent Calendar of Season four", for today's date. *nods*
overnighter gave me the following prompts. Five words: blue, curve, maelstrom, melancholy and whip.
And also, because I will die and the table will not be finished, written for fanfic100 as well. For their challenge 09. months. The rest of the stories can be found at the Big Damn Table.
Author's note: I had this idea in mind ages ago and never found the inspiration necessary to write it. Until now. The prompts were enough to force me to write it. I'm glad I did. *bounces*
Betad by 60schic. Love you, sweetie. *huggles*
Yep. Here it is. About three hours early, but here it is. *bounces*
Ryan turns around, and Seth's kneeling on his bed, Seth's face etched with happiness and comfortableness and it whispers of home and a life he's about to have, to take. To own.
In the Shadow of Lone Gunmen
09. months
They walk down the hallway on the second floor of the old building. The hallways are bursting with people, the bell for change of period having only rung a minute ago.
"So, dude," Seth says, turning around and walking backwards.
Ryan chuckles, shaking his head. "Seth, you're going to--"
"Mom said Dad called Paul Glass last night." Seth lifts his eyebrows, arms spread wide open, happier than Ryan has seen him in the past days. They are walking down the right side of the hallway, but Seth's backwards, so his right arm hits another student. "Sorry," Seth says after the other kid, his face in a grimace.
"Are you sure about this?" Ryan asks, his heart in his throat each and every time he has asked that question. This is the seventh time in only five days. "You don't have to--"
"Dude, of course--"
Seth doesn't take notice of those two jocks walking toward them, taking no notice of Seth walking backwards, about to bump against them, but Ryan does. He reaches forward, hand catching the edge of Seth's jacket and pulling him to him. Ryan's breath catches in his throat as Seth loses his balance, Ryan's left hand on Seth's shoulder to stabilize him.
"You okay?" Ryan asks, and he can hear his voice quivering, his hand shaking even as it stays on Seth's shoulder.
Seth nods, smiling, before taking a step back. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Ryan lets out a soft sigh, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. His throat is closed down, his hands still shake even as he shoves them in his pockets. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Ryan nods, not knowing what to say, fearing to say anything.
Seth grins, bouncing on the heels of his shoes. "Ryan, man, we're gonna be roommates."
Taking in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his barely parted lips, Ryan nods. Seth had gone to Brown only a week ago, trying to get back together with Summer, running into Anna there. He has no idea what Anna told Seth, or what Summer did, but Seth came back determined not to let the fact that he didn't get into Brown ruin his future. Seth told his parents that Sunday that he hadn't gotten in and that he wanted to try and see if he could get a late admission for Berkeley.
And since then, Ryan had been living with his heart in his throat, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because nothing is ever this good, this perfect. His life, for once, feels right. Theresa told him that the baby is not his, Marissa and him are actually functioning as friends, and Seth, apparently, is going to Berkeley with him.
Something has to give. Ryan's life has never been able to handle this much perfection for long.
"Yeah," Ryan says after a moment, "we are."
Something crashes a few feet away from them, and they both turn to look at the commotion. The jocks, the same ones that almost crashed into Seth a minute ago, are laughing. One of them, Jim, Ryan thinks the guy's name is, chuckles, pushing a kid not older than fifteen, against one of the lockers.
"What are you looking at, geek?" Jim, hands on the kid's collar, sneers into his face. He slams the kid against the locker once again, no one doing anything.
Ryan's blood boils in his veins. He takes a step forward, decided on intervening, fucking do something, when a hand on the inside of his elbow stops him. He looks over his shoulders and sees that Seth's lips are pressed into a thin line, his brown eyes not looking at him, but past him, to the scene still unfolding. "Seth--"
Seth shakes his head. "No, no, don't get in the middle." Seth blinks before looking at him, finally. "You'll get in trouble."
"I can't just stand here--"
"I know, okay? If anyone knows--" Seth sighs, shaking his head once again. "Don't. The guys will get tired of it. Just give it a minute."
Ryan opens his mouth to complain when another loud crash calls his attention. The other jock lifts his head defiantly, Jim letting go of the kid, who stands almost paralyzed against the locker. The kid's books are on the floor. The other guy had to have kicked them.
Just like Seth said, the jocks get tired of it, shake their heads and laugh as they make their way down the corridor. Ryan swallows past the bile on his throat. He takes a step forward, wanting to help the kid, and this time Seth doesn't stop him. But the kid picks up his books and rushes around the corner and out of sight before Ryan has taken two steps.
"What the hell was that?" Ryan growls, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Seth sighs. "The usual. Seniors picking on sophomores, what ya think?" He shrugs. "It always happens, Ryan, there's nothing you can do to stop it."
"Like hell there isn't."
"No, Ryan, dude," Seth says, his hand once again holding him by the inside of his elbow. Ryan can feel Seth's fingers on his skin, warming him from the outside in, his pulse beating rapidly in his temples at the simple touch. "You can't."
It takes Ryan a moment to remember what the hell they were talking about. "Seth--"
"Dr. Kim can't do anything. As long as the jocks don't make derogatory comments about religion, or start a full blown fight, it falls under freedom of expression." Ryan lifts an eyebrow and Seth gives him a sad smile. "I know. I asked."
Ryan can feel his skin going cold, his chest tightening. Fuck. He swallows. "Seth--"
Seth shakes his head once, pulling Ryan down the hallway, in opposite direction from where the whole thing happened. "Come on, you have calculus on the second floor. We're late as it is."
Ryan sighs, letting himself be pulled to class. Seth might be right, but Ryan doesn't have to fucking like it.
The next day, they walk out of the building to the parking lot. Seth's still bouncing on his feet, and Ryan can't help but smile at the sight, his heart light, his whole body relaxed. Seth appears to be certain of his decision. Seth seems to actually want to go to Berkeley with him. He'll probably not be accepted for the fall semester, but Sandy's sure Paul will get him in for spring. Seth's more than happy with that.
Ryan hears Seth with the expertise of two years of familiarity, not quite listening to him but knowing he's there and that being enough. Seth keeps on saying how he'll go to Berkeley with Ryan the first semester. They might have to rent a small apartment, considering Seth can't get a dorm room because he won't be a student, at least not yet. Ryan nods, pleased with seeing Seth so happy, finally, at last.
Seth's going with him to Berkeley, and the knowledge makes his chest tight, the smile on his lips real. Ryan's going to college and Seth's going with him. His life is almost perfect, but it's okay, he can live with imperfection.
They reach the Rover and Ryan slides in the keys in the lock, unlocking the passenger door as he does so. Seth climbs inside, throwing his backpack to the backseat. Ryan closes the door after himself, turning the keys in ignition. He looks over his shoulder, making sure no student is walking by before pulling back, and it's then that he sees the commotion on the other side of the parking lot.
The jocks, again, and the kid from yesterday, being pushed around. Ryan's hands tighten on the wheel before Seth's left hand falls to his forearm.
"Don't."
"Seth, I can't fucking sit--"
"Yes, you can." Seth's voice is dead serious, gone now is the teasing and happiness derived from making plans about the following year. "They are doing nothing the teachers can fault them for."
"What the fuck? They are--" Ryan looks over his shoulder again, craning his neck so he doesn't have to shift his position, for fear of feeling Seth's hand falling from his skin. "They are pushing him around and--"
"Yes, pushing him around. That's all." Seth gives him a small smile, a sad smile, and Ryan can feel his insides cooling to subzero temperatures, from nothing but sadness and pain. "You go there, punch one and hit the other, you'll be the one in trouble. They didn't do anything wrong, you started a fight. See?"
Ryan closes his eyes in frustration and anger. He was able to protect Seth from those very same guys, two years ago, at a party, in a house filled with people he never knew and didn't want to. Going to this school gave Seth leverage, in a way, because those guys feared Ryan, the kid from Chino. They never touched Seth again, not as far as Ryan knows. And Ryan knows, because back then, he used to grilled Seth about things like that, afraid the kid would be lying to him to protect him. Seth never got hurt again, since Ryan started living with him.
But he can't protect every kid that's a bit short, scrawny looking and on the geeky side. He can't do that.
He lets out a long sigh even though he can still feel his anger pulsating in time with his heart.
"Let's get out of here," he grumbles under his breath, and Seth's hand falls from Ryan's elbow. The pain at the loss is physical, and it shifts his focus from the anger, and that's exactly what Ryan needs.
He pulls out of the parking lot, looking through the rearview mirror. The gang is no longer there, or at least Ryan can't see them. And he can't see that kid either.
Third period ends with the ring of the bell and Ryan walks out of the class room, Calculus II, slinging his pack over his head, the sling resting across his shoulders. To his surprise, Seth's already standing outside, leaning against the wall, waiting for him. The notion makes Ryan sigh, his chest constrict, and his smile feels tender and warm.
Seth starts telling him how the class ended five minutes early, because the teacher got a call from Dr. Kim's office and Ryan nods in the right places, chuckles when he knows he has to, letting himself enjoy watching Seth speak, hearing his voice, seeing his smile.
They make their way down the staircase to the first floor, down the corridor and toward the lounge. They've got a free period, together, and though Ryan has Physics homework he'd like to get started on, it's Thursday and Seth will probably want to go over the comics they bought yesterday afternoon.
They are only ten feet from the door leading to the lounge, Seth's talking about Green Lantern and the Teen Titans in between mention of things he's going to be taking with him to Berkeley. The flat screen TV that's in the pool house is one of the first things in that list. And then, Ryan's whole world changes.
Ryan's standing in between Seth and the wall, his heart light, his whole body relaxed, and that's when the first shot rings loud and clear over the noise in the hallways. Ryan turns around so fast, he can feel the whiplash in his neck, in time to see the kid, the same one that has been teased and pushed around and against lockers for the past two weeks, standing in the middle of the hallway, Beretta in his hands, raised for another shot.
Ryan's blue eyes widen in nothing but sheer undiluted fear, and he reaches out with his right arm, across Seth's chest and turns them both around. He hears the screams of the students, the crying of some. Someone calls out something Ryan can't understand. And out of the corner of his eyes, Ryan can see the shots finding their targets, surprise in the eyes of those who got in the way of the gun, blood spurting from chests and arms, in disgusting red curves, hitting the lockers and walls and floors. There's blood everywhere, all Ryan can see in that second is red and blood and pain, before closing his eyes shut.
Ryan presses Seth against the wall, as tight as he can, hoping against hope it's enough so Seth doesn't get hurt, doesn't get shot. He remembers a time, years ago, when fear that pales to this moment had gotten hold of him, standing in the middle of Holly's beach house, watching Donnie shift a gun around, Seth in the same room. His first thought then had been for Seth, his first thought now is still for Seth.
"Ryan?"
The word, whispered from Seth's lips against Ryan's ear, makes his heart clench. He breathes out, says nothing, as the stillness of the lack of shooting alerts him. He risks a glance, pushing away from Seth, but pressing him against the wall at the same time.
The kid, whose name Ryan never even knew, is standing in the middle of the hallway, gun still in his hand. He looks confused, afraid, and lost. Ryan wonders for a moment about reaching forward, trying to calm him down, talk him out of something this stupid.
Seth's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back against their hiding place that is nothing more than a wall, against Seth's chest, stops him.
"Don't," Seth hisses through his teeth and against Ryan's skin as he hides his face in Ryan's neck. "God, Ryan, don't."
The doubt about interfering stops there. Ryan nods, bodily shaking with fear and emotion and apprehension. Someone has to do something. Someone has to stop that kid, even if it won't be Ryan.
The crying continues, people screaming even as Ryan strains to hear if the kid is moving or not, planning to shoot or not.
Then it starts, all over again. Ryan can't count the shots, only presses his body harder against Seth's, trying to protect him from head to toe, thinking about college and his future almost in his grasp, about tomorrow and school ending, about Sandy and Kristen and his life, and then, in between screams and cries and shots, all he knows is pain.
He thinks he screams in the back of his throat, but he isn't sure. He can feel Seth's hands moving to his shoulders, his voice speaking rapidly, asking questions Ryan can't answer, so deep in pain he can barely see straight. Then, he's falling down, to the floor, cradled in Seth's arms.
He tries to focus, to see if he hears the shots continuing, but his ears seems to have clogged, he can't hear a thing. He worries for a moment, if they are on the floor, if he's lying down as he thinks he is, on Seth's lap, Seth's hands on his shoulders, on his chest, pain radiating from his very own skin, then they are out in the open, without what little cover Ryan was able to provide for Seth. Seth could get hurt. Seth could get shot. Seth could--
He screams, his nerves frizzling, his face contorting in a grimace, and fuck, that hurts, from the tips of his toes to his very hair. It hurts worse than breaking his collarbone in a fight with Trey, or his leg after a kick from his dad. It leaves him breathless and blind for a second, before he opens his eyes and sees Seth's face above his, nothing but fear in Seth's brown eyes, tears brimming in them as well.
"Seth?" Ryan whispers, or he thinks he whispers, but he can't hear a sound coming from his lips.
Seth shakes his head, his mouth opens to speak but Ryan thinks all he can hear is a sob dying in Seth's throat.
There's a pause, a tilt of Seth's head, and Ryan tries his best to focus, to hear Seth, to ask him to stand back, to take cover, just take cover for as long that kid has lost his fucking mind and it takes for people to get a handle on this situation.
"God, Ryan," Seth breathes out, finally, his right hand reaching for Ryan's forehead, his nerves warming where Seth's fingers touch his skin.
Seth, Ryan wants to say, but he can feel his throat filled with something, his chest tight. Breathing becomes a difficult and painful action. Seth, he says, but the word is nothing but air leaving his lips and he can feel something dripping from his lips, and he fears it might be blood.
"It's okay, everything will be okay," Seth says, Ryan hears Seth say, but Seth's voice shakes and there's terror in it, terror he has never heard before coming from his friend.
Ryan blinks, opens his eyes not realizing he had closed them, and Seth's looking at him, tears now streaming down his cheeks freely. Seth's hand raises, brushes back his own hair as it clings to his forehead, and Ryan can see blood on Seth's hands, leaving a trail across his temple where his hand touches. Ryan frowns, and that has to be his own blood, because Seth hasn't been shot, hasn't been harmed. That's his blood, on Seth's hands, in Seth's skin. On Seth, in Seth.
He wants to ask what happened, how he got shot if they were both pressed against the wall, but his brain is filled with cotton and his chest hurts and he feels cold, freezing, and even Seth's hands on his neck, on his skin, isn't enough to warm him up.
"Just breathe, Ryan. God, just breathe. Ryan, please. Breathe. Breathe, can you do that? Please, just breathe."
The words become a litany Ryan can barely hear, and when he blinks once again, Seth's brown eyes are filled with a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, from fear to melancholy.
"Ryan, breathe."
Ryan tries, he really tries, but the exertion becomes too much, too difficult, too painful, and he closes his eyes as he feels his chest closing, his throat filling with more blood, coldness seeping into his veins and Seth's touch falling away, falling, falling.
Melancholy is what he feels when he blinks, even as the sun touches his face, his cheek, his skin. He blinks, opening his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. The curtains in the pool house aren't drawn, the doors wide opened. The sun is coming high from the sky, blinding and unrelenting.
"Ryan."
Ryan turns around, and Seth's kneeling on his bed, Seth's face etched with happiness and comfortableness and it whispers of home and a life he's about to have, to take. To own. Ryan smiles, his hand reaching forward, touching Seth's cheek with the back of his knuckles, and Seth leans into the touch as he turns his hand, his palm cupping Seth's face, the same way he does in Ryan's dreams. Ryan doesn't question the action, the situation, the mere presence of Seth in his bed so early in the morning.
Seth smiles, a smile of happiness and kisses and love, and Ryan smiles back. The edges of Seth's face are blurred, and Ryan can't think beyond the here and the now, can't worry about things he should worry about, he can't even remember a minute ago, feeling nothing but pain and sorrow in his bones. There's only this moment in time, perfect in its simplicity, with Seth in his life and in his arms and loving him back.
Seth chuckles, picking up the white sheet in his hands, bringing them up over him, hiding them both from the outside. Ryan laughs, a lighthearted sound that is elicited by Seth's mere presence. Seth leans forward, hiding his face in the hollow of Ryan's neck, his hands clutching almost painfully, one on his chest, trying to stop more blood for oozing out, the other on his shoulder even as tears drip from his eyes and nose.
But Ryan doesn't feel that, or if he does, his brain doesn't acknowledge it. He only feels Seth leaning forward, hiding his face in the hollow of his neck, Seth's kisses trailing down his chin to his collarbone, and him melting at the touch.
Ryan gasps, pain in his every fiber, but his dream is too sweet, too perfect for him to be able to let it go yet. Seth kisses his collarbone, a sloppy kiss, with whispers on his lips that Ryan hears but can't acknowledge, can't even comprehend, with promises of forever and wellness that Ryan would know, if he were aware enough, that are nothing but a lie.
Ryan breathes in and it hurts, God, how it hurts, and he's cold and it hurts and Seth's clutching at his chest, trying to stop the flow of blood from the one gunshot wound he has, his other hand on his shoulder, begging Ryan to hang to, to hold on, help is on the way, I swear, Ryan, just breathe, help is on the way. You'll be fine, we'll be fine. Help is on the way.
But Ryan doesn't hear anything, doesn't hear the tears or the begging, the promises of forever that are a lie and the painful truth that help is too far away, blood is now too much on Seth's hands and not enough in Ryan's system, and his heart is beating erratically, too tired to continue the strain of trying to sustain a body that can no longer sustain itself.
Ryan breathes in, Seth's hair and cheek, his nose touching Seth's skin like in his dreams, in his dreams. He closes his eyes, almost feeing the sheet covering them both, the bed under his body, Seth's touches on his skin, his hands in Seth's hair.
He breathes in the smell of Seth's shampoo and the ocean and coffee, thinks of nothing but Seth and the parents he never had but now he does, the future that is an arm's length away, that is almost in reach for him to take. His perfect life nothing but a dream. He breathes out with a smile on his face, Seth's name on his lips, and when he breathes in, it's for the last time.
*****
October 2nd, 10.25pm - October 3rd, 10.15am
Like I said, I had this idea ages ago. I wanted to know what would happen if there was another boy picked like Seth had been, before Ryan showed up. Just because Seth suddenly had this guy, who could kicked anyone's butt, protecting him, didn't mean the "jocks" would stop their MO, right? This is what happened, in my very twisted mind.
Yep. Sorry to say, I killed Ryan again. *sighs* God, and here I am, having promised not to do it again. *giggles* Sorry!
Hope you all liked it. Now, I'm leaving. NaNoWriMo is only two days away!!! *rushes off to plot Sullen*
Now, I proudly present the story written with The OC season four in mind. *bounces*
Title: In the Shadow of Lone Gunmen
Author: M. F. Luder
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Ryan/Seth.
Rating: PG-13.
Category: Angst. Pre-slash. Drama. Me being weird, again.
Spoilers: Set after "The College Try".
Challenge and prompt: Written first and foremost for "The Advent Calendar of Season four", for today's date. *nods*
overnighter gave me the following prompts. Five words: blue, curve, maelstrom, melancholy and whip.
And also, because I will die and the table will not be finished, written for fanfic100 as well. For their challenge 09. months. The rest of the stories can be found at the Big Damn Table.
Author's note: I had this idea in mind ages ago and never found the inspiration necessary to write it. Until now. The prompts were enough to force me to write it. I'm glad I did. *bounces*
Betad by 60schic. Love you, sweetie. *huggles*
Yep. Here it is. About three hours early, but here it is. *bounces*
Ryan turns around, and Seth's kneeling on his bed, Seth's face etched with happiness and comfortableness and it whispers of home and a life he's about to have, to take. To own.
In the Shadow of Lone Gunmen
09. months
They walk down the hallway on the second floor of the old building. The hallways are bursting with people, the bell for change of period having only rung a minute ago.
"So, dude," Seth says, turning around and walking backwards.
Ryan chuckles, shaking his head. "Seth, you're going to--"
"Mom said Dad called Paul Glass last night." Seth lifts his eyebrows, arms spread wide open, happier than Ryan has seen him in the past days. They are walking down the right side of the hallway, but Seth's backwards, so his right arm hits another student. "Sorry," Seth says after the other kid, his face in a grimace.
"Are you sure about this?" Ryan asks, his heart in his throat each and every time he has asked that question. This is the seventh time in only five days. "You don't have to--"
"Dude, of course--"
Seth doesn't take notice of those two jocks walking toward them, taking no notice of Seth walking backwards, about to bump against them, but Ryan does. He reaches forward, hand catching the edge of Seth's jacket and pulling him to him. Ryan's breath catches in his throat as Seth loses his balance, Ryan's left hand on Seth's shoulder to stabilize him.
"You okay?" Ryan asks, and he can hear his voice quivering, his hand shaking even as it stays on Seth's shoulder.
Seth nods, smiling, before taking a step back. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Ryan lets out a soft sigh, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. His throat is closed down, his hands still shake even as he shoves them in his pockets. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Ryan nods, not knowing what to say, fearing to say anything.
Seth grins, bouncing on the heels of his shoes. "Ryan, man, we're gonna be roommates."
Taking in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his barely parted lips, Ryan nods. Seth had gone to Brown only a week ago, trying to get back together with Summer, running into Anna there. He has no idea what Anna told Seth, or what Summer did, but Seth came back determined not to let the fact that he didn't get into Brown ruin his future. Seth told his parents that Sunday that he hadn't gotten in and that he wanted to try and see if he could get a late admission for Berkeley.
And since then, Ryan had been living with his heart in his throat, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because nothing is ever this good, this perfect. His life, for once, feels right. Theresa told him that the baby is not his, Marissa and him are actually functioning as friends, and Seth, apparently, is going to Berkeley with him.
Something has to give. Ryan's life has never been able to handle this much perfection for long.
"Yeah," Ryan says after a moment, "we are."
Something crashes a few feet away from them, and they both turn to look at the commotion. The jocks, the same ones that almost crashed into Seth a minute ago, are laughing. One of them, Jim, Ryan thinks the guy's name is, chuckles, pushing a kid not older than fifteen, against one of the lockers.
"What are you looking at, geek?" Jim, hands on the kid's collar, sneers into his face. He slams the kid against the locker once again, no one doing anything.
Ryan's blood boils in his veins. He takes a step forward, decided on intervening, fucking do something, when a hand on the inside of his elbow stops him. He looks over his shoulders and sees that Seth's lips are pressed into a thin line, his brown eyes not looking at him, but past him, to the scene still unfolding. "Seth--"
Seth shakes his head. "No, no, don't get in the middle." Seth blinks before looking at him, finally. "You'll get in trouble."
"I can't just stand here--"
"I know, okay? If anyone knows--" Seth sighs, shaking his head once again. "Don't. The guys will get tired of it. Just give it a minute."
Ryan opens his mouth to complain when another loud crash calls his attention. The other jock lifts his head defiantly, Jim letting go of the kid, who stands almost paralyzed against the locker. The kid's books are on the floor. The other guy had to have kicked them.
Just like Seth said, the jocks get tired of it, shake their heads and laugh as they make their way down the corridor. Ryan swallows past the bile on his throat. He takes a step forward, wanting to help the kid, and this time Seth doesn't stop him. But the kid picks up his books and rushes around the corner and out of sight before Ryan has taken two steps.
"What the hell was that?" Ryan growls, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Seth sighs. "The usual. Seniors picking on sophomores, what ya think?" He shrugs. "It always happens, Ryan, there's nothing you can do to stop it."
"Like hell there isn't."
"No, Ryan, dude," Seth says, his hand once again holding him by the inside of his elbow. Ryan can feel Seth's fingers on his skin, warming him from the outside in, his pulse beating rapidly in his temples at the simple touch. "You can't."
It takes Ryan a moment to remember what the hell they were talking about. "Seth--"
"Dr. Kim can't do anything. As long as the jocks don't make derogatory comments about religion, or start a full blown fight, it falls under freedom of expression." Ryan lifts an eyebrow and Seth gives him a sad smile. "I know. I asked."
Ryan can feel his skin going cold, his chest tightening. Fuck. He swallows. "Seth--"
Seth shakes his head once, pulling Ryan down the hallway, in opposite direction from where the whole thing happened. "Come on, you have calculus on the second floor. We're late as it is."
Ryan sighs, letting himself be pulled to class. Seth might be right, but Ryan doesn't have to fucking like it.
The next day, they walk out of the building to the parking lot. Seth's still bouncing on his feet, and Ryan can't help but smile at the sight, his heart light, his whole body relaxed. Seth appears to be certain of his decision. Seth seems to actually want to go to Berkeley with him. He'll probably not be accepted for the fall semester, but Sandy's sure Paul will get him in for spring. Seth's more than happy with that.
Ryan hears Seth with the expertise of two years of familiarity, not quite listening to him but knowing he's there and that being enough. Seth keeps on saying how he'll go to Berkeley with Ryan the first semester. They might have to rent a small apartment, considering Seth can't get a dorm room because he won't be a student, at least not yet. Ryan nods, pleased with seeing Seth so happy, finally, at last.
Seth's going with him to Berkeley, and the knowledge makes his chest tight, the smile on his lips real. Ryan's going to college and Seth's going with him. His life is almost perfect, but it's okay, he can live with imperfection.
They reach the Rover and Ryan slides in the keys in the lock, unlocking the passenger door as he does so. Seth climbs inside, throwing his backpack to the backseat. Ryan closes the door after himself, turning the keys in ignition. He looks over his shoulder, making sure no student is walking by before pulling back, and it's then that he sees the commotion on the other side of the parking lot.
The jocks, again, and the kid from yesterday, being pushed around. Ryan's hands tighten on the wheel before Seth's left hand falls to his forearm.
"Don't."
"Seth, I can't fucking sit--"
"Yes, you can." Seth's voice is dead serious, gone now is the teasing and happiness derived from making plans about the following year. "They are doing nothing the teachers can fault them for."
"What the fuck? They are--" Ryan looks over his shoulder again, craning his neck so he doesn't have to shift his position, for fear of feeling Seth's hand falling from his skin. "They are pushing him around and--"
"Yes, pushing him around. That's all." Seth gives him a small smile, a sad smile, and Ryan can feel his insides cooling to subzero temperatures, from nothing but sadness and pain. "You go there, punch one and hit the other, you'll be the one in trouble. They didn't do anything wrong, you started a fight. See?"
Ryan closes his eyes in frustration and anger. He was able to protect Seth from those very same guys, two years ago, at a party, in a house filled with people he never knew and didn't want to. Going to this school gave Seth leverage, in a way, because those guys feared Ryan, the kid from Chino. They never touched Seth again, not as far as Ryan knows. And Ryan knows, because back then, he used to grilled Seth about things like that, afraid the kid would be lying to him to protect him. Seth never got hurt again, since Ryan started living with him.
But he can't protect every kid that's a bit short, scrawny looking and on the geeky side. He can't do that.
He lets out a long sigh even though he can still feel his anger pulsating in time with his heart.
"Let's get out of here," he grumbles under his breath, and Seth's hand falls from Ryan's elbow. The pain at the loss is physical, and it shifts his focus from the anger, and that's exactly what Ryan needs.
He pulls out of the parking lot, looking through the rearview mirror. The gang is no longer there, or at least Ryan can't see them. And he can't see that kid either.
Third period ends with the ring of the bell and Ryan walks out of the class room, Calculus II, slinging his pack over his head, the sling resting across his shoulders. To his surprise, Seth's already standing outside, leaning against the wall, waiting for him. The notion makes Ryan sigh, his chest constrict, and his smile feels tender and warm.
Seth starts telling him how the class ended five minutes early, because the teacher got a call from Dr. Kim's office and Ryan nods in the right places, chuckles when he knows he has to, letting himself enjoy watching Seth speak, hearing his voice, seeing his smile.
They make their way down the staircase to the first floor, down the corridor and toward the lounge. They've got a free period, together, and though Ryan has Physics homework he'd like to get started on, it's Thursday and Seth will probably want to go over the comics they bought yesterday afternoon.
They are only ten feet from the door leading to the lounge, Seth's talking about Green Lantern and the Teen Titans in between mention of things he's going to be taking with him to Berkeley. The flat screen TV that's in the pool house is one of the first things in that list. And then, Ryan's whole world changes.
Ryan's standing in between Seth and the wall, his heart light, his whole body relaxed, and that's when the first shot rings loud and clear over the noise in the hallways. Ryan turns around so fast, he can feel the whiplash in his neck, in time to see the kid, the same one that has been teased and pushed around and against lockers for the past two weeks, standing in the middle of the hallway, Beretta in his hands, raised for another shot.
Ryan's blue eyes widen in nothing but sheer undiluted fear, and he reaches out with his right arm, across Seth's chest and turns them both around. He hears the screams of the students, the crying of some. Someone calls out something Ryan can't understand. And out of the corner of his eyes, Ryan can see the shots finding their targets, surprise in the eyes of those who got in the way of the gun, blood spurting from chests and arms, in disgusting red curves, hitting the lockers and walls and floors. There's blood everywhere, all Ryan can see in that second is red and blood and pain, before closing his eyes shut.
Ryan presses Seth against the wall, as tight as he can, hoping against hope it's enough so Seth doesn't get hurt, doesn't get shot. He remembers a time, years ago, when fear that pales to this moment had gotten hold of him, standing in the middle of Holly's beach house, watching Donnie shift a gun around, Seth in the same room. His first thought then had been for Seth, his first thought now is still for Seth.
"Ryan?"
The word, whispered from Seth's lips against Ryan's ear, makes his heart clench. He breathes out, says nothing, as the stillness of the lack of shooting alerts him. He risks a glance, pushing away from Seth, but pressing him against the wall at the same time.
The kid, whose name Ryan never even knew, is standing in the middle of the hallway, gun still in his hand. He looks confused, afraid, and lost. Ryan wonders for a moment about reaching forward, trying to calm him down, talk him out of something this stupid.
Seth's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back against their hiding place that is nothing more than a wall, against Seth's chest, stops him.
"Don't," Seth hisses through his teeth and against Ryan's skin as he hides his face in Ryan's neck. "God, Ryan, don't."
The doubt about interfering stops there. Ryan nods, bodily shaking with fear and emotion and apprehension. Someone has to do something. Someone has to stop that kid, even if it won't be Ryan.
The crying continues, people screaming even as Ryan strains to hear if the kid is moving or not, planning to shoot or not.
Then it starts, all over again. Ryan can't count the shots, only presses his body harder against Seth's, trying to protect him from head to toe, thinking about college and his future almost in his grasp, about tomorrow and school ending, about Sandy and Kristen and his life, and then, in between screams and cries and shots, all he knows is pain.
He thinks he screams in the back of his throat, but he isn't sure. He can feel Seth's hands moving to his shoulders, his voice speaking rapidly, asking questions Ryan can't answer, so deep in pain he can barely see straight. Then, he's falling down, to the floor, cradled in Seth's arms.
He tries to focus, to see if he hears the shots continuing, but his ears seems to have clogged, he can't hear a thing. He worries for a moment, if they are on the floor, if he's lying down as he thinks he is, on Seth's lap, Seth's hands on his shoulders, on his chest, pain radiating from his very own skin, then they are out in the open, without what little cover Ryan was able to provide for Seth. Seth could get hurt. Seth could get shot. Seth could--
He screams, his nerves frizzling, his face contorting in a grimace, and fuck, that hurts, from the tips of his toes to his very hair. It hurts worse than breaking his collarbone in a fight with Trey, or his leg after a kick from his dad. It leaves him breathless and blind for a second, before he opens his eyes and sees Seth's face above his, nothing but fear in Seth's brown eyes, tears brimming in them as well.
"Seth?" Ryan whispers, or he thinks he whispers, but he can't hear a sound coming from his lips.
Seth shakes his head, his mouth opens to speak but Ryan thinks all he can hear is a sob dying in Seth's throat.
There's a pause, a tilt of Seth's head, and Ryan tries his best to focus, to hear Seth, to ask him to stand back, to take cover, just take cover for as long that kid has lost his fucking mind and it takes for people to get a handle on this situation.
"God, Ryan," Seth breathes out, finally, his right hand reaching for Ryan's forehead, his nerves warming where Seth's fingers touch his skin.
Seth, Ryan wants to say, but he can feel his throat filled with something, his chest tight. Breathing becomes a difficult and painful action. Seth, he says, but the word is nothing but air leaving his lips and he can feel something dripping from his lips, and he fears it might be blood.
"It's okay, everything will be okay," Seth says, Ryan hears Seth say, but Seth's voice shakes and there's terror in it, terror he has never heard before coming from his friend.
Ryan blinks, opens his eyes not realizing he had closed them, and Seth's looking at him, tears now streaming down his cheeks freely. Seth's hand raises, brushes back his own hair as it clings to his forehead, and Ryan can see blood on Seth's hands, leaving a trail across his temple where his hand touches. Ryan frowns, and that has to be his own blood, because Seth hasn't been shot, hasn't been harmed. That's his blood, on Seth's hands, in Seth's skin. On Seth, in Seth.
He wants to ask what happened, how he got shot if they were both pressed against the wall, but his brain is filled with cotton and his chest hurts and he feels cold, freezing, and even Seth's hands on his neck, on his skin, isn't enough to warm him up.
"Just breathe, Ryan. God, just breathe. Ryan, please. Breathe. Breathe, can you do that? Please, just breathe."
The words become a litany Ryan can barely hear, and when he blinks once again, Seth's brown eyes are filled with a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, from fear to melancholy.
"Ryan, breathe."
Ryan tries, he really tries, but the exertion becomes too much, too difficult, too painful, and he closes his eyes as he feels his chest closing, his throat filling with more blood, coldness seeping into his veins and Seth's touch falling away, falling, falling.
Melancholy is what he feels when he blinks, even as the sun touches his face, his cheek, his skin. He blinks, opening his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. The curtains in the pool house aren't drawn, the doors wide opened. The sun is coming high from the sky, blinding and unrelenting.
"Ryan."
Ryan turns around, and Seth's kneeling on his bed, Seth's face etched with happiness and comfortableness and it whispers of home and a life he's about to have, to take. To own. Ryan smiles, his hand reaching forward, touching Seth's cheek with the back of his knuckles, and Seth leans into the touch as he turns his hand, his palm cupping Seth's face, the same way he does in Ryan's dreams. Ryan doesn't question the action, the situation, the mere presence of Seth in his bed so early in the morning.
Seth smiles, a smile of happiness and kisses and love, and Ryan smiles back. The edges of Seth's face are blurred, and Ryan can't think beyond the here and the now, can't worry about things he should worry about, he can't even remember a minute ago, feeling nothing but pain and sorrow in his bones. There's only this moment in time, perfect in its simplicity, with Seth in his life and in his arms and loving him back.
Seth chuckles, picking up the white sheet in his hands, bringing them up over him, hiding them both from the outside. Ryan laughs, a lighthearted sound that is elicited by Seth's mere presence. Seth leans forward, hiding his face in the hollow of Ryan's neck, his hands clutching almost painfully, one on his chest, trying to stop more blood for oozing out, the other on his shoulder even as tears drip from his eyes and nose.
But Ryan doesn't feel that, or if he does, his brain doesn't acknowledge it. He only feels Seth leaning forward, hiding his face in the hollow of his neck, Seth's kisses trailing down his chin to his collarbone, and him melting at the touch.
Ryan gasps, pain in his every fiber, but his dream is too sweet, too perfect for him to be able to let it go yet. Seth kisses his collarbone, a sloppy kiss, with whispers on his lips that Ryan hears but can't acknowledge, can't even comprehend, with promises of forever and wellness that Ryan would know, if he were aware enough, that are nothing but a lie.
Ryan breathes in and it hurts, God, how it hurts, and he's cold and it hurts and Seth's clutching at his chest, trying to stop the flow of blood from the one gunshot wound he has, his other hand on his shoulder, begging Ryan to hang to, to hold on, help is on the way, I swear, Ryan, just breathe, help is on the way. You'll be fine, we'll be fine. Help is on the way.
But Ryan doesn't hear anything, doesn't hear the tears or the begging, the promises of forever that are a lie and the painful truth that help is too far away, blood is now too much on Seth's hands and not enough in Ryan's system, and his heart is beating erratically, too tired to continue the strain of trying to sustain a body that can no longer sustain itself.
Ryan breathes in, Seth's hair and cheek, his nose touching Seth's skin like in his dreams, in his dreams. He closes his eyes, almost feeing the sheet covering them both, the bed under his body, Seth's touches on his skin, his hands in Seth's hair.
He breathes in the smell of Seth's shampoo and the ocean and coffee, thinks of nothing but Seth and the parents he never had but now he does, the future that is an arm's length away, that is almost in reach for him to take. His perfect life nothing but a dream. He breathes out with a smile on his face, Seth's name on his lips, and when he breathes in, it's for the last time.
*****
October 2nd, 10.25pm - October 3rd, 10.15am
Like I said, I had this idea ages ago. I wanted to know what would happen if there was another boy picked like Seth had been, before Ryan showed up. Just because Seth suddenly had this guy, who could kicked anyone's butt, protecting him, didn't mean the "jocks" would stop their MO, right? This is what happened, in my very twisted mind.
Yep. Sorry to say, I killed Ryan again. *sighs* God, and here I am, having promised not to do it again. *giggles* Sorry!
Hope you all liked it. Now, I'm leaving. NaNoWriMo is only two days away!!! *rushes off to plot Sullen*