Title: Fall From Grace
Author: BrightsideDC
Written for: TatorTots370
Pairing: None
Rating: R for language
Sentence: Seth can't find his toothbrush.
Author's Notes: Second one-shot/fic ever. So I'm sitting here, very insecure and scared of posting this, lol. But it's for fun, so what the hell. I know you probably wanted humor out of this Tots, but I went a different direction, only because my comedic juices weren't flowing. Hopefully you'll still find a spot in your heart for it.
Standing in the bathroom in a depressed state of mind, Seth wanted to brush his teeth and get the slimy orangish gunk off of his once pearly whites. Searching in the holder it usually was in, he found it bare and empty. He stared the toothbrush holder up and down as he felt pools of water begin to tear up into his eyes. One drop was able to escape and cascade down his right cheek, hitting the cold tile floor flawlessly. And once the first tear fell, others began to fall, joining the first tear like worshippers of a cult following on the cold tile that sent shivers from Seth's bare feet to his Jewish curls on his head. Nothing was working for him. He couldn't do anything the right way.
It was hard to believe that not being able to find his toothbrush could trigger his emotions into a frenzy.
The pale full moon crept its face and just a bit of light into the dark room in the Cohen household through the window, causing shadows to appear onto the walls. Shadows of a surfboard, stacks of cds, a bed, and a human figure; knees up, hands behind his head.
Seth sat on his bed, letting all of his weight press onto the wall behind him, listening to his stereo flood his room with the rythmic sound of drums and guitar riffs. He was silent, and had been for about the past three weeks or so, which some would consider a miracle brought to everybody from God.
An open box of Kleenex sat to his right side. His eyes blood shot from crying, his face reddenned.
Everything was so screwed up.
No. Scratch that, everything was so fucked up. Well, at least according to Summer.
It had been a month since Marissa shot Trey.
A month since Trey died in the arms of Ryan and Seth.
A month since Ryan shut everybody out and shut himself down.
A month since his own mother was put into rehab.
So he sat alone in his room by himself, something he hadn't done since Freshman year of high school.
His grandfather had passed. Not that he was entirely sad over that, it just didn't feel right. He knew he was supposed to feel sorrow and pain, which he did. It just wasn't as much as he thought he would. After analyzing it a little to much, he decided it must have been because the great Caleb Nichol hadn't paid any attention to him his entire life, besides talking to him about sailing. Deep inside, he knew his grandfather wasn't to involved with him for one reason: He looked to much like his father.
"God." Seth silently screamed in his head, slamming his fist into the bed sheets. Frustrated, angry, and upset, he grabbed a cd case and threw it, watching it smash to pieces and fall onto his plush carpeting.
He couldn't help but be envious of the entire Cooper family. He would have painted himself green to represent the hatred and envy he felt towards them. But he tried it once in third grade to impress the cool kids at the football game..didn't work out.
"Marissa Cooper. Marissa Fucking Cooper." Seth quietly muttered to himself, almost mute under the blaring sounds of his stereo. She shot Trey, Ryan's blood brother. She shot and killed him. And thanks to Newport Living she was made a hero, a saint, a savior even. Hell, if the town wasn't so into themselves they probably would have thrown her a god damn parade. After the incident she immediately wanted a break from Ryan, who didn't even say a word, only blinking once, turning around, and walking away, not saying a thing to Seth. Now she was on vacation with her parents and little sister in Paris. Enjoying the fruits of Julie's iron clad pre-nup.
He once felt like the "Fantastic Four" were perfect pieces to a puzzle that fit snug right next to one another, but after this past month, they might as well been the corner pieces on four different sides of the puzzle.
His thoughts trailed off to Summer. The girl, not the season. He'd never seen her so shaken up in her life that night. Not even after her mother ran off in the middle of the night with the tennis instructor. She was always the strong one, showing up for school the next day after her parents divorced for example. But deep down, he knew that she wanted to just sit down in a corner and let herself break down. Seth never really thought about it or payed attention to it, but if he had, he would have noticed Summer's puffy eyes and reddened cheeks a few times a month or so when he entered her room. Now she wasn't in Newport for the summer. Her father, not wanting her around Newport during these troubling times whisked her away by private jet. Destination: New York.
All of this could have been prevented.
If he would have just not have told Ryan.
If he would have rode with him to Trey's instead of backing down like a coward.
Guilt was a word Seth had become all to familiar with in the past month.
Seth laid down in his bed and rolled onto his side, pulling the covers up to his neck, curling into a ball. He glanced over at his nightstand and saw a framed picture. Stretching his arm to reach over and grab ahold of it, he eyed it up and down, left to right.
"Ryan.." Seth whispered, feeling his chest tighten and his stomach flip over.
"Wanna play?"
Those two words were all it took to build a strong bond between two completely different people who would become best friends and brothers by paper. Seth knew he completely blew it during the whole Oliver fiasco, and that he turned his back on Ryan when he went to Chino. But in between and around that there were laughs, ackward hugs, and a genuine liking of each others company, right? Sure there were more bumps in the road, like waking him up in the middle of the night and constantly talking about himself.
But Seth just didn't talk about himself because he was so self absorbed. He thought he was protecting Ryan. Seth thought that deep down inside Ryan, there was a seven year old who just wanted to be hugged by his mother and have her kiss his scrapes and put band aids on his cuts, and soothed him when he cried. He knew Ryan's past was filled with angst, punches, and random hook ups, so why bother letting him bring that up? Talking about something like that would open up a whole new can of worms and Ryan wouldn't want to relive his past, right?
Now Ryan was in the pool house by himself, only coming out to go to work and eat dinner, which Sandy practically had to force him to do. He was still in the grieving process, and like Seth, blamed himself for everything that occurred.
Seth laughed audibly, still not believing that not being able to find his toothbrush had brought out such emotion and thoughts. Thoughts that have been in his head for the past month.
30 Days.
720 Hrs.
1440 Minutes.
Seth had always had trouble reaching the very back of his molars while brushing his teeth, so Kirsten bought him a slender mechanical toothbrush to make it easier on him. And now his mother was in rehab. Going from a cheery, toothbrush buying mother, to an alcoholic. He often repressed memories of his mothers drinking, but there was another point in time where it had gotten out of control..
"Mommy, why are there all these people at Grandpa's?" A six year old Seth asked, who had changed out of his little suit into red overalls and red and white striped velcro shoes.
"It's a party sweetie." Kirsten replied quietly, sitting on her fathers love seat in a room far from the party, sipping on her fifth glass of merlot. Her mother had just passed and she felt almost completely responsible and guilty for it all. Sure, she died of a terminal illness, but Kirsten barely spent anytime with her since she lived in Berkeley with Sandy and Seth. If she could find Doc Brown from Back To The Future, she would hit him from behind and steal his Delorean, in hopes of seeing her mother breathe a breath of air and hear her complain about Caleb complaining about cilantro.
"But..why is there a party?" Seth questioned, his eyes looking at his fingernails as he scuffed his shoes along the carpet, stuck in his own world.
"Because it's customary."
"Why is it customary?"
"Seth. Just go. Leave now." Kirsten barked, her glazed eyes a cold shade of blue. She was on the brim of tears and could not start crying again.
"Why?" Seth blinked twice, looking up at his mother.
"Go Seth, now." Kirsten choked out, tears streaming down her face as she finished off her fifth glass, heading for a sixth.
Now she's in rehab trying to fix a problem she's probably had since high school. And Seth can't help but feel just a tad bit sorry for himself. His dad threw himself into his work while his mother was busy admitting that she had a problem everyday.
He checked off the list in his head as he rolled onto his back in bed, rubbing his eyes and letting his hands run through his hair.
His mother? Rehab.
His dad? To busy to notice Seth and Ryan both need counseling.
His girlfriend? Shopping and living it up in New York.
His best friend? Sitting in the pool house grieving like there's no tomorrow.
His once step aunt? The fucking hero of the town, spending his Grandfathers money in Paris.
And himself? Wallowing in self pity in his bed.
But he knew that eventually his family would stop it's fall from grace.
They'd build there way back up from the bottom to the top.
And, he'd find that toothbrush of his.
But for right now? He'll lay in his bed, hoping that one day, everybody will un-break themselves.
FIN.