A/N: This is going to be a two part fic, and it's more Ryan centric than my usual. Fortunately, I have already written the second half so no worries of this fic being indefinitely unfinished. I'll post the second part soon, within this week probably. (And speaking of incomplete fics, I am sorry about Fresh Starts. I am trying to do some work on it but any promises would basically be meaningless. I can only offer an apology.)

Reviews are, of course, the greatest. Thanks.

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And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,

'Cause most of us are bitter over someone.

Setting fire to our insides for fun,

To distract our hearts from ever missing them.

'Youth' - Daughter

He's married at 22, straight out of college. He always thought he would get married young, probably knock up a girl at sixteen and then out of guilt, some old-fashioned sense of responsibility, end up marrying her. When Theresa got pregnant, he thought about it a lot. If the child was his, does he propose? Do they try to make to make it work? And yet, the whole time, being married to Theresa felt the most sickening idea of all when he was so in love with another. Then he came back to the Cohens and he started to believe he would marry much later. When the time was right and the girl was right and they were doing it for all the right reasons.

But he's married at 22. It's a Vegas wedding of all things. It's okay, though, because he loves Taylor. She makes him happy. She makes him smile and laugh.

She's a whirlwind, she's electric.

She's safe, she's secure.

She can't break his heart.


Ryan always thought Taylor was a free-spirit. The kind who might one day drop everything, move to a village in France and decide to be a painter. But she's the kind of free-spirit who would not waft through life. If Taylor wanted to be painter, she would work to be the best painter. Taylor wants success. She'll stop at nothing to get it. However, deep down what Taylor craves the most is acceptance. At Harbour, she longed for the respect of the Newport bitches, of the likes of Summer and Marissa. Now she's older and she still wants in.

Even though she's in law school at UCLA, she goes to all the big Newport parties at the weekend. Hosts many herself at their new house in Newport (a rich aunt dies and leaves her a massive inheritance). She presents them as the bright young powercouple - he's the promising architect and she's the promising lawyer, maybe one day California's first female governor.

He humours her, does not protest or complain because she's always so happy. But this is not the life he imagined.


He hears she's back in town. Marissa left five years ago and he hasn't seen her since. She was only meant to be gone for one.

He wonders what she's doing back. He won't let his thoughts go further than that.

She left and he moved on.


Taylor tells him he should be ecstatic about his promotion. Only one year at the Newport Group and he's got so far.

He smiles slightly and says, "Yeah, I guess I should be." She throws a party to celebrate, tells her new friends with so much pride about her husband's promotion.

Ryan can't tell her that he isn't happy at the firm. When he decided to be an architect he did not expect long drawn out discussions about profit-margins and cutting costs. His work is dull, lifeless, and he feels like they are constantly cheating, but the pay is good. Taylor would not understand his complaint. She might enjoy artsy Japanese cinema, could ramble on and on about Renaissance art, might in so many ways be a radical, yet, Newport society leaves its mark on her. Money is power, money is success. Social perceptions matter.

"That boy from Chino, remember the ones the Cohens took in, he's doing so well. Who would have thought?" they say, and she listens.


Sundays are his favourite day. It's the weekly lunch at the Cohen house. Taylor joins him sometimes but she's often busy. Today, it's just him.

Sandy and Kirsten congratulate him on the promotion and it makes him beam. They seem genuinely proud of him. He doesn't tell them about his doubts or second-thoughts because he doesn't want to disappoint them. They do seem so happy about it and it feels like he has done something right. It finally feels like he's proving they made the right decision about him; he's pursued that feeling since Kirsten first said he's staying with them.

He has a beer with Sandy, they talk about sports and Sandy jokingly asks what young marital bliss is like. Sandy didn't approve at first, thought they were too young, but he's coming around. Ryan laughs and says it's great. Kirstens fusses over him and feeds him so much, he thinks he's full for the week. He plays with his new sister and after lunch, they all cram around a computer and skype Seth, who's living in New York with Summer.

Later on that afternoon, as he's reading Sophie a story, the phone rings. Kirsten picks it up.

"Oh, hi Julie," he hears her say. He perks up momentarily and his eyes dart at Kirsten's direction. They start talking about a fundraiser and his attentions go back to Sophie. Afterwards, before he leaves, Kirsten asks him if he has spoken to Marissa. He replies he hasn't and shrugs.

"I'll probably pop over some time and say hi," he says weakly.


He sees Julie at a party. Their eyes meet from a distance and he can feel her dissecting him. She approaches him later at the bar.

"I heard about the promotion," she says. Does the whole fucking town know? he thinks and remembers this is Newport and his wife is Taylor. "Well done," she tells him and smiles. It isn't warm but it isn't cold either; it's like respect. Julie twirls her champagne flute and he can see her mind calculating.

"Marissa's home," she adds. She's waiting for a reaction and he doesn't want to give her one.

"Really? I didn't know," he lies.


It takes Taylor one month to finally mention Marissa.

"She's back in Newport, you know right? Have you seen her at all? I thought you might have. Newport's such a small place, I'm bumping into people all the time," she rambles in a frenzy.

"No, no, I haven't," he tells her. He wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek. "I'm not in a rush to see her. You have nothing to worry about. I'm your husband."


It takes exactly seven weeks and four days for him to start admitting that he wants to see her. On his lunch break he wanders over to Julie's new place - a beachside condo - after she divorced with Neil. The Newport group is planning on buying a plot of houses nearby. He tells himself that's why he's here. He's going to go over and check the houses - this is just a pit stop. He knocks on the door, ready to tell his story to Julie. There's the frightening possibility that it is Marissa who opens the door; he's a wreck. He stands for a good five minutes before he realises that nobody is in. His heart sinks.

He prepares to walk away, retreat to his car and the bubble of his present life when Julie drives up.

"Ryan!" Julie beams and smiles at him with pleasant surprise. Her smile turns smug. She doesn't have to ask what he's doing here. "She moved out last week," she tells him.

"Oh," he utters. He feels like an idiot, a teenage fool.

"Do you want the address?" she asks.

"No, it's okay," he tells her and starts walking to his car.

"It's a place near the pier," she calls out anyway. He pretends he didn't hear.


He's a madman, he thinks. He roams the pier on his lunch break, sometimes walks along the beach. He goes to the places she used to like and the news ones she would like, yet, he never braves the lifeguard stand. He sometimes sits on the bench outside The Bait Shop and his eyes start to scan the people walking by. He's not sure what he's looking for, or what he wants. He hopes that maybe chance will strike and he'll meet her through a happy accident.

She told him once, half-serious and half-joking, that their first meeting was star-crossed.


"Hey buddy, I heard the big news," Seth says over the phone.

"Yeah, what?"

"Marissa's back in town, man! C'mon, spill."

"And why would I care?"

Seth sniggers and guffaws and laughs his head off.

"Dude," Seth stresses. Somehow the fact that he's married doesn't change old beliefs.

"Well I haven't see her," Ryan replies.

"Oh, really?" Seth's surprised and suddenly, it occurs to him maybe the joking around is stepping on sore ground. He backtracks, says why should Ryan care. He asks about Taylor and shares stories about Summer. But then it's Ryan who goes back to her.

"Do you know what she's doing back?" he asks. He can feel how sceptical and accusatory his voice must sound. He curses in his mind.

"No idea," Seth says. Of course, he wouldn't have anything useful to say.


When he finally sees her, he has to think hard to make sure it's her. It's at the beach (where else). She sits on the sand, wearing a yellow sundress. Her hair is up in pony tail, much darker than what he last remembered. She has her face turned away from him, head buried in a book. He wanders over for a closer look. He thinks he might be imagining her. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. A lock of hair falls from behind her ear.

"Is this seat taken?" he asks and cringes at how cheesy and awkward and cliched that sounds. She turns and he can't believe it. It's her, it's really her. She's all tan and freckles and long legs. She smiles at him and he can feel it spread through his entire body.

"Hey."

"Hey."

He sits down, crosses his legs awkwardly and laughs nervously. "I heard you are back," he tells her and berates himself for stating the obvious.

"I was starting to really miss Newport. Would you believe it?" she replies and smiles again. Her eyes shine, so bright and illuminating, he's forgotten what it is like to look through them. His breath catches and his voice wavers with nerves.

"Well, Newport missed you," he offers and then immediately thinks it's the lamest thing he has ever said. She starts to laugh and he joins in and it stops feeling like they haven't seen each other in five years.

"I heard you had got a sense of humour," she tells him. And then the laughter subsides and they recall the time gone by. Her eyes glance downwards to the ring on his finger that glows in the sunlight. She clears her throat and says congratulations.

His smile fades and he grows serious and unsure. "Thank you," he replies. The silence is heavy and suffocating. They are not the people they were. Not at all, not by a long margin.