Summary: Ryan thinks about Trey, seven years after the shooting.
Background Info: This story takes place seven years in the future, after Trey is shot by Marissa.
A/N: I recently discovered a band called Staind. I mean, I have always known of them and some of their songs, but I never knew how amazing they were until last week. Their song Yesterday off of 14 Shades of Grey reminded me so much of Ryan and Trey that I had to write this. I had been planning on something else, but I really, really like the way this turned out. The line in bold and italicized is a line I saw in a promo for Season 3, just so you know.This will most likely be a one-shot, but if you feel like you have an idea for another chapter, feel free to leaveme a reviewwith your suggestion. I would like any and ALL reviews...Please?
P.S.--I am still working on Afterwards, dont worry.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with the O.C.The song (the part in italics) is written by Staind. I don't own that either. I do, however, own the story. Do not steal and do not copy.
It had been seven years since Ryan had last seen Trey.
Four months after the shooting, Trey had come out his coma.
Two weeks later, Trey had been let out of the hospital.
The same day Trey left was the day that Ryan finally came to visit.
The entire two weeks he had been unable to face his brother.
That day, he had found the bed empty.
The lady at the front desk said that Trey had left a note for Ryan.
Seven years later, Ryan had yet to read the note.
You don't know what you've put me through.
It's okay, I've forgiven you.
But in some way, hope it fucks with you.
Hope it fucks with you…
On the drive home, the note had sat on the passenger seat, dividing his mind and torturing his soul. Should he open it? What could it possibly say? Should he tell anyone else about the note?
For ten minutes he had sat in the driveway, debating about what to do.
Little did he know that Sandy was watching the teen from inside the house.
Little did he know that Sandy had watched him carefully for a year after the shooting.
Little did he know that Sandy had always watched him and would always be watching him.
Finally, Ryan had walked into the house, the note hidden in his pocket. Seth and Kirsten had questioned him carefully, knowing that the subject was touchy. However, Ryan had found himself unable to answer.
The Cohens had expected this, but not for the same reason that Ryan was silent.
Seth had looked in the fridge, found that there was no pudding left, and had started bartering with Kirsten.
Eight minutes into the chatter, Ryan had finally found the words to answer.
"He left."
Seth had stopped mid-sentence to look at Ryan. Sandy had looked up from the take-out menu. Kirsten had removed her head from the fridge.
That I'm okay and I've made it through.
But who's to say what you're going through?
I'll say no names, though I've wanted to.
Isn't it strange how it seems like…
"What?" Seth had asked bluntly.
"Trey, he, he was released from the hospital this morning," Ryan had started, a lump forming in his throat. "When I got there this afternoon, he was gone."
Seth had started to say more, but Ryan had just turned and walked into the pool house.
Trey was gone. He knew he should have visited him earlier.
It wasn't that he had never visited—every day for four months he and Marissa had visited Trey.
Each day, sometimes for an hour, sometimes for a few hours, Ryan would sit beside Trey's bed and think of what he would say should he wake up.
He always figured that the words would come when it happened.
But then the hospital had called and said that Trey had woken up in the middle of the night.
And no words came.
Yesterday, a boy and already afraid.
Locked deep inside, my place to hide.
To hide from how you make me feel.
When Ryan had turned right instead of left after school that day, Marissa had looked at him questioningly.
And no words came.
When Kirsten had asked how Trey was, no words had come.
To this day, no words ever came when on the subject of Trey.
And I wonder how's your brother.
Did he end up fucked up like me?
Lost in himself, crying for help.
It's safe to say…
Just like no words had come when Marissa had discovered the note.
They had been married for a year at the time. It had been five years since Trey had left. Marissa had been looking for something else, what it didn't matter, and had come across Ryan's hidden note.
Mystery etched into her face, she had come into the living room holding up the folded piece of paper.
Ryan's smile had slid off his face.
"Where did you get that?" His face was one of anger, hurt, and surprise.
"I…I found it," she had stuttered back. It had been a long time since she had seen that face.
"Did you read it?" Ryan's voice had been a little pleading, as if hoping that she had read it. Something he had never been able to do.
"Of course not! It has your name written on it, not mine," Marissa had defended herself.
Ryan had gotten up out of his chair by now and made a move as if to grab the note. Marissa held it out of his reach.
"What is it, Ryan?"
"It doesn't matter, not anymore," Ryan had lied, looking down at the floor to hide his eyes.
I learned to live without a pride.
Just a shell, with me stuck inside.
A prison, not a place to hide.
Not a place to hide…
Every day since he had gotten the note, it had mattered. He looked at it every night before going to bed and every morning after waking up.
"It's from Trey, isn't it?" she had tentatively asked. Ryan always got that look in his eyes when something having to do with Trey was brought up.
His head had shot up.
"Did he send it to you?"
Ryan had scornfully laughed. Since when had anyone ever used actual mail?
Although, every day he thoroughly checked the mail for a letter from his brother.
"And what would a letter from Trey look like? Just thought I would write after all these years. Sorry about the fight. Hope you can forgive me?" his voice had an edge to it. "Come on, Marissa. You know him, he's not like that."
"So then where did this come from?"
Ryan had sighed at this. "What does it matter?"
But I'm okay and I've made it through.
But who's to say what you're going through.
I'll say no names, though I've wanted to.
Isn't it strange how it seems like…
"Ryan, everything matters! You know that everything with Trey hurt me just as much as it hurt you. The least you can do is give me an explanation," Marissa had been furious with her husband.
"Fine, you really want to know?" He had finally given up. "He left it with the lady at the front desk. Told her to give it to me if I ever showed up." Marissa heart had slowly started breaking as she had watched Ryan struggle with the words. "Well guess what…I showed up."
"Have you…Did you…" she too had been at a loss for words. "What does it say?"
Yesterday, a boy and already afraid.
Another sigh had come from Ryan as he sunk back down into the couch. His eyes had looked everywhere but his wife's face.
Locked deep inside, my place to hide.
"Ryan?" Marissa had joined Ryan on the couch and had placed a hand on his shoulder.
To hide from how you make me feel.
"I don't know." Her hand had stopped its slow circles on Ryan's back at this.
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"What do you think it means?" Ryan had sighed for the third time. "I've never read it."
"You expect me to believe that for five years this note has just sat around, unopened?" Marissa had asked incredulously.
"I never asked you to believe anything!" Marissa's comment had angered Ryan. "YOU brought it up, YOU wanted answers. I'm just giving them to you. If you don't like them or they aren't good enough for you, that's your problem." Ryan had grabbed the note out of her hands and stormed off into the bedroom.
"Ryan, wait! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she had apologized. "So you really haven't read it?" Ryan had given her one of his famous glares. "Okay, okay, I get it. But aren't you even the least bit curious about what it says?"
"Of course I'm curious," he had replied. "But…I'm too afraid to read it. I'm too afraid of what it might say. Of how it might make me feel."
"But, Ryan, you won't know until you do read it."
"Maybe, maybe I don't want to know what he has to say. Maybe I don't care what the hell he has to say." Even Ryan knew he was lying.
"Could we just…drop it?" he had begged.
"Of course. Oh Ry, I'm so sorry."
And I wonder how's your brother.
Did he end up fucked up like me?
Lost in himself, crying for help.
It's safe to say…
Marissa had never brought up the letter after that, although Ryan knew it bothered her.
No one else knew about the note.
So why was he looking at it, seven years later?
Why was he considering opening it, seven years after he promised himself he would never read it?
Because today, Ryan had seen Trey.
Not seen, as in met up in a bar.
But seen as in passing, grocery shopping.
Ryan was always thinking he had seen Trey. At the coffee shop, at the Thai restaurant, even at his wedding.
In fact, he had written out an invitation for Trey. It, along with the letter, was hidden. Someday, Ryan hoped to give the invitation to his brother.
If he was always seeing Trey, what made this day so different?
Because this day, "Trey" had been laughing. Trey had been kissing a beautiful girl. Trey had been holding a baby. Trey had been happy.
In seven years, Ryan had never imagined Trey happy. Trey had always been sad, depressed, angry, lonely…but never happy.
Was it possible that Trey had moved on? Was that such a crazy thought?
For Ryan it was.
Some would say Ryan had moved past it, but he never had. His brother was always at the back of his mind, perking up at the sight of a Seven-Seven, and lowering at the sound of a gun.
Ryan no longer drinks Seven-Seven's.
When he first started seeing Trey, Ryan had told Marissa about it. She had been supportive about it, but skeptical.
Sometimes Ryan wondered if Marissa had ever really moved past it.
I shot someone. I will have to live with that for the rest of my life.
With a sigh, he put the note down, knowing that this would be yet another day when he didn't read it.
Except this day, he was some what content with his family tree. He was some what content with himself.
If Trey could be happy, so could he.
Yesterday, a boy and already afraid.
Locked deep inside, my place to hide.
To hide from how you make me feel.
-----------
And I wonder, how's your brother.
Did he finally pull through like me?
Finding himself, not needing help.
I'd like to say…