Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to The OC, and for the sake of everyone on that show, I hope I never do.
Author's Notes: This is strange, and it has no point. My lovely, Adara, inspired me to write this, for reasons I can not actually explain. Read, review – please!
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Because he isn't Ryan.
He isn't anything close.
He never will be.
If a million years passed, if countless hours and days slipped through your fingers and you hadn't aged a moment, he would still not be Ryan.
He wouldn't be anything close.
He won't ever be.
And late at night, silence creeping through your window, slipping underneath your breath and your never lasting inner peace, the kind only brought in the dead beat of dreaming, you thank him.
Because he isn't Ryan.
He isn't anything close.
And you couldn't make it if he were.
-
Because you're not Ryan.
You're not anything close.
You never will be.
No matter the trials, no matter the tribulations, no matter the consequences your self destruction is sure to bring you, and no matter the whisper of remorse that might flutter, unnoticed and unacknowledged, in the back of your mind, you would still not be Ryan.
You wouldn't be anything close.
You won't ever be.
And sometimes, sitting with your back slouched against too hard, biting wood, when your hands are shaking and yet so perfectly calm, when you can still smell him on the bed sheets and can't bite back the short shot genuine smile the scent brings, you thank God.
Because you're not Ryan.
You're not anything close.
And you couldn't live with all of it if you were.
-
Because he's not you.
He's not anything close.
He never will be.
There is nothing he could ever do, no momentary, gold and silver lined redemption, no promises to be kept and lies to be broken, nothing in the world that could ever make him like you.
He wouldn't be anything close.
He won't ever be.
And every day, you can smile, you can look away and pretend that every touch, every heat flushed glance and heart ache brush of lips and words that don't mean anything, won't ever mean anything, and how you would give it all just to prove that – you can tell yourself that it doesn't matter, and you blame them both.
Because he's not you.
He's not anything close.
And you still can't – never could, never will – understand why it's not you.