Title: Reflections on Pain
Genre: TV Shows: The O.C.
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Seth Cohen leans on the door to his room and heaves a sigh. His body feels heavy and his bones are lead. He slowly sinks down to the floor and rests his head on his bent knees. Inside he's crying out in rage, or would be crying out if he wasn't so tired. He's wondering why couldn't his life be less complicated, and of course, if it was then he wasn't Seth Cohen. Sometimes life just sucked. Sucked rotten eggs.
Slowly he stands up and walks to the window and rests his hands on his desk, aiming a rueful grimace at Captain Oats. He reflects on the chemistry between people, an inadequate metaphor, he thinks, because chemistry hardly describes the complicated interactions between human beings. But the word will do as well as any, and it's not like he has a critic hovering over his shoulder reading his thoughts, right?
"Chemistry" with Summer was like magnetism and electricity. Magnetism begat electricity and electricity begat magnetism and when he was with Summer there were sparks and there was lightning and attraction but there was repulsion as well and when he was with her he never felt more alive. Except.
With Anna it was fire. She was warm and from afar she glowed, but when you got close there was a steady heat that became a slow sizzling burn that he felt all over his body. Except.
And with Ryan, and here was where the chemistry metaphor failed because chemistry hardly described what he felt with Ryan. And he looks out the window and sees Ryan saying goodbye to Marissa at the poolhouse door, his hand in her hair and his lips just barely brushing hers. His hands clench and he turns abruptly away from the window and sinks slowly again to the floor.
Ryan was gravity. It wasn't a force like magnetism or heat. It was just a property of mass. Given enough mass a body will attract other masses to itself. And hooray for high school physics and the ability of his brain to absorb knowledge because he was so not listening when gravity was the topic. It wasn't active, gravity, it didn't really try to grab you like magnetism, or burn you like fire. It just was. It was with you when you woke up in the morning, it was there throughout your day. You fought it and fought it, your body was built to fight it, but it was relentless and just kept pulling and pulling, indifferent to wish or desire, just another property of mass. And at the end of the day.
He gets up, every muscle aching like he had run a marathon, or swum the English Channel or dammit! something, and slowly makes his way to the bed.
Ryan was gravity.
He lets himself fall into the bed and slowly curls up, arms around his knees.
And at the end of the day you just want to stop fighting it.
Genre: TV Shows: The O.C.
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Seth Cohen leans on the door to his room and heaves a sigh. His body feels heavy and his bones are lead. He slowly sinks down to the floor and rests his head on his bent knees. Inside he's crying out in rage, or would be crying out if he wasn't so tired. He's wondering why couldn't his life be less complicated, and of course, if it was then he wasn't Seth Cohen. Sometimes life just sucked. Sucked rotten eggs.
Slowly he stands up and walks to the window and rests his hands on his desk, aiming a rueful grimace at Captain Oats. He reflects on the chemistry between people, an inadequate metaphor, he thinks, because chemistry hardly describes the complicated interactions between human beings. But the word will do as well as any, and it's not like he has a critic hovering over his shoulder reading his thoughts, right?
"Chemistry" with Summer was like magnetism and electricity. Magnetism begat electricity and electricity begat magnetism and when he was with Summer there were sparks and there was lightning and attraction but there was repulsion as well and when he was with her he never felt more alive. Except.
With Anna it was fire. She was warm and from afar she glowed, but when you got close there was a steady heat that became a slow sizzling burn that he felt all over his body. Except.
And with Ryan, and here was where the chemistry metaphor failed because chemistry hardly described what he felt with Ryan. And he looks out the window and sees Ryan saying goodbye to Marissa at the poolhouse door, his hand in her hair and his lips just barely brushing hers. His hands clench and he turns abruptly away from the window and sinks slowly again to the floor.
Ryan was gravity. It wasn't a force like magnetism or heat. It was just a property of mass. Given enough mass a body will attract other masses to itself. And hooray for high school physics and the ability of his brain to absorb knowledge because he was so not listening when gravity was the topic. It wasn't active, gravity, it didn't really try to grab you like magnetism, or burn you like fire. It just was. It was with you when you woke up in the morning, it was there throughout your day. You fought it and fought it, your body was built to fight it, but it was relentless and just kept pulling and pulling, indifferent to wish or desire, just another property of mass. And at the end of the day.
He gets up, every muscle aching like he had run a marathon, or swum the English Channel or dammit! something, and slowly makes his way to the bed.
Ryan was gravity.
He lets himself fall into the bed and slowly curls up, arms around his knees.
And at the end of the day you just want to stop fighting it.