Break
Disclaimer: I have no rights to The O.C. Say I did, would I be writing fan fiction? I also have no rights so Sia's music. I just heard it on an episode of Life As We Know It, which I have no rights to either. No rights here, kids!
A/N: Happy Halloween! This isn't my Halloween fic, that'll be a day late. This is kind of a character study, but with a buttload of drama. I was also getting irritated as Ryan being portrayed in fics as perfect hero-boy, while he's really just a kid with mistakes and flaws (none of them physical though...hee). Inspired by "Breathe Me" by Sia, so I involved the lyrics.
"Ouch, I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found
I think that I might break
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me"
-Sia, "Breathe Me"
Marissa found out the hard way. Her old "friends" took the incitative to confront her. They heard about it, were just so sorry. It was one night at some party, they were both drunk. She's too good for "Chino trash" anyway. Marissa would love to believe them. She would love even more to know that they didn't laugh after she walked away.
Marissa's seen her around. She's got everything she wants. Sways her hips, teases boys with tempting grins and cherry lips, big boobs and butt, green eyes with a million words to be said. Her skin radiates with a sunny California glow. Her hair is dark, tinted with a natural red. Marissa's envious; she's been dying her hair since she was thirteen. No wonder Ryan went to her.
Summer brought over a pint of ice cream and they shared it. After she's gone Marissa leaned over the toilet and stuck a finger down her throat. She had forgotten how it felt.
Her mother ordered the maids to lock up all the alcohol. Marissa's in awe that her mother could be so oblivious. She learned the combination at fourteen. Besides that, she simply gives her glances every once in a while. They scream, "I knew it, you should have listened to me" and the hurt is more evident in the daughter's eyes then ever. Bitter scowls are exchanged.
The sun has gone down now and she's finally gained the courage to actually speak to him. Once she found out, she wrote a note that stated, "It's over," and slipped it into his locker. No face-to-face confrontation. Now there is.
Knocking was for when they were together, an item, singular, one being. Now they're two separate lives. She takes that as the right to barge into his home. He looks up from his bed. He's alone, she's not sure if she was expecting her to be there or not. Marissa knows it was just one time, and he was drunk. But drinking doesn't make up for your actions. She knows that.
Her big hazel eyes stare back at him. Tears brim in them and are threatening him. He fears seeing one fall down her cheek. It wasn't supposed to end up like this. Her eyes are windows into her soul. Ryan can look in with ease, she hates it. Right now he can see her soul is broken, her heart is chipped, her mind is damaged.
He wants her to be angry. Pissed off, screaming curse words and slapping him until his face is red. She can't be sad. It was a mistake, but mistakes cost everything.
She just whispers countless questions of why and how. She already has heard what, who, and where.
He says he was weak, he was drunk, Seth dragged him to a party and things got out of hand. He feels guilty for his excuses. He shouldn't have to say them to her.
Marissa's slowly caving in. She feels like she might implode and Ryan knows. He touches her arm, she flinches and it sets her off.
The glass of the window shatters, and they're both positive the Cohens can hear her screams of anger and pain. So many times she assured herself it was just a teenage romance. But Marissa's stuck on Ryan like a leech on a leg. She tells herself she needs him.
Now she lost him.
Now she lost herself. He was the cure she told herself she had. She convinced herself Ryan could make it all better. He was supposed to be flawless, always there for her.
She crumbles into a mass of pain on the floor of her ex-boyfriend's house. He's watching, unsure of his next move. The scenario scares him more then her. He's seen it before, but this time, it's because of him. Every other time it was about his father, his mother's drugs, her boyfriends. Now he's the cause.
Her crying seems to never stop. Ryan slowly sits down on his bed, waves of realization washing over his thoughts. He gives her his hand and helps her stand.
Her high-heeled shoe cracks one of the larger pieces of glass.
"Sorry I broke it," she says, refusing to look at his face.
He shakes his head. "Me too,"
They're both broken. Fragile pieces of glass that can easily become scattered pieces all over the floor with a gentle shake. And they know that if they're together they're just going to break each other over and over again.
They already have.