(they probably will not read this. hahaha. but I'll type it anyway.) This story is dedicated to dog tags (bec) and BrilliantSerendipity (kari). Hopefully, you both know why.

Disclaimer: the usual.

A/N: So. This is it. My fifth fic. It's been a couple of years since I last updated my fic, so I dunno if my writing skills have deteriorated or whatever, but I will assure you this fic is going to be good. I've always believed that there should've been a greater bond between Summer and Ryan (not intimate), and that Marissa shouldn't have been killed (Schwartz ran out of ideas, and he probs wanted to get rid of Barton, heh).

The prologue is pretty boring (I think) so please be patient and read the next chapter aswell.

If you're looking for a fluffy story with the core couples living happily ever after, then I suggest you click the 'back' button on the top left corner of your screen to save tears, regret and empty feelings in your heart (lol Lemony Snicketttt).

What if Marissa hadn't died and the four had chosen different paths?

You will soon find out. Read if you dare.


Prologue
My Mouth is Tightly Bound With Duct Tape


She was not like this.

At least on magazines, TV shows and posters.

I hid my shock very well—my face remained expressionless—but inside, my mind was paralysed, tangled up with various feelings—stupor, disappointment, perplexity and inertia. I had not seen her close for years.

Her face was gaunt, she had probably lost a fourth of her weight, and she seemed a little taller than before.

She was not like this. She was not Marissa Cooper, but a different person that I had never known. She was supposed to be more elegant, less harsh-looking, and supple with fuller lips. I did not know that several years were enough for anyone to change completely.

But then a thought hit me.

Maybe she had always been like this—messed up, suffering in her own world, not even listening to others for a split second.
Perhaps the memories of her I had of when we were young had glamorized her and had probably created lustre in Coop who had lived in my imagination for the past few years.

Nothing had changed.

A voice woke me up. "So Marissa, this is Summer Roberts, and she'll be doing your make-up for the next few days."

I stuck my hand out perfunctorily. "Nice to meet you." I did not dare say her name.
At first she looked a bit surprised, but then her expression turned into a supercilious smile which made me want to slap her.

"Nice to meet you too," she said, and shook my hand gently. Her fingers were like twigs, and they felt hollow. I followed my gaze from her fingers to her hand, then towards her emaciated arm. "You must be the ingenious make-up artist I keep hearing about."

I smiled back tentatively, but then felt a pang of self-dislike. Tentativeness was a bad sign. I gathered all the confidence I had, then said, "Yes I am."


We had all chosen different paths silently, keeping it a secret.

Marissa Cooper was the first one to do so, right after the infamous Julie Cooper had died. By then they had already created a true bond of mother and daughter, so the death was much harder to endure.

Julie Cooper was quite intimate with a rich man for a while after Caleb had died, but she soon found another wealthier man and dumped her boyfriend. That had probably been the biggest mistake; one day her manic ex barged into her workplace and stabbed her in the back. Julie managed to fight back though; she hit his head hard with a wine bottle, and he died immediately.

Apparently a panicking Julie (who was holding a broken bottle) said, "It doesn't count as murder 'cause it's self defence, right?" before she collapsed and was sent to hospital.

At the end of her funeral, the story was retold, and many of us laughed with a bittersweet tone when we heard what she had last said, saying it was very Julie Cooper-ish.

After her mother's death Marissa became depressed. At first I was worried about her; her life was being turned upside-down, she had made new 'friends' who were most of the time stoned. We could do nothing about it and she dropped out of school without saying a word to us. After all that we never saw her again, at least in Newport.

Julie Cooper had taken "Coop" with her.

Marissa must've had a hard time, and Ryan suffered the same. His girlfriend chose drugs over him. For a while he was so vulnerable; he was a pet abandoned by its owner with nowhere to go. But I managed to get him back on track. He only needed someone to rely on until his wounds healed. Ryan studied hard—to occupy himself with something other than thoughts about Marissa, and to become a lawyer and follow Sandy's footsteps.

Ryan and I—we had been through so much. People who we thought were close to abandoned us once in a while, and luck always kept running away. But we always had each other. We lived in a small house on a peaceful street. Many thought that we were newlyweds. It wasn't like that. He was like my little brother. We needed each other, at least until our old memories stopped haunting us in our dreams.

And Cohen...


I was brushing purple eyeshadow onto the outer corner of her eyelid when she suddenly talked.

"Why are you pretending?"

The purple stung my eye as I thought of something to say.

"Don't talk, your face will move and it makes it harder for me to do your make-up."

"Perfect." She answered, barely audible.

Whatever, I thought, and rolled my eyes.

A moment of silence followed, and the sound of the make-up brush sweeping against her skin reached my ears.

"I know you're dying to know what Seth's doing," she mumbled. I nearly dropped my brush when I heard his name aloud, but I continued on. I was shocked—I thought I had already become immune to that name. I had just reacted the way she had expected me to, and I felt chagrined.

"I don't," I said. But she rambled on.

"He's become a writer…as well as a comic book one. I don't know where he lives, but I heard he's in this city."

I said nothing.

Seth Cohen was a traitor, an asshole, and the worst boyfriend that I had ever had.

Just thinking about him made me sick, but at the same time, "Seth Cohen" seemed like someone who had existed way back in time, if not, non-existent. I would sometimes think,

Maybe I had just made him up in my mind Maybe he was just a hallucination. Or,

Maybe, even if he passes me in the street, I wouldn't look twice.

The thought made me empty inside, and all of my energy would drain away, and I wouldn't even be able to cry or sob. I didn't want to either.

What was he thinking? Does he even remember me? Would he even recognize me if he saw me now?

During the mess we all went through in high school after Julie had died, our relationship fizzled to an end. Seth Cohen had made an unfathomable and irrevocable decision. Just when I thought that things couldn't get any worse, Cohen ran away from me. I was depressed, of course. But I just didn't care anymore.

I cried a lot though.

And to keep my 'perfect plastic girl' image, I'd cover my whole face with make-up to hide the puffiness of my eyes and the half dark moons under them. Since then I think I've loved make-up more than clothes—I was suddenly amazed at how it could change your appearance dramatically. I was left by Seth Cohen, but I met my new passion—make-up art.

I told Marissa to stretch her eyelids by looking down, and I applied glue to the false lashes, pressing them down onto her eyelid, center first, then out to the edges. The conversation of Seth Cohen had ended a while ago and neither of us spoke after that. We were probably both in deep thought.

The day blurred past me, I did Marissa Cooper's make-up and she completed her modeling. And I was falling in an abyss of despair.

We were both strangers.

When I was doing her eye make-up, I thought I saw a mixture of desire and repression glint in her eyes.
Repression for her strong desire to ask me about Ryan Atwood.

"Let me see your wardrobe," he said, reaching out his hands to open the doors. They made a noisy creak as they opened, and he peered inside.
"Wow, so this is what you've been blowing your money on," he chuckled. Half of my wardrobe was a make-up cabinetnumerous lipsticks in rows, eyeshadow cases lined up in columns and a box full of other junk.
"I'll give you a make-over if you want, Chino," I offered, smirking. I looked at him sideways from the corners of my eyes. He was smiling too.
"Um, no thanks."


A/N: so, t'was long and I don't think you understood it all that well but it gets interesting, and everything will be crystal clear in the next chapter (that is if I write one lolll).

If you review, I'll update, tell me what you thought, I don't care if it's short :D it doesn't take long to do so does it??

Let me know if I should continue.