Assessment
- mordacis
disclaimer: everyone knows I don't own anything
notes: It's been a while since I wrote a new OC ficlet (since it's too long to be a drabble), I've been taken hostage by HP muses and all…but here it is! My newest thingie written to the tune of "Driving" by SouthFM (who you should all listen to) I've been thinking lately (dangerous pastime) and I decided to give Ryan some memories, so here goes…
*
The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to the idealised past.
Robertson Davies,"A Voice from the Attic", 1960
*
Ryan remembered going to a movie once.
His mom had been gone for a day or two with her latest boyfriend and Trey had been stuck looking after him. Which was fine for a few hours but later Trey had decided he needed to meet up with some of his friends – so he'd shoved ten dollars into Ryan's hand and left him standing outside the local cinema.
He was twelve.
He'd looked younger.
The only movies playing had been rated R. There might have been a PG-13 one…Ryan didn't remember. He did know that the guy at the ticket counter wouldn't sell him a ticket to any of them.
"Go home kid" he'd said.
Ryan had almost laughed in the guy's face.
Sure he was twelve, and he looked about nine. But he lived in a world that was only PG-13 on really good days, NC-17 on really bad ones, and R on too many days to count. Maybe someone should put a rating on his life because Ryan was sure he'd probably seen more at ten than the ticket guy had seen at thirty.
But he hadn't made a big deal out of it. He just went back outside the theater and waited. Trey or his mom would come get him sooner or later.