A/N I guess this is a weird one. You could either love it or hate it. This is supposed to be set between seasons two and three. A little bit of information for you; March 9 was the three year anniversary of Ryan and Marissa breaking up for the final time on the show. I'm going to start writing for Lost in a Moment hopefully tomorrow, and I'll try to have another one shot up by the end of the week. It could be a Lollypops and Letters continuation, or it could be a random one that I come up with…I don't know yet. But please review if you do read, and I hope you enjoy!
He didn't really know how he got here, or why he was here, just registered the fact that his name was being called and that he was being led to a chair. He hadn't been in one of these chairs in an extremely long time, which judging by the raised eyebrows of the lady with the scissors, seemed to show. "So how do you want it?" she asked, smacking her bubble gum as she stared into the mirror, looking at him with tired green eyes.
He wanted to say that he wanted it to be simple again, like when he first arrived and everything was new. He wanted to say that he wanted it to be okay like he kept being told it would be. He wanted to say that he wanted it to be spring break again and he never would've left – never would've even considered leaving his brother alone with Marissa. But since she was a hair stylist and he was paying her to change only his hair, he said, "Do whatever you want with it – whatever you think is best."
She smiled, genuinely happy to be given such a challenging task. She frowned, bit her lip, stared at his sandy blonde hair, and then started to snip away. And as he watched the hair fall to the ground – as he watched pieces of himself slowly fade away – he thought that maybe it could be okay. He imagined that every strand that fell took a bad memory with it, and when he saw the resulting short, neat look, he smiled, tipped her, and walked off to his new life.
He was supposed to have met Marissa a half hour ago at the beach. He sighed and trudged the short walk to the place where they said they'd meet and saw her sitting there, staring off at the ocean. For a moment he remembered that night, the gun blasting, and the pure horror on her face when she realized what she'd done. As he sat down next to her, she didn't look at him, only mumbled, "You're late."
He nodded and said, "I was getting a haircut."
She turned so that she was looking at him and observed his new hair. "It's short," she mused, a small smile playing on her lips.
He shrugged and said, "It's different."
"What made you want to cut it?" she asked, realizing that his was the most they'd talked in weeks.
He shrugged again and said, "I needed a change."
"A change? A change from what?" She asked quietly.
"I don't know, I just needed to change something. Something wasn't right…" He saw that she was standing and looked like she was about to cry. "What's wrong?" he asked, but he didn't make a move to go after her.
"Do you need a change from me…from us?" She asked, her voice breaking weakly. She walked away, not willing to hear the dreaded answer.
He shook his head and softly replied, "No, a change from…well, a change from me…" But she didn't hear him, and he didn't bother to run after her to tell her.
That night he walked up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom, finding her on the bed laying on her side. She didn't look up when he knocked, and he didn't bother giving her a reason to. He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, staring at her with a longing in his eyes. How easy it would be just to reach out and touch her? To kiss her? He decided that sometimes words were useless, so he lay down beside her, fitting his body against hers, serving as a mold for her to sink into. He didn't say anything, but he reached for her hand and laced their fingers together, the most contact they'd had since that night. After a few minutes he softly said, "I brought chocolates."
"Why?" she asked quietly, not turning to look at him.
"I needed a change," he replied, causing her to turn and look at him. He looked into her eyes for the first time in a month and he saw the pain he'd caused in there. She'd saved his life, but he hadn't ever thanked her. The words were on the tip of his tongue, about to erupt, but then he decided that she already knew that he was grateful. That he loved her. That he didn't want to live a life without her. She could just tell these things, couldn't she? Couldn't she see it in his eyes? Wasn't it obvious the way he needed her? "I needed a change from this…" She looked scared as he spoke the words, and he wished that he hadn't caused her to be afraid. "I needed a change from being away from you."
Her eyes filled with tears, and she buried her head into his chest, feeling his arms wrap around her protectively. "I love you," she whispered, so softly that he almost didn't hear it. She looked into his eyes, the vision of him blurry, and silently begged him to repeat the words back to her. She needed him to repeat the words back to her. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips, trying to show her how he felt instead. Couldn't she just tell that he loved her? Couldn't she tell by the way he held her in his arms? Didn't she know? "I like the haircut," she finally said when she realized he wouldn't repeat the words back to her. She wanted to say she was disappointed, but she honestly wasn't. He never told her how he felt anymore.
I need a change, she wanted to say. I need a change from never seeing you. I need a change from you keeping me out. I want you to let me in. But she knew she could never say this, so instead she said, "Do you want to go see a movie?"
And he smiled, thinking things were okay. "Sure, what do you have in mind?" But as they walked hand in hand into that theater, as they watched the pictures projected onto the large screen, nothing had changed. Nothing but his hair and her fingers laced together with his. Nothing but meaningless symptoms to a growing disease.