A/N: This is a two-parter. Same story but with 2 different point of views. Slash.

Disclaimer: I do not have any rights to the O.C., Seth, or Ryan.

SETH

I am sitting in the pool house, legs crossed Indian style fairly uncomfortably, and it is hot. Wet air sticks to my skin, traveling down my cheek like a tear. Ryan looks up from where he is sprawled on the bed, "You know you don't have to stay in here just for me."

I wipe at my flushed, sweaty face. "Nah, it's cool."

Ryan is currently in full angst mode, of which only one person can cause – Marissa. They argue as often and routinely as the tides swelling and diminishing as the day goes on. And Ryan is left in the wake, broken. Sullen. Angry. And generally un-fun.

But, well, it is my job as his #1 Best Bud to keep him company in his time of need. Even if all he is doing is lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Even if the stupid pool-house's AC is broke and I'm sweating through my shirt. Even if I'm going out of my freaking mind sitting here in this sauna watching Ryan stare at the ceiling…

"Seriously, man. Why don't you just go - "

"No," I interrupt. Did I mention that I get cranky when it's hot out?

Ryan sighs and returns his gaze to the ceiling. A million things seem to be jumbling about in his mind and yet he doesn't say a word. I hold my breath as his lips begin to part, maybe some sound will come out. Possibly? No. Of course not. Those pink lips let out a breath then press back into a grimace.

I stare at his mouth until he shoots me a look; I blush. This quiet is killing me. I'm itching to talk, talk talk talk, until the room overflows with noise. But the point of this wasn't for me to inanely spew every facet of my life; it was for him to actually say what he's feeling for once. So that he doesn't explode suddenly and punch somebody…. Again. But of course he is making this difficult. I awkwardly hold up my hands and say, "So, Marissa…"

"I don't wanna talk about it." His right hand curls into a fist. He only rests it behind his head but I understand the gesture nonetheless.

"Look, dude, I know that it's like your dream in life to hide away and brood and angst… but this is seriously not healthy. Like, at all. You're like a bomb about to go off… I'm trying to defuse you." I take a deep breath and blink a lot, which I do when I'm nervous.

I study his expression, waiting for him to break the silence. My eyes travel to his lips again and I notice a drop of sweat rolling over his skin, causing his mouth to glisten. He licks his lips and I choke a little. I cough obscenely loud; then I start to laugh. Tremors run through my body as I let out embarrassing guffaws but I can't help myself. I breathe a little easier as Ryan begins to grin. I hiccup. "Um."

He sits up on the bed and the blinds create crisscrossed shadows on his face. "I know you're just trying to help, Seth. But I'm fine. I don't need… defusing. I… I just need time. The whole talking thing… it's not really for me"

I look at the floor, a dejected look on my face more for show than any real hurt. "Well, hey, fine. If you wanna be alone you can be alone. Whatever."

I do this little pouty face that I know kicks ass and start to rise. I inwardly rejoice when he grabs my arm, saying, "Stay."

It's wrong how much I yearn for those words from Ryan. But hey, coming from a guy who makes pushing people away a profession, this is a big deal. I fall back onto the bed, a silly self-satisfied grin on my face. "Okay, but only 'cus you asked so nicely."

He rolls his eyes and they flash in the sunlight for a moment. I love his eyes, so quintessentially Californian. I always found it odd, and a bit unfair, that he so easily fit into the looks of Newport with his tan skin and platinum hair. Me – my messy Jew-fro, pale skin, and skinny frame stick out like a sore thumb. Where the hell did they get that phrase from… sore thumb. And how do you even get a sore thumb anyway? And if you get one would you be constantly thumbs-upping people or does sore mean it's just bruised 'cause that would be a really boring way to start a cliché….

"Are you asleep?"

Ryan's voice enters my thoughts and I realize my eyes are closed, my mind drifting. I open an eye and jump a little when I find Ryan lying close next to me…. Very close. His Newport eyes and his Newport grin (our little Chino sure has changed) are inches from me. His Newport lips form a grin.

"I just wanted to say, um…" His voice is deep and husky and I really hate that he doesn't talk more. "Justwantedtosaythanks."

My eyes travel from his lips to his eyes. So eloquently I respond, "hunh?"

"Um, thank you. For this. For always being there and, geez, this is sappy. But I mean it and I'm actually talking so I think I'll keep on going. I know I get freaked out over Marissa sometimes… a lot of the time. And, I don't know, I like that you're here. Right now, in general. No matter what, you're here," he laughs hollowly, "You're not the only one who likes Seth/Ryan time, you know…"

He trails off and my eyes must be huge. I joke pathetically, "Whoa, that's a lot of words for you. How does it feel to actually be communicating things? This sure is a momentous occasion."

He snorts and rolls off the bed. I feel kind of bad for ruining one of the few actual serious moments we've had. This time I grab his arm, and with a grin I say, "Stay."

TBC