Title: Winter Drinks.
Summary: His breathing quickens slightly and I know he's probably drinking.
Author's Note: I don't know. This just came to me. It takes place after the Christmas episode, after Wallace looses his job. I've been meaning to write more about when Ryan lived in NYC, while he worked at Corporate. Maybe eventually.
I drive in my car, I drive away. Away from the drummers and the office and Kelly and the fake Christmas tree lighting. I drive two and a half hours out of Pennsylvania and into the middle of New York, into a place that I once loved, would forever love, no matter what crap showered down on me while I was there. I call him while I navigate through the city. And he answers because he always does when he sees my name on the ID, no matter how pissed he is at everyone else.
"David?"
His breathing quickens slightly and I know he's probably drinking.
"David."
"It's cold out," he breathes before hanging up. I shove my phone into my pocket and head towards our spot.
Central Park is always so beautiful during Christmas and I take a moment to take it in. The snow crunches underneath my feet and I shiver underneath my cardigan. He's sitting on our bench, his head bowed forward, his dark hair flecked with snow.
"It's not a big deal," he tells me as I stand in front of him and he doesn't even look up, he just knows me by my shoes. "We all knew something like this would happen eventually. I'll find another job, hopefully."
I put my hands into my pockets, clenching my frozen fingers together. "David," I say.
"No, really, it's fine. And you didn't need to drive out here, Ryan. We're not… This isn't happening anymore. It can't."
"But you want it to," I argue back and my tone is childish, whining and pleading because I'm tired of being alone, I'm tired of being without him, without this city. "And I want it to. So just let it. Dammit, David, just let it."
His face lifts and his dark eyes lock with my stinging red ones. "Please don't do this to me right now," he says quietly. "I can't deal with it."
My heart hurts at this because I don't want him to deal with me. I just want him to be with me. I drop onto my knees, my jeans getting wet from the snow but I don't care. I hold my hands against his neck, his face between my fingers. "Please don't push me away. I'm not another issue for you to fix. I want to be here for you. I don't like being so far away and I know you don't either." I break off, remembering the two AM phone calls and the heavy breathing and the wet apologies.
"You don't either," I repeat, looking firmly at him. I feel his breath catch and he gasps, pressing his forehead against mine.
"Just make this go away, Ry," he whispers. I catch his lips between mine, feeling my tongue through his mouth and touching every tooth, tasting wine, getting drunk off him.
"I will," I mutter, pulling away briefly before collapsing on him, on a bench in Central Park, in a city I was always meant to be.