Hangin' Tough
A/N: So, I dunno if anyone is still reading O.C. fanfics. But I had this idea, and I decided to post it so whoever wants to can read this. Please read and review, whether you like it or not. If you like it, I promise I'll continue. If you hate it, feel free to say it. Will continue if anyone is actually reading this!
Disclaimer: Any characters with the last name Atwood, Cohen, Cooper or Roberts do not belong to me, but are property of the great Mr. Josh Schwartz. The name of this fic came from a NKOTB song, which I also do not own. And finally, the lyrics at the start belong to the band My Chemical Romance, and I don't own the song or the band (although they are both great!) Thanks guys! :)
Dedicated to: Bret...just cuz! heart
"Now turn away / Cause I'm awful just to see / Cause all my hair's abandoned all my body / Oh my agony. / Know that I will never marry. / Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo. / But counting down the days to go, / It just ain't living, / And I just hope you know...the hardest part of this is leaving you" Cancer, My Chemical Romance
Ryan Atwood reached up to scratch the top of his head ached head. When he brought his hand back down, he saw he had a fist full of bright blond hair. Keeping his fist clenched tight, he got up off his bed, and made his way to the pool house washroom. Lifting the lid on the toilet bowl, he dropped the clump of blond hair into the toilet, and flushed it down.
He no longer gagged at the sight of huge chunks of hair all over his pillows in the morning. Huge chunks of his own blond hair abandoning his head. Just another side effect of the chemo, he thought. As the toilet swirled and flushed down, Ryan leaned over the sink, and took a good look at himself in the mirror above the bathroom counter top.
The top of his head was almost completely bald now. His pasty skin on top of his head shone at him through the last few blond tufts left up there. He still had a bunch of the hair left on the back of his head, but he wore it short now, so it wouldn't be so noticeable when it, too, fell out.
All in all, it hadn't been too horrible of a morning so far. He had yet to feel nauseous, and he had had the energy to make it from his bed to the bathroom, and back again, without tiring himself right out. Before leaving the pool house, Ryan grabbed his watch and wristband, and snapped them on. Then, he picked up the dark grey toque from the end of his bed, and threw it on as well.
In the beginning, when he had only lost a few strands of hair, Ryan felt sort of stupid wearing a toque in sunny and warm Orange County, California. But a few days later, when he could already start to see his scalp showing through, he didn't feel so dumb wearing it.
The Cohens had made a point of how he didn't have to wear the toque inside the house, and that they weren't there to judge his new appearance. But Ryan wore it inside anyways. He didn't want to be rude, or disobey his foster family, but he was self-conscious of what he would only let out behind closed doors. The Cohens had no idea how bad it had gotten under that grey toque.
He made his way through the backyard, watching a few leaves drift by him in the pool. No one had bothered cleaning out the pool recently. No one had been in the mood to swim since Ryan had gotten sick. He felt angry with himself, knowing his disease was throwing off the Cohens' regular lives.
He entered through the backdoor into the main house's kitchen, and was greeted by the sight of Seth and Sandy Cohen finishing breakfast.
"Hey Man," Ryan's foster brother, Seth, said to him, watching him with an almost horrified look, as if Ryan would just collapse at any second. There was an empty cereal bowl pushed to the side in front of Seth, and he sat on a chair at the end of the island, reading a comic book. Meanwhile, his father, Sandy, stood at the other end, eating a bagel covered in cream cheese.
Ryan smiled and nodded at Seth, than made his way to the kitchen cupboard between the two dark haired Cohens. He pulled out a glass, and filled it with cold water from the jug Sandy had left out.
"Good morning Kid. How are you feeling?" a concerned Sandy asked. "You hungry? I can make you something."
Ryan began to shake his head no, explaining he wasn't hungry, when it suddenly hit him; the inevitable he was dreading all morning.
Sandy recognized the look on Ryan's face, the paling on his already bleached white complexion, instantly. He had seen it all too much recently. Ryan spun around, and began gagging and hurling into the kitchen sink. The real puking didn't last long, since Ryan had only been drinking water in the part twelve hours, but he continued to dry heave, the nausea taking over his stomach. Quickly, Sandy dashed over beside him, rubbing his new son's back and wishing he could do more.
After what seemed like forever, Ryan pulled his head up from the sink. His eyes were red and bloodshot from tears, and it killed Sandy to see his normally such strong son looking so fragile.
He pulled a paper towel off the roll beside him and gently wiped the liquid vomit off the young teen's mouth. Then, he pulled Ryan in for a big hug. After a moment, Ryan raised his weak arms and returned the embrace. Sandy could feel the boy's warm tears on his shoulder where his head was resting.
"It hurts so much," Ryan said through sobs into Sandy's ear. "Please make it stop."
Sandy Cohen was angry. Angry at the lung cancer that had taken over the young boy's body. The lung cancer that was causing him so much pain.
And at the end of the kitchen's island, Seth stared down at his comic book, pretending he couldn't see or hear what was going on around him. Pretending he didn't know he was about to lose his best friend, his brother.