Sorry, should have added:
Disclaimers: don't own 'em, never will.
Author's note: First time ever writing and/or posting fanfic. Reviews welcome!
Wildfires
The late-summer sun beat down unmercifully onto the parched ground. Even the lushly landscaped grounds of the Cohen house drooped and wilted in the heat. And the wind, the hot, dry wind coming directly off the desert blew fiercely, bringing the smell of smoke from the forest fires burning up in the hills. Even in Newport, where the residents took pride in controlling every aspect of their environment, the elements of fire and air could not be bought, sold, or avoided.
Ryan floated lazily in the pool, half submerged in the cool blue water. Looking to the east, he could see the smudgy smoke from the forest fires rising from the ridge. The hot, dry, Santa Ana winds blew grit into his blue eyes, dessicating everything in its path. Winds that set your teeth on edge. Winds that had women eyeing the backs of their husbands' necks while fingering the edge of the butcher knife. He'd read that line in a book, back in Chino, when the public library had seemed like the only safe haven from his mother's drinking and her boyfriend's beatings.
He was alone; Seth and Sandy had gone sailing, and Kirsten was working. He should feel comfortable alone, it was the state in which he had spent most of his life, but as he floated, he was struck by the thought that since coming to Newport, he had rarely, if ever, had the Cohen house to himself. Even in so large a house, with only four people in it, someone always seemed to be around, and he had grown to love that. Sandy waxing his surfboard in the garage, Kirsten, a beautiful ball of pure energy seemingly everywhere at once, and Seth. Always Seth. As always, at the thought of the other boy Ryan's mouth curved into a smile, which changed quickly into a frown as the full weight of Ryan's problem settled onto him, seeming so heavy that he thought he could actually feel it pushing him under the lapping blue of the pool.
Seth was a wildfire. His mother's energy, his father's focus. He even seemed to radiate heat and light, with his nonstop chatter and his nervous movements. Ryan imagined sometimes that he could see the air around Seth waver, like the heatwaves off the pavement on a summer day. Fully involved in a videogame, tongue unconciously poking out of the corner of his mouth, he seemed to contain enough power to fuel a nuclear reactor. And he consumed Ryan, like the forest fires consumed the hills to the east. And that was the problem. Because wildfires are dangerous things, and all Ryan wanted to do was throw himself onto the pyre, immolate himself in the fire that was Seth. He wanted that more than he could remember wanting anything.
That horrible night in TJ, when he lifted Marissa up in that filthy alley and turned to see Seth, his arms around a sobbing Summer but his eyes locked on Ryan's, he knew. The air seemed to crackle and flash like a firestorm, and he and Seth had stood alone in the inferno.
Oh yeah, there were wildfires coming.
Disclaimers: don't own 'em, never will.
Author's note: First time ever writing and/or posting fanfic. Reviews welcome!
Wildfires
The late-summer sun beat down unmercifully onto the parched ground. Even the lushly landscaped grounds of the Cohen house drooped and wilted in the heat. And the wind, the hot, dry wind coming directly off the desert blew fiercely, bringing the smell of smoke from the forest fires burning up in the hills. Even in Newport, where the residents took pride in controlling every aspect of their environment, the elements of fire and air could not be bought, sold, or avoided.
Ryan floated lazily in the pool, half submerged in the cool blue water. Looking to the east, he could see the smudgy smoke from the forest fires rising from the ridge. The hot, dry, Santa Ana winds blew grit into his blue eyes, dessicating everything in its path. Winds that set your teeth on edge. Winds that had women eyeing the backs of their husbands' necks while fingering the edge of the butcher knife. He'd read that line in a book, back in Chino, when the public library had seemed like the only safe haven from his mother's drinking and her boyfriend's beatings.
He was alone; Seth and Sandy had gone sailing, and Kirsten was working. He should feel comfortable alone, it was the state in which he had spent most of his life, but as he floated, he was struck by the thought that since coming to Newport, he had rarely, if ever, had the Cohen house to himself. Even in so large a house, with only four people in it, someone always seemed to be around, and he had grown to love that. Sandy waxing his surfboard in the garage, Kirsten, a beautiful ball of pure energy seemingly everywhere at once, and Seth. Always Seth. As always, at the thought of the other boy Ryan's mouth curved into a smile, which changed quickly into a frown as the full weight of Ryan's problem settled onto him, seeming so heavy that he thought he could actually feel it pushing him under the lapping blue of the pool.
Seth was a wildfire. His mother's energy, his father's focus. He even seemed to radiate heat and light, with his nonstop chatter and his nervous movements. Ryan imagined sometimes that he could see the air around Seth waver, like the heatwaves off the pavement on a summer day. Fully involved in a videogame, tongue unconciously poking out of the corner of his mouth, he seemed to contain enough power to fuel a nuclear reactor. And he consumed Ryan, like the forest fires consumed the hills to the east. And that was the problem. Because wildfires are dangerous things, and all Ryan wanted to do was throw himself onto the pyre, immolate himself in the fire that was Seth. He wanted that more than he could remember wanting anything.
That horrible night in TJ, when he lifted Marissa up in that filthy alley and turned to see Seth, his arms around a sobbing Summer but his eyes locked on Ryan's, he knew. The air seemed to crackle and flash like a firestorm, and he and Seth had stood alone in the inferno.
Oh yeah, there were wildfires coming.