Summary: Heat is rising and the clouds are falling but you're fairly sure this can't be stopped. SethRyan slash. One-shot. Second person, Seth
Disclaimer: I recently found that that I am Josh Schwartz's illegitimate daughter and he will soon be leaving the O.C. fortune to me. Until then, I don't own The O.C. or its affiliated characters.
A/N: I just had to try my hand at a slash. My very first one, what a moment this is. I realize that it is very short…I'm sorry about that. And as always (you know me), it's just random randomness. Ah yes, I wasn't sure how to say it (see summary), that the "you" in the fic is Seth. Just to be perfectly clear. Title taken from Brand New (minus the Play).
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The sky ruptures unexpectedly, spitting rain in angry droplets over your head, so you huddle beneath a tacky Hawaiian umbrella outside the diner. This is really the best time to be crying, you think, as your tears mix with the rain, and the fleeing people won't look at you twice, or even once, when your face is buried in your hands. You claw maliciously at your seeping eyes with the sleeves of your jacket, the one you let him borrow yesterday, and you're pretty sure you can still smell him.
You're going crazy, pressing a hand to the glass window, drumming soft rhythms with the pads of your fingers. He kisses her slow, arms dropped to his side, and you feel the tiniest bit like screaming. And your shoulders are slumped and your spine's not aligned and your lips are smarting from the sharp edges of your teeth. You bleed like water from a faucet and you almost want a picture of this, so you'll remember.
Sometimes, he looks at you strangely, like he's stopping words from leaking, like you're shining with light and you're catching on fire before his eyes. You look back, with nervous eyes that hardly work, and a mouth that contorts conspicuously without warning. You think you're staring through walls and he's miles away but you're running so fast, and he couldn't escape if he wanted to.
You start to believe your life is a music video, and the words are playing so loudly in your mind, looping the same notes over and over and over again. The scenes switch in a rush, melting the faces, and the chords are fading until you hear only a ringing, and his face is unmistakable. He's flashing this smile, this tooth-filled, ridiculous smile, and your stomach is churning like you're seeing him for the first time when in fact, you've always imagined this.
It's different this time, because your mind's not racing like NASCAR and you're thinking pretty thoughts, like stormy sky eyes. And your tongue tumbles these imperative words with a stutter, but you're seeing this so clearly when he's standing in front of you, with flaxen hair invading his forehead and a curled lip protruding. He hushes you, and weaves his fingers in yours with a grin, as if you're not screwing this up and he's known all along. Heat is rising and the clouds are falling but you're fairly sure this can't be stopped.