10. Untitled
A/N: I post? Strange. My apologies for the wait, things have been hectic.
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I can never love you,
I can never reach you.
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Ryan's body sags against the mattress in a torturous kind of way. His tie slung over his shoulder and his hands folded over his stomach, he finds it slightly unsettling that he has been able to fall into a holding pattern. To stumble, if not limp, through the motions. The balmy August air floats gently in through the open window, bringing with it sounds of music and laughter and gossip. And Ryan finds himself wishing that he could press his back into the sun-soaked sand and quietly observe the night sky like he used to when he was seventeen and things were relatively okay.
He hears the door click open softly and doesn't have to glance twice at the petite, ring adorned hand to know who it is. She sets her flute of champagne down on the corner of the dresser and he lets out a soft sigh. "Nice party you've got here." It comes out lonelier, more exhausted than he had imagined it would.
"Yeah well my dad was supposed to be hosting some hospital benefit thing, but you know no one needs a reason for a party in this town." A small smile tugs at her lips as she continues softly, "Besides, if these women don't get together at least once a month to dish on the latest affair or divorce or surgery the apocalypse will definitely make its way to Newport."
"You mean there's something worse than these excruciatingly long parties?" A wry smile spreads across his lips as she lets out a soft chuckle, cautiously making her way over towards the bed.
"A joke," She muses, "I didn't know you could still make those." Summer regrets the words as soon as they make it past her lips. His sharp intake of breath makes her uneasy and an awkward silence envelops them.
She runs her fingers lightly across the bedding, a meek whisper escaping her lips. "Would it be okay for me to lie down?"
"It's your house isn't it?" He fiddles with the buttons on his dress shirt before lacing his fingers tightly together in an attempt to stop fidgeting.
Resting her head gently on the pillow next to his, she blankly stares at the vapid ceiling over her head. "I'm sorry." She starts suddenly. "The last time…when we saw each other, I said things that—that you didn't deserve. You didn't deserve to be blamed or—or punished or yelled at." She wipes furiously at the tears spilling gently down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."
Every ounce of Ryan's being is aching to correct her. He is so desperate to tell her that she was right a year ago when she stormed into his room and yelled at him. Because his guilt has been ripping at him for so long and he doesn't think that he has anything left to give.
He shrugs, and Summer doesn't expect anything less of him. She knows that he's not okay, even though he's fallen into this routine of convincing everyone otherwise. She wants him to talk to her. And even though she knows that's a ridiculous stretch, she sees less and less of the Ryan she used to know every day.
"What difference does it make?" He strangles out, fiddling with his buttons again. "We both know…"
We both know you were right.
He doesn't have to finish his sentence but they both know what he means. And for the first time, Summer thinks that maybe just telling Ryan she didn't mean what she had said wouldn't make him believe it any less. She wonders how long those seeds of self-loathing and doubt and guilt had been planted there already before she had even spoken to him.
"You know, she used to hate coming to these parties." She smiles softly and closes her eyes. "She used to try and get out of them all the time, pretending she was sick or that she had an important project to do." Summer glances to her left, notices Ryan desperately try to wipe the painstakingly sad look off his face; his deep blue eyes glazed over, his teeth sunk deep into his lower lip.
"Luke," She chuckled to herself, "Luke was always trying to get her to make out with him, but she always ended up off in some corner all by herself. It was like she was trapped all alone in this world of…ideals that she had begun to hate."
"But then one day," Summer takes in a shaky breath. "One day, this boy—a new boy—started to come to all of these ridiculous parties." A strangled whimper echoes in his throat, causing her to turn her head and notice the arm Ryan has slung over his eyes.
"And all of a sudden, she couldn't wait for Julie to tell her that they were going to another gala or benefit or party. And she didn't mind the people and the conversation so much anymore. And she started smiling again Ryan." Her voice cracks and this time she doesn't even bother to wipe away the fresh tear tracks.
"She was happy again. And whether or not you want to believe it, you did that Ryan. You. Not anybody else. She loved you."
"I don't know why." He chokes out, the tears and unreleased sobs evident in his voice. His lips tremble and the unwavering guilt and loneliness and sadness protrude through his vulnerable, boyish voice. "I just made everything worse and all I wanted was for her to be happy and look what I did. Look what I did Summer. Look…"
A stifled sob escapes his lips and Summer clutches his hand in her own. "I know you miss her." She whispers. "I miss her. And I'm not asking you to stop acting the way that you are, or be any less sad. But you need to know, I need you to know, that she loved you. No matter what okay? Even if you think that there was no reason for her to, she did."
Ryan swallows thickly, at length. "I didn't tell her enough." His voice cracks, but Summer would have to be deaf not to hear the regret that envelops the statement. "Do you think…?"
"She knows you love her Ryan." She whispers forcefully, "I promise that she knows."
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Reviews? Yes that sounds lovely.