Hello, lovely O.C. fandom.

Here's another story that I worked really hard on for the past weeks. It's set around mid-season 3, which is one of my favorite seasons, despite all the hate it always received. I've always found the scene where Trey is leaving Newport incredibly heartbreaking. So here's a little something that I'd like to think happened in the months that followed.

I have some fic ideas, and I hope I'll be able to come around writing them while working full time. Have a great day. Sending you love and light 3

comments and favs are appreciated :)

Perhaps it had been too long since he had moved to Newport, but Ryan couldn't help but scrunch his nose when he saw the dark clouds as he stepped out of the locker rooms.

The weather forecast had promised rain and storm. However, he probably hadn't really been paying attention, distracted by Seth's monologue at the kitchen table about his latest drama this morning.

Rain in the O.C., he thought, today of all days...

Coach Carter waved at him. "Atwood, are you coming or what?"

It was one of the last games of the season, and Ryan could practically feel the pressure being placed on them by their peers. Harbor had to perform well, or they'd be out.

Maybe it was the rain, his general anxiety, or just Charlie's dumb grin after he'd scored a goal that made Ryan push him far more violent than was necessary. The slightly older boy stumbled before they both crashed to the ground.

"Boys!" Coach Carter intervened, "Cut it out."

Ryan felt a stinging pain in his hand, and he cradled it against his chest.

"Are you hurt?" Coach Carter extended his hand towards him.

"Don't touch me." Ryan hissed, crawling as far away from Carter as he could.

With a hint of desperation and pity in his expression, the man turned to the bleachers, where Sandy was already making his way through the crowd.

"Sandy's coming, ok?"

Ryan bit down on his lips. He suddenly felt incredibly stupid and childish. Why couldn't the ground open up and swallow him whole?

"Ryan!"

Sandy knelt down beside him. "What's wrong?"

Ryan scoffed, shaking his head slowly. "Nothing."

He pushed himself up, trying his hardest to keep himself from falling apart right there and then. But that was just what Newport needed. The 17-year-old car thief, breaking down in the rain after fouling another player.

"Leave me alone."

Ryan made a beeline for the locker rooms, hoping Sandy wouldn't follow him, but of course, he did.

"Will you tell me what just happened?"

Had the room always been this small? Ryan wondered, feeling as if the walls were closing in, trapping him here with his fear and anger and Sandy, who was the last person he wanted to lose his cool in front of.

"Charlie had been getting on my nerves all day."

"That's not an explanation." Sandy tried to come closer, but Ryan backed up against the wall, so he knew better than to touch him. "Coach Carter will suspend you from the next game. That hasn't happened in over a year, Ryan. You haven't had a fight in months." Sandy ran a hand through his hair, "So, I know you don't want to talk about it, but this is serious, Ryan. You can't act like this."

"I'm sorry." It sounded weak, and he realized it the moment he said it.

"I'm just-" he huffed in frustration.

"You're angry, have been for a few weeks. I've noticed it."

"Great observation."

"Watch it." Sandy got a bit louder, "I've told you you can always come and talk with me. Why didn't you?"

"You can't help me with his!" Ryan raised his voice too.

"I can at least try."

"Damn it, Sandy!" Ryan yelled in frustration, eyeing the door, briefly considering making a run for it. He felt cornered, felt his carefully constructed walls crumbling.

"I know you're masking your fear with anger. You usually do," Sandy said, voice soft now. "What are you afraid of?"

Ryan looked him in the eyes. Saw nothing but love, and he couldn't fight anymore.

"I'm afraid you'll kick me out."

The weight that was lifted off Ryan's shoulders as he said it made him slump over, his knees buckled from the exhaustion of the game and the fight, and he collapsed onto the bench, hiding his face in his hands.

"I'm scared," he repeated, trembling at every word.

He felt Sandy sit down beside him, sensed his closeness which didn't provoke uneasiness as it had minutes earlier, but rather familiarity, comfort like it had done for the last two years.

Sandy put an arm around his shoulder, gently squeezing. "Why do you think we'll kick you out?"

He wasn't sure whether it was raindrops or tears pooling in Ryan's eyes as the boy sank even further down, suddenly looking five years younger than he actually was.

"Because of Trey," he whispered eventually.

"Because of what he did?"

Ryan nodded, gathering himself before speaking again. "He's my brother. We're from the same messed-up family. Why do you even have faith in me?" Ryan laughed sadly, "Heck, why does anyone have faith in me?"

His face was a pained grimace no matter how hard he fought to hide it. "Ryan," Sandy said gently, "you are not your brother. You're -"

"When my dad used to hit me, " Ryan suddenly interjected, " Trey would always try to stop him, and he ended up getting twice as many blows."

He couldn't sit still anymore, so he began pacing up and down the room. "Then he did that to Marissa, and now he's gone, and I'm- I'm" Ryan's voice broke, "I should hate him, but I don't, and that alone should make you throw me out."

Sandy stood up again, approaching his son carefully. It had been quite some time since he'd seen Ryan act so nervous and emotional. He was usually able to hide it well. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again: We will never throw you out," Sandy said, placing as much sincerity into his words as possible. "You have every right to feel whatever you're feeling. I won't judge you."

Sandy saw how Ryan fought with himself. Not to cry, not to show weakness.

He opened his arms, "Come here."

Reluctantly, Ryan gave in and let himself be held by Sandy. His shoulders sank down, and he melted into the touch as if he'd never been hugged before in his life.

"We'll figure it out together, mhm."

"Thank you," Ryan mumbled.

"Now, let's get you home before you get a cold from wearing the wet clothes too long."

"You have to stop injuring your hand, or you could permanently damage it," Kirsten said while she was wrapping the bandage around Ryan's wrist.

"If you keep doing this, you might be the next Luke Skywalker. New hand and all." Seth added loudly from the living room couch.

"I'll pass," Ryan answered, his nose scrunched.

Ryan caught Kirsten smiling at that, and his chest flooded with warmth.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Of course."

"The food is here," Sandy exclaimed, entering the kitchen with several bags of take-out.

"Come on, let's have a family dinner."

And Ryan could hardly contain the smile playing on his lips.