Title: Waking up
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "But the fear creeps back in and he thinks maybe people can see the filth tattooed to his skin."
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters etc.
Waking Up
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Ryan peed the bed until he was twelve. That seems old. Yet, as he looks back, he can't remember ever being so young. It was only five years ago, not even a decade and still he's a completely different person now. He has a home, or some semblance of one anyway. There are little things he notices that have changed in him. Things that might seem obvious; a few inches of height, increased muscle mass, a sprinkle of body hair here and there, but there are also apparitions he's worked so hard to get rid of.
He's not that ashamed kid anymore; the one that saw the knuckles of a hard fist flying into his face more than once and by many rough hands. The one that had to steal lunches in second grade so he could eat at least once a day. The one that hid books under his mattress so noone would know how much he loved to read. The one that cried himself to sleep.
He still feels that sticky-sting of panic each morning when he wakes up and realizes his sheets are dry. If they are ever wet, it only takes him a moment to realize they cling not from urine, but from adolescent fantasy spun in a dream.
There are moments in time when he forgets the sweaty palms on his flesh that woke him in the night. There are moments when panting stale breath doesn't permeate the air. There are moments when he doesn't think of the shame and dirt on his skin. In these moments, he thinks maybe Marissa might be able to love him. And not like she loves Luke; not that type of superficial love because he was the first boy she ever kissed. The kind where she chooses him; where she wants to be with him.
But the fear creeps back in and he thinks maybe people can see the filth tattooed to his skin. Maybe because he comes from Chino they just expect that of him. They expect him to be completely imperfect, completely damaged and messed up. He's not like them. They live in perfect white houses with perfect green grass and crystal blue pools. They party on the weekend snorting crack and smoking pot, but they know nothing of true addiction. They've never seen someone choke on their own vomit after huffing gas. The rich socialite teens have no clue what kind of toxins poor kids like him put in their bodies to get high.
He never expected to find a friend amongst the upper-class, and he certainly didn't expect to find two. Seth is the truest friend he's ever known. He's too good, too pure for the vultures that call him fag and queer. Seth is the kind of guy who would lay his life on the line for a friend. He's the kind of guy that would give up an opportunity to be with the girl he's been salivating over for years to help out another guy's drunk mother. The funny thing is, he's a lot like Marissa, though they'd never admit it.
They're both trying to fit in to a world that is too surreal to have a place for everyone. And Marissa is far too soft for the savages that crowd around her. She's not like Summer. Summer is a man-hungry, narcissistic, rich-bitch that spends too little time hitting the books and too much time with daddy's credit card wrapped around her dainty fingers. It's amazing Marissa has stayed as sane as she has with a role-model like her botox-babe mother. And all Ryan really wants to do is to be able to hold her and not feel unworthy doing so.
It looks like the O.C. drains the morality right out of people, maybe even more so than a six by four foot cell. The O.C. is a cage that locks you in. It's a black hole that sucks you up. On the outside Ryan never knew there were people like Seth or Marissa embedded in a place like the O.C., but now that he knows he understands how Sandy was pulled in. He understands because it's happening to him.
Ryan doesn't wet the bed anymore, but he's still afraid to wake up wet.
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