Habit

Somewhere in Newport Beach, California, a car backfired. It was near enough to the Cohen household to awaken the sole occupant in the dark pool house. Ryan Atwood sat up in his bed, drenched with sweat. Sandy-blonde hair matted to his damp forehead, the boy had thought the sound was that of a handgun firing - a sound that he was all too familiar with.

After a few seconds of petrified confusion, Ryan tugged at his wife-beater, trying to cool himself and circulate some air to his body. He let his breathing calm to its normal, rhythmic state. Once he had composed himself, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and shuffled to the glass doors. Venetian blinds were the only thing that blocked his view from the outside world, and he broke through that shield with a simple spreading of his index and middle fingers.

The scene outside was dark, but calm, tranquil. He didn't hear another noise, no nocturnal insectival chirrups or barking dog nuisances. Nothing broke the shady fog, save for the dim streetlights and the soft glow that the moon illuminated.

Ryan sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up to a noise like this. There was once, when something in the pool house had fallen onto the floor, and another time, when Seth had arrived at his door at one in the morning, tapping at the glass. Each time, he had bolted upright, beads of sweat plastered upon his face.

He pulled his fingers out of the blinds, their slats connecting with a tiny chink. As he turned around, he ran his fingers through his thick hair. He did that often; when he was nervous, or thoughtful, or surprised, he would do it. It had become habit.

Lots of things had become habit to Ryan. Running his hands through his hair, smoking, not letting himself get too close to people, self-esteem issues, hesitancy.... The only thing that Ryan hadn't let delve into his second nature was the sound of a fired gun. It just wasn't something that anyone should have to be used to.

Gunshots in his past - his life in Chino - caused Ryan to become jumpy and tense. One time, Seth had tapped him on the shoulder, and Ryan had almost answered the innocent touch with a fist. Seth had learned that it wasn't the best idea to sneak up on Ryan anymore.

As calm as he would be able to become that night, Ryan crawled, unsteadily, back into bed. He rested his head on his pillow and hugged the blankets over his shoulder. Ryan was glad to have his new life here. But there were just some things that he would never be able to remove from his old life.

-End-