Truth be told, the couch wasn't all that comfy. But Seth had already figured out that he would never get Bike to sleep in the bed if he admitted that. And Seth knew he'd be snoozing in the comfort of his own home next week, while there was no telling what Bike would find in Austin.
He could make a sacrifice for once in his life.
He flipped over for what seemed like the hundredth time, then stopped to listen for Bike.
All he heard was the steady rhythmic breathing of the boy in the next bed over the sound of the faint TV chatter. His friend. He liked the sound of it. And the sound of something else. The breathing was too steady. Bike couldn't sleep, either.
"Hey...
Bike?"
*
It took Ryan a moment to remember. Bike. That was his name now. He kept waiting for people to say his name, forgetting that he had buried it away, hidden it deep down where no one would ever find it ever again.
"Yeah?"
"You're still up?"
Ryan rolled over to face Seth
on the couch. He didn't look all that
comfortable. "Can't sleep, I guess."
"Yeah. Me neither."
"Seth. Why are you whispering?"
Seth rolled into a seated
position and grinned mildly at him.
"Habit, I guess."
*
Only, it wasn't a habit. Because Seth wasn't used to having anyone to talk to when he couldn't sleep. He was usually alone. Very much alone. His grin faded.
"So, are
you worried? About Austin?"
He couldn't quite decipher the
look that briefly marred Bike's impenetrable expression.
"Guess so," Bike admitted.
"Look, we
can make it by tomorrow if we don't stop.
I'll help you find your guy, and once you're set, it'll all be fine."
"Guess so." He didn't sound entirely convinced.
"Or," Seth
ventured, "How about we put off Austin for a day and hit Comic-Con tomorrow?"
Bike wrinkled his nose. "You still really wanna go?"
"No. But you look like you don't want to go to Texas."
"I do," he protested, feebly.
"Okay,
then, dude. First thing in the
morning."
"Right," Bike agreed.
*
This wasn't good. He had to find a way to lose Seth before the kid figured out he was lying. Because once the spawn of Sandy Cohen found out the truth, that Ryan had nobody and no place to go, there'd be no escaping the system. The System. Dave and The Finger had drilled those words into his head. Avoid The System, Bike, they'd say, shaking their heads; you's lucky you never was in it to start.
"Hey,
Bike?"
This time he didn't miss his
cue. "What?"
"Were you ever gonna tell
me? What happened? To your family?"
Again, the sharp stabs, the discomfort. The anger. Ryan closed his eyes as his limbs thrashed for comfort beneath the reassuringly heavy weight of the blankets above him.
"I don't,"
he said slowly and clearly, "want to talk about it."
*
"Have you talked about it?" Seth asked gently, carefully. He could tell when he was on thin ice, but he could also see what was on the other side of that ice.
"No," Bike snapped, rough this time.
"Okay," Seth said doubtfully.
"I'm tired. Night," Bike said, flipping over in his bed, away from Seth.
In the flickering light from the TV, Seth's eyes bored into Bike's back. He stared at him, wondering, pleading silently and waiting for nothing until his eyelids grew heavy and then still.
*
Ryan tried to snuggle below the covers and find a comfortable position, but it was impossible. As odd as it was, here in this dark and quiet room, he almost missed sleeping in the bushes, his bag tucked beneath his head, Melanie wrapped around him tightly. And to think, all those nights he'd wished he could afford a hotel. A motel, even. And here he was in this swanky palace, on the prince's bill, missing his nights of being with the paupers.
He couldn't even admit what he really missed. He couldn't bring himself to consider it.
*
The breeze whipped at Seth's curls as he leaned slightly to port, as he liked to consider it, steering his board oh-so-subtly toward the center of the boardwalk.
He laughed out loud as he gained on the distance between him and the boy on the red bicycle, his friend, his brother, his ally.
The air whipped around them, the rhythmic beat of their wheels against the boards filling his ears. And Seth was happy, to be riding along the coast of the great ocean with his friend, his brother, his ally. Bike. Who had no worries left on this beautiful summer morning. Because he knew Seth had his back, and Seth likewise had no worries – because Bike had his back. That's what it meant, to be the two of them.
It meant not having to be lonely ever again. It meant not having to worry ever again.
*
Ryan was worried
. The way things were going, it was only a matter of time before Seth asked the right question and he gave the wrong answer.
He couldn't say the words, couldn't tell someone as innocent as Seth the real reason why Ryan Atwood was on the streets, poor and defeated and alone. And he couldn't tell him what he now knew – that there was nothing for him in Austin, that he truly had nowhere and no place to go. Seth would find him a place... but Seth didn't know what was best for him. Ryan didn't want the kid prying, picking, preaching. He didn't want anybody poking around in his life, in his business.
And so, without even thinking about it, he found himself packing his bag at 2:14 a.m., tossing in a few extra snacks from the cooler that Seth would never miss. He tied his shoes, zipped his bag, unlocked the door, and then locked it again. He made his way to the desk, where he fumbled for a pen in the dim TV lighting.
"Seth –
Thanks for everything. You're great. Don't listen to anybody who tells you anything else.
I'm going on alone. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay. Don't tell your Dad. Thanks.
If it's really fate, I bet we'll run into each other again. When we're both rich and famous.
See you then.
Your friend-
Bike"
He folded the note and gently laid it atop Seth's suitcase. He tucked the notepad and pen into his bag. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tattered business card of Sandy Cohen, attorney-at-law. He deposited the card on top of the letter and stared at it for a long moment before turning around. It was all he could do not to look back as he slipped out the door into the dark night, alone again.