Summary: A Seth-centric drabble following the finale. Possible one-shot. Slight AU.
A/N: I've always thought that Seth, in real life, would be profoundly dysfunctional as a result of growing up with no friends for so long. In a way, this fic stems from that idea. This is my first OC fic, so feedback is appreciated.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"I am nothing more than
A little boy inside
That cries out for attention,
Yet I always try to hide…
…'Cause it's always raining in my head
Forget all the things I should have said"
--Epiphany, Staind
Seth thought the distance would help. He had been so angry when he left. He thought that maybe he hadn't gone far enough. He hadn't gone as far as he wanted, anyway. Tahiti would have been ideal, but he wasn't stupid. He didn't want to die. And sailing to Tahiti on his catamaran would certainly be a death sentence.
He had settled for Catalina. He checked into a cheap motel without air conditioning. He paid cash at the front desk and registered as Samuel Klayman. The desk clerk didn't bat an eyelash. Didn't anyone read the classics anymore?
He sat down on the only chair in the room, a stained and faded lazy boy with cigarette burns on the seat.
He knew he could be staying at a posh hotel on the beach instead of a run down pit up the street, but then his parents could trace his credit cards, and he wasn't ready to see them yet. Besides, he wasn't on vacation. He was running away.
He was running away from everything that had hurt him, and he was still angry. Angry at Theresa for asking Ryan to give up his life. Angry at Ryan for always needing to rescue someone. Seth thought that maybe Ryan's mother had made him that way, left him permanently damaged. No one ever spoke of Ryan's problems, but they were there.
He was angry at himself for being so selfish he couldn't even say goodbye. He was angry at Marissa for being such a lousy girlfriend, and he wondered if he was the only one who could see how awful she was for Ryan.
But mostly, he was angry at his parents for letting Ryan go. Did they really think it was the best decision? That Ryan's best interest was to become a drop out? a teenage father? to live back in Chino where the sun never shined?
He fumbled with his shirt sleeve, rolling it up past his elbow.
He was selfish. He knew that and wasn't ashamed of it. What else could you expect? He had grown up in Newport, the land of entitlement, surrounded by people that he couldn't relate to.
Maybe he wasn't so different after all. Despite everything he believed and fought for, maybe he really was a Newpsie at heart. He certainly was just as selfish as all of them.
He knew his parents must be worried sick, but he didn't care. Well, maybe he cared a little. He had called them after all, to let them know he was okay. But it had been in the middle of the afternoon, when he knew they wouldn't be home.
He wondered if his parents knew where he was. Did they know? Were they just letting him breathe? Letting him get the escape that he so desperately needed? He wasn't sure. He knew he'd go back though. He had to. Seth Cohen was too responsible to stay gone forever. He couldn't just blow off school like Theresa had been able to do. He'd be back by the end of the summer. He was certain of it.
But for right now he couldn't breathe. He was suffocating. The stifling heat and humidity in his motel room weren't helping either.
But then, he thought, maybe it didn't have anything to do with the heat. Maybe it had more to do with his fear. The fear of going back to the Seth Cohen he used to be before Ryan showed up. He was already partially there after all.
He traced the scars with his finger, the pain still a haunting memory.
He held such a tenuous grasp on life. It didn't take long to realize just how small his world really was. And it was growing smaller everyday. He had already lost Anna. And now Ryan. Marissa and Luke had never been counted among his friends. Not really. That only left Summer. And how close had he come to losing her just a few weeks ago? Their relationship was as fragile as his grip on life.
He didn't want to die. He only wanted to feel. Or maybe he wanted to feel less. He wasn't sure anymore. It had been too long.
He couldn't go back to being alone. The thought scared him more than anything. He had nightmares about it. He woke up, drenched in sweat, his chest tight, unable to breathe. He felt so alone, like everyone had left him.
The first cut was shallow, a tracing of an old scar.
He'd been alone before. He'd been alone most of his life.
He cut deeper now, the pain ripping through his entire body.
But he had had a taste of a different life, and no matter what, he couldn't go back to the way things were. He wished he could be more like Ryan. More steely and guarded. He had tried, but this is where he ended up.
A third time now. He needed the pain to make him forget. He needed it all to just go away.
Life had dealt him a hard hand, and he flinched. He dealt with it in the only way he knew how, the only way he had ever dealt with his pain.
The blood bubbled to the surface and ran down his arm, and he felt, at last, that he could breathe again.
Maybe Ryan wasn't the only damaged one.