Title: Cry
By: JoyJuice
Pairing: Ryan/Luke
Genre: Slash, Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: During the bad, Ryan and Luke find comfort, friendship and more in each other. Takes place after 'The Links'.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: None really, this is my first attempted so please be kind. I miss Luke, thus he gets a fic! Disclaimer: Not mine No suing! Note to Josh Shawartz: SLASH Wave of the future!
Cry
He would never do this in the known presence of others, in fact what people know of him, it's assumed he doesn't at all. He always held a strong front, never letting anything get to him. Or at least not showing it anyway. In front of people he's a different person, strong, fearless, an attitude showing little to no semblance of caring. His strong facade that hides what no ones allowed to see, what he only does when he's alone...
He lies on his side, knees brought closely against his chest, that hitches with every breath. Quiet sobs escaping from his lips, tiny drops of water trailing from his eyes. Flowing more rapidly at the hope that someone would come and hold him, hold him in their arms, wipe the little drops of water from his cheeks. Let him know that there's at least someone out there who cares.
But he lies on his bed, hugging a pillow, the corner of it becoming damp with tears. Knowing that this is the one thing that he will always have to do alone...
Cry.
Ryan got himself up out of bed and headed into the washroom. He turned on the faucet and let the water run cold. He put his hands under the running water and brought them to face. He splashed the cool liquid on this reddened skin. He hated crying. He didn't like to show how much things hurt him. For most of his life there was no one there that cared about him enough. And the few people that did care, he never showed his pain to them. You didn't cry in Chino.
He had a better life now. Living in New Port with the Cohens. Sandy had gotten him out of some trouble and took him in. After some mishaps involving burning houses, smashed cars, and pistols, his stay was made permanent. And he was happy, Seth was a pretty ok guy, quirky, chatty, but ok. He had a girlfriend, he was sure it was going to work anymore, but he had one. He liked Marissa, he did, but they seemed to want different things. He wanted her to spend more time with him, and she, well, wanted to well, spend more time with others. He was happy with his life though.
He just needed to cry once and a while. Usually at night when everyone was asleep, he'd just lie down and let it out. It felt good. And after he'd clean his face up to rid himself of any trace evidence of tears in case someone did come, like Seth, which did happed once or twice.
He liked the Cohens, he like them a lot, he just didn't feel comfortable enough opening up like this to them. But he did want someone. Marissa just wouldn't understand. She didn't understand. If she did understand him, even the slightest bit, she wouldn't had reacted so badly when couldn't say 'I love you' back. He couldn't remember the last time anyone ever said it to him and the people that were suppose to love him only ever hurt him or left him behind. So she should have been more understanding. But she wasn't.
But when it came to Oliver she was. She was so considerate, understanding, and always there for him. Always worried about his feelings. It made Ryan's stomach churn. She was Ryan's girlfriend not Oliver's. So was she putting his feelings set aside and babying Oliver's like he was the most important thing in the world. It made him sick. And it hurt.
In Palm Springs, Oliver had tried to run his golf car into a tree, had a bizarre freak out and an supposed O.D. . And Marissa lapped every word that leaked out of Oliver's lying mouth. Ryan's reservations, concerns, and suspicions however, went unheard or she gave him shit. Now, he'd finally decided he'd had enough.
Enough with Marissa and her bullshit. Enough unwanted worry. Enough crying. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt. He slipped a pair of barely worn flip flops of his feet and headed out the door.
He started walking down the sand of the beach. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He really should be quitting but, heh, what are you going to do. He walked silently across the darkened beach, the only light from the burning end of this cigarette. He let the cool air clear his mind and tossel his hair just slightly in it's breeze. As he passed a conch shell laying on the ground he idly wondered if you could actually hear the ocean in it. He was about to pick it up when he saw something up ahead. He squinted his eyes and moved closer. Someone was in the sand, sitting with their knees drawn up, head bowed, and slight shake in their shoulders. They we crying. As he moved even closer he began to make out a face. A boy's face. A face he knew. He walked over to the boy, butting his cigarette out in the sand. Not knowing what to say, he cleared his throat. The boy looked up at him, tears streaking his cheeks.
"Ryan..." He said, his lips trembling.
"Hey, Luke."
TBC:)
Reviews help keep stories alive! Remember, criticism should be constructive, not cruel:)
By: JoyJuice
Pairing: Ryan/Luke
Genre: Slash, Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: During the bad, Ryan and Luke find comfort, friendship and more in each other. Takes place after 'The Links'.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: None really, this is my first attempted so please be kind. I miss Luke, thus he gets a fic! Disclaimer: Not mine No suing! Note to Josh Shawartz: SLASH Wave of the future!
Cry
He would never do this in the known presence of others, in fact what people know of him, it's assumed he doesn't at all. He always held a strong front, never letting anything get to him. Or at least not showing it anyway. In front of people he's a different person, strong, fearless, an attitude showing little to no semblance of caring. His strong facade that hides what no ones allowed to see, what he only does when he's alone...
He lies on his side, knees brought closely against his chest, that hitches with every breath. Quiet sobs escaping from his lips, tiny drops of water trailing from his eyes. Flowing more rapidly at the hope that someone would come and hold him, hold him in their arms, wipe the little drops of water from his cheeks. Let him know that there's at least someone out there who cares.
But he lies on his bed, hugging a pillow, the corner of it becoming damp with tears. Knowing that this is the one thing that he will always have to do alone...
Cry.
Ryan got himself up out of bed and headed into the washroom. He turned on the faucet and let the water run cold. He put his hands under the running water and brought them to face. He splashed the cool liquid on this reddened skin. He hated crying. He didn't like to show how much things hurt him. For most of his life there was no one there that cared about him enough. And the few people that did care, he never showed his pain to them. You didn't cry in Chino.
He had a better life now. Living in New Port with the Cohens. Sandy had gotten him out of some trouble and took him in. After some mishaps involving burning houses, smashed cars, and pistols, his stay was made permanent. And he was happy, Seth was a pretty ok guy, quirky, chatty, but ok. He had a girlfriend, he was sure it was going to work anymore, but he had one. He liked Marissa, he did, but they seemed to want different things. He wanted her to spend more time with him, and she, well, wanted to well, spend more time with others. He was happy with his life though.
He just needed to cry once and a while. Usually at night when everyone was asleep, he'd just lie down and let it out. It felt good. And after he'd clean his face up to rid himself of any trace evidence of tears in case someone did come, like Seth, which did happed once or twice.
He liked the Cohens, he like them a lot, he just didn't feel comfortable enough opening up like this to them. But he did want someone. Marissa just wouldn't understand. She didn't understand. If she did understand him, even the slightest bit, she wouldn't had reacted so badly when couldn't say 'I love you' back. He couldn't remember the last time anyone ever said it to him and the people that were suppose to love him only ever hurt him or left him behind. So she should have been more understanding. But she wasn't.
But when it came to Oliver she was. She was so considerate, understanding, and always there for him. Always worried about his feelings. It made Ryan's stomach churn. She was Ryan's girlfriend not Oliver's. So was she putting his feelings set aside and babying Oliver's like he was the most important thing in the world. It made him sick. And it hurt.
In Palm Springs, Oliver had tried to run his golf car into a tree, had a bizarre freak out and an supposed O.D. . And Marissa lapped every word that leaked out of Oliver's lying mouth. Ryan's reservations, concerns, and suspicions however, went unheard or she gave him shit. Now, he'd finally decided he'd had enough.
Enough with Marissa and her bullshit. Enough unwanted worry. Enough crying. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt. He slipped a pair of barely worn flip flops of his feet and headed out the door.
He started walking down the sand of the beach. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He really should be quitting but, heh, what are you going to do. He walked silently across the darkened beach, the only light from the burning end of this cigarette. He let the cool air clear his mind and tossel his hair just slightly in it's breeze. As he passed a conch shell laying on the ground he idly wondered if you could actually hear the ocean in it. He was about to pick it up when he saw something up ahead. He squinted his eyes and moved closer. Someone was in the sand, sitting with their knees drawn up, head bowed, and slight shake in their shoulders. They we crying. As he moved even closer he began to make out a face. A boy's face. A face he knew. He walked over to the boy, butting his cigarette out in the sand. Not knowing what to say, he cleared his throat. The boy looked up at him, tears streaking his cheeks.
"Ryan..." He said, his lips trembling.
"Hey, Luke."
TBC:)
Reviews help keep stories alive! Remember, criticism should be constructive, not cruel:)