I own nothing.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews - I really appreciate them. muchtvs and other non-believers, welcome to the dark side (Ryan/Anna love). Tatertots, yes, 15 chapters but the later ones are twice as long, so that should be something, right?
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I'd been sitting on the couch for over six hours trying to find some kind of distraction. Anna had come down about three hours after I'd left her. However, she didn't even acknowledge my presence as she went to the kitchen, picked up the box of cereal and departed again. I saw her look at the potatoes and chicken I'd prepared but she didn't touch them. Instead, knowing fully well that we'd run out of milk, she picked dry cereal over a home cooked meal - just because I'd made it.
Seeing that didn't help improve my mood by a long shot. I don't think I'd ever felt that awful in my life and I think what compounded it was feeling completely useless. For the first time in my life, I wasn't in a position to help anyone. I just felt so expendable, like no one in the world would notice if I went missing or died, because it's not like I was contributing positively to society in anyway. Then thoughts of Seth lying face up, eyes open, lips blue-black kept floating through my head. I tried to watch television, I even picked up one of Anna's magazines -read a completely idiotic article about telling a good boyfriend from a bad one, all in an attempt to find a way of convincing myself it wasn't Seth's body rigid, washed up and wearing his Nana's watch in a body bag. But I failed miserably - I just couldn't shake that image.
I was looking for something else to do when I noticed that the bedroom light was on. When I walked in to switch it off, I saw Theresa's information on the bed and sat next to it. That conjured more memories. I couldn't for the life of me understand how my world had come to this. For the first time in a long time, I regretted ever letting Sandy convince me to move in with his family. If I hadn't gone, Seth would have been fine. I laughed at the irony of the situation. Sandy had taken me in to get me away from a life of crime but it had only served to show that you cannot escape destiny. Even when I fucking tried to do the right thing, in the end, I was inevitably a criminal. Other than most likely killing Seth, I was willing to go along with the death of Theresa's child. I was so despicable that I was willing to live with the death of an innocent child that could possibly be my own flesh and blood. Then I thought of it and figured that the child might have been better off because he or she wouldn't have to live with my Atwood blood running through his or her veins.
A multitude of thoughts kept running through my head and before I knew it, I felt tears seep from my eyes. I was such a loser that I had to weep like a child. I couldn't even fucking handle my own emotions. I walked into the bathroom to get some tissue but stared at my reflection instead. All I could think was; I was looking into the eyes of a killer. A completely useless killer. A killer that couldn't even help the people he loved most in the world. What good in the world is such a person? None - just a complete waste of space. All I could think was maybe my mother was right after all. Maybe I was a mistake. Maybe nothing good had ever come from my birth. All I did for her was make her fat and use up her money. I didn't even have one redeeming quality, one thing that would make my life worth her nine months of hell. I felt my hand ball up as I kept staring at the bastard. It was like he was smirking at me, proud of how much pain he'd caused the world, proud of being a failure. My fist was about to make contact with the glass when I realized where I was. It dawned on me that I was such an asshole, I was about to add 'vandal' to my rap sheet. I grabbed the roll of toilet paper and ran out.
I heard Anna in the living room so I didn't go back in. She'd made it clear she was sick of me and I didn't want to make things uncomfortable for her by being in her way. I figured that was the least I could do. She'd tried to be nice to me but all I'd done was fuck it up. Ryan Atwood: the heavy-weight champion screw-up. I sat on the bed and tried to clear my head. Instead, the tears returned. The more I fought them, the harder they fell. I just couldn't stop thinking about all the people I'd hurt: my family, Theresa, Seth, Anna, Marissa, Sandy and Kirsten - even Luke. Even though I didn't think it at the time, I knew I was partly to blame for his accident. Chants started playing in my head. Different melodies; Rock, pop, even rap all saying, "Murderer. Ryan Atwood is a Murderer." I laid in the fetal position and just bawled like a little bitch. I'd lost track of time when I felt a soft hand gently glide across my shoulders and arm.
"Ryan, everything will be fine," she said tenderly.
I instantly felt ashamed. I should not have let her see me that way. That wasn't me. I don't cry. I never cry. I'm not weak. The last time anyone saw me cry was in 3rd grade after my father hit me for interfering in my parents' fight. Since then, I hadn't shed a tear. I'd managed to deal with everything internally. But there I was, a 17 year old grown man, crying in front of a girl. I felt so worthless that I cried so more. She tried to turn me over but I resisted - I didn't need her pity. I felt her get off the bed and before I knew it, she was in lying in front of me, pushing my head on her shoulder and wrapping her arms around me. It felt nice. Then she started speaking softly - most I didn't hear, but assumed were words of comfort. That just made me feel even more pathetic and I couldn't stop the tears. We remained like that till I drifted into sleep.
I had a restless night and when I woke up at around 3 am, I heard a soft consistent sound. I strained my ears and figured out it was coming from her. Her back was turned to me but she was definitely crying. It seemed like the stress of the day had taken its toll on both of us. When I reached for her, she struggled but I didn't relent. When she finally surrendered, I turned her around, pulled her to me and just held her tight. I could feel the tears sipping though my shirt so I reached for the tissue, pulled off some sheets and dabbed her face with it.
I had barely wiped one eye when she snatched it from my hand.
"This is just pathetic," she said.
"Why? Because you're crying? It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I know, but still..."
"Anna, I'm here, you can cry on me all you want."
She sniffed and blew her nose. She also took the opportunity to scoot away from me. It felt weird because I wished she hadn't but I didn't say anything. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I could see her eyes were a little swollen. I noticed that her tissue was soaked so I reached over and pulled out few more sheets.
"Give me the whole roll," she said, crooking her finger. I did, along with the sheets I'd already pulled.
She held on to the sheets but put the roll between us. "This is just terrible. Seth is dead," she said.
"No, he's not," I said flatly. I was feeling a little better. This was a role I was accustomed to. It felt good to be useful again.
"How do you know?"
"Just because."
"Ryan, that's just bullshit. We don't know anything."
"True. But he's probably fine."
"How do you know?" she insisted.
"Okay, I don't. But there's no sense in panicking yet. We don't know the facts."
"Oh really?" she asked, pulling back her hair. "That didn't stop you from wigging out a few hours ago."
I smiled. "I know. I'm a wigg - I mean, I wig-out."
Her eyes widened suspiciously. "Uh-uh, Ryan what did you almost say?"
She was definitely sharper than a few girls I'd dated. I shook my head slightly. "Nothing!" I replied with mock-severity.
She grinned. "Ryan?"
"Anna?"
We glared at one another for a few seconds before we burst into a fit of hysterics. It really wasn't that funny but we needed a little bit of a release, something, anything, to rid us of some of our tension. And it seemed like the weirdness of inappropriate slang terms was sufficient.
Seeing her laugh again reminded me of the bullshit I'd put her through earlier in the day.
"You do believe that I'm sorry about what I said today, right?"
She kicked me. Then kicked me again.
"Hey," I yelled, putting my hands on her knees to stop her, but she managed to get one last kick in.
"I can't fucking believe you said that shit to me!"
"I know. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it."
"Whatever, Ryan."
"I'm serious. I am really sorry. I was just so upset, I took it out on you and I shouldn't have."
"Got that right."
"I'm really sorry. It was stupid of me. Can you forgive me? Please?" I said, hoping that I was doing the whole puppy-dog eye thing correctly. Not that I was sure she'd even see it in the dark. It didn't seem to work so I groveled a little more.
She scrunched her nose. "O.K... let me put it this way. You're not forgiven and it's definitely not forgotten, but I'll tolerate you for a while."
It wasn't what I'd hoped but it was better than nothing. "Thanks." I almost asked about the flight to LA but decided not to push it.
"And I guess I am sorry too."
"For what?"
She giggled. "If there was something I did... if not, then I take it back." Before I could respond she said, "It's probably not him, you know."
I couldn't blame her for being preoccupied with Seth, I was too. "Yeah."
"I'm sure this happens everyday. Things you think are one way really are another," she said trying to convince herself. I wondered how often she did that.
"Definitely."
"I am sure one day this will be a funny story you tell Seth. Yeah, I bet there are hundreds of funny stories like this."
She'd begun to walk her fingers around the roll.
"Yes, I know one," I volunteered. She looked like she really needed to believe in what she was saying that I couldn't help myself. I needed to make her feel better.
She narrowed her eyes. "You know a funny story?" she asked skeptically.
"Not funny, ha-ha."
"I didn't think so. Anyway, spill it."
I took in a deep breath. "Well, when I was about eight, I thought my mother died."
"What?" The moon had shifted and the light was across her face. At that moment she looked about thirteen.
"Continue," she beckoned when I didn't say anything.
"Well, she was either drunk or overdosed -I don't know which -but I walked into the living room and saw her lying to the floor. Her eyes were open but she didn't respond when I shook her."
"Shit! What did you do?"
"I tried to call 911 but the phone wasn't working - my mom must have been late on the bills again - so I went to my neighbor's house, except she wouldn't help because during one of my Mom's drunken episodes, she'd dumped our trash in front of her house. Of course when she was sober, she'd denied it. Trey and I had to clean it up."
"Damn. So what did you do?"
"I ran to Theresa's house. It really wasn't that far, a little over a mile, but imagine an 8 year old boy running on the street at midnight. It turned out well in the end though. My mom is still alive." I think.
She shook her head in disbelief. "That's just messed up. Running at night in a dangerous city? That's just messed up."
"Chino really isn't that dangerous, though. There are worse places."
"Really?" she wasn't buying it. " Because from what I hear..."
"I know. But trust me, it isn't. You should come and check it out someday."
She grinned. "Alright. We'll see about that... But parents can be so dumb sometimes. I can't believe your mother put you through that."
"Yes, so I guess you never experienced anything like that, huh?" How could she? I knew she wasn't a princess but she was definitely rich.
"No, thank God. But my parents suck too."
"Really? 'Cos they let you go anywhere. You seem pretty free."
"Sure, it looks that way, but it really isn't. It's this whole passive-aggressive thing. Kind of a self-parenting thing. You can do whatever you like, but if you mess up, the freedom is snatched from you. So you're always on edge. Plus, if you do anything wrong, you have to make sure you confess before you're caught."
"How about you never confess at all?"
"You would think that, right? Except my mom would say things like, "I hear you've been busy today," or "I heard something interesting today, care to explain?" And you don't know what the hell she's talking about so you find yourself spilling all your guts. It's just retarded... My solution? I just avoid them; if you don't see me, you can't grill me."
"That's interesting," I commented. I wondered if that was why she ran away from me after our kiss and why she said that crap to me earlier in the day, but I reserved that discussion for later.
"There you go. I bet your parents never treated you like that," she replied.
"Well... not like that. But my parents have done very stupid things too."
"Like wh --" she stopped herself before she could finish her sentence. I immediately recognized the look people give me when they imagine what growing up around crime might feel like. I was fine with my past and didn't need anyone pitying me so I decided to lighten the mood.
"Like the time...," I started. I told her about the time my stepfather had beaten us because he thought we'd stolen his wallet only for him to later find it in his car. Then she told me about the time she'd killed all the fish in the aquarium because she "thought they needed some air." And that's how it went, we spent the rest of the night exchanging stories of our childhood, sometimes stopping to play with the toilet roll, just being together, till we fell asleep.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews - I really appreciate them. muchtvs and other non-believers, welcome to the dark side (Ryan/Anna love). Tatertots, yes, 15 chapters but the later ones are twice as long, so that should be something, right?
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I'd been sitting on the couch for over six hours trying to find some kind of distraction. Anna had come down about three hours after I'd left her. However, she didn't even acknowledge my presence as she went to the kitchen, picked up the box of cereal and departed again. I saw her look at the potatoes and chicken I'd prepared but she didn't touch them. Instead, knowing fully well that we'd run out of milk, she picked dry cereal over a home cooked meal - just because I'd made it.
Seeing that didn't help improve my mood by a long shot. I don't think I'd ever felt that awful in my life and I think what compounded it was feeling completely useless. For the first time in my life, I wasn't in a position to help anyone. I just felt so expendable, like no one in the world would notice if I went missing or died, because it's not like I was contributing positively to society in anyway. Then thoughts of Seth lying face up, eyes open, lips blue-black kept floating through my head. I tried to watch television, I even picked up one of Anna's magazines -read a completely idiotic article about telling a good boyfriend from a bad one, all in an attempt to find a way of convincing myself it wasn't Seth's body rigid, washed up and wearing his Nana's watch in a body bag. But I failed miserably - I just couldn't shake that image.
I was looking for something else to do when I noticed that the bedroom light was on. When I walked in to switch it off, I saw Theresa's information on the bed and sat next to it. That conjured more memories. I couldn't for the life of me understand how my world had come to this. For the first time in a long time, I regretted ever letting Sandy convince me to move in with his family. If I hadn't gone, Seth would have been fine. I laughed at the irony of the situation. Sandy had taken me in to get me away from a life of crime but it had only served to show that you cannot escape destiny. Even when I fucking tried to do the right thing, in the end, I was inevitably a criminal. Other than most likely killing Seth, I was willing to go along with the death of Theresa's child. I was so despicable that I was willing to live with the death of an innocent child that could possibly be my own flesh and blood. Then I thought of it and figured that the child might have been better off because he or she wouldn't have to live with my Atwood blood running through his or her veins.
A multitude of thoughts kept running through my head and before I knew it, I felt tears seep from my eyes. I was such a loser that I had to weep like a child. I couldn't even fucking handle my own emotions. I walked into the bathroom to get some tissue but stared at my reflection instead. All I could think was; I was looking into the eyes of a killer. A completely useless killer. A killer that couldn't even help the people he loved most in the world. What good in the world is such a person? None - just a complete waste of space. All I could think was maybe my mother was right after all. Maybe I was a mistake. Maybe nothing good had ever come from my birth. All I did for her was make her fat and use up her money. I didn't even have one redeeming quality, one thing that would make my life worth her nine months of hell. I felt my hand ball up as I kept staring at the bastard. It was like he was smirking at me, proud of how much pain he'd caused the world, proud of being a failure. My fist was about to make contact with the glass when I realized where I was. It dawned on me that I was such an asshole, I was about to add 'vandal' to my rap sheet. I grabbed the roll of toilet paper and ran out.
I heard Anna in the living room so I didn't go back in. She'd made it clear she was sick of me and I didn't want to make things uncomfortable for her by being in her way. I figured that was the least I could do. She'd tried to be nice to me but all I'd done was fuck it up. Ryan Atwood: the heavy-weight champion screw-up. I sat on the bed and tried to clear my head. Instead, the tears returned. The more I fought them, the harder they fell. I just couldn't stop thinking about all the people I'd hurt: my family, Theresa, Seth, Anna, Marissa, Sandy and Kirsten - even Luke. Even though I didn't think it at the time, I knew I was partly to blame for his accident. Chants started playing in my head. Different melodies; Rock, pop, even rap all saying, "Murderer. Ryan Atwood is a Murderer." I laid in the fetal position and just bawled like a little bitch. I'd lost track of time when I felt a soft hand gently glide across my shoulders and arm.
"Ryan, everything will be fine," she said tenderly.
I instantly felt ashamed. I should not have let her see me that way. That wasn't me. I don't cry. I never cry. I'm not weak. The last time anyone saw me cry was in 3rd grade after my father hit me for interfering in my parents' fight. Since then, I hadn't shed a tear. I'd managed to deal with everything internally. But there I was, a 17 year old grown man, crying in front of a girl. I felt so worthless that I cried so more. She tried to turn me over but I resisted - I didn't need her pity. I felt her get off the bed and before I knew it, she was in lying in front of me, pushing my head on her shoulder and wrapping her arms around me. It felt nice. Then she started speaking softly - most I didn't hear, but assumed were words of comfort. That just made me feel even more pathetic and I couldn't stop the tears. We remained like that till I drifted into sleep.
I had a restless night and when I woke up at around 3 am, I heard a soft consistent sound. I strained my ears and figured out it was coming from her. Her back was turned to me but she was definitely crying. It seemed like the stress of the day had taken its toll on both of us. When I reached for her, she struggled but I didn't relent. When she finally surrendered, I turned her around, pulled her to me and just held her tight. I could feel the tears sipping though my shirt so I reached for the tissue, pulled off some sheets and dabbed her face with it.
I had barely wiped one eye when she snatched it from my hand.
"This is just pathetic," she said.
"Why? Because you're crying? It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I know, but still..."
"Anna, I'm here, you can cry on me all you want."
She sniffed and blew her nose. She also took the opportunity to scoot away from me. It felt weird because I wished she hadn't but I didn't say anything. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I could see her eyes were a little swollen. I noticed that her tissue was soaked so I reached over and pulled out few more sheets.
"Give me the whole roll," she said, crooking her finger. I did, along with the sheets I'd already pulled.
She held on to the sheets but put the roll between us. "This is just terrible. Seth is dead," she said.
"No, he's not," I said flatly. I was feeling a little better. This was a role I was accustomed to. It felt good to be useful again.
"How do you know?"
"Just because."
"Ryan, that's just bullshit. We don't know anything."
"True. But he's probably fine."
"How do you know?" she insisted.
"Okay, I don't. But there's no sense in panicking yet. We don't know the facts."
"Oh really?" she asked, pulling back her hair. "That didn't stop you from wigging out a few hours ago."
I smiled. "I know. I'm a wigg - I mean, I wig-out."
Her eyes widened suspiciously. "Uh-uh, Ryan what did you almost say?"
She was definitely sharper than a few girls I'd dated. I shook my head slightly. "Nothing!" I replied with mock-severity.
She grinned. "Ryan?"
"Anna?"
We glared at one another for a few seconds before we burst into a fit of hysterics. It really wasn't that funny but we needed a little bit of a release, something, anything, to rid us of some of our tension. And it seemed like the weirdness of inappropriate slang terms was sufficient.
Seeing her laugh again reminded me of the bullshit I'd put her through earlier in the day.
"You do believe that I'm sorry about what I said today, right?"
She kicked me. Then kicked me again.
"Hey," I yelled, putting my hands on her knees to stop her, but she managed to get one last kick in.
"I can't fucking believe you said that shit to me!"
"I know. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it."
"Whatever, Ryan."
"I'm serious. I am really sorry. I was just so upset, I took it out on you and I shouldn't have."
"Got that right."
"I'm really sorry. It was stupid of me. Can you forgive me? Please?" I said, hoping that I was doing the whole puppy-dog eye thing correctly. Not that I was sure she'd even see it in the dark. It didn't seem to work so I groveled a little more.
She scrunched her nose. "O.K... let me put it this way. You're not forgiven and it's definitely not forgotten, but I'll tolerate you for a while."
It wasn't what I'd hoped but it was better than nothing. "Thanks." I almost asked about the flight to LA but decided not to push it.
"And I guess I am sorry too."
"For what?"
She giggled. "If there was something I did... if not, then I take it back." Before I could respond she said, "It's probably not him, you know."
I couldn't blame her for being preoccupied with Seth, I was too. "Yeah."
"I'm sure this happens everyday. Things you think are one way really are another," she said trying to convince herself. I wondered how often she did that.
"Definitely."
"I am sure one day this will be a funny story you tell Seth. Yeah, I bet there are hundreds of funny stories like this."
She'd begun to walk her fingers around the roll.
"Yes, I know one," I volunteered. She looked like she really needed to believe in what she was saying that I couldn't help myself. I needed to make her feel better.
She narrowed her eyes. "You know a funny story?" she asked skeptically.
"Not funny, ha-ha."
"I didn't think so. Anyway, spill it."
I took in a deep breath. "Well, when I was about eight, I thought my mother died."
"What?" The moon had shifted and the light was across her face. At that moment she looked about thirteen.
"Continue," she beckoned when I didn't say anything.
"Well, she was either drunk or overdosed -I don't know which -but I walked into the living room and saw her lying to the floor. Her eyes were open but she didn't respond when I shook her."
"Shit! What did you do?"
"I tried to call 911 but the phone wasn't working - my mom must have been late on the bills again - so I went to my neighbor's house, except she wouldn't help because during one of my Mom's drunken episodes, she'd dumped our trash in front of her house. Of course when she was sober, she'd denied it. Trey and I had to clean it up."
"Damn. So what did you do?"
"I ran to Theresa's house. It really wasn't that far, a little over a mile, but imagine an 8 year old boy running on the street at midnight. It turned out well in the end though. My mom is still alive." I think.
She shook her head in disbelief. "That's just messed up. Running at night in a dangerous city? That's just messed up."
"Chino really isn't that dangerous, though. There are worse places."
"Really?" she wasn't buying it. " Because from what I hear..."
"I know. But trust me, it isn't. You should come and check it out someday."
She grinned. "Alright. We'll see about that... But parents can be so dumb sometimes. I can't believe your mother put you through that."
"Yes, so I guess you never experienced anything like that, huh?" How could she? I knew she wasn't a princess but she was definitely rich.
"No, thank God. But my parents suck too."
"Really? 'Cos they let you go anywhere. You seem pretty free."
"Sure, it looks that way, but it really isn't. It's this whole passive-aggressive thing. Kind of a self-parenting thing. You can do whatever you like, but if you mess up, the freedom is snatched from you. So you're always on edge. Plus, if you do anything wrong, you have to make sure you confess before you're caught."
"How about you never confess at all?"
"You would think that, right? Except my mom would say things like, "I hear you've been busy today," or "I heard something interesting today, care to explain?" And you don't know what the hell she's talking about so you find yourself spilling all your guts. It's just retarded... My solution? I just avoid them; if you don't see me, you can't grill me."
"That's interesting," I commented. I wondered if that was why she ran away from me after our kiss and why she said that crap to me earlier in the day, but I reserved that discussion for later.
"There you go. I bet your parents never treated you like that," she replied.
"Well... not like that. But my parents have done very stupid things too."
"Like wh --" she stopped herself before she could finish her sentence. I immediately recognized the look people give me when they imagine what growing up around crime might feel like. I was fine with my past and didn't need anyone pitying me so I decided to lighten the mood.
"Like the time...," I started. I told her about the time my stepfather had beaten us because he thought we'd stolen his wallet only for him to later find it in his car. Then she told me about the time she'd killed all the fish in the aquarium because she "thought they needed some air." And that's how it went, we spent the rest of the night exchanging stories of our childhood, sometimes stopping to play with the toilet roll, just being together, till we fell asleep.