Ok. Just a few notes.

muchtvs- I totally feel you on the ham. I was going to say pork, but then I guessed that there's no pork in Chino!

LORA- Um, sorry if I grossed you out? Would you have preferred if Ryan spat at Theresa? Well, I hope not, because that would just be rude on behalf of Ryan.

gpotter- Thank you very much for the compliments! :) Well, it's going to be a medium sized fic, not supersized, and definitely not short.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite what Seth had thought when he was little, the ocean wasn't the greatest company.

Definitely not better company than Summer.

Summer was probably drunk at a party somewhere, hooking up with a random because of him.

Crap. He was being self centered again. He had to stop thinking about himself. Not everything revolved around him.

Now, Marissa, on the other hand...

Everything in the world revolved around her. Of course it did. Because she was Marissa Cooper!

Marissa Fucking Cooper.

God, Seth hated her right now.

It was basically almost all her fault that Ryan was back in Chino. Or, actually, as he liked to call it, hell.

Of course, it wasn't all her fault. It was also Eddie's. Eddie's and Marissa's. And probably just a small percentage of his dad's. And, actually, his.

Seth frowned a little. He had to find a way to pass the time, and maybe calculating the percentages would help. He cracked his knuckles and got to work.

Ok, so Marissa hooked up with Oliver. At least that's what it seemed like. She broke up with Ryan because she didn't trust him, when he probably shouldn't have trusted her for spending the night with Oliver.

Maybe things were different in Chino, but in Newport, that meant he would have gotten some action from her.

Marissa was such a classy lady. Ryan had told Seth about her late night visit after the Oliver incident. Seth had almost choked on his Mountain Dew. He, of course, had nodded along when Ryan said it was hard to say no. He had drifted off to other thoughts, until Ryan's words had snapped him back to attention.

"She smelled like vodka..."

Of course she did. Seth thought she had probably done it on purpose, so maybe Ryan would pity her and say yes.

Yes, she was quite the classy lady.

A lady who had ignored him for more than half his life, and then the second he had a cool friend, had been all over him. Until, of course, she had said cool friend. Then she went back to ignoring him entirely, unless he was with Ryan. Then she'd make casual conversation with him.

Seriously, Seth did not understand Ryan's fascination with her. She had broken his heart more than once, and a heart was something that should not be messed with. Seth knew it was true.

Lord only knew how Summer had messed with his heart when they were little.

The way she disregarded him all the time made him want to crawl into a corner and die. She wouldn't even look at him, ignoring the fact that he was even alive. Sometimes Seth would attempt to talk to her, but her icy glare would pierce through him and make him walk away. He really didn't know what had attracted him to her, and for a few days every year, when she took time out of her busy schedule to insult Seth, he would wonder why he liked her.

Then she'd smile at him, and his heart would melt. He would suddenly remember how secretly smart she was, or how she would twirl her hair around her finger and bite her bottom lip when she was nervous. He'd remember how different she was when she wasn't around her stupid friends, like that one time when she asked him for help on her science project. Seth could still recall her exact words.

"Thanks Sam, you are such a sweetheart!"

Seth hadn't bothered to correct her, but those words alone had made him adore her even more.

Seth shook his head. He was getting off topic. What was his topic again?

Oh right. How stupid they all were for letting Ryan leave. Even though Chino was basically only an hour or two away, it was like the two places were continents apart. It was like crossing a border from happiness, richness and family to sadness, despair and hobos.

Not that Seth would really know, since he had never been to Chino, but he assumed his guesses were correct.

Another thing he assumed was that Ryan was going to avoid their calls like the plague. He probably wouldn't answer their phone calls. Seth didn't know exactly why he thought so, but he had the feeling Ryan was going to try to leave them behind, so he wouldn't have to face the fact that he was living in hell while the rest of the family was living in heaven. Or, you know, a place that was all sunshine all the time.

Seth thought it would be a good idea to call Ryan right now, just in case.

He dialed Ryan's cell number. No response. He knew he had been right.

"I think I'm psychic." he said loudly, glaring at the phone.

He dialed it again, trying to leave a message on Ryan's voice mail.

"Dude, it's Seth. I gotta talk to you. Well, you know, it's about how much of an ass I was yesterday. I'm sorry, and I'm totally going to call you back later. I'm guessing that mom and dad already called you to tell you I was gone, and well, I am. But I promised them I'd be back no later than a month from now, so whatever they tell you is greatly exaggerated. Ok, so anyways--"

Seth glowered at his cell phone. He remembered Ryan setting the length of message allowed to two minutes.

"It's because I don't want to listen to you talk about Summer for thirty minutes before getting to the point."

The voice rung in his ears and he turned around, half expecting Ryan to be on the boat with him. No such luck.

Just a memory.

Either that or he should consider going back to Newport so he could get his mental health checked out.

"What do you think, Captain Oats?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Ryan was shivering outside the house. Another draft of wind shook him to his very core, and he listened to the voices inside, not wanting to chance a look into the house for risk of getting caught.

He had a feeling that if Sandy asked him to go with him, he would definitely not take "no" for an answer.

"Thank you." Ryan heard Sandy say, and he wanted to know what he was saying thank you for. He heard the clink of a mug on a table, and guessed it was tea. Pilar made the best tea.

Ryan sighed as silently as he could. He was such a horrible person. He was making the man he trusted most in the whole world have a nervous breakdown. He should just jump out right now and go back home. As he started to rise, he thought about Theresa. Damn. He sat back down and decided to peek into the small house.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Pilar watched Sandy's hands shake as he pulled the cup up to his lips. He sighed and put the cup back down, just as shakily as before. He clucked his tongue when he spilled some of the tea on the table.

"I'm so sorry. I'm just a nervous wreck right now." he said, trying to clean up the mess with his sleeves.

Theresa ran over with a napkin, spotting Ryan as he looked inside. She gave him a glare, and Ryan understood exactly what the look said.

"Come out now!"

But he didn't. He just stayed there, too scared to move. Too guilty to move.

Sandy thanked Theresa and pulled the cup to his lips once more. He graciously sipped the hot tea, savoring its cinnamon flavor. He hadn't tasted tea this good since back in the day, when Kirsten's friend made him her "special tea bag". He guessed this tea didn't have the special ingredient.

"My other son, Seth, he-- he went out on his little boat. Left us a note. He said he'd be back soon, and that he needed some time to think. I, uh, yeah." He stopped short, unsure of what to say next.

"My wife, Kirsten, she's going crazy. She's on the verge of being suicidal..." For some reason, he let out a pathetic little laugh. He stopped himself before he got out of control.

"I'm-- I'm sorry. I don't know why I--"

"Don't worry about it. Really." said Pilar, her hand rested firmly on his shoulder.

Theresa watched from afar as Sandy's eyes slowly filled with tears, his bottom lip quivering.

"I did something wrong, I know I did. I was waiting for Seth to be there to tell me what I did so I could fix it. I know that sounds strange... but, I dunno, I just called Ryan to tell him I was wrong. He shouldn't be here..."

Theresa lowered her head in shame. Sandy caught her and extended his hand out guiltily.

"Sweetie, I don't mean it like that. I love ya, honey, and I know you're in trouble, but you should both be with us in Newport. You-- he has no future here."

Ryan covered his ears, trying vainly to cover up the words that were jumbling into his brain. He didn't want to hear them, and he didn't want to understand them.

"No. No. No. He doesn't mean it. You're trash. You're worthless. No one wants you. Stay where you are. Stay where you are. Stay where you are..."

He rocked back and forth rhythmically, his hands gripping at his old sweat shirt.

"What was that?" he heard Sandy ask suddenly. Ryan's heart beat faster inside of him, and he looked from side to side, about to panic.

Theresa looked at Sandy quizzically. "What are you talking about?" she asked. Her arms wrapped themselves around her torso.

Sandy shook his head. "I swear I'm going crazy."

Theresa walked quietly over to the back door, stepping outside. Sandy didn't notice her absence.

"I've gotten completely off topic. Here." Sandy took a tissue from his pocket, but instead of using it on the tears that had now stained his cheeks, he grabbed a pen and wrote a letter on the soft paper, sniffling as he wrote.

He tediously folded the delicate sheet and handed it to Pilar, a goofy half smile on his face. Pilar could definitely tell it was fake.

"Could you please give him this?" he asked, the small letter still in his hands. Pilar simply nodded and gently pried it from him. As soon as the paper was out of his hands, Sandy roughly pulled up his shirt sleeve and looked at his watch. It was 9:00 pm.

"I better get going. Kirsten's going to think I've run off as well. Thank you very much for the tea, and I'm sorry I--" Pilar cut him off by waving her hand at him.

"It was no problem. Have a safe drive back."

Sandy bowed his head, offering a small smile as he looked up again.

"I'm such a terrible person..."

Sandy frowned. He could have sworn he heard Ryan's voice. He rubbed at his ear, coming to the conclusion that he definitely needed some sleep.

That voice had seemed realistic enough. The same little boy voice that seemed filled with guilt. The same little voice that sounded as though it were going to be stolen from him at any moment. Sandy heard that voice from Ryan every once and a while, when the teenager let his guard down. When he had nightmares...

"I-- I should get going. Thanks again."

He waved again and got into his car. He had a whole lot of explaining to do when he got home.

----------------------------Flashback-----------------------------------------

Ryan lay on his bed, looking at the plain white cast on his arm. He looked up as he heard a tentative knock at the door.

"Kiddo? You in there?"

Ryan sighed deeply and sat up.

"Yeah, mom, I'm here." Where else would he be?

The small boy watched his mother step inside the room.

"How you feelin'?" she asked, touching his leg.

Ryan pulled away from her, looking down.

"Fine."

"I'm so sorry honey." Ryan's eyes narrowed, but he kept his eyes on the ground.

"You know Steve never meant to hurt you, right?"

Ryan snorted.

"Right. He was just drunk."

Dawn smacked him on the head, but Ryan didn't give her the satisfaction of making a sound.

"Listen, I dumped him, ok?"

Ryan frowned and looked at her.

"Really?" he asked, unable to keep the hope away from his voice.

"Yes, sweetie. He won't hurt you ever again. I'm never letting anyone hurt you again. I swear. I love you too much to let anyone else lay a hand on you. I love you, alright Ryan?"

Ryan nodded, suddenly smiling. "I love you too, mom."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The next week, Ryan was watching T.V. with his mother. He was still not allowed to go to school because of his broken arm. He sighed and looked at it. Trey had written some things on it against Ryan's will, but he didn't mind the vulgar customization.

"And the lottery numbers are...3, 12, 16, 22, 11..." Ryan looked at the fuzzy screen uninterestingly. He glanced over to his mother, who grunted and ripped up her ticket.

The next day, the news was all over the place.

Steve Buscemi had won $300,000 with his lottery ticket.

"Just our fuckin' luck." Trey had whispered in Ryan's ear right before Dawn found out. Ryan had been shaking from the moment he heard. His mother was going to kill him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"You little shit! He should've killed you! I'd be three hundred grand richer if it weren't for you! " The plate landed inches away from Ryan's face and hit the wall, shattering.

She walked over to him, ignoring his pleading eyes, and grabbed him by the arm. He whimpered in pain. She almost pulled his arm out of the cast.

"You're trash. I wish you were gone from here, you worthless piece of shit!" Ryan flinched as she spat out the words.

"Get outta my house. I don't want trash in my house."

Ryan's eyes filled with tears as she tried to push him out of the door.

"Mom, where am I supposed to go?"

His mother had glared at him and shoved him away from her.

"I don't know. Not here. No one wants you here." She slammed the door, and a gust of wind hit Ryan in the face. He clawed at the door, screaming for her to open it.

"Please, mom! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please..."

He sat on the patio, his head resting on his knees. He hugged himself tightly as the rain started to pour mercilessly on top of him.

He waited for the sun to come out and dry the rain up, but it didn't. He waited for the moment that he'd be able to climb up the water spout again, not caring when that time would be.

He smacked himself on the head. He was being stupid. In real life, the spider would die when the water washed it out. His brother taught him that.

Instead of believing in a silly song, he looked up at the sky and let the cold droplets cover his face. No one should be able to see that he was crying. Boys didn't cry. His mother taught him that.

"She doesn't want you. No one wants you. Trash. You're trash..."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...

I just looked at my chapter titles and realized that I cannot say "Look At Me" without adding "I'm Sandra Dee..." Yes, I'm weird. More soon, I promise.