This chapter was definitely a toughie. I decided to change it up (for this chapter) and make it from Ryan's perspective instead of Seth's because it would be impossible for it to be from Seth's perspective unless Seth was somehow dreaming about Ryan in the hospital and his dreams were perfectly accurate. Which is, I think, impossible.
Disclaimer: I don't own the O.C., nor do I own any of the characters. What I do own is a Captain Oats shirt and a "You know what I like about rich kids? BAM! Nothing." shirt. So take that, Josh.
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Nothing was right here.
Ryan couldn't move, he couldn't think, and he couldn't really breathe.
The annoying nurses and doctors kept telling him everything was gonna be alright and that they were almost there.
Where? The fucking dilapidated Chino Hills Medical Center, where the wallpaper fell down and the doctors didn't have the right training?
Where they'd mess up the amount of anesthetic they gave you and you'd wake up a day late?
Total piece of crap hospital.
Ryan couldn't believe that his brain was functioning enough for him to form thoughts. Thoughts in full sentences, for that matter.
Why did this happen again? Wasn't there a knife involved? Wasn't there an Eddie involved? A Seth involved?
He didn't quite know, but something told him it wasn't very good.
Anything involving Eddie, Seth, and a knife couldn't possibly be good.
The hissing oxygen mask over his face was tickling him, being such a pain in the ass.
It hurt too much to move, and he knew from experience that it probably wouldn't be a good idea.
Sooner than he thought, they were at the hospital. It never failed to amaze him how fast ambulances got to their destinations.
It was probably the fact that he was drifting in and out of consciousness, but it seemed like quite a short trip.
When was the first time he rode in an ambulance?
He couldn't remember.
Maybe he was six. Or eight.
Something like that.
"Ryan... Ryan..."
It was for a concussion. Something about little boys' heads colliding with doorknobs being able to give you a concussion.
That must have been it.
After that it was... it was when his dad got arrested and he picked a fight with a big, tough guy at school.
Obviously, he lost.
"Ryan... Ryan..."
There were some other times too.
He couldn't remember those times though. Not now.
Not with the thoughts swimming and splashing busily in his head.
Eddie. Knife. Seth.
"Ryan... Ryan..."
He wished someone would tell whoever it was that was saying that to shut the hell up.
He would have said it himself, but his breathing prevented it. That, and the fact that he felt... How had Seth described that crappy romantic comedy he and Ryan had seen?
Or rather, been forced to see because of Summer and Marissa?
Ah.
"Good... if you think total crap is good."
What the hell was the point of retaining useless information like that, when he couldn't remember why he was on a stupid stretcher with a stupid, noisy mask over his face and a stupid loser telling him everything was going to be alright?
Or wait. He did remember.
Eddie with a knife. Seth with a knife. Ryan, gripping Eddie's arms weakly.
Squirming.
Seth. With a knife. That didn't sound right.
Or did it? He wasn't sure.
This was ridiculous.
"Ryan... 2 mg... morphine..."
Ooh. Morphine. He liked morphine.
"Eddie?"
His voice was more of a raspy gasp than an actual word.
Someone seemed to hear him, because they patronizingly answered him, leaning in, talking loudly.
"Eddie's in ICU."
Ow. What the hell was the point in yelling?
He really hated this hospital.
Soon enough, the morphine kicked in and helped take the rough corners off of the pain.
It felt nice. Well, not nice, but better than tormenting pain.
What was wrong with him? When had he turned into Seth?
He closed his eyes as the bright lights of the hospital made him nauseous, and was mildly surprised when they wouldn't open anymore.
He drifted off.
When he woke up, however much time later, he was lying down already.
He found that everything had happened surprisingly fast.
"Ah. Nice to see you joined us in the living world. How are you feeling?"
Ryan didn't answer that. He didn't like this guy already. He was annoying and loud and tried too hard to be witty.
"Eddie?"
The doctor frowned, then raised his eyebrows and sighed in understanding.
"Eddie is in recovery. You've been out for quite a while now."
Out. Out as in unconscious. They must have called the Cohens if he was that bad off.
"Seth?"
He would have said more, but talking hurt and he didn't want to waste energy on this guy.
Dr. Fuckwit gave him a pitying smile and looked at his clipboard.
"I'm sure an officer will be in to tell you some more. I'm just here to take care of you and make sure you're alright."
Ryan raised a critical eyebrow, obviously disbelieving of the doctor.
His round spectacles and brown eyes just screamed deceit.
Or maybe that was Ryan's paranoia.
He wasn't sure.
What he was sure of, however, was that the Cohens should be here.
"What about... what about the Cohens?"
He swallowed through the pain, inhaled then exhaled through it.
Another pitying smile.
Another glare and another sweep of pain.
"I'm sorry. We've tried to reach them, but we only got the answering machine. We also tried Mr. Cohen's cell phone, but it wasn't available. Sorry."
Sorry. Yeah, sorry. That was always it.
Sorry.
Fuck sorry. Sorry didn't fix anything. It only made things worse. Some things just didn't need sorry.
What's his name probably wasn't even sorry. Just a job to him. Nothing important.
A hand was placed on his shoulder. Ryan glared at it.
"Get some rest, kid."
Rest.
He couldn't rest. Not with the throbbing pain that radiated from every inch of his soul. From his battered body.
Not with the looming thoughts that pestered his mind.
Eddie. Knife. Seth.
Fuck rest. That was just what he'd...
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In a way, the drive to juvenile hall was educational.
Now Seth knew how Ryan felt. It was like somehow Ryan was channeling Chino strength through Seth.
When he felt acid tears form in his eyes, they were blinked back, replaced with a grim frown that to him seemed to reek of maturity.
Maturity and evil.
Maturity for the fact that he wasn't crying like a three year old who had been denied an ice scream, frowning like an adult instead. An adult who had stabbed a man.
Evil for the fact that he wasn't weeping for forgiveness for the cruel act of hatred that he had committed.
When his head hurt or his face stung or his neck started throbbing a little, he reminded himself of Ryan and his incredible ability to deal with pain.
He'd remember him telling him to leave. To get out and leave him to get his ass kicked.
Leave him to get killed.
The incredible strength that his friend had somehow gave him strength, and he made it through the car ride, made it through the police officers shoving him out of the car.
Didn't protest as they led him through the doors.
He thought the officers were so pushy they would have shoved his father out of the room when he was talking to him.
They didn't.
Sandy didn't want to go, he told them he was his lawyer. His father. He tried everything.
No. Seth had to go. Seth had to go deal with the consequences of his actions.
He almost cried when they searched him. He thought about how Ryan must have felt, cold, alone, miserable.
And he had gone through it twice.
He wondered how Ryan felt now, and instead of feeling sorry and worrying about how hurt his friend was, he took comfort in the fact that he could do this.
Ryan could do this. Ryan did do this. So could Seth.
He knew that Ryan was going to be ok, because Seth made Sandy promise that he'd rush to Chino Hills Medical Center as soon as he left.
That he'd call Kirsten out of her spa weekend and make her come down to the hospital and check on him.
So he wouldn't be poked and prodded in a hospital.
Alone.
He knew that Ryan was going to be ok, so he could do this.
He could put on the white shirt, underwear, socks, shoes. Blue jumpsuit.
He thought about how much better Ryan looked in the jumpsuit than he did. It was loose, and it smelled tainted.
Like evil.
Like maturity.
He almost smiled as he looked at his blue clad arms. This was different.
This was terrible, but it would get better. It had to get better.
He promised Ryan it would be better, and he would do anything in his power to keep his promise to Ryan.
Ryan was his brother, and brothers protected each other. Kept their promises.
Seth would keep his promise.
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So, to those who would like to know, camp was great. It was fabulous. I learned how to surf, met a boy, made some friends, got tanned, skim-boarded, swam in the ocean, and had fun in general. So please review if you feel the need to. I would really appreciate it.