Disclaimer: This is Converses Rolled Down, and I am just letting you know this is a co-written fic with KC-Chick and myself, we don't own anything oc realted, but dont we wish.
A/N: This chapter was primarily written by Converses Rolled Down and edited by KC-Chick. The plot was an idea of KC-Chick and Converses Rolled Down. Enjoy!
The pool house bed was somewhat uncomfortable; Ryan shifted his weight on and off. The sheets were cotton, and he wasn't used to any name brand sheets. They tickled his bare stomach and stuck to his wind breaker pants. The night air pushed him awake. The sounds of the California winds brought him to the side of the Cohen house.
'Time for a smoke,' Ryan thought.
The cigarette felt natural in between his fingers. He flipped the lighter out of his pocket and let the fire burn the cigarette and the tip of his finger. Pain wasn't a big thing for him; he'd been in too many hospitals to count. Broken ribs, leg, cuts large enough to need stitches, and the one time he ran into a brick wall with his fist; he was attempting to knock his brother, Trey, out. The burn felt to Ryan like a kiss on the cheek from a loving mother and somehow, the feeling made his eyes start to water a little bit. He hadn't intended on crying, but here he was, this fifteen-year-old, Chino, tough boy crying. He wiped his face with the back of his worn hand. The little cracks in his hand made like a delta for his tears. He laughed at the little rivers flowing into the Cohen's well fed grass. Suddenly a small giggle came from, what sounded like, below him. Ryan whipped around and found himself face to face with Marissa Cooper.
"What are you doing here?" Ryan held his heart, that girl really made him jump.
"Can't sleep," she stated simply, and sat down on the newly wetted grass, "you can sit by me you know?"
Ryan shrugged, put his cigarette out in the bushes and sat down.
"Were you crying?" Marissa asked to break the silence.
Ryan lifted his burnt finger, "burnt myself,"
"Sure."
Ryan glanced at her from the corner of his eye, he smiled lightly. His face was glowing a little bit; he put his hand on his chin, and tried to hide it.
"You sure you weren't crying?"
"I told you, I burnt my hand," Ryan cringed with pain, for some reason he could feel it now, now that Marissa was by him.
Silence took over the teens, yet it wasn't uncomfortable. Both Ryan and Marissa merely watched the air blow over the small blades of grass.
"You like it here?" Marissa turned toward him.
"Better than where I came from yeah," Ryan searched his hands for a better answer, all that was given to him were his blue eyes reflected on the salty tears.
"Come on, Boston can't be that bad," Marissa smiled.
Ryan swallowed hard, "I'm not from Boston. I'm from Chino."
Marissa gazed off, hoping he was joking, "Chino," she repeated.
"Yeah."
"So then the story of you stealing that car was true?"
"My brother, Trey, stole it not me."
Marissa searched his ocean eyes, "you're not kidding."
Ryan looked down at the blades of glass he had clutched into his fist, "no."
"Then Newport is a hell of a lot different," Marissa laughed uncomfortably.
Ryan tilted his head back and looked up toward the stars, "hell of a lot."
Ryan lay on his back; Marissa followed suit.
"You know, in Chino you can never see the stars like this. Too much smoke, too many street lights." Crickets made their presence known, Marissa jumped at the sound, "you can't hear insects either in Chino. Gun shots are the only thing keeping you in touch with reality. Sirens blaze through the streets, not caring if newborns are awakened by the sound, but just blaring them in hopes that they get to the victim of whatever horrible crime in time. Nothing like this-"
Marissa cut him off, "You really don't see the stars in Chino?"
Ryan looked at her, his arms still supporting his head, "No not like this, no. You know what's kinda funny in Newport you're only afraid of what to wear to the next party, in Chino we are afraid of what we're wearing in case we're buried in it."
Marissa watched Ryan look up into the sky she had seen every night of her life, she never once looked at the stars in the wonder that Ryan did. She smiled as he watched the sky in all its stillness. The stars now looked different to her, somewhat unreal, like Ryan had opened her eyes for the first time, suddenly she was seeing what he was, and it was something to wonder at. Her hand slipped and she fell back onto her back, Ryan laughed as she wiped her shirt clean.
"I better get home, my mom might get worried," Marissa struggled to her feet.
"Thanks," Ryan mumbled.
"For what?" Marissa asked as she pulled her shirt down to cover her bear stomach.
"Listening to me," Ryan said shyly.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"It's just new to me that's all, and I figured I should thank you," Ryan looked into her aqua colored eyes, and stood watching her watch him.
"You're welcome," Marissa sputtered as she walked off to her house.
Ryan slept peacefully the rest of the night, without the cravings of a smoke, without hearing any noise like gun shots, or having the urge to run while he still could. For the first time, in his fifteen-year-old life, he felt safe and warm. The warmth came not from the temperature of the Newport air, but rather the warmth of the love he was surrounded by. He hadn't been there a full day and he already was receiving more love than any he had at home.
Sandy's nose expanded from the smell of bacon frying, he had sworn Kirsten did not know how to cook any kind of breakfast food, besides bagels. The sizzle of the meat on the pan grew louder as Sandy got out of bed and walked toward the kitchen. There, in windbreakers and a wife beater was Ryan humming some indistinguishable song and hovering over the bacon and eggs.
"Morning," Ryan jumped at the sound of his voice.
"Scared me," Ryan said softly.
"Sorry. What are you doing up so early?"
"I always make the breakfast at my house." Ryan gestured toward a plate, "habit," he added.
"You don't have to make breakfast here, Ryan," Sandy grabbed for the eggs first, "scrambled just like I like 'em," Sandy grinned.
Seth's hard footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, "Mom, I told you not to cook you'll…" he stopped mid-sentence when he saw Ryan at the stove, "you'll… burn… the… house… down."
Ryan laughed slightly, without anyone noticing of course, and handed Seth a plate.
"I heard that Sethala." Kirsten walked in gracefully as if she had never slept at all.
"Mom, the nickname again?"
"Again?" Ryan asked.
"She went through this stage of finding the perfect nickname for me; it went from Se-Se, Sethy-boy, S.C, to Sethala."
Kirsten gave a sarcastic smile in Seth's direction and took a seat at the table, next to Sandy.
"Ryan, wanna go sailing today?"
Ryan shrugged.
"Come on man, S-A-I-L-I-N-G."
"Glad you can spell son," Sandy hadn't said a word since he began eating.
"Ryan you know you want to," Seth searched for a more persuading argument to sail, "what are you afraid of water? Can't swim?"
Ryan glared at him, not needing to say a word to explain himself.
"I like that a no-word yes!"
Seth prepared the Summer Breeze easily not even bothering to ask for help from Ryan, who had acquired more muscle in his fifteen years than Seth.
"Come on, out to sea we go."
The water slammed against the boat, rocking it from side to side. Ryan's hand glided through the water breaking the oceans natural movements. Disturbing peace, that's what Ryan was born to do.
"So...never been sailing before?" Seth was desperate for a conversation, he had never liked silence.
"No, Ryan looked at Seth's face, full of disappointment that his question didn't spark a conversation, "So, why'd you name it Summer Breeze?"
Seth's face brightened, "named this here boat after the love of my life. Summer Roberts. He took a deep breath and pretended to swoon; weird thing was it looked serious.
"Did she like it?"
"Actually I…" Seth played with the ropes on the sail, trying to stall, "I've never spoken to her; I doubt she even knows I exist, no, never mind, I know she doesn't know I exist."
"Wait! So you named a boat after a girl you don't even know?"
"Well, I know her, she just doesn't know me."
Ryan shook his head, and watched the ocean rise and fall into nothingness.
"There's a fashion show tonight," Seth said after a while.
"Fashion show," Ryan laughed.
"It's for charity." he grew irritated as the boat fought with him.
"Are you going?"
"I have to."
"Summer going to be there?" asked Ryan, giving Seth a sideways glance.
"Probably..."
Ryan rolled his eyes, shaking his head once more.
"Definitely…yes,"
"Then we'll both go." Ryan was never this eager to do anything remotely social, but something about Seth just made him want to help.
"Dude, are you serious?"
"Sure, why not, it can't be that bad…," Ryan didn't know how bad it could get.
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