Sometimes he hated Marissa. He hated her for thinking that everything revolved around her. He hated her for continually asking him what was wrong, and why he wouldn't tell her about it. He hated her for not just knowing. But, most of all, he hated himself for not being able to tell her.

"Are you even listening to me?" she asked as he tried his best to concentrate on the video game before him. He said nothing, and she rested her chin on his shoulder. "Kirsten's not going to be home for, like, three hours. Seth is out with Summer. We're all alone," she whispered, wrapping her lips around his earlobe.

Ryan shrugged her off, threw his controller down, and stood. "Fine. Let's go do something then," he said.

She sat back, a hurt expression on her face. He hated her for making him feel guilty. "Did I do something to piss you off?"

Shaking his head, he went to the refrigerator and withdrew a bottle of water. "I'm just really tired," he said. It wasn't a complete lie. Things were only getting worse with Kirsten, and he hadn't gotten to bed until long after the sun had come up.

Marissa nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Maybe you should just sleep?"

He shrugged and sank to the bed. He didn't want to – he knew that wasn't a very exciting date – but his body was begging him to take the offer. "Are you gonna stay with me?" More than he hated her questions, he hated the thought of being alone. Spending so much time caring for someone else left him longing for someone to watch after him. Or maybe that was the sleep deprivation talking.

With a shrug of her own, she stood and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "I don't know if you even want me around anymore."

He mustered all of the sincerity he could feel. It wasn't her fault, and he knew that. It didn't change anything. "I do." He couldn't explain it any further. He just needed her to understand. He needed her to get him, to get what he was saying without him having to say it. He needed her to be something that he wasn't sure she could be.

Her shoulders sagged and she moved only slightly closer to the bed. "You know you can tell me what's going on, right?" He didn't answer, only looked at her shoes. The pain in her eyes was more than he could take. "Why do you not trust me with this? With the whole Kirsten thing?"

"It's not about trusting you, Marissa." He sighed and laid back on the bed, becoming inexplicably interested in the ceiling. "It's just," he stopped. "It's too complicated," he said sadly.

"We've been together for almost a year, Ryan. I mean, you guys are practically like," she started to argue.

Ryan pinched his eyes shut and shook his head. "No," he stopped her without sitting up. "It doesn't matter how close we get, or how much I love you, Marissa. At the end of the day, she's my family." He struggled to pull himself up and glared at her firmly. "You're just my girlfriend."

The words hung in the air and he knew that he had hurt her. But it was better that way. It was better for her, in the long run. She didn't have to deal with all of his bull shit anymore, all of the paranoia and the worry. She could move on with someone better equipped to handle emotion pressure, someone who was willing to let her in to his life. He wasn't that guy – probably never would be.

She bit her lip and shook her head. "I have tried, Ryan, to be everything and anything that you needed me to be. And I swore that I wasn't going to let you push me away, no matter how hard you tried."

He shrugged and put on his best "stoic" face. "I guess this is your big test then, huh?" There was another long silence, awkward and painful. Unspoken pleas and unspilled tears passed between their averted gazes. His hand nearly moved of its own accord, reaching out for her, but he pushed it down. And his throat ached to beg her not to leave, but he swallowed the urge forcefully.

After a deep breath, she took her purse from the bedside table. "You need your sleep," was all she said, as she turned the door and exited.

He watched her until she disappeared around the side of the house and then laid back against the pillow. Was it worth it? Seth had practically stopped talking to him. Sandy was disappointed in his determination to go down with the ship. And now he had sent away the woman that he loved. And for what? The chance to drive Kirsten further into her hole of dependence and depression? Was anything worth it anymore?