Title : For Every Good Memory
Author : Helen C.
Rating : I'd say R (M) for language, but of course, I suck at rating stuff.
Summary : Ryan's relationship with his brother was too complicated to talk about—a series of five drabbles that are too long to actually be called drabbles, so perhaps I should say, a series of five very short stories.
Spoilers : Everything up to The Dearly Beloved.
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Many thanks to Joey51 for her help on this.
For Every Good Memory
Helen C.
4.
"Don't look at me like that," were the first words out of Trey's mouth when Ryan went to see him in prison, after.
"Like what?"
"This wounded look, like I'm the worst disappointment ever, like I always screw everything up. I know, okay. I know."
Ryan sat down on the hard bench and clasped his hands on the table. He felt tired and sore and older than he ever had. It had been a long, hard summer, and Ryan didn't know how he was going to survive school this year, after everything that had happened. Was he supposed to find English lit. important, now that his world had crashed and burned around him?
"That's not why I came," he told Trey.
"Why then?"
Ryan tried to reply, but his words caught in his throat. Sometimes, he could still feel Trey's fingers squeezing his neck, choking the air out of him, bruising his skin—deep bruises that hurt and took weeks to disappear.
I want to know why you hated me, Ryan wanted to say. But that would have been a stupid question, because he knew why.
Ryan had always been Dawn's favourite.
Ryan had escaped prison and life in Chino, and even though the Newport snobs had never really accepted him, Ryan didn't have the word prison tattooed on his forehead. Bad boy, yes, certainly. But not ex-convict.
Ryan had a new, loving family, and he had been scared that Trey was going to screw things up for him, and Trey must have felt Ryan's reluctance, and must have seen it as yet another rejection.
"I don't know why I came," Ryan finally said.
He wanted to tell his brother that he still wanted him in his life, but he was too scared of Trey's answer, too scared Trey would just tell him to go to hell. Atwoods were notoriously good at severing ties.
He wanted to ask his brother for forgiveness, but he wasn't sure he deserved it.
He wanted to forgive his brother, but he wasn't sure he did.
He wanted life to go back to what it was before, but wishful thinking was unproductive.
He didn't know what he could possibly tell his brother, after everything that had happened.
"The first weekend AJ spent with us, he kicked my ass," Ryan said at last.
Trey looked up in surprise. "I remember."
Ryan smiled ruefully. "I mostly don't." The concussion had been a bitch to deal with; Ryan had suffered from migraines for about six months after that. He supposed he was lucky in a way—he hadn't suffered any permanent brain damage, and he was convinced that it had been a close call. The fact that he couldn't remember the whole week that had preceded the "accident" was enough to make him understand just how lucky he had been.
"That's probably a good thing," Trey said.
"I do remember, about a month later, I had a headache, and you came home just as I was throwing up on the floor. AJ was there."
Ryan looked up but Trey was working hard at avoiding eye-contact. "It's blurry, but I remember him yelling that he was going to teach me, and you coming to stand between him and me, and getting your ass kicked so he would leave me alone. I remember you, screaming at me to leave."
Trey finally met Ryan's eyes. "I remember leaving you there," Ryan finished.
"Yeah."
"I think I mostly came to say I don't know."
Trey frowned. "You don't know what?"
"Anything. How to deal with this, what to make of what happened, how to deal with what comes next." Ryan rubbed his chin. He hadn't shaved in three days; the stubble was harsh against his fingers, comforting somehow. "I don't know anything."
"Okay," Trey said. "I… Me neither."
"I'll come back," Ryan offered. "If you want me to."
Trey mumbled, "I'd like that." Then, more clearly, "Will the Cohens agree?"
Ryan shrugged. "I'm here, aren't I?"
They didn't hug, barely looked at each other, and Ryan blinked back tears all the way from the visitation room to his car. But he still felt better than he had in a while.