Sorry (especially to Misty) for the lack of length. In order to maintain this rapid posting, I can't help but keep them short. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

Chapter Two

"Here. Catch."

Ryan turned his head and shoulder just in time to avoid the pillow hurling toward his head. Normally, he would have caught it, but the effort required to lift his arms and react, just wasn't in the bank today.

"Oookay," Trey drawled, marching over to the door to pick up the stray pillow, then tossing it onto the sofa along with the mess of blankets and the one, small faded sheet that Ryan recognized from when they used to live in Fresno.

"Not in the catching mood," Ryan shot back under his breath. He was irritable and miserable, and the idea of moving into a decrepit apartment with Trey and Arturo was not doing anything for his weary state of mind.

But Theresa had insisted, and seeing as how both she and her mother had skipped a day of work to be with Ryan as he lay on a gurney and hurled into a bucket, he couldn't really find it in himself to argue. It was just until things calmed down, he told himself. When the bruises faded and emotions tapered, everything could go back to normal.

"I think there's some shit in the fridge, so you can help yourself. Just, you know, put stuff back in there eventually if you eat something. And, oh!" Trey jogged to the kitchen, which was really just a small box that had been added on to the tiny living area. "When you turn on this tap, you have to make sure you don't lift it all the way. Otherwise…." Trey lifted the faucet handle up and then ducked to avoid the stream of water that spurted into the air. He turned the water off and then used his sock to mop up the puddle on the cracked linoleum floor. "That's pretty much it," he said with a smile, his arms held out at his sides as he gestured to his modest living area.

Ryan nodded even though he was sure none of what Trey had just said to him would be remembered past this evening.

One of the doors on the far wall opened to reveal a swearing Arturo, who was shoving a few bills into his frayed wallet.

"Ryan! Hey. You look rough, man."

Ryan didn't even need to answer, he realized. Not that he really had anything to say in response to that. Arturo talked a lot, but it was like he never really expected anyone to listen, so he never paid attention to anything Ryan ever had to say in response.

Sure enough, Arturo strolled over and stuck his head outside the apartment door and into the hallway. "Where's my sister?"

Ryan rubbed his palm over the back of his neck and closed his eyes. "She had to go…," he paused, swallowed and teetered unsteadily. He found it hard to believe he could possibly have anything left to throw up. He moved his feet just slightly, widening his stance to provide more stability before opening his eyes to see if Arturo was actually listening and waiting for an answer. Wide eyes stared back at him. Of course, now he was listening. "She had to go pick something up. She'll be back," Ryan finished tiredly.

Arturo nodded, then plopped himself down on the sofa, his boots propped up on the pillow that Trey had just thrown at Ryan.

All Ryan wanted to do was curl up and sleep away this nightmare in his own bed. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were—as imperfect as they might have seemed.

But now all he had was a worn-out old sofa that looked like it might have been rescued from the dump, a pitiless brother and his ignorant friend, an unprotected mother, and overly concerned girlfriend whose mother was just one bruise away from calling child services. Yeah, everything was just going to be great.

"Ryan, why are you standing there? You should be…." Theresa's voice cut off when she entered the room.

"Hey, sis!"

"Arturo, get off the sofa and let Ryan lie down!"

Arturo's brows rose into an amused arc. "Nice to see you, too!"

Theresa huffed, placing her hands on her hips in her infamous "don't fuck with me" stance.

Arturo slowly removed himself from the creaky sofa—the pillow dropping to the ground as he walked by.

"Ma said you would bring my CDs next time you came by. Got them?"

Ryan bowed his head. He was almost scared to realize he could probably fall asleep standing right in that very place.

Theresa's hand found its way onto his back.

"No."

"No? What the fuck, Theresa? How many times do I gotta ask?"

"Excuse me for not leaving the hospital to go grab your CDs. You're such an ass."

The hand pushed Ryan forward until he found himself standing in front of the sofa.

"Sit down."

Ryan obeyed, pushing the pile of blankets off to the other side of the sofa. He was so fucking hot; he could feel every inch of clothing sticking to his skin. He wanted to shower and change, but he feared what he might catch and he had nothing to change into.

There wasn't even a fan in the entire place, and there certainly wasn't any air conditioning. He felt like he was going to choke on the thickness of the air. He scanned the walls for an open window, but stopped when his head protested, sharp pains stabbing at the back of his eyes.

"We gotta jet, man," Trey said, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Arturo shook his head, like he was trying to shake off the frustration. "Yeah. Fine." He pointed at Theresa. "Next time!"

She shot him a disgusted glare, muttering, "Get them yourself, you ass," under her breath.

As usual, Arturo wasn't listening. He and Trey filed out of the apartment, Arturo slamming the door behind him, causing the loose wooden frame to rattle for several seconds in their wake.

Ryan let his head fall back into the cushions. He grimaced when his skull whacked against something hard—the stuffing in the old piece of furniture had seen better days.

He reached out and rubbed a hand over Theresa's shoulders, feeling her relax immediately.

"Sorry," she muttered, turning back to face him.

Ryan forced a small smile that lasted all of a millisecond, but he knew she knew what it meant.

"Here," she said, pulling a bottle of pills from her jacket pocket. "I managed to convince to doctor to change the name on the prescription so my mom's health insurance would cover it. It wasn't much," she added in a hurry, but Ryan saw how she immediately scrunched up the receipt and shoved it deep into her jeans pocket.

"Thanks." He took the bottle in his hand and held it up to his face. He squinted and then gave up, closing his eyes again and letting the hand fall onto the couch. The pills rattled loudly in the plastic bottle.

"It says to take two every four hours. So don't forget, okay?" she asked hopefully, and Ryan wondered if Theresa felt obligated to be motherly toward him, knowing that his own mother probably wasn't even aware of his recent absence.

"Okay," he croaked. He rolled the bottle around in his palm. Her hand covered his, and he didn't even mind the additional heat on his skin.

"D'you need anything?"

He thought, as much as his brain would allow considering recent circumstances. "Clothes?"

"Yeah. I thought you might ask for that. I'll stop by your place and pick up some of your stuff."

Ryan opened his eyes and looked at her seriously, his left eye just barely able to open with the decrease in swelling. "Go before six if you're gonna go," he told her seriously.

Her fingers tightened around his hand. "I'm going to go as soon as I get home. Don't worry," she said softly. He liked how he never had to explain anything to her. He never told her about AJ's schedule. She just knew.

"There's a bag…." Ryan hesitated, wiped the sweat off his free palm onto his jeans, and waited for the wave of nausea to roll out. She never took her eyes off of him. "There's a bag in my closet, behind a big box." She nodded, and Ryan could almost see her taking mental notes. "Everything I need is in there."

She frowned briefly, but mustn't have given it much thought because she squeezed his hand one last time before standing up.

"When you're there…."

She turned and tilted her head. Theresa, Ryan knew, was always listening.

"My mom…can you…?"

"I'll check on her," she finished for him.

He smiled gratefully. "Thank-you."

"Uh huh."

Her expression immediately turned serious, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking off to the corner then to the floor. "You know, I would have liked you to stay with us, at least until you're better, but it's just that—"

"I know," he interrupted.

She licked her lips and blinked a few times rapidly. "I just don't want you to…."

"I know," he added when her words were eaten by her emotions.

She smiled sadly, meeting his eyes again. "I'll be back shortly."

"I know," Ryan replied. And she laughed lightly, leaning over placing her lips on his sweaty forehead.

She waved before she walked out the door, closing it ever so gently. And much to the relief of his sickeningly debilitating headache, the wooden frame stayed perfectly in place.