Sometimes you got to let the rich people help you, he had said to Johnny as he was about to fuck up his life forever. Sometimes that was true, but sometimes you had to help yourself. What a sham the holidays were, he could admit that he didn't mind Chrismakkah at the Cohen's, it was safe, and friendly. Crisis's here were nothing but bad party planning. But this isn't how he had grown up. Yet now he was a man, according to Jewish tradition, he wish he could teach himself to stop dwelling, because he felt 15 most of the time.
He peeked through his windows, dark. Finally. The light in Seth's room had finally gone out, not even the glow of his computer, all the Cohen's were safe in their bed, so proud of him. So proud that he had swallowed his pride, that he had embarrassed himself in front of everyone, that Johnny was going to be okay.
He scoffed, as he walked out the door of the pool house. He didn't know why he had bought them, it seemed like the right thing to do when you go into a convience store, buy a pack of Marlboros and a lottery ticket. He was glad he had.
Nobody had asked, he hadn't expected them to. It was winter, a chilly 70 degrees outside, it was completely appropriate to wear long sleeve shirts, no one even saw that he had added his wrist cuff back into his wardrobe, and why would they care anyway?
But now alone in the dark, overlooking the ocean, with only himself and an unlit cigarette, he didn't have to hide. He snapped off the cuff and looked for his a pack of matches he had stole from the kitchen. He ran his fingers across the lines, they weren't much, they weren't deep, they were just enough to bleed and leave a mark.
He wasn't trying to kill himself, that was the furthest thing from his mind. He knew where his veins where and he knew how to avoid them. It was just something about the blood and the pain that soothed him.
He took a drag of his cigarette and looked out into the ocean. He shook his head and smiled a little. Bar Mitzvah-ed, if only his family could see him now.
"Ryan." He heard it in the back of his head.
"Ryan!" Slightly louder and more urgent now.
He grunted, bleary eyed to find Seth sitting beside him.
"Hey man, how's our little Jewish man? Ready to start the day with some Chrismakkah shopping? What should I get for Summer? A Seth Cohen starter pack is a given, but what should be the theme? Japanese cinema?"
Ryan rolled over.
"What time is it?"
"A time when Ryan Atwood still isn't in bed. Where you hitting that bar mitzvah post celebration or something?"
"Nah man. Just a little tired."
"Perfect."
Ryan had been in bed just over 3 hours, it felt like 3 minutes. He had stayed sitting where he was for ages last night, just thinking, just being himself.
"Have you been burning incense in here? It smells a little smoky in here." Seth commented.
Ryan busied himself with his watch.
"Yeah, Marissa, she's crazy about the stuff, it just smells like burning to me." he shrugged for good measure. Good Lord he had these people fooled, it wouldn't take a genius to smell cigarette smoke in here, good lord he had smoked five, or was it six? But that was so out of the realm of Seth Cohen.
"Alright man, let me hit the shower, I'll meet you in the kitchen in a few."
"Ryan Atwood, is that a wrist cuff?" Seth was smiling. He was always smiling.
"Yeah, I hear they are back in style." Ryan grinned back. He had never felt so happy telling the truth, or telling a lie.
He could briefly hear Seth laugh as he closed the door to the bathroom.
He turned on the water on full heat and stood under it. Fading away, letting his tired body melt under the water, letting the cigarette smoke from last night wash away.
Kirsten and Sandy were in the kitchen as always, Sandy busying himself with a bagel, Kirsten pouring him a glass of orange juice. Seth sitting at the table pursuing catalogues. It all seemed so familiar, this was his family in a way. They would always look out for him, love him, try to protect him. As much as he loved them back, they would never know him, he would never let them see what he thought.
He grabbed a box of cereal and poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Shopping today buddy?" Seth asked.
"Of course."
"We should stop by and see Johnny, see how he's feeling about the good news." Seth said, mostly to him, but sometimes Seth just talked with no person in mind.
Ryan nodded, he knew how Johnny felt about the good news.
"We are so proud of you kid." Sandy came over and clamped him on the back. "You really did Johnny a good turn, he'll never forget it." Ryan smiled, and nodded his head, acknowledgement, but he wondered if they'd still be saying that about Johnny if they knew what he had almost done last night.
"Ryan honey, you have something on your shirt." Ryan looked down, it was blood, not a lot, just a drop.
He reached up distinctively to his face. Looking down at the spot instead of them, he could never lie to someone's face.
"I cut myself shaving, I thought it had stopped, excuse me." He took his coffee with him, not wanting to look in too much of a rush, hoping none of the Cohen's noticed the days worth of stubble on his face, or the other smudge of blood on his shirt sleeve, below his wrist cuff.
He sat down in his bathroom, pulling off his shirt.
He had to get himself together. He clenched his fists, curbing the urge to hit the wall.
This was his secret, this was his thing, away from the Cohen's, completely apart from them. He snapped off his wrist cuff and ran his wrist under water. Blood had smudged over it, from the cut that must have gone too deep. The blood swirled down the drain and Ryan waited until the water ran clear again.
It was too obvious, too noticeable. His wrist was a mess, too small of an area.
"Ryan buddy! The shops await, put on a new shirt and lets go!"
Ryan looked at himself in the mirror. His hair still wet, stubble growing on his face, his eyes a little bloodshot from not sleeping last night. It struck him, as nothing ever had.
He looked like his father.
He pulled his eyes away from the mirror. Seth and shopping beckoned, and Christmakkuh waited for no one.
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