Disclaimer: Believe me…I do not own The OC.
Author's Notes: Big Beta thanks to maudgonne and crashcmb for swimming through the murky waters that are my grammar skills.
This story is based on a prompt on brandywine's Big Table of Death on her LJ. I wanted to take a fluffy, silly prompt and challenge myself to make it a serious and believable death. (And hopefully not turn it into a sap fest!)
Prompt: Kill a main character by having him or her rescue a puppy.
Thank you for reading : I'm going to go and run away now from all the people who wanted a Best of Intentions update.
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It Takes A Little Time to Get From There to Here
by: muchtvs
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When he first arrives at Brown his freshman year, Seth sits around and mopes and keeps to himself.
He lives on a co-ed level, and that's a very good thing, because girls stroll up and down the hallways in towels and sometimes if he's lucky… much less than towels, but it's a bad thing, in a very bad way, because Summer knows it and her approval rating of Seth's living conditions falls well below five stars.
He was stuck into, despite his best middle school debate club arguments, the only dorm where the college dumps all of their fresh/soph athletes who aren't living illegally off campus.
At first Seth is pissed because shit almighty, he's already done enough time in jock hell. But a funny thing must have happened to the barbell monkey set along their way to semi-adulthood. The jocks in college are actually a bit friendly towards him. A lot bit friendly in fact. They take good care of him, almost like he's a mascot or something. And he in turn tutors some of them, because evidently Brown is one of those colleges that expects their student athletes to be able to write in structured sentences.
It's a symbiotic relationship Seth can live with.
John helped.
The first week Seth moved in, a humongous basketball player introduced himself as John and came to Seth's room and told him that they were gonna have a small beer binge next door and could he please have their backs and not bust them if it got a little too loud and maybe even be on the lookout because if any of them got caught drinking, they'd be running laps for thirty years.
Seth nodded and by nine o'clock, John was back again, drunk and friendly and poking his head in Seth's door and asking if he'd like to come over and have a brew. Seth hated beer, but he despised being alone even more, so he put on a clean shirt and some deodorant and took a chance at higher education socialization.
"Seth, you are fuckin' The Absolute Shit, man," John proclaimed the next day, when Seth showed him how to create multiple spreadsheets in Excel. Seth brushed off the gesture but John thanked him all day and when they ended up in Independent Theater Appreciation 103 together, a bond was formed.
Now Seth's invited to all the parties and with enough practice, he finds that beer doesn't taste all that bad anymore.
He has guys nicknamed such things as "Da Slammer" flinging their arms around his shoulders and playfully punching him in the gut and razzing him about having a seriously fucking gorgeous girlfriend who is a fine piece of ass and how much does he have to pay her a month to be with him?
Sometimes, when people in his classes find out the name of the dorm he lives in, they look him up and down suspiciously and curiously and ask him what sport he plays.
Seth tells them, "life".
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In November, John takes him to the campus gym, complaining that he's sick and tired of looking at Seth's scrawny ass white boy poor excuse for arms.
Seth goes, because kicking the walls out of frustration is getting him nowhere and really isn't a very efficient form of exercise and what could it hurt, running on a treadmill a few times a week?
Maybe he'll get rid of some of the chaos in his head that's constantly reminding him that Ryan isn't in Newport anymore.
"Do you miss your family?" John asks while he's patiently showing Seth that free weights aren't anything to be afraid of. "Man, it's embarrassing, but shit, I think I'm homesick. I call my mom three times a week."
"Yeah," Seth nods while picking up something odd-shaped that's way too heavy. Then he adds, "No, not really," because his first answer of 'yeah' wasn't the truth.
He doesn't miss home so much as he misses what it used to represent.
Seth's not sure what happens during the workout to trigger his emotions.
Maybe it's John's mention of being homesick, maybe it's that Seth hasn't allowed himself to think about his house and his family in a while, but halfway through a set of three repetitions of ten to fifteen, he finds himself crying.
"Seth?" John asks concerned, putting down his twenty-five pound weight and taking Seth's five pound one out of his hand. "What's going on man?"
"I miss my brother," Seth tells him. "I miss him a lot."
"Where's he live?" John asks. "Why don't you call him?"
"I can't," Seth answers, sitting down in a corner and putting his hands over his eyes and wishing like hell he wasn't such a girlie boy.
"He's dead."
They leave the gym, John patting his shoulder, trying his best to console Seth despite the fact that they hardly know each other.
He helps Seth put his coat on and they silently walk, side by side, as Seth cries the entire way home.
It's fucking freezing out and Seth's tears feel like individual pin pricks on his face.
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"Do you want to talk about your brother?" John asks, a few days and multiple nightly beers later.
They're sitting on a couch that John and his equally big ass roommate have somehow managed to shove through their dorm room door.
"Not yet," Seth answers, getting up and leaving his half empty beer behind.
"Anytime you want to, man," John calls after him. "No worries bro, I'm available when you need me."
"Thanks," Seth says and almost doesn't open the door and leave.
Almost sits back down and confides in the only friend he has made since Ryan.
But instead, he zombies his way back into his room and calls Summer, his hands shaking like a jackhammer operator while the persistent tears start back in on him again.
"Is it Ryan?" she asks quietly.
Seth tells her 'yes' and Summer rushes right over.
They sit on his bed and she passes him tissues, rubbing circles on the small of his back, until Seth stops crying.
Then they make love, slow and easy, like they always do whenever either of them is sad.
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That first March, Seth packs his bag and gets ready to make the trek to LA.
Summer left a week earlier, but Seth doesn't want to spend that much time in Newport, so he's flying out alone, just one day before the date that his parents insisted that he come home by.
John borrows a car from a senior teammate and drives him to the airport.
As soon as they get off the surface streets and hit the freeway, Seth impulsively blurts out, "I'm going back home because Saturday… is…was…my brother Ryan's birthday."
It's silent in the car before John asks softly, his deep voice muted by his careful tone, "How did he die?"
Seth takes a quick breath.
He's never talked about Ryan's death before, at least not to anyone other than Summer and his mom and dad, but somewhere in-between September and March, John has crossed the line from comfortable acquaintance and drinking buddy, to a trusted confidant.
"He was hit by a car," Seth says finally, his head down, his brain on auto pilot.
Talking about Ryan seems to do that, send him instantly back to the barely cognizant days right after Ryan died and things happened so fast and furious that Seth wanted to scream at everyone to just fucking slow down.
Not be in such a hurry to tell Ryan goodbye.
"He was chasing a puppy."
Seth lets the ridiculous words hang in the car like a settling fog before he goes on to say, "It's ok to laugh. I know that it's kinda funny in a warped way."
"No, man," John says, staring intently out the driver's side of the windshield. "Not at all."
Despite the fact that the traffic is light, John's hands are clenched on the wheel so tightly that his knuckles are strained against his skin, causing them to pop up like individual mountain peaks.
Seth doubts very highly that the guy is concentrating on the road.
Most likely John's as uncomfortable as all hell.
"It is funny," Seth continues, smiling a little to help John relax, but then he verbally backs up, his right hand fanning out and his next words fumbling awkwardly out of his mouth, "I mean the whole chasing the puppy thing… that's funny….not the Ryan being dead thing."
"It's harsh," John says, not appearing to be the least bit less tense. "It's brutal."
Seth takes a second and gathers his thoughts and decides just how much he wants to tell John and just how much he thinks his new friend even wants to listen to somebody else's problems.
"It was his girlfriend's sister's dog. Well…maybe not girlfriend…I don't know… I never knew what the hell was going on in that Olympically dysfunctional relationship."
John doesn't answer because obviously, what's he gonna say?
Seth can't even tell himself what his own mood is at this precise moment and he suspects that John doesn't want to be the one to further the conversation.
"Um, the puppy…it…well… Marissa…Ryan's girlfriend…or whatever…told us that it just worked its way out of its' leash and into the street and a car was coming and Ryan ran after it. I guess he didn't see the other car coming at him from the opposite direction. You had to have known Ryan. I'm sure it all made perfect sense to him, not worrying about himself and trying to rescue a stupid dog because it belonged to his stupid ex-girlfriend's psycho sister."
Seth glances quickly at John.
" He…uh…Ryan…he died instantly," Seth says, his enthusiasm for talking waning, his head back down, his mind almost blank, his eyes fucking watering up.
He thinks to himself that dying instantly was really Ryan's only rationale option, since half his brain's gray matter was spread on the car's hood like jelly on toast.
Seth looks out his window and mentions to John as an after thought, "In case you're wondering, the puppy escaped unscathed."
Seth's pleased with himself that he didn't break down again in tears.
He's getting a little better at getting a grip.
Ryan's been dead for ten months now and even though Seth wants to deny it, it's getting a little easier every day to come to terms with the fact that Ryan is gone for good.
Not away in Chino with a pregnant girl or out in the middle of the Pacific fishing.
Not somewhere else other than Newport.
Not away in college like Seth's dad always hoped for Ryan…but away as in dead.
"I'm sorry," John answers and Seth thinks, from the tone of his voice, that his new friend genuinely means it.
"So am I," Seth agrees.
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Seth lands in LAX and doesn't bother to call his parents or Summer to pick him up.
Instead he hails a taxi and takes a detour on his way home, to the cemetery his dad decided to bury Ryan in, which appropriately enough is almost exactly halfway between Newport and Chino.
Seth wonders if his dad did it on purpose, burying Ryan neither here nor there, as a last acknowledgment of his dual citizenship in two communities that couldn't be less alike and in which Ryan maybe never fully fit in either.
A day later, at the first somber anniversary of Ryan's birthday… the first birthday without Ryan actually being there to argue about celebrating it… Seth's family sits in their crypt-like quiet house.
Eventually, a few people are coming over, like Summer and…against Seth's wishes…Marissa.
The Nana's flying in from Florida, Lindsay from Chicago, Luke from Portland.
Zach is living in Italy, but he sends a card with a thousand dollar check for a charity of the Cohens' choice and a photo of all of them, Seth, Summer, Zach, Marissa and Ryan, smiling during a casual moment, Harbor's landscape in the background.
Sadie is driving up from wherever the hell she lives.
Anna is driving down from Berkeley.
Seth is driving himself nuts with grief and self-pity and claustrophobia.
His mom is crying off and on, his dad is making coffee no one will drink and Seth is sitting on a breakfast bar stool, staring at a bagel.
His dad places a cup of steaming coffee in front of his mom and she says, "I don't think having anyone over is such a good idea, Sandy. We shouldn't have done this."
His dad makes her take a Xanax and cajoles her to lie down in their bedroom.
Seth stays in the kitchen and concentrates on the staling bread product in front of him.
He doesn't look out the patio door and he reminds himself over and over that he's not waiting for Ryan to come out of the pool house and join him.
Reminds himself not to anticipate Ryan's unique strut as he slowly makes his way up to the big house as he did every morning, pushing his sleeves up to exactly right below his elbows and adjusting the watch he never forgot to wear.
When his dad returns and they're all alone, he says to Seth, "I know this is almost impossible Seth. I'm with you, I know how you feel. I broke down this morning, before your mom got up. It's ok to show your emotions, son."
Seth nods numbly.
His bagel has gotten crusty-hard and he pokes at it with a spoon that he isn't even sure why he grabbed in the first place.
Who eats a bagel with a spoon?
"I'm going to my room for a little while," Seth says.
He feels bad, leaving his dad all alone, when he thinks maybe his dad might want to talk about how much he himself misses Ryan.
But Seth doesn't have anything of his own self to give to anyone.
Not today.
Not here, in this place that Ryan used to live in.
Not in front of the kitchen table that Ryan did his homework on or in the close proximity of the refrigerator that Ryan used to lean into to get cold bottles of water.
Not with Ryan's pool house empty, standing there like an honorary, adobe shingled statue.
Seth goes up the stairs, one at a time, and crashes on his bed and stares at the posters of some of the bands that he still listens to and a few that he's embarrassed to admit that he ever spent any time and money on.
He reaches into his night stand and takes out the wrinkled world map that Ryan once gave back to him.
It seems so long ago and in terms of months and now years, it was.
He was so angry at Ryan that summer, for going away and abandoning him.
For leaving him.
Maybe today, on Ryan's birthday, he's still little bit angry at his brother for going away yet again.
Ryan was always coming and going and coming and going and finally, for a year before his death, staying for good…or probably…he was going to stay for good.
In many ways while he lived with them, it always felt like Ryan was on loan.
He never seemed completely settled, always a little restless.
Maybe it's better this way, for Seth at least, that Ryan never felt permanently permanent.
Seth thinks in retrospect that he's been holding his breath for all these years, knowing that at some point, Ryan would somehow, for some reason, disappear from their lives.
He stays holed up in his bedroom until an hour later, when he hears the doorbell ring and Summer's voice, asking where he is.
As people arrive one-by-one and the house slowly fills up with more and more noise and everyone is distracted with catching up with one another, Seth sneaks off for a few minutes and slides out the patio door and puts his hands in his pockets and stares at the pool house, spending a little time by himself and remembering the lost sixteen-year-old kid that his dad somehow found and brought home one random night, in the middle of a sticky-hot summer.
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Seth gets a roommate sophomore year.
He's a walking IQ of 160 by the name of Sam.
Seth's pleased, because it's kind of nice to be able to pass the title of Head Geek Squad on and no longer be the one who has to fix all of the PC's and laptops on his floor.
Sam is meticulous.
He's even taken to cleaning Seth's side of the room, which Seth has absolutely no problem with.
"Is this your family?" Sam asks, holding up a framed photo that he's just finished dusting.
"Yeah," Seth answers and looks away from Sam because he knows the next thing the guy is about to say, and even after two years it's a difficult thing to hear and think about and talk about and remember.
And accept.
"Your big brother doesn't look like you," Sam comments and Seth counts to ten, taking a deep breath with each 1, 2, 3…before turning around to once again face his roommate.
"No, he doesn't," is all he answers, because it's easier than saying anything else.
When he takes off for Newport in the middle of March, Sam has already gone home for spring break, and Seth is thankful that he doesn't have to explain to this stranger that he's living with, where he's going or why he has to go there at all.
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At the start of his junior year, John calls Seth and invites him to live with him off campus.
Seth gladly bids Sam ado and he and John and two other basketball players move into a four bedroom apartment close to Brown.
All of his roommates are unnaturally tall and freakishly muscular and Seth guesses that some people must wonder what he's doing with these guys as his friends.
Or, rather, why they bother having Seth as their friend.
He's clearly not a basketball player.
Maybe people figure he's a manager or something.
He was once accused of being his roommates' bitch.
Surprisingly, it didn't really bother him all that much.
It's better than being an invisible doormat, like Sam, twenty and still living in a dorm.
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Summer usually meets Seth after their morning classes, for lunch, and they sit outside when it's warm enough and inside when it's not.
March feels like late April today, so Summer brings a blanket and after they eat, they cuddle together and make out in the quad.
In a week, when it's Spring Break, they'll head to Newport.
Summer suggests to him, "Why don't we bring John with us this year, Cohen. It'll be good for you. Give you something to do besides sit around for days in a row, looking grumbly, doing nothing but brooding about Ryan and making the rest of us feel worse than we already do. Think about it. You could show him around, maybe get out of your parents' house."
A sandy haired kid, maybe eighteen, walks by, backpack slung over one of his shoulders, big biceps.
A blue, short sleeve T-shirt clinging tightly to his chest.
"I'm not ready yet," Seth tells her, shaking his head slowly back and forth, watching as the kid is enveloped into the conveyor belt of Brown students hurrying to various destinations.
"Well get ready someday soon," Summer says forcefully. "Because this periodic death gloom is getting old, Cohen. It's bullshit and Ryan would be the first one to call you out on it. It's ok to miss him. But it's been three years. It's not ok to still be this sad."
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By senior year, Seth himself is getting weary of his sour pilgrimage to the west coast, so he accepts Summer's suggestion and buys three plane tickets instead of two and takes John to Newport.
John's never been to California before.
He instantly proclaims his love of all things SoCal.
They spend every day but Ryan's birthday out and about.
The beach, the pier and a few places that Seth and Ryan never went to.
Summer was right.
It does feel better to have someone with him.
A friend.
Someone else who has accepted him for just who he is.
Someone like Ryan, who just somehow, miraculously, became his friend, even though they were from different worlds and without a twist of fate, would never have become friends at all.
"Your brother was buff, man," John says, looking at the numerous pictures of Ryan spread throughout Casa do Cohen. "What'd he play?"
Seth tells him soccer and maybe a few other sports, he's not really sure what all Ryan did participate in before he came to live with them, and as he talks to John, he's ashamed that he never bothered to listen better or harder to Ryan and to hear whether or not there were any other sports or anything else he could have learned about the only brother and best friend he ever had.
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After four years at Brown, both Seth and John graduate on time, but Seth's other two roommates are on the five year plan, so he stays an extra year and tutors them and parties quite often until he pukes and holds off growing up for another twelve months.
Summer heads back to her father's house to chill on the beach and pretend to look for a job.
She visits him when she can, which is a lot.
Seth only goes back to Newport for a few days in March.
John surprises him on Ryan's birthday by flying in from Connecticut, where he's gotten a teaching and coaching position and has met a girl named Felicia, who he says makes him feel more alive than any last minute three-pointer he's ever made.
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Amazingly enough, Seth's other roommates finally, actually accumulate enough credits to earn diplomas, so with no real reason or excuse to stay at Brown, Seth grudgingly moves back to California.
Within a year of his return to his native state, Summer promptly does what Seth has always wanted her to.
She marries him despite that fact that he is…Seth Cohen.
They move into a dingy studio apartment in Venice Beach because Seth has accepted a job at an independent graphic arts company located a few miles away.
He's the only one that can draw without the aide of a computer, so he's automatically promoted to president of the comics division.
He has a staff of none.
He and Summer are dirt poor compared to their childhood standards of living, but Summer is close to the ocean and Neil sends her checks periodically and Seth swallows his pride and looks the other way as Summer cashes them.
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In their sixth year of marriage, Summer gives birth to Seth's first child.
A son.
He's beautiful.
He's perfect.
Seth makes money now, real money. He can relax a little bit and be sure his son will have the same financially stable childhood that he did.
The independent company he works for is booming and the graphic novels Seth always dreamed of writing are selling like porn in a prison and the company has stayed true to its grassroots and is still owned by three laid back dudes from Simi Valley, who refuse to sell out to a faceless corporate conglomerate.
Seth's life is exceptionally exceptional.
In a few years, if things continue as they are, he'll own a piece of the company and be making more money than he ever dreamed he would. He'll be a millionaire three times over before he's thirty.
Summer is his princess and soon, he'll be able to build her a castle.
Seth pretends that the money isn't important and that he hasn't sold out 'cause he's still indie.
But deep down, he knows that wealth is something he always took for granted and that the poor years in Venice Beach were quite enough, thank you, and having money is much better than not having it.
He's come to realize that he'll never get around to doing the Pancake Tour of North America.
He can't remember when he stopped wanting to…but somewhere along the way between twenty and twenty-eight, he did.
Maybe he dropped the idea sooner.
Maybe the idea and its appeal died along with Ryan.
Seth watches his wife sleep in the hospital bed, exhausted from childbirth, their infant son tucked safely in her arms.
In the morning, they officially decide on the baby's name.
Nyles.
One letter for each of the people they love.
Seth argues that it's not fair that Neil gets both an "N" and an "L". But Summer reasons that it's only right, because her father did the work of two parents.
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Nyles turns four and Summer announces, in a way that only Summer can, that's she's decided it's imperative to teach their child how to defend himself.
No need to have a repeat of Seth's pitiful elementary, middle and high school experiences.
She buys her son little red boxing gloves and digs through a storage chest in her father's junk room until she finds her own worn out ones.
Seth's parents invite them over and proudly show them they have converted the entire pool house into a massive play room for Nyles.
Kirsten throws open the pool house doors with one fell swoop, reminding Seth of Willy Wonka impatiently ushering the five golden children into his chocolate factory.
It's a bit too extravagant, but at least the empty space is full and alive again.
Summer holds up the boxing gloves and Sandy willingly scoots off, offers to hang up the punching bag that Summer needs for Nyles' sparing lessons.
Seth wanders around the outside of the house, looking for his dad because his mom told him, "Go tell your father dinner is ready."
He finds him in the garage, cleaning off Ryan's old punching bag with a towel, tears running down his face.
Seth steps forward and gives his dad a long overdue hug.
Not a, 'Hey, it's great to see you again Dad,' hug, but a 'I miss Ryan too,' hug.
Nyles interrupts them and his dad wipes the tears quickly from his eyes, his palms brushing the wetness off his cheeks, away from the present here and now, and back into the past. He reaches down and Nyles jumps into his grandfather's arms and Sandy carries the little boy into the house.
Seth stays in the garage for a moment longer, lightly running his finger tips over the punching bag and wondering if a little of Ryan's dried sweat isn't still on it.
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Every Sunday they go to Seth's parents' for lunch and afterwards Seth and Summer let Nyles loose in the pool house to run amok among the thousands of toys that his grandparents keep adding. A few things though, aren't new, like Seth's wooden trains and matching tracks, and plastic play horses and a beaten up Jenga game.
Three slightly scuffed soccer balls.
A few hours before they go home, Summer changes into her workout clothes and spends thirty minutes teaching Nyles how to beat the hell out of inanimate objects.
Seth loves to watch, not because he enjoys seeing his son being destructive, but because Summer looks sexy as all shit, glistening with perspiration and breathing hard and turning occasionally to smile at him, absently tucking her hair behind her ear.
Nyles eventually tires out and it's Seth's turn to teach his son a thing or two. So he gets out the old Play Station, untangles the numerous cords, and waits for Summer to go into the bathroom for a shower before he slips in a Ninja game and schools Nyles on the fine art of chopping off heads.
His son sits in his lap and leans back on Seth's chest and falls asleep halfway through the second run.
Seth stays in that position as long as he can, listening to his son breathing softly as he plays the video game over and over and he can't help but think about another boy that used to sit next to him and play the very same game.
A brother who won't ever grow old but, nonetheless, has helped Seth become the confident man that he is today.
Nyles can recite and write each letter of his name.
He understands who the "Y" stands for and even though he's only four, Seth's son is able to comprehend that he won't ever meet his Uncle Ryan.
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When Seth first arrived at Brown his freshman year, eighteen and sad and in mourning and not even sure how much he wanted to live, he didn't know then what he knows now.
It's taken a little time for Seth to get from there to here and realize that what's done is done and nothing can change anything, even something that never should have happened in the first place and that ultimately, all he can do to make sense of Ryan's useless death is to come back to Newport every March and be with the people who loved Ryan almost as much as he did and to celebrate with them, the date of Ryan's birth, so that no one will ever forget that Seth had a best friend that became a brother and that his name was Ryan Atwood and that once upon a time, he used to be alive.