Chapter Title: Fell In Love Without You.
Summary: She's making him stupid.
Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long. I figured I would post cos the season premiere is tonight. Enjoy and comments are loved.
It's the night before the hearing, and shit, he wants to puke. He walks into the studio, a bag of bread and milk dangling from his fingers. He sets the groceries down onto the kitchen counter, looking around for Pam.
The window's open and he sticks his head out, the summer air warm on his skin.
She's stretched out on the top step, her feet crossed at the ankles. She's wearing a baby blue romper and fuckin' hell, her legs look so smooth. She has a strawberry between her lips, a bowl of them next to her. He freezes, watching her teeth bite down, red juice dropping down the side of her mouth. What the hell is up with her and fruit?
God, jail looks more and more like shit everyday.
"Hey," he says, stepping through the window. She glances up at him, her face pink from the evening sun. She beams at him.
"Hi!" Her cheerfulness isn't fake, but it's slightly exaggerated. He knows she's trying to take his mind off tomorrow. "How you doing?" she asks as he steps over her, sitting on the step below.
He nods, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear. "Doing good, thanks."
He hears her hesitate before reaching for another strawberry. Sighing, he lights the cigarette before placing it in his mouth.
The twisting in his stomach eases up and it's amazing that through all this peace he feels right now, his freedom lay at stake tomorrow.
He wouldn't be sentenced at the hearing, but the trial would come soon after, and fuck, his head was spinning again.
He stretches his legs out in front of him, resting his head backwards on her knees. She laughs softly, and he feels her fingers tangle in his hair.
The fact that she had a fiancé was apparent to him (he can feel her diamond brush against his scalp.) Part of him wants Jim to show up here because Ryan is so ready to kick his mutherfucking ass for making her cry. And this time, he won't have a blinding headache.
He's not falling for her, he tells himself. He's just not. She doesn't want or need a pill popping, money embezzling, broke, cokehead, loser.
Even if she did want him, which she doesn't, he couldn't like, ever support her. And obviously she wants something long term; she's been engaged twice.
Shit her fingers feel nice in his hair. He feels her warm thigh underneath his neck. He'd just really like to stay here forever.
Yeah. He's definitely not falling for her.
"Do you want me to be there tomorrow?" she asks quietly, her petting coming to a pause.
"No," he says, looking up at her. "I'm sorry, I just really… I just don't want you to see me like that."
She gives a small smile, a sad one. "All right, I understand."
"You always do," he says, turning his head and kissing her leg. His lips touch her inner thigh and she blushes, a rush of goose bumps crawling up her leg. That gives him way too much satisfaction.
She continues twirling her fingers and he shuts his eyes, drifting off.
xxxxxxxx
He has to get up at six in the morning, so he shaved the night before; he knew he wouldn't be able to hold a razor when he woke up.
He leaves the bag of bagels he bought her yesterday on the counter in the kitchen along with a post it note.
She left him a drawing on top of the suit he laid out before bed. It's of him, on the fire escape with a cigarette and his iPod. He tucks it into his pocket.
He takes a cab to the courthouse. He meets his lawyer out front. Christ, his palms are sweating badly. Like, super fucking drenched. He thinks his lawyer, Mr. Brant, tells him to be calm, but Ryan's not sure. Brant wears suits from Thailand, and smells like uberly expensive cologne. He looks like the kind of guy Ryan's mom has been dating since his dad died. He thinks they're probably fucking. That thought makes me queasy. Ugh.
Ryan hates the guy, but he'll probably save his ass.
He wishes she were here.
The courthouse is freezing and nearly empty expect for some tight ass looking lawyers. And David Wallace.
He remembers the night by the Hudson.
The chair underneath him hurts his ass.
He remembers her hair.
He goes through the oath process and a judge comes out five minutes later. None of these words make sense to him.
He thinks of oranges.
Brant talks a lot for him. Probably wouldn't have been able to talk anyway.
The drawing in his pocket digs into his thigh. He sees her hands moving over the sketchbook. His stomach clenches.
The talking soon ends and he feels an elbow in his rib.
"Come on, Howard." Brant helps him to his feet, steering him out of the courthouse. Ryan feels Wallace's eyes on him.
Jesus, she has amazing eyes.
"So, I can probably get you two months, at least," Brant's telling him.
He forces himself to tune into what the lawyer's saying. "Wait, how long do they want to sentence me for?" he asks as they walk into the summer heat.
Brant looks at him curiously for a moment. "Five months to a year, but Wallace didn't go too hard on you. The trial's in two weeks and we'll appeal to your sentence. I don't think it'll be more then a few months."
Brant calls a cab. "Just stay out of trouble."
That's cute.
He stops off at a wine shop, and buys her red wine. Two months in jail isn't anything to celebrate.
He just wants to see a drunken blush on her face.
Ryan manages to make his way through the building in a slight daze, the aching in his body lessening.
He stands dumbly in front of his door.
He hears them shouting.
His name is mentioned.
He feels sick.
Just as he's about to barge in, the door flies open and he jumps back.
Jim is storming into the hallway.
And Ryan's just looking for another black eye.
She's crying quietly inside.
"Hey!" The wine is forgotten and he pushes off the wall, following after the asshole.
"Ryan?" Jim's face flushes. "What do you want?"
He sees her wet eyes in his head. "I want you to leave her alone."
Halpert's face looks angry and exhausted and a little sad.
"Don't worry. She chose you."
"She- what?"
"She chose you."
Ryan blinks. "We're not together, she's just my friend. My roommate."
"Yeah. But she chose to stay here. For you."
"I-"
"She's living in a shit apartment. For you."
"Stop-"
"She's worried sick. Over you."
"Stop it! Just stop saying that!" Ryan's face is red, his fingers clenched into fists. "I don't deserve her, ok? Neither do you. But she's been crying over you. Asshole," he spits venomously.
Jim looks like he's about to cry. Ryan will so kick that mutherfuckers ass if he sees as much as a tear. Like that dick has a reason to cry.
He's never felt so angry, so sick.
He wants Jim to punch him.
The pussy just turns around on his heel and walks away.
Fucker.
Running a hand through his hair, Ryan walks down the hall and picks up the wine, carefully ducking into the apartment. The door clicks shut behind him.
"Pam…" She's sitting on the kitchen floor. The mirror hanging in the living room is shattered. Fuck.
He sits across from her and says her name again.
Her ring is sitting on the floor next to her.
"Sweetie." He's never called a girl that before.
She lifts her face and its wet and her nose is running. "H-he left!" she hiccups. "He left." And her shoulder shake so fiercely and he reaches forward, wiping away her snot and tears and God, her face is so broken.
"Ryan," she whispers and she pulls her body to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, her knees pressed into his side. Her face is pressed hard into his chest and she's gasping for breath. She doesn't say anything, though, and he can't breathe.
He rocks her gently back and forth, kissing her hair, her swollen and puffy eyes.
"Ryan," she says, her voice desperate. She pulls away, holding his face between her hands. "Ryan, please don't leave me. When I ask you to stay, please don't leave," she chokes out. Her thumbs run along his freshly shaven face.
Fuck, she's breaking his heart, his nonexistent heart. Fuck fuck fuck.
"Please, please don't."
"I won't," he whispers gruffly.
"Please don't leave me."
"I won't leave you."
"Why does everyone leave me?"
"Because everyone's stupid."
"Except you?"
"Yeah. Yeah, except me."
She's making him stupid.