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Disclaimer: I do not own the OC or the characters, nor make any money from this.
Marissa still thinks of him sometimes.
Fleeting moments, here and there, lost in day and night. A Journey CD. Ferris wheels. Forever Young somehow on the radio. Sometimes when cigarette smoke lingers in the air, she closes her eyes and suddenly feels fifteen again; she finds herself back at the end of a driveway, waiting for Luke only to share a cigarette with an enigmatic boy who shifts something inside her.
And every New Year's, without fail, no matter where she is, all she can see is the crowded hotel room and Ryan's face and confetti exploding around them. She can't deny that at times, it makes her feel foolish. She's twenty-four. It's been two years since she's last seen him. She hasn't lived in the US since she graduated high school. There are growing lines on her face and grey hairs occasionally and staying out past midnight just isn't as fun as it used to be. She should be over him - a first love is not a forever one.
But every once in a while, he emails, and it's usually short, but there's always the same line buried in the messages he sends. This made me think of you. It's something as silly as what she remembers - Chanel perfume, a stuffed penguin, a lifeguard stand by the ocean. But she knows that he thinks of her too and she'll carry around that thought for days in the back of her mind.
She cannot help but wonder - will this love always be here?
No, her brain rationalizes, it will fade. (Always, her heart whispers, this is home).
There is an extremely old voicemail on her phone. In fact, it's the only one she hasn't deleted and she's replayed it hundreds of times.
Her twentieth birthday, when she woke up to the soft waves of Ithaca, there the message was, sitting on her phone, not even a minute long. Ryan's voice came through, warm and slow and clearly drunk.
Only thirty-seven seconds and that was enough to keep it.
That's all it takes for someone to climb back into your heart.
Thena is sitting cross-legged on the ground, her baby pink hair in soft curls as she rifles through Marissa's stuff. Two wineglasses sit between her and Marissa, not quite abandoned but not a crutch for tonight. 90s alternative music plays from a portable Bluetooth speaker as Marissa lies on the ground, tapping a finger to the beat and her cheeks are hot from the effect of her wine. Nonetheless, she's more than comfortable, letting life slow down to a glacial pace.
"Hey," Thena says, "Who's this?"
Marissa blinks a couple times at the picture Thena's holding and Ryan's face comes to view. It was that day at the beach right before senior year, Summer snapped a photo of them mid-laugh, their arms linked together. Something soft and tender takes hold of Marissa's chest.
"An old boyfriend."
"Your first one?"
"He was the first I loved."
"Ah," Thena sucks in a breath, "Where is he now?"
"Back in California. He's an architect now. We still talk sometimes, mostly over email."
"Oh, so it's like that."
"Like what?"
"You know. He's still around. One of those ones you have trouble forgetting. Even when you want to."
"Yeah. Maybe one day," Marissa smiles, "Where's your guy? First person you loved?"
"Dead, I hope," Thena mutters darkly, "His name was Robbie, and he was an absolute prick! I caught him cheating on me three times, and when I dumped him, he stole my coffee machine."
"What an asshole," Marissa laughs, "You know, my first boyfriend slept with my mom. After we broke up because he was already cheating on me with...well, everyone."
Thena's eyes go wide and she leans forward. "Tell. Me. Everything!"
Marissa holds her black Louboutins in her lap and kneads the soles of her feet.
Golden lights shimmer overhead, woven across Greek columns and there are lush pine trees all over the place, carefully decorated with shiny ornaments. The musicians are packing up their things, polished instruments being put into black cases and waiters flit around the restaurant, taking plates and cutlery away. Her mom is overseeing the process with triumphant glee, ecstatic pulling off another fantastic Cooper-Roberts Christmas party; Dr. Roberts is probably asleep already, Kaitlin left for another party and Summer went home with Seth a while ago. Pretty much everyone has left for the night.
Except, she muses, and lifts her head to meet his warm gaze, he is still here. It's clear she will not be going home alone.
He found her tucked into a corner of the party, chatting with Kaitlin about grad school, and he's been stuck at her side since then. She can imagine what the newpsies will walk out of here gossiping about - thankfully she can handle one Newport party for the year, not that she has ever cared about their whispers.
Ryan loosens his tie and she chances a glance at the tan skin underneath. He catches her looking and smiles. She doesn't back down and smiles back.
"So," he exhales slowly, "when do you fly back to London?"
The dreaded question they know he's been putting off all night. "Three days from now. Work could only give me so much time off."
He nods and she stands up, stretching out her arms and twirling her ankles. She sighs but not out of exhaustion. "Take me home?"
He smiles again - it seems to come so easy to him now. His emails have always spoken of contentment, with his job, his place, his friends and family, everything in his life but it's reassuring to know he is able to carry it around with him. He stands up and they walk to the exit in companionable silence, bypassing waiters and milling around tables.
"Goodnight, Mom," Marissa calls to her mother and Julie looks up from her phone.
"Oh - goodnight, sweetheart. Goodnight, Ryan," there's a little smirk on Julie's face and Marissa looks away before she has to smother a giddy grin.
The drive back to Dr. Roberts' house is quiet and Marissa watches Newport go by, her head against the window as rock music is just a whisper from the radio. Nothing has changed here, everything is as she remembers and where it should be; this town may as well be frozen in time. London is old and worn and yet something new still shows up, Europe is endless in the surprises it offers. Newport is a sticky little suburb that presents itself as shiny and new but it tries to sink you in more ways than one.
No, Marissa doesn't miss this place. She stopped thinking she could miss it right around her parents' divorce and being forced to move into Caleb Nichol's house; her adolescence was ripped away from her in that sense, longing carefully stitched out of her. Home is not here, but then again, she isn't so sure it's a place.
She looks at Ryan, with his dark suit and floppy golden hair. She thinks about how normal this feels. No, some things don't change and it isn't all bad. It feels like grounded, joyful relief.
The mansion is quiet except for the water fountain bubbling but the Christmas lights strung up on the roof cast a cheery glow on the Italian-style architecture. Her mom never could let a good Christmas go to waste.
Ryan kills the engine and they walk up to the front door together. This is the part where nerves usually get her, fraying her insides, but there is only heady anticipation bubbling in her belly. The part of her that misses this is winning out, chasing away all fear and worry.
They reach the door and Marissa turns around with a steady breath. "I-"
Ryan is upon her before she can decide what she's going to say; she clutches his shoulders and digs her fingers into his jacket as her mouth meets his insistently. She sinks into the feeling of him, content to never leave again. This is not a return to high school, she is not seventeen again, she feels that in Ryan's lean shoulders and the stubble on his cheeks, he is more man than boy now. But he is still Ryan and this is somebody who knows every little part of her, someone who is able to see her in a way no one else truly does.
The back of her head bumps against the door windowpane and laughter erupts in her throat; Ryan pulls back a little and smiles, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
She opens her purse and takes out her key. Her hand finds his as she leads him inside.
Her last night in Newport, he sits in her old bedroom and watches her pack. The Cohens' sold their house not long after the boys went off to college, not too far away but it's a good hour-long drive for them when they head into Newport. Ryan has made the drive in every day since her mom's Christmas party.
She is packing up her life again - the pieces she laid out for him to see, she is taking them with her back to London. It hurts a little to leave but she isn't ready to give up the life she's built. Her job, her friends, the city, she made it all herself and she doesn't want to say goodbye. Not yet.
Ryan's eyes are forlorn and she knows he wants her to stay longer, maybe forever; she can feel it in the air between them. But his mouth curves upward and instead he asks a different question. "Any plans for New Year's?"
"One of my old roommates is hosting a Secret Santa party for New Year's Eve. She's promised mulled wine and snickerdoodles and karaoke. You?"
"Summer's dragging me and Seth out to some…bonfire? We're not really sure."
Marissa chuckles lightly. "That sounds fun."
She can't keep the wistfulness out of her voice and Ryan's carefully worded question comes out a minute later. "Do you think you'll ever move back to California?"
"Maybe. I don't know, yes. Nowhere in the near future. I have a year and a half left on those night classes. My job is good…I love London," she stands in front of Ryan and rubs his shoulders, "I do miss…this, I miss everything here, but I'm not ready. And I don't want you to wait. It's not fair to either of us."
He nods silently and she pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his head. There is desperation in the way he holds her, and she instinctively tightens her grip on him as well. If it's meant to be, then it will, right? That is the only guarantee she has to believe. And it is the only one she can give.
"5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!"
Someone sets off confetti and the room explodes into vivid colours; friends press celebratory kisses to Marissa's face and she does the same, sticky lipstick and gloss settling on her cheeks. She gets sucked into hugs and joy and warmth, letting tonight's optimism sink into her veins. Another year brings so much possibility. That has to be worth something and she wants it to be.
She drinks champagne and her phone buzzes with incoming messages from other friends, wishing her a happy new year.
Instead, she finds herself hovering with uncertainty over Ryan's contact name on her phone. They left things in a good place, but they're back to being an ocean apart. Mixing such a thing with hope can be messy.
But she can never really help herself when it comes to Ryan.
Happy New Year.
She sends off the message despite it still being early evening in LA and resumes celebrating with her friends. Nevermind that she is thinking of a New Year's from years ago, of a boy who arrived just in time to admit he loved her.
The next morning when she wakes up, slightly hungover and groggy, she scrolls through her messages and finds his response.
Happy New Year, Marissa.
On his birthday, Marissa does what she could not do seven years ago.
She isn't sure why she kept the model home mix for so long. She's listened to it occasionally, but not that often. Perhaps because there is a vulnerability here she is not ready to open herself up to again. But she wraps the CD in glittery gold tissue and slips in a card wishing him only the best.
For her birthday, he sends her all her favourite American foods and items that England doesn't have. There's also a bottle of Chanel perfume she used almost religiously in high school, but it was discontinued in England years ago. When she gingerly smells it, it's just as she remembers - jasmine and vanilla somehow mixed together perfectly.
Marissa nurses a cigarette between her fingers and adjusts the hem of her sundress as she stares down at her phone. Ryan is smiling, eyes alight, his arm around a pretty redhead with Bambi brown eyes, her hand on his knee. It's an intimate photo, clearly the two are a couple and the girl's instagram is tagged in the photo.
Keeley, poli sci grad student at UC Davis, her photos are private but Seth is following her, too. There's a small knot in Marissa's stomach that she can't seem to unravel, so she sits with it. It's been six months since Christmas. She told him not to wait, and she meant it. She hasn't waited for him either - in fact, she's waiting right now for her date.
She settles on being happy for him - it's not very hard to do, even if the knot still exists. The two can coexist together. She likes the photo and shuts off her phone when she spots Tyra walking over. Marissa cannot help the smile on her face and stands up; they haven't been dating for long, but Tyra makes her feel happy and secure, which can be hard to come by with most people.
By the time Tyra is in front of her, the photo has slipped away to the back of her mind.
(And if she looks at it a couple more times the next day, well, she blames the stomach knot for that).
Her ringing phone is shrill and piercing as Marissa blinks groggily. Her hand fumbles around her nightstand, just wanting to return to sleep as soon as possible. God, what time is it?
She latches onto her phone finally and manages to press the call button as she mumbles into the receiver, "Hello?"
"Marissa, hey."
"Ryan, hi," she sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes, "Um, is everything okay?"
There's a long pause before he answers. "Yeah. Uh, yeah. I'm sorry. I just realized it must be really early for you. Sorry."
"It's fine - what's up? Did something happen?"
"I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry," there's a weird edge to his voice, a fragility to it she's rarely heard before, "I'm gonna go-"
"Ryan, it's fine, just tell me what happened. What is it?" she asks urgently.
"Trey's dead."
Marissa leans against the bed's headboard. She waits for some heavy emotion to bowl her over, to throw her off her axis. Nothing comes but a strange sense of calmness. "Oh. I…"
"You don't need to say anything. You shouldn't have to."
"How did it happen?"
"Overdose. They found a bunch of other shit on him - guns, heroin, cocaine. He wasn't in a good place."
"How do you feel?"
Ryan exhales slowly. "Relief? I used to think he might come back to Newport one day and hurt somebody else. Everything else…I don't know. I'm not sorry. I don't forgive him. I doubt I ever will."
"Yeah," Marissa sighs, "I know that feeling."
"I'm sorry."
She smiles wryly even if he can't see her. "You keep saying that."
"I wasn't there for you, after it happened. Not the way I should've been."
"We've talked about this before…it's okay, it's behind us…it wasn't easy…"
"It's not okay, though. It's not. I'm sorry. It doesn't matter how hard it was. You needed me and I wasn't there. I'm sorry."
Sometimes Marissa thinks about the fact that they've hurt each other over and over, yet it hasn't changed a damn thing. She was ready to kill for him. He was prepared to do the same. How many people have not only felt that, but lived through it?
She watches the sunrise come up with Ryan's warm voice in her ear. It feels like peace.
"Hi. Hey. Happy birthday, Marissa. Twenty...that's crazy, so crazy. I miss you. God, I miss you so much. I think about you all the time. I try not to, but it's...do you ever…? Nevermind. It's stupid. Love you. Miss you."
When Marissa kissed Ryan goodbye and left for London, she tucked a slip of paper into his jacket pocket. Something that would bring hope. Something she believed in and chose to instill faith in.
If we are meant to be together in the end, it'll be okay. If it's not okay, then it's not the end.
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