Ryan chewed his lip as he approached the door to Seth's hospital room.
It was stupid, but since he'd moved in with the Cohens, he'd started to hate showing up places by himself. It made him feel awkward, like he was intruding, like the people there-even when it was just a boring Newpsie party-would be scrutinizing him more closely, questioning how he could possibly feel welcome without one of the Cohens or Marissa to legitimize his presence there.
And then there was that low-level persistent buzzing hypervigilance in him, constantly wary that he was going to infringe on Cohen family time, that they'd allow him in only because they felt obligated to, but that they'd really prefer their private family time.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan knocked on the door and tentatively eased it open.
"Ryan, great." Sandy practically bounced up from his chair, eagerly waving Ryan inside.
The Cohen man tended to bring a great deal of enthusiasm to welcoming him wherever he went. It could be a little much at times, but was also a relief, Sandy and Seth telegraphing clear signs that he was wanted.
Ryan had slowly learned to pick up on those quieter signals from Kirsten, signals that could be hard to untangle from her instinctive waspish politeness: a squeeze on the arm as she walked by, or sliding him a glass of orange juice after she poured one for herself, or her eyes flashing in relief when he rescued her from being alone with the Newpsies.
Sitting beside Sandy's now-empty chair, Kirsten didn't bounce to her feet at the sight of Ryan, but she gave him one of her small smiles that put him a little more at ease.
He returned the smile shyly.
"Hey dude." Seth sat up in bed, a copy of The Brothers Dostoevsky open on his chest.
"Little light reading there, man?"
Seth made a face. "Trying to keep up with Russian Lit, but I don't think this was written with the cancer-addled brain in mind." He slid the paperback onto the nightstand. "I guess the tutor's coming Friday, so we'll see how it goes." His eyes lit up a little. "But hey, maybe you can help me work on my approach with her. I'm thinking maybe play up the whole pathetic and feeble and consigned to my hospital bed thing?"
"Work on getting you some easier reading material anyway?" Ryan offered.
"Just think of the untapped potential of the Russian graphic novel market. You just know the Mother Land has produced some truly absurd superheroes."
"Do they even have spandex in Russia?"
"Hey guys?"
Sandy looked apologetic, like he was butting into an important conversation, as opposed to meaningless babble that was about two seconds from devolving into talk about superheroes with wool capes and giant furry hats and a bottle of vodka in each hand.
"We're just going to run to the cafeteria." Sandy looked between the boys. "Do you want anything?"
"I'm uh, good," Ryan said, as Seth murmured similar sentiments, and Sandy and Kirsten quietly slipped out of the room.
"How was school?" Seth asked. "Did I miss any excitement?"
Ryan considered the question.
The only real excitement in the Harbor halls had been the news spreading that "that emo kid" had been diagnosed with cancer. The news had clearly filtered through to the faculty too, as teacher after teacher had asked Ryan if he'd wanted to go check in with the guidance counselor and offered stilted and awkward-and frankly pretty perfunctory-concern for Seth.
"Did Karen Matthews throw up in the water fountain again?" Seth continued his interrogation. "Any messy break-ups on the quad? Were the librarian and the janitor caught 'getting their freak on,' under the stairway again? I, for one, am rooting for those crazy kids. Fill me in." He sighed. "I'm in desperate need of entertainment here. All I've done all day is lay here while my parents gawk at me like I'm some kind of sickly zoo animal."
There was a long beat of quiet.
"What?" Seth demanded. "You're giving me the sickly zoo animal eyes here, Atwood."
"People, uh, found out.." Ryan averted his eyes. "About this, I mean." He glanced warily at Seth.
"Oh." Seth shrugged. "Well...bound to happen sometime. I'm just glad it's not while I'm still there. Far be it from me to consider myself above pity sex from a sympathetic freshman, but I'm a taken man now." His face wrinkled in confusion. "Wait, how did people find out? Like, six people know."
"I guess Jimmy told Marissa and she was upset that no one told her..." Ryan trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.
"Ah." Seth nodded. "And a loud and dramatic confrontation ensued?"
"She didn't mean to," Ryan offered weakly. "And I mean, she was more upset that you're..." he flinched a little. "Sick."
"I don't really care," Seth said. "Maybe I should've told her." He paused. "I guess with Marissa I just don't know where I stand." He looked at Ryan, a contemplative finger raised in the air. "You're not dating her anymore, so she's no longer my best friend's girlfriend...and we were never friends before that. Is it a breach of etiquette not to inform her? What is she in relation to me? I mean, her mom is dating my grandfather, so potentially she could be my...hmmm...my Aunt Marissa. Am I obligated to inform my Potential Aunt Marissa about any and all medical developments?"
"You told who you wanted to tell," Ryan said. "And anyway, she wasn't mad at you really."
"Oh." Seth offered a sympathetic wince. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to get you in the doghouse with...well, your ex, I guess."
"It's fine."
There was another awkward beat of quiet.
"Summer's coming in a little bit," Seth said.
"Oh?" Ryan's eyebrows went up. "She said she wasn't coming today, that you were getting the uh, 'lay of the land.'"
The corner of Seth's mouth twitched.
"I acquired the lay pretty quickly, if you can imagine." Seth gestured to the four beige walls and the colorful curtain on a runner next to his bed and the various pieces of intimidating-looking medical equipment surrounding him. "And I mean, I'm starting chemo tomorrow, and I figure my sex appeal will be taking something of a hit when I'm barfing up all my organs, ya know? Maybe better to schedule some face time before that."
"That, uh, makes sense, I guess."
Ryan knew that it hadn't been so much fun to be Seth for the past week or so, but he'd seemed to be keeping himself more or less outwardly afloat somehow. But right then, lying in bed, he looked suddenly deflated, his shoulders slumped, his eyes hooded, his mouth set into a glum line, looking not just sick, but depressed.
"Plus, if she comes today, then maybe I can push off her next visit for a while." Seth picked at a loose fuzz on his scratchy-looking blanket.
"You don't want her to come?"
"I don't know," Seth admitted. "The zoo animal thing is just a lot. I mean, worse than I imagined, and I imagined it would be pretty bad." He swallowed. "My parents just sit there hovering and then all these nurses and people keep coming in and out of here, calling me 'Champ' and 'Kiddo,' and smiling like they're on a parade float." Seth mimicked the look, eyes huge and blinking, mouth stretched into an unnaturally huge grin. "And they knock, but then open the door as they're knocking, which kind of like...defeats the purpose of knocking." He exhaled a heavy breath. "I dunno, it just feels like everyone's looking at me like I'm more pathetic than usual, which makes me feel...more pathetic than usual, I guess."
It was, for Seth, an outpouring of grievances without the usual wry smile or spin on things, without his usual attempts to at least amuse himself with his kvetching.
"I-I'm sorry man." Ryan faltered, not sure what he could say to that. Seth had never been one to express much in the way of genuine emotion with him, maybe not with anyone.
"I'm sorry, dude. I don't mean to dump all this on you. I'm just tired." Seth looked away, embarrassed. "And life had finally stopped sucking for awhile, and now it's like, made up of the suck." Seth swallowed. "And who knows if there's any point to any of this? I might do all this chemo and tutoring and barfing and..." he trailed off. He gave a weary shrug. "I just kind of wish whatever was gonna happen would just happen. I've never been a fan of the lingering cliffhanger, you know?" He winced. "And now I'm dumping more on you...great."
Ryan swallowed a lump in his throat, head feeling light. He often had nothing to say, but rarely had he ever wanted so badly for something to say.
"Forget it." Seth shook his head. "Did you uh, read the Legion I left for you?"
"Yeah." Ryan managed a weak smile. "It was awesome. And I want to talk about it, but I just need to make a call quick."
Seth nodded. He bit his lip and looked away. "Sorry I made things weird, man." His voice was raspy.
"No, no, you didn't...you're fine," Ryan sputtered. "I just...forgot I need to call someone," he finished awkwardly, aware of how suspect he sounded, with his unspecified caller-as if he even knew that many people or called anyone on the phone. "I'll be back in a minute."
"Sure." Seth grabbed his book and held it open close to his face.
Ryan slipped out into the hall, nagged by the feeling that he'd just fumbled the moment with Seth, but having no idea how to go back in there and fix it. He fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.
After a few rings, a familiar voice sounded on the other line.
"Hey Atwood, what's up?"
Ryan closed his eyes, suddenly aware that he wasn't quite sure what to say.
Calling Summer hadn't really been a fully-formed idea, more the wisp of an impulse that he knew he had to follow, the sense that he needed to prepare Summer for what she was walking into.
And maybe more than that, he was in over his head and needed someone to be in on it with him.
Even a month or two ago, it would've been hard to imagine that Summer Roberts would be that person-for him or for Seth-but somehow over time she had started to feel like a solid presence in his life, like one of the few people he could tentatively identify as dependable.
And she was good with this stuff, and good with Seth.
"Hey Summer," he said.
ooooooooooooooooo
Seth pulled the bathroom door closed behind him, noting with distaste that the hospital room toilet flushed in such an aggressively loud fashion that people three rooms over would probably figure out his bathroom routine after not too long.
It was a pretty mild indignity-all things considered-but his brain couldn't seem to stop cataloguing and magnifying and analyzing each one as they accumulated.
A shrink would probably say that he was focused on the petty indignities so he could avoid thinking about the looming spectre of the next day's inaugural bout of chemotherapy, but Seth liked to think his brain was capable of doing many things at once. So-thank you very much-he was simultaneously obsessing about the needles and the drugs with names he couldn't pronounce and the list of heinous side effects that seemed to stretch to actual eternity, while musing that neighboring patients would soon be able to mark the passage of time by his bowel movements.
"Hi there," a soft, sultry voice purred.
Seth whirled around.
The soft, sultry voice-as it turned out-belonged to Summer.
His girlfriend.
His girlfriend who was standing by his hospital bed, wearing her pink-and-white striped candy striper jumper, the buttons on the white blazer underneath unbuttoned to an extent that probably didn't meet hospital decency regulations.
Seth blinked.
Were hallucinations some kind of cancer symptom they'd neglected to mention to him?
"I heard you needed someone to read to you." Summer bit her lip and batted her eyelashes, clutching a paperback book in one hand and twirling a lock of dark hair around her finger with the other. She tossed the book on his bed.
"Tropic of Cancer?" Seth read the title aloud.
The sultry sex kitten routine slipped for a moment and Summer giggled a little. "Best I could do on short notice," she offered with a goofy and slightly embarrassed and painfully endearing grin.
"It's perfect," Seth said, laughter bubbling out of him. "Just the bedside manner I've been missing around here."
Summer laughed with him as she walked towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She smiled into his chest as he pulled her close to him.
"I like the outfit." Seth kissed the top of her head. "Although aren't you worried about getting arrested for, like, impersonating a candy striper?" He looked around warily, like someone was going to jump out of the bathroom and citizen's arrest Summer.
"Uh, I am a candy striper," Summer reminded him, the duh resounding in her voice.
"I know, but not in this hospital, and I don't know what kind of candy striper reciprocity policy exists in the state of-"
Seth was cut off by Summer's lips.
He had to admit that kissing Summer was a welcome distraction.
And he wasn't really sure where he was going with that one anyway.
"Mmm." Summer pulled back, biting her lip as she looked up at him. "You know, Cohen, this started as just kind of a morale booster thing, but I've gotta say, you're looking mighty fine in those pjs."
Seth's face flushed, looking down at his gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. He hadn't exactly dressed up for Summer's visit.
"The uh, invalid thing get you going?"
Summer smacked his chest lightly. "I just, I dunno, I've never seen you in like, your night clothes."
"Night clothes?" Seth snorted. "I just need a little nightcap and candle holder and then you won't be able to keep your hands off me."
"Keep talking," Summer ordered, slipping back into her sex kitten voice and tracing her fingers along the waistband of Seth's pajama pants.
"My parents will be back any minute," Seth pointed out reluctantly. "Or any of a variety of nurses, not all of whom seem game to turn this into some kind of improbable three-way scenario."
"Relax, Cohen. Atwood is running interference." Summer smiled coyly. "The room is ours." She stood on tiptoes, initiating another long, lingering kiss.
Seth pulled away, although his head was swimming for decidedly un-cancer-related reasons and Summer was looking at him in that way that he personally could not resist. Still, something nagged at him.
"Wait, when did Chino become Atwood?" He asked, momentarily thrown. "I've been here half a day and I miss such an important development?"
Summer put a finger to Seth's lips, instantly silencing him.
"Cohen, do you want to stand here and analyze what I call Atwood, or do you want to get lucky?" Summer slowly slid her hand under Seth's waistband.
"Fair question," Seth conceded with an emphatic nod. "Let's uh, put a pin in that one."
"Sounds good to me."
ooooooooooooooooooooo
Sandy approached Seth's hospital room, a cup of coffee in each hand. He was surprised to find Ryan leaning against the wall outside of Seth's room, but figured maybe a nurse had come in for something and Seth had wanted a little privacy. He'd seemed a little self-conscious when medical personnel were poking and prodding him and he and Kirsten had been sitting there watching.
"Hey, kid."
Ryan started a little.
"Sandy-hi."
"I grabbed you a coffee."
"T-thanks." Ryan took the coffee from Sandy's outstretched hand.
"You okay, kid? You look a little..."
"Yeah, yeah, of course." Ryan forced a flustered smile. "I'm good, just you know..." He shrugged.
"It's a lot," Sandy said sympathetically, reaching up and squeezing Ryan's shoulder.
Ryan nodded, eyes flashing.
It was a lot, yes, and what had started as Summer asking for five minutes of Ryan acting as a bouncer for Seth's room had somehow turned into twenty, with Ryan both having no idea how much longer it was going to take and being painfully aware of his inability to tell a solid or convincing lie.
To anyone, really, but especially to the Cohens.
Sandy patted his shoulder a few times for good measure and then reached for the door handle.
"You can't go in there," Ryan said quickly.
Seth would be disgusted if he could see this performance.
"God Ryan, you said the most sitcom thing ever. 'You can't go in there?' Why not give the game away right there?"
"How come?" Sandy looked at him quizzically.
"Seth is, um..." Ryan's eyes darted around. "He's crying," he finished, head bobbing up and down in a rapid fire nod.
"Crying?" Sandy sighed. "Aw geez. I mean, I should've figured. It feels like everything is really hitting him now, and then with chemo starting tomorrow..." He ran a weary hand through his hair.
"He, uh, said he wanted to be alone," Ryan added, looking down at the floor. He was flooded with guilt, seeing how worried Sandy looked.
He hated to lie to Sandy on an average day, but it also felt like he was twisting a pretty big knife into his foster father.
His foster father, who was now looking at him like he was being ridiculous and reaching for the door handle again, about to walk into who knew what.
It seemed like Summer's five minute "morale booster" had perhaps gotten out of hand.
"I know Seth might have said that, Ryan, but-"
The door handle slid out of Sandy's hand as the door opened from the inside.
Sandy stepped back quickly, shooting Ryan a confused look as Summer emerged, her back still to Sandy as she eased the door closed behind her.
Ryan winced, bracing himself.
Sandy's eyebrows went up.
"Thanks, Atwoo-" Summer turned, realizing they weren't alone. "Oh, uh, hey, Mr. C."
Summer's candy striper outfit, while now thankfully buttoned to the top, still hung in slight disarray, and she was pretty sure her hair was more than a little tousled.
"I've actually...gotta go," she announced, willing herself to keep her head upright, to not look down to survey said level of disarray. She didn't wait for a response before striding quickly down the hallway, a mortified Ohmygod just audible before she turned the corner.
Sandy turned to look at Ryan, eyebrows still looming high.
"Crying, huh?"
"Sorry," Ryan said, sheepish and contrite.
Sandy put a hand to his brow, his shoulders starting to heave and shake.
It took Ryan a moment to realize that the older man was laughing, and laughing rather hard.
"Ryan," Sandy gasped out, wiping tears from his eyes. "Who knew you would be coming in with the comedic relief today?" He barked out another laugh, gesturing down the hall to where Summer had beaten a swift retreat. "You and Little Miss Florence Nightingale over there."
"We just-"
Sandy held up a hand. "I can imagine what you just." He shook his head. "I can't believe Seth is up for it about now, but then again, he is a Cohen man."
Ryan's face wrinkled at that sentiment.
"Thank you, Ryan." Sandy took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure, although little chuckles continued to erupt from his mouth every few seconds. "That probably did a lot for Seth's spirits about now, and Hashem knows I needed a laugh today."
"Can you uh, maybe not say anything to Kirsten about it?"
Sandy wiped another tear from his eye. "Oh, don't worry. The last thing I want to do is corrupt Kirsten's image of her baby boy. This can stay between us." He paused. "And Florence, of course." That set off another round of chuckles.
"And uh, Sandy?" Ryan ventured, after the man's laughter had petered out a little.
Sandy looked at Ryan expectantly.
"Maybe uh, don't let Seth know you know?" Realizing he was pushing his luck, Ryan tried his best to dummy up some puppy dog eyes. "You have a way of making things like that...weird...sometimes."
Sandy snorted and clapped Ryan on the shoulder. "You know, Ryan, I would be hurt by that, but I'm simply too amused right now." He shook his head. "I will play it cool, I promise."
"Sure you will."
"C'mon, let's go see how Casanova's doing in there. I think he's had enough time to get decent, wouldn't you say?"
Sandy led the way into Seth's room.
Seth was lying in bed, making another game attempt at reading his Russian Lit book, but Ryan noticed a hint of a pleased smile on his slightly flushed face.
"Hey, man," Ryan greeted him.
Seth looked up and caught sight of Sandy first, who was clearly struggling to bite back a giant grin. Seth's lip curled and he slapped his book down on the bedside table.
"You know, don't you?"
Sandy snorted, which led into a loud chortle, followed by a few barely suppressed guffaws.
Ryan shot him a look.
Playing it cool was not exactly in Sandy's wheelhouse.
"He knows, doesn't he?" Seth demanded, gaze now turning to Ryan.
"Hey, I know nothing," Sandy claimed, holding his hands up innocently.
"God, a guy can't get an ounce of privacy around here," Seth declared, face flushing bright red as he sunk his head further back into his pillow. He pointed an accusatory finger at Sandy. "You'd better not say I can't have girls alone in my hospital room." He crossed his arms. "A guy's entitled to a conjugal visit every now and then."
Sandy burst into a fresh wave of laughter.
ooooooooooooo
Later that evening, there was a soft knock on Ryan's bedroom door.
"Come in," Ryan called.
"I like what you've done with the place," Kirsten commented upon entering, eyeing the peach colored walls and ruffled comforter and giving him a pained look.
Ryan shrugged.
"I'll tackle this over the weekend, bring in a more manly color palette." Kirsten's smile was hesitant. "Maybe lose a few ruffles."
"You don't have to do that," Ryan said. "I'm fine, and it's...nice."
"It's me having given the interior decorator too much creative freedom," Kirsten corrected with a little smile. "And please, I'd like to help make it more your own. I mean, if you'll let me." Her eyes crinkled up. "It's fun for me. I used to redecorate Seth's room all the time when he was little, changing the paint color, getting a new bedspread or art for the walls..." She looked wistful. "It was...nice. Every time the things he liked changed or he changed, I got a little project out of the deal." Her lips twitched and turned down a little.
Ryan bit his lip.
As visiting hours had come to an end and Ryan was getting ready to leave the hospital with Kirsten, he'd sat in the waiting room and observed Sandy and Kirsten huddled together outside of Seth's door. Sandy had been leaning in close, whispering something to Kirsten. She'd nodded and then her face had crumpled and Sandy had hugged her close.
It had felt wrong, intruding in that moment even from a distance, but Ryan had retained something of his old instincts from home, the drive to know what was going on, to track who was feeling what, to be prepared for what people needed and what was going to be asked of him and who to steer clear of until when.
That had felt wrong too, turning that power onto the Cohens, choosing his comfort over their privacy, but Seth's sickness had thrown things off for Ryan and the tentative hold he'd had on navigating their lives and routines and relationships.
It felt like he needed to tread more carefully again.
After Sandy had broken off the hug from Kirsten, she'd gone to the ladies room and Sandy had approached Ryan to say goodnight.
Ryan hadn't asked for an explanation or admitted that he'd witnessed their interaction, but all the same Sandy said to him: "This is really hard for her. Of course it would be anyway, but with everything she went through with her mom..."
And he'd trailed off at that, eyeing Ryan like maybe he'd said too much, but Ryan was glad he'd said it, had felt like it was Sandy's way of asking him to look after Kirsten, to take care of her however he could while he spent the night in the hospital and she and Ryan went home.
Sandy and Kirsten would vehemently deny that they wanted him to take care of them, but they didn't seem to get that that didn't absolve Ryan of his responsibilities; it just made it harder for him to know what those were. And it made it so that he had to let himself overhear and observe and look for signs that something was off or something was needed or someone was drinking again.
Seth had said something about that, his mom drinking a lot when things were bad. Ryan had filed that information away. He wasn't sure how serious it was, or if it was really that serious-Seth could tend to hyperbolize and to kids whose parents could handle a night of heavy drinking without it turning into a weeks-long or months-long bender, an extra glass of wine here and there might've set off alarm bells.
"I mean, that is, if this room is what you want." Kirsten looked at him earnestly.
She seemed sober, wasn't slurring or unsteady on her feet, but it could be hard to tell. Ryan's own mom didn't seem to care too much if people knew she was wasted, but Seth had made it sound like Kirsten was good at hiding things, that she worked hard to put on a sober face for the world.
"You know, you're always welcome to stay in the pool house, of course...if that's what you want." Kirsten reached out and squeezed his arm. "You know, every birthday since he was about eight years old, Seth would beg us to let him move into the pool house." She bit her lip. "I know it can be nice, having more privacy, more space."
"No..no..I like it here. It's, uh, it's good," Ryan insisted. "I don't even mind the ruffles."
"Sure." Kirsten arched a skeptical brow. "Well, on the off-chance that you're just being nice about the decor, I think I'll hit the mall tomorrow afternoon."
"Whatever you want." Ryan's brow furrowed, wondering where the mall trip would fit into her schedule, what with Seth's chemo starting the following day, but something told him not to bring that up.
"It'll be good for me to have a project," Kirsten said softly. She cleared her throat. "Well, I'll let you get to bed." She stepped forward and hesitantly held her arms out to Ryan.
Kirsten wasn't normally a very demonstrative person-Seth claimed he could count on one hand the number of hugs she handed out per year, and noted that they typically accompanied some kind of holiday-but she'd been more affectionate with both boys in the past week.
Ryan stepped into Kirsten's hug.
Kirsten kissed the side of Ryan's head before pulling away.
"Good night, Ryan."
"Good night, Kirsten."
Ryan watched her walk out and close the door behind her.