The better version
by M. F. LuderPart three
"What are you going to do for cash, then?"
- Seth Cohen. The Outsider.
32. sunset
Ryan smiles at Mrs. Straub, placing her order on her table. "Any more wine, Mrs. Straub."
She smiles seductively, batting her eyelashes at him. "Oh, Ryan, sweetheart, you're too good to me."
He cringes inwardly, wondering why a woman with as much money as her would pay ten buck for wine in a plastic cup. "I'll take that as a yes."
"Of course, Ryan, baby. Another cup can do me no wrong."
He nods, turning around and making his way to the bar in the Crab Shack. He was lucky to get this job, which pays very well and has pretty easy hours. Donnie nudges him on the shoulder, chuckling as he does so. "I see Joan has her eye on you."
Ryan rolls his eyes, not daring to look over his shoulder at the woman. "She's insane," he mutters under his breath.
Donnie laughs. "Her husband is cheating on her with her secretary."
Ryan lifts an eyebrow. "And that's news in this town, how exactly?"
"Well, yeah, but dude. She's looking for something pretty to do." Donnie winks. "You could take advantage of it. Let her buy you some stuff." Looking over Ryan's shoulder, Donnie gives Mrs. Straub a once over. "She's fine."
Ryan shakes his head. "No, thank you." It's one thing to slightly flirt with the woman, to get a tip two times what she actually spent in the place, but it's another thing entirely to have sex with her for money. "If you like her so much, you do her."
"Nah. I think she likes you."
Ryan doesn't say anything, only picks up the cup of wine and makes his way back to her table. She flirts again, and Ryan only smiles back, not knowing how to put a stop to this without hurting his tips. This place is ruled by gossip, and she must know that he knows what she's looking for. He smiles once again and leaves, before she can put fourth on her flirting and take it to the next level.
A group of about three guys and four girls make their way onto the place. Ryan looks over his shoulder at them, noticing the girl with long blondish hair, bikini top and short shirt. One of the guys, tall and jockish, blond hair and blue eyes, has his arm around the girl. Another girl giggles, dark hair falling onto her shoulders. She says "Ew," her face in a grimace.
"Right what I fucking needed." Donnie turns around, leaning forward toward Ryan. "The fucking assholes."
It's not the first time they've been here, that's for sure. Always leave horrible tips and treat them like dirt. Donnie used to try to greet them, maybe even be friends with them, but gave up after one too many insults. Ryan wondered why he bothered.
They ask for their usual, which doesn't involve alcohol for the only reason that they aren't supposed to serve alcohol to minors. Ryan hands the tray to Donnie with a smirk, pleased this time it's not him doing the fucking bussing for them. Donnie glares, and when he reaches for the tray, he gives Ryan the finger. Ryan rolls his eyes. Whatever. Horrible people and fucking cheap when it comes down to tips.
After them, the afternoon turns slightly slow. There are about three couples talking over their drinks, Mrs. Straub, who gives up at trying to pick Ryan up after about half an hour, and the small gang of idiots, of course. Ryan leans forward against the bar, looking at a point on the floor, eyes unfocused. He's slightly tired, didn't get more than three hours last night, after Trey came home high and got into this huge fight with Dawn, again. His head lolls forward and he catches himself before falling face first against the bar. Biting back the yawn, he turns toward the door and sees a boy walking in, hair in dark curls and slightly shy around the edges.
Ryan recognizes him. The kid doesn't come here often, not as often as the morons on table three, but Ryan's seen enough of him. Always polite and correct, likes lobster, even though he always eats it alone, and gives good tips.
Ryan watches with half interest the way the kid walks by the table of the morons, and greets him.
"Hi, Luke. Marissa." The kid ducks his head. "Summer."
Neither of the girls pay attention to him, but it's the blonde asshole, Luke, that answers with a gritted, "Suck it, queer."
Ryan's jaw tenses as he hears the words, hands clenching onto fists, but the kid doesn't say anything, only shrugs it off and makes his way to the corner table.
"I have this," Ryan says, moving around the bar as Donnie's about to pick up a menu.
Donnie shrugs. "Whatever."
Ryan closes the distance to table five and smiles at Seth, genuine smile easy on his lips. "Good afternoon, what can I help you with?"
Seth gives him a quick grin, shrugging as he does so. "A coke, a sandwich. Hmm. Turkey."
Ryan nods and bites back the question on the tip of his tongue. The kid's usually more talkative, tends to ask about specials and what has been going on, sometimes even told him some gossip. This... person sitting here, suddenly quiet and retrospective, doesn't seem to be the same boy that used to talk with him. Ryan swallows. "Of course."
He turns around and makes his way behind the bar, giving the order to the cook. He leans back against the wall, arms folded, head tilted to the side, and watches the kid pick at the edge of his tablecloth. Ryan can't help but wondered what happened to him, what could be so wrong that has suddenly erased the joviality from the boy's face.
Ryan hands the kid -- whose name, even after two months seeing him here, Ryan still doesn't know -- his order. Ryan watches him eat it quickly and leave in something of a hurry, leaving five dollars as a tip.
The rest of the day passes is something of a blur. The assholes stay here until five, and Ryan leaves over an hour later. The sun is already setting on the horizon when Ryan makes his way around the place to the parking lot.
He could take his bike and leave, straight away, look for Theresa and see if they can do something. If they are lucky, her mom is out, either at work or at the church, and maybe he could get lucky. But instead, Ryan stays behind, taking a cigarette out of his pack and lightening it. He watches the sun set, bike against the railing, smile on his lips. He doesn't know what he's waiting for, or why he's wasting time not getting laid.
At something after seven, Ryan has smoked three cigarettes and the wind is picking up. He didn't bring his sweatshirt and he rubs his hands on either forearm. He reaches for his bike, ready to go home, when he hears a skateboard behind him. Ryan turns around, head tilted to the side, and he recognizes the boy from the Crab Shack. On the skateboard, the kid seems more confident than in the restaurant.
Ryan opens his mouth to call out to the boy, twenty feet away from him, when from the corner of his eyes Ryan can see four guys -- the jocks from the restaurant? -- surrounding the kid. He frowns, getting onto his bike, making his way toward them slowly. The closer the gets, the more certain he is that those are the jocks and one of them is that asshole Luke. He clenches his jaw and he knows in a second that this means trouble. They are on the darkest end of the pier, and no one will get in the middle of this if things turn ugly. It's four against one, and even if the kid looked like he could throw a punch, he'd be on the floor in less than ten minutes -- Ryan knows this for a fact.
Seth's standing in the middle of the circle they've made around him, trying to get out of it, obviously, but failing miserably. He has his hands up, his head to the side, a shaky smile on his lips.
"Dude. I mean, guys. Really. There's no need for this."
"Fuck you, queer."
"Really, Luke, you'd think after all this time you'd get new repertoire."
Ryan smirks. At least the kid has a quick mouth.
"You little asshole--" Luke says, but it's the other idiots who make the move.
They pick up the kid, the three of them, and start shoving him around. Ryan's hand clenches around the handle of his bike. In a moment, they have the kid upside down, holding him by the legs, and that's all Ryan can take without interfering.
"Hey, fuckers." He gets off his bike and lets it fall to his side as the four of them turn around, looking at him. Ryan narrows his eyes. The kid, almost in the background now, swallows nervously, looking at him upside down. "Put him down. Put him down."
"What's wrong, dude?" Luke asks, a glare on his eyes. "You've got a problem?"
Ryan looks at him sideways, his lips set into a line. "You tell me."
Luke closes in on him and shoves him, and Ryan bides his time, almost knowing how the guy works. Arturo reacts in the same fucking way. Ryan looks at him and then takes his chances, punching him in the face. After that, it's all a little bit confusing. Ryan tries his best to stand his ground, but like he knew it would happen, four against one -- because the boy really can't throw a punch, Ryan notices after a minute -- he's on the floor in less than ten minutes. Luke lands one good tackle on Ryan and that's all it takes, Ryan on the floor, for Luke to start kicking him in the ribs.
Luke laughs, along with the morons the asshole calls friends, hands raised in triumph. "Welcome to the O.C., bitch!" He says, walking away, the other three in tow. "This is how it's done in Orange County."
Ryan groans, rolling onto his side, one hand right under his ribs, where it fucking hurts the most. He looks to his right and, just like he had last seen, the guy's on the floor, rolled around his middle, whimpering softly. Ryan takes in a deep breath and finds enough strength inside him to kneel on the ground before making his way, half crawling, to the guy's side.
"Are you okay?"
The guy groans something that might mean a word or two, if Ryan was conscious enough to actually understand it.
Ryan reaches out, hand pausing for a moment before touching his chin. "Fuck. They really did a number on you?"
"Who are you?"
Ryan chuckles, low on his throat, and the pain seems to radiate from inside him all around him, on his chest and face. "I'm Ryan."
The guy nods, a bruise already starting to form over his right eye. "God. Hmm. Hi, I think."
"Hi."
"I'm Seth, by the way. Thanks." Seth groans, trying to pull away from Ryan's hand the moment fingers touch the darkening skin. "Dude. Dude. Please. Don't do that."
"You're gonna have a nice shiner the next morning."
"Oh. God. No. My mom's gonna kill me."
Well, that's not exactly the reaction Ryan would have expected from a guy his age, but it's slightly understandable. Specially considering that Seth looks very much like the guy who never gets into trouble and would never pick a fight. Well, not pick a fight, but certainly be picked for it. Ryan tilts the Seth's head to the side, making sure the nose is not broken and that there's no blood dripping anywhere. Satisfied that all the guy has to show for in this fight is just bruises, he nods and let's go of Seth's chin. "I think you'll live. Nothing broken, as far as I can tell."
Seth frowns, tilting his head to the side. "You can tell?"
Ryan shrugs, picking himself up, though standing in wobbly legs. He reaches out a hand and Seth takes it, looking very grateful at the help. "You okay?" He asks, craning his head to the side, the muscles on his neck and shoulder blades complaining at the movement.
"Dude," Seth pauses, reaching with his index finger to touch his eyebrow, and grimaces in the process. "Okay, that was so not a good idea. So not a good idea."
It's the words, maybe, or the infliction on the same, or maybe just the guy, Ryan has no idea, but he lowers his head, and the corners of his lips curl into a smile, slow and easy on him. "I can imagine." It's almost a tired smile that ends with a soft laugh.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Seth groans, once again, in the back of his throat. "You had my back, dude," he repeats. "Really. Like, you totally had my back. I don't even know you and you totally had my back."
I know you. Ryan shrugs, keeping quiet. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sore in parts I had no idea I could be sore in, sure, but okay."
Seth lifts his gaze and looks at Ryan, really looks, and for a moment he fears he'll see the same despise in Seth's eyes that he has in seen in the million and one kids in this town. But instead, there's recognition and then, to Ryan's surprise, a smile.
"I've seen you before," Seth says, slowly, almost like weighting every word. "You... you're one of the guys from the Crab Shack, right? I mean, right?"
Ryan waves it off. "Yeah. Hmm. If you're okay," another shrug, "I gotta jet."
"No, no, dude." Seth reaches out, hand around Ryan's wrist, and in his surprise, Ryan looks down at the way Seth's fingers curl around his own skin. "Dude. We're, like, all bruised up and stuff. And somehow, I had no idea that fighting makes you hungry, but I'm starving. Come on. We can go to my place."
Ryan's certain he says no, thanks, but I have my bike and I should be heading home, and he refuses, time and time again, even though Seth's pushing and picking up Ryan's bike along with his own skateboard, and calling a cab because, really, he says, I'm too tired to use my legs to get home, dude, sorry. Next thing he really knows, next thing Ryan's really aware of, is of him walking through the front door of one of the largest house he's ever seen up close, his bike being left against one of the walls.
"Seth. Hmm. Really. I should go."
But when Ryan tries to turn around, Seth reaches out and grabs him around the wrist once again and all thought leaves his mind. He lets Seth steer him inside, and toward the kitchen. There's a couple in there, Seth's parents probably, and he ducks his head as the woman gasps.
"Seth! Oh my god. What happened to your face?"
Ryan really, really wants to get out of there, because this can escalate quicker than he can actually leave the house, and it's not difficult to know who the woman will blame for her son's black eye. He turns around, whispering into Seth's ear. "I really should leav--"
"I got into a fight."
Ryan closes his eyes with an almost painful flinch. Fuck. Not what Seth should have said, really, not the way he wishes Seth could have fucking phrased that because, fuck, if that doesn't half implied that Ryan's to blame here.
"With who?" Ryan opens his eyes at the question, and sees the way the woman looks at him before asking the next one, "Why?"
"Kirsten, sweetie. At least let the boy talk." The father smiles at Ryan, almost apologetically, and he's surprised the guy's so open to hear his son speak. "Okay, Seth. Come on. Sit down before you fall over and tell us what happened."
"Sandy--"
Sandy turns around, looking at his wife as he makes his way to his son. "Kirsten. Please. Just let him explain." Smiling at Seth, Sandy reaches for Seth's elbow, only to realize that Seth still hasn't let go of Ryan's wrist. "Seth?"
"Dad, really. You can't let Ryan go. He wants to go, but you can't let him. Dad, like, Ryan saved me! It was amazing. It was comic book worthy!"
Sandy chuckles, turning to look at Ryan as he does so. "Really? I take it you must be Ryan."
"Hmm." Ryan ducks his head, looking up at Sandy. "Hmm. Mr.--?"
"Cohen. Sandy Cohen." He glances at Seth for a moment before looking back at Ryan. "I take it you're Seth's new friend."
"Mr. Cohen, I'm sorry, I didn't want to come, but Seth--"
"Seth can be pushy when he wants it to be. I think he takes after his mother." He smiles. "Anyway, Ryan, come on. You look like you got hit by a truck."
When they are both seated, Ryan looking down at his feet, he hears the mother speaking again.
"Should we call the doctor? Sandy, we should call the doctor, I have no idea--"
Ryan looks up and frowns, seeing the way she's so worried about her son. Dawn would never act like that. When Ryan, or Trey, has arrived home from a fight, she would just roll her eyes and tell them not to drip on the floor.
"Nah, no need for doctor. Hand me a couple of steaks from the fridge, will you? That'll help with the swelling."
Kirsten seems to hesitate for a moment before hurrying to the large fridge and getting out what looks like very expensive meat. She hands both pieces to her husband, and he places one on top of Seth's eye, who hisses in pain, and the other to Ryan.
"Here. Keep it over your eye, Seth, okay?" Sandy looks at Ryan. "You too." After a moment, making sure that both of them have the prime meat over stinging flesh, he asks. "Now, what happened?"
Ryan keeps quiet, making sure not to make a sound and look very small and not at all intimidating while Seth recounts the whole ordeal, from seeing the assholes in the pier to up to five minutes ago.
The mother looks mollified, and the father almost proud. "Well," Sandy says, looking at Ryan for a moment, Ryan looking back at him sideways, "at least now you have someone to hang out with, Seth. Right? Ryan, pleased to meet you." Sandy offers him his hand. "I'm Sandy Cohen, you can call me Sandy, and this lovely person behind me is my wife, Kirsten Cohen, the lady of the Manor."
Ryan bites the inside of his cheek, blinking, utterly confused.
"Right. Dude." Seth shoulders him on the side, and Ryan glances at Seth. "I don't know your last name."
Ryan swallows. "Ryan Atwood."
"Ryan Atwood," Sandy says, smiling. "Nice to meet you."
To his surprise, Mrs. Cohen moves forward, almost hesitant in her step, before offering her hand. "Nice to meet you, Ryan. Call me Kirsten."
It takes him a moment, but Ryan reaches out and takes her hand. "Thanks."
Ryan stays there, answering more questions, about his family, his job at the Crab Shack and whatever else Seth can think of for the next hour, even though some of those answers are half lies. Finally, he tells them he really has to go, lies and says that his mom should be worried by now, a surprise considering she might not even notice he's gone at all. They want to give him a ride home, but Ryan refuses, says he's fine, it's just a black eye, he's fine, really. Still, they push, and Ryan gives in half way, and lets them call him a cab.
He gets into the cab, his bike in the trunk, and says his goodbyes. Seth has his number, waving the piece of paper with the information around, even though Seth also knows where Ryan lives. "I'm gonna call you, dude. I'm so gonna call you."
Ryan gives him a small smile, thanks the Cohens and watches the way out of the community. When they are two blocks away, Ryan tells the cab driver that he forgot his helmet at a friend's house and could he just pull onto the corner. The guy doesn't say anything, only charges what the taximeter says and gives Ryan the difference from what the Cohens had already paid.
Ryan swallows, hand on his bike as he stands on the corner, and watches the cab drive away. No need to waste thirty bucks when he can very well take a bus and finish the way by bike.
His mom doesn't say anything when he arrives a little after ten. Ryan makes his way to his room and falls face first on his bed, on top of the covers, with his clothes still on.
The next day, the bruise isn't that visible, thanks to the steak, and Ryan makes his way to work. Donnie asks him what happened, surprise, and a little bit proud.
Ryan shrugs. "Nothing. Long story."
Ryan's not really surprised when, around eleven, Seth makes his way inside, skateboard in his hand, grin on his lips and a bruise rather dark over one eye. He grins at Ryan as he makes his way to an empty table and takes a seat.
Inside the bar, Ryan turns his back on Seth, and grins as he places three beers on a tray for another table. He half expected Seth in here, half dreaded the demeanor would be different. Not that it can be different with Seth, apparently. Ryan walks out of the bar, tray in hand and when he moves to Seth's table, he can't help but focus on Seth and Seth alone.
Seth orders the usual coke and a turkey sandwich, grin on his lips. Ryan nods, and very politely says that he'll bring it in a minute. When he places the plate on the table, Seth's fingers brush the back of Ryan's hand, of his wrist, and Ryan's breath catches in his throat. He looks up, and Seth's looking at him, bright brown eyes. Ryan ducks his head, blush on his cheeks, and brushes his fingertip against Seth's hand.
Part two
Part four
The better version