Yelling
by M. F. LuderPart four
I can feel my soul it's bleeding, will you fly with me this evening
- By my side. Three Doors Down.
Ryan keeps his pace as he walks into the house. He stands by Seth's side, one step behind Sandy and tries not to take Kristen's hand in his.
He remembers the house, doesn't really think he could ever forget it, and the moment he steps inside, it's like it chills his heart to the bone. He takes a deep breath and, once again, like every time he has anything to do with Mr. Dart, it feels like the temperature drops.
Kirsten makes mention of work, about the paperwork for the investment going through. Dick asks about something in particular, a firm he's been following, Newport Group's biggest competition. Sandy is half listening, taking the house in. Seth is nodding at something Mr. Dart has mentioned and Ryan is trying his best not to remember this place, the same place from six years ago. How is it possible that Ryan's back here?
"I can't believe you kept the house."
Dick shrugs at Kirsten's comment. "Rented it for a couple of years, while I was abroad. But then, well, if I was coming home, it had to be in my own home."
"Of course."
Ryan doesn't lift his gaze from the floor, and stays as close to Seth as he possibly can without intruding into Seth's personal space.
There's a very small tour, showing off the dining room area and living room. The large kitchen makes Ryan think about homework never finished on Thursdays and hands shaking as they were run through disheveled hair. He swallows with difficulty and can almost breathe when they walk out of the steel room.
They make their way past the study and Ryan is glad to know they won't be going in there, nowhere near the pool table or the oak room that, even now, still brings nightmares.
"Lunch will be ready in a few," Dick says after a moment.
Kirsten excuses herself to the bathroom, and Dick points her to the second floor.
"First floor," he says, with a shrug, "has need for repairs."
She understands, of course, and makes her way up the stairs. Mr. Dart makes another comment about the architecture, something about the construction that Ryan really isn't paying enough attention to, and a moment later, Mr. Dart says that they should make their way into the dining room.
Sandy nods, making his way down the hallway, and Seth follows, almost bouncing at the thought of food, finally. They are around the corner before Ryan has time to move from his spot and there's a hand gripping his forearm tightly.
Ryan's breath catches in his throat and he doesn't look up, only closes his eyes. There's the feeling of breath against his ear and Ryan cringes, shaking his head slightly, barely even moving.
No, no, no, please. Not again. Not again. It can't be... it can't be happening. Not again. Not with the Cohens down the hall. Not with Sandy and Seth and Kirsten... and God.
And you're fucked, aren't you, my darling? I told you. You had to talk. Too late now. Now turn around and--
Fuck.
The tip of a tongue licks Ryan's earlobe and Ryan grimaces, trying to free himself from the grasp, but unable to.
"God, how I've missed you."
"Don't." Ryan's voice is small, like his child self, and he can't quite bring himself to mutter another word.
Please, don't. Please. Go away. I won't tell. Just go away.
"So beautiful. I had almost forgotten. So perfect. So lovely."
A finger touches Ryan's cheekbone, moving down his cheek, and the tip of the tongue meets the finger on the chin.
"Lovely."
Let me go. Please. Let me go.
There's a soft and almost chaste kiss placed at the corner of Ryan's lips, and Ryan can almost feel the smile on Mr. Dart's face.
"I've missed you."
I haven't. You haven't been gone long enough. Leave. Just go. Leave me alone.
The finger makes its way down to Ryan's collarbone and Ryan's eyes snap open. Mr. Dart is grinning at him.
"Thursdays were our days, my darling. Thursdays. Have you forgotten?"
Ryan doesn't move. His lower lip trembles and his gaze shifts from Mr. Dart's face to the staircase, willing Kirsten to come downstairs and help him, save him. Please, oh please.
"No one's coming, my sweet. You're here, with me. For me."
Ryan's breath catches in his throat when a hand grips his belt and pushes him toward Mr. Dart's chest.
"Thursdays. Just like last time. Thursdays, after class. What do you say, my beautiful?"
It takes him a moment to find his voice, and when he does, his tone is clipped. "I'll tell them."
Mr. Dart grins, like he knows he's got him by the balls. He knows. And he does. Ryan's stance tries to portray a certainty he does not have, never had, not when it came to this man. Mr. Dart's had him, for as long as Ryan can remember, and he won't let go.
Won't ever. He's back, and he has Ryan, once again. He has Ryan in his grip.
You're here, my sweetie. You're here, and he's here, and we're all here.
Ryan's face contorts, grimacing, and the back of his eyes sting and he's trembling, all over. He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
Mr. Dart only smiles sweetly at him. "You won't."
Ryan's resolve crumbles, shaking his head once again. No, no, no please. God, no. Please. Please.
And isn't he right, because you won't, will you?
Ryan sighs, turning around and trying to hide his face, his shame. Mr. Dart knew it back then, that Ryan wouldn't talk. Never would. He had something over Ryan, and does once again. Newport Group needs this, Mr. Dart's business, otherwise they are screwed and Ryan can't talk now, anymore than he did back then.
Ryan won't talk, and he knows this. Mr. Dart does as well.
Mr. Dart nods, pleased with himself, of course, wouldn't be any other way. He grins, takes a step back and lets go of Ryan's belt. "Thursday." A sultry smile. "I'll be waiting."
Ryan hears Kirsten's high heels as they make their way down the stairs, and it's long enough for him to take a deep breath and when he does, when he can actually feel his heart beating and his lungs working, Mr. Dart is long gone from the spot.
Taking in a shaky breath, he turns around and walks down the hallway, toward the dining room. Everyone is sitting there, and he joins them, sitting by Seth's side, no longer feeling safe. The cocoon that protected him, shielding him from everything around him, is long gone.
Seth asks where he was, what took him so long.
Ryan shakes his head. "Nothing," he mutters and wonders for a moment if Seth will push until Ryan actually gives in. Seth looks like he wants to ask more about it, to pressure like he always does, but then Seth's name comes in the conversation, Kirsten telling Mr. Dart about how Seth's really into comic books, and Seth's focus shifts. Ryan lets out a soft sigh of relief even as the maid of this month walks into the dining room and places the first course on the table.
A plate was placed before him, and Ryan looked up from his book toward his mom. His gaze flickered to the sandwich, jam and cheese, and then back to his mom.
"I won't be long, sweetie, okay?" She smiled at him, leaning forward to place a kiss on top of Ryan's head.
"Do you really have to go?" Ryan bit on his lower lip. "Can't I go with you?"
"Ry, I'll only be gone for two hours, at the most. Don't worry, okay?" She ruffled his hair, before turning around and picking up Mrs.' Dress that she had to leave at the dry cleaners on the way to the pet shop. "You'll be fine. Just stay here and finish your homework, ok?"
He nodded, not believing a word.
Ryan sat on his chair, eyed his sandwich, not hungry, and picked up his pencil. He tapped it against the edge of the table, staring at the opened book but not quite seeing anything.
He tried to listen to every sound in the house. He tried to hear doors opening, or shoes on the wooden floor, but he wasn't familiar enough with the house, he didn't know the sounds.
He waited. He took a deep breath, stilled it in his chest for a moment before letting it out slowly through barely parted lips. He took another, his hands not trembling, as he wrote down the number of the exercise he was supposed to finish. He read the question, again, and then wrote down the first equation. He wasn't going to finish it, he knew, but at least he was trying. At least he was pretending everything would be okay on this Thursday afternoon.
And as much as he willed himself not to, he gasped the moment the kitchen door opened and he heard Mr. Dart walking in.
He bit his lower lip, hard, and didn't look up. There was no point in doing so, no point in trying to delay the inevitable when he knew there was no delaying it, but he tried, and for him, that was enough.
A hand was placed on his shoulder, and it squeezed, not hurting, but making its presence known. There was no need.
Ryan pushed his chair back, eyes closed, and before he could stand up, there were lips on his, a tongue pushing them apart. Ryan grimaced, tried to shy away, but there was no point. The other hand gripped his chin firmly, in place, and Ryan gave up when a tongue made its way into his mouth. It tasted bitter, hard and horrible, and Ryan wanted nothing more than to die.
When Mr. Dart pulled away, Ryan looked up at him. The man was grinning, showing teeth, and then he blew Ryan a kiss. Ryan turned away, looking down at his hands.
"Come on, my darling. My beautiful." He kissed the corner of Ryan's lips. "Let's go."
Ryan didn't say anything, couldn't even think of answering, and only let himself be pulled up to his feet and down the hallway, to the office.
An hour later, Ryan sat down at the table once again, hands shaking, his mind clearer somehow. He could still remember, he didn't think he could ever forget the kissing and licking, the nibbling and sucking, but at least, his hands were clean. They were clean. He had scrubbed until they were clean.
His hips hurt, and his stomach complained from being pressed against the edge of the pool table once again, but those two things were nothing. His backside hurt the most.
After a moment, half an hour before his mom got back, he picked up the pencil and finished doing the exercise.
They walk out of the house, Ryan keeps as close to Seth as he possibly can, his hands deep in his pockets, his face down. He's quiet, but that's not a surprise, not even to himself. Seth nudges him on the elbow, lifting his head in a questioning manner. Ryan shrugs, and that's all he needs to tell him. I'm not feeling well. I don't wanna stay here any longer.
Ryan doesn't know if that's exactly what his demeanor expresses, or his eyes, or his posture, but Seth seems to get it. Maybe not the reason, but the gist of it, and he nods, shrugging as he does so.
We'll be out in a sec, don't worry. And when Seth grins, almost bouncing on the top of his heels, Ryan can almost hear, And then, dude, Psy Ops war!
Ryan almost smiles at the thought. He sighs, lowering his head and nodding. Yes, yes, in a little while, he'll be back home. Safe and sound.
Until next Thursday, isn't that right my beautiful? Isn't that right, my darling?
Ryan closes his eyes wide shut, the back of his head hurting. No, no, that's not right. He's safe. He's... He sighs, opens his eyes and finds himself looking right at Mr. Dart. The man smiles at him, a small smirk, enough to make Ryan's skin crawl, and he lowers his head once again.
"We should do this again," Mr. Dart mentions, off-handedly, with a natural calm that makes Ryan want to snort.
He doesn't react to the words, barely even notices them. It's not like it matters, it's not like it will change anything. The man is going to have Ryan, one way or another.
And doesn't he have you already? Hasn't he touched you and claimed you? Isn't the only thing missing for him to come inside you?
Ryan takes a shuddering breath at the malice coming from inside his very own mind, at the taunting voice that makes it impossible for him to pretend his life is anything if not out of focus, out of control, off its axis. He grimaces, shifting in place and taking a step back, away from Mr. Dart, and slightly closer to Seth. Seth doesn't seem to mind.
"Of course," Kristen answers, smiling, nodding as she does so. "I'd love to."
She had fun, Ryan could tell, talking over coffee in the living room, about their mutual acquaintances, about what they were doing, how badly they had invested over the years. Sandy didn't seem to mind sitting there, clasping Kirsten's hand, being filled in on the list of friends, new husbands and wives, newer girlfriends, and sins of the children.
And Ryan might have enjoyed it, sitting on the other couch, Seth by his side, talking quietly, or not talking at all, but enjoying just watching, had he not had this black cloud over his head, threatening to rain and pour and soak him to the bone.
"How about next Saturday?"
Kristen nods. "Perfect. Sandy?"
"Sure, I don't have anything."
It's only when Kristen turns around and looks at Seth that Seth sighs with a heaviness that's only half invented. "Mom, I know you don't quite believe this, but I might actually have plans for a Saturday afternoon, you know? Like, something that doesn't involve my parents and such?"
Kirsten chuckles, shaking her head. "God, Dick..."
"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm sure Seth is right." His gaze shifts from Seth to Ryan, and Ryan ducks his head before he makes eye contact with the man. "The boys probably have plans."
"Okay then," Kirsten says, "just us."
They say their goodbyes, Ryan barely even nodding in Mr. Dart's direction, before following Seth to the car. They sit in the back, Ryan behind the driver's seat as Sandy climbs in, and he starts folding the corner of his shirt, pressing it against his pants, wanting it to be as plain as it can be. His hand doesn't shake, that's the only reason he's using his hands at the moment, but they are cold. Cold, like they used to be each time Mr. Dart would touch him, and they hurt, his fingers barely able to move. But Ryan forces the issue, forces his hand to do as it's being told, and keeps on pressing the edge of the fabric.
"Dude?"
Ryan looks up at Seth, who's looking at him with confusion, and an edge of worry forming at the corner of his eyes. Ryan sighs and wishes he could do something to ease that worry.
Seth frowns, tilts his head and asks, "Something wrong?"
Truth is, in the back of Ryan's mind, he wonders where to begin.
Well, Ryan, my dear, there's a beginning to every story, isn't there? And yours, well, yours begins once upon a time, six years ago, when you were too chicken shit to say a fucking word, doesn't it?
Ryan gives Seth a tight smile that means nothing to him, and he puts enough strength in the action, enough conviction that he feels anything if not calmed. Seth seems convinced by it.
I'm dying here, he wants to say. I'm suffocating. I'm dying. I'm here and I'm dying.
Ryan's smile relaxes, isn't as forced. "Plans for later?"
Seth starts babbling, about how Psy Ops is the way to start the afternoon, of course, but one should not forget about Grand Theft Auto, and they could do this marathon, see which one lasts the longest, topping it with one Lord of the Rings movie. Just one, because, yeah dude, one must not aim too high.
Ryan nods and agrees and accepts in all the right places, and the more space they put between him and that house -- that man -- the better he feels, and the easier it is to smile.