DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything OC related.
AN: Musings on Artistic!Ryan. Set in early season one, Luke and Marissa never broke up and this is an my exploration of how Ryan settles into the family.
Ryan closed the shades in the poolhouse and flipped off the overhead light, leaving only the lamp's yellow glow to guide him. He hated lights shining in his eyes, even if he needed them to see. When he was younger, he'd worn sunglasses in class sometimes because of the 'glare' from the lights. At least that's what he told the teacher. She never saw his black eyes.
He shook off the thought as he sprawled across the bed. It was low to the floor, just like when he first arrived but he hadn't asked if he could raise it up to a normal level. He didn't really mind the height, but he wondered why anyone would put a bed so close to the floor if it actually had a frame to raise it. He'd slept on the floor before but it was because all he had was a mattress and his mom didn't want to pay for an actual bed.
He was thinking too much today and he didn't like it. In Chino, most people thought he was stupid or retarded because he rarely spoke, but here, his silence was taken as humility or wisdom. He just didn't feel like sharing his thoughts with the world and sometimes, like tonight, he got really tired of the Cohens squeezing him for information.
He flipped open his notebook. It wasn't really a notebook, more like a sketchpad. Trey had bought him his first one when he was ten. Well, Trey had stolen it, but it was still one of the best gifts that Ryan had ever gotten. He'd filled it with sketches and treasured it until one of Dawn's boyfriends had discovered it and burned it, along with all his toys. God, he'd hated that bastard.
Ryan shook off that memory, too. He did better with pencil and this pad didn't smudge as much as the one he'd left in Chino. His mom had cleaned out the house and when he'd found her note, he'd noticed that it was written on sketch paper. That hurt more that the words written on it. She didn't leave it for him.
He'd started over with this notebook a few weeks ago after school started. He still wasn't settled here, Newport was nothing like Chino. At all. He wasn't sure what the Cohens expected of him and it was only after a few weeks that he felt comfortable enough to buy the sketchpad. They didn't invade his privacy as much as he expected and he never left his notebook unattended in the open. He'd never been able to use the same notebook after someone had looked at it. It was tainted if anyone else touched it.
His drawings were private. He didn't care if they were good, he didn't care if he had talent, the only thing that mattered to him is that they were his. They were one of the few ways he felt comfortable to let his emotions out.
The first few pages were doodles and practice sketches. He loved fresh paper, a clean sheet always made him smile inside. He hadn't realized how much he missed drawing until he'd bought this notebook. It was almost full. He drew the houses, he drew the people, he drew the land. He drew everything.
He didn't think he'd ever fit into Newport but he didn't want to forget anything while he was here. He knew it wouldn't last, but he wanted to save the moments he'd experienced.
He didn't pull out his sketchpad when anyone else was around, only when he was alone. It was private.
Something had changed, though. The last drawing was a self-portrait. He wasn't sure what inspired it, maybe one of Sandy's lectures or Kirsten's quiet questions. He'd pretended to be someone else and drew what he saw.
It was funny, how he remembered his body on the page. The muscles that Seth liked to joke about so much weren't defined. His face was a blank slate and his eyes were empty without color. What stood out were his scars. He'd drawn every one, even the ones he could barely see. Because, to him, that's what he looked like. Scarred and empty. All used up.
He winced every time he saw it because he'd drawn his 'mark'.
It was a series of burns, a semicircle of cigarette scars that hid just below the waistline of his boxers above his ass. Dawn's first boyfriend after his Dad's arrest had given it to him. Trey had asked him about them once, but Ryan had never told anyone. He'd had lovers that asked but he never told.
Stephen was his name. He'd walked into the small bathroom when Ryan was in the shower.
Ryan was an outgoing, happy kid when he was little but after Stephen, he realized that talking was just words. No one had heard him screaming that day.
Stephen stayed a while. Six months, at least. He'd send Dawn to the store and he'd 'play' with little Ryan in the bathroom.
He'd marked him. Forever, Ryan would have the mark of the first man that used him.
Stephen wasn't the last, but he was the one Ryan remembered clearest.
Ryan closed the sketchpad. Whenever he looked at the drawing of himself, he lost all urge to draw. He slipped it back into his backpack and flipped over to reach for the lamp.
He wouldn't sleep much tonight.
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Sandy couldn't sleep. It hadn't happened to him in a long time, but tonight, he couldn't seem to find a relaxing position. He knew the longer he laid here, the less he'd rest.
He went into the kitchen and started a pot of tea. Kirsten always teased him about his hot-tea drinking habit but he loved her anyway. It wasn't his fault that she couldn't appreciate the relaxation of a cup of tea.
His attention was drawn to the patio. The lights used to bother him but he likes being able to see the pool and the Jacuzzi. He liked being able to see the poolhouse and making sure his foster son is safe.
He didn't like seeing his foster son standing by the edge of the pool in his sweatpants.
Sandy stepped outside with his teacup and approached the boy. "Ryan?"
He didn't respond.
Sandy finally reached Ryan's side. The boy was shirtless and barefoot and his toes were over the edge of the pool. He was painfully still and Sandy noticed that his eyes were unfocused and glazed.
"Ryan?"
"Hmm?" Ryan mumbled.
"Are you asleep?"
"Hmm?"
Sandy reached out and touched Ryan's arm and the boy flinched immediately and lost his balance. Sandy grabbed his arm to keep him from falling in the pool and they both tumbled to the ground.
"Sandy, what the hell…" Ryan muttered, his blue eyes clear and startled.
"Are you awake now?" Sandy asked, ignoring the steaming tea down his shirt.
Ryan glanced around and seemed to realize that he was outside. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry…was I sleepwalking?"
"I think so. I touched you and you woke up, I thought you were going to fall into the pool, kid."
Ryan slowly got to his feet and offered his hand to Sandy. Sandy accepted his help getting to his feet and they walked toward the poolhouse.
"You sleepwalk?"
"Occasionally. I've only done it once since I've been here…"
"When?"
"It was nothing. I woke up at the end of the driveway…" Ryan started.
"You didn't think we'd want to know?"
Ryan shrugged. Sometimes, Sandy thought that Ryan didn't know how to let people take care of him. Other times, he thought Ryan just didn't want to tell them anything. He understood why the kid didn't like to talk about his past, but Sandy needed to know some things. Simple things, like allergies and food preferences and medical issues. Like sleepwalking.
"It's not a big deal. I…"
"You could've fallen in the pool…"
"I can swim…"
"Ryan…"
"So what? I talk in my sleep sometimes. I walk in my sleep sometimes. I didn't think you'd need to know."
"Well, we'll have to reconsider letting you sleep in the poolhouse," Sandy sighed.
"What?" His blue eyes flashed with confusion.
"You could walk out into the street or into the ocean or something, Ryan, and we'd never know you were gone…" Sandy realized that Ryan could do that while awake just as easily. He was worried suddenly.
"Sandy, you're overreacting. It's a freak thing. It won't happen again…"
"You're not in trouble, Ryan…" Sandy said.
"Then…"
"We want you to be safe. If we'd known that you sleepwalk..." He started.
"Don't you think you'd better talk to your wife about that?" Ryan asked quietly. "I mean…it's not just your decision."
Sandy opened his mouth to speak but he knew that Ryan was right. Even though Kirsten had accepted Ryan as a part of her life, she still wasn't 100 okay with him as a part of her family.
"It's not a problem, Sandy. I swear. It really doesn't happen that often. Nothing has to change."
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Kirsten yawned as she walked down the steps toward the poolhouse. Rosa had explained that Ryan was still insisting on doing his own laundry and she wanted Kirsten to talk to him about it. Rosa took her job very seriously and even though she clearly adored the teenager, she wanted him to stop doing her job.
"Ryan, are you…" She stepped into the poolhouse without knocking, knowing that it was too early for him to be awake.
He sat up immediately from the bed, clearly surprised. He shoved something under the pillow that he had been lying on.
"Ryan, what are you doing up so early?" She asked. She tried to speak to him in an even tone, he was damned skittish sometimes. Especially with her.
"Um…" He was searching for an answer.
He frustrated her to no end. She didn't understand him. He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't tell her what he needed, it was like he was incapable of answering a simple question. She just didn't see what Sandy and Seth saw in him. He did everything he could to stay out of the way, to be invisible but she saw him. She just didn't know what to think about what she saw.
"Nothing," Ryan said finally.
"Rosa wants you to stop doing your laundry. She's very adamant. I'd appreciate it if you could try and make her happy," She said.
"Oh. Okay…" He flushed, clearly embarrassed. "I didn't want to give her any more work…"
"She gets paid. You should be getting ready for school since you're up. Coffee's already on."
He glanced down at the bed but obeyed, standing up.
"Ryan…" She regretted snapping at him. She didn't mean to give him an order, she hated the way he wouldn't look at her, keeping his eyes low as if he was being chastened. She was pissy because of her monthly cycle and she shouldn't have taken it out on Ryan. He was a good kid.
"Thanks," He mumbled, closing the door to the bathroom behind him.
She turned to leave but she remembered how he'd been doing something when she entered. She walked over to the bed and flipped over the pillow. She recognized the notebook as one like she'd had to buy for her art class in college.
She sat down on the bed and opened the notebook.
He was good. He was damned good. He was good enough to be published and he wasn't even out of high school. She flipped through the pages, studying each drawing.
She didn't even hear him come out of the bathroom and was startled when she glanced up and saw him watching her. His face was pale with hurt.
"Ryan, I'm sorry…" She shouldn't be looking, it was private.
"No, it's okay. I mean, it's your house…"
"I shouldn't have looked at your…"
"It's your house, Mrs. Cohen," He said quietly.
"Ryan, I'm sorry for invading your privacy like that, I shouldn't have…"
He wouldn't look in her eyes. She stood up and held out the pad. He took it and held it at his side.
"You're very talented, I mean, your drawings are great…"
"Don't," He whispered.
"I'm sorry, honey…" She started to reach out and pat his shoulder but he took a step back from her. She turned to leave. "I…" She didn't finish. She'd crossed the line. She'd never look at Seth's things where he could catch her but she was looking at this kid's personal drawings while he was in the room. She walked out of the poolhouse and when she turned to close the door, she saw him dropping the pad into the trash can.
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"I messed up," Kirsten told Sandy as he came in from surfing.
"What? Not you, you're infallible," He laughed, kissing her. He was disappointed when she didn't smile.
"I'm really trying, Sandy, but…"
"But what?"
"I can't get through to him. I can't seem to do anything right, he doesn't trust me, he walks around like he's a guest and…"
"Honey, what happened?" Sandy pulled her into a hug.
"It's my fault, I know. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do and I just made it all worse," She confessed.
"Kirsten. It's too early for you to be this upset."
She sighed. She stepped over to the counter and held out a notebook.
"What's that?"
"Ryan's drawings. I went out this morning to tell him that he isn't allowed to do laundry anymore and I startled him. He shoved this under a pillow and…I was curious, Sandy. I mean, we don't know anything about him and…when he went into the bathroom, I looked. He caught me and after I left, I saw him throw it away…"
"Was he upset?"
"He kept saying that it was my house. Like that gives me permission to snoop…I just…"
"So after he left, you went back and got it out of the trash?"
She nodded. "They're good, Sandy. Really good. Like, too good for the trash…"
He didn't pick up the notebook. He stared at his wife. "Why did you go through his things?"
"God, Sandy, I figured it was just porn or something, I didn't think it was…this. I didn't know that he'd throw it out just because I looked at it…" Tears spilled from her eyes.
"Oh, honey…" He put his arms around her. "He's a teenager, they get upset over the smallest things, you know that…"
"I don't know if this is going to work out…he hates me…"
"He doesn't hate you," He said. He knew that Ryan cared about her, Ryan cared about all of them. He also knew that Ryan remembered everything. Ryan remembered Kirsten's reluctance to take him in, her anger when Seth came home the first night with a black eye. Ryan remembered burning down her house. If anything, Ryan was afraid of Kirsten's disapproval and knew that she was just as unsure.
"Look at them, Sandy…" She held out the pad.
"If Ryan didn't want us to see them…"
"Look at this one, Sandy. It's a picture he drew of himself…you have to see it, even if this is the only one," She said, opening the notebook and flipping to one of the middle pages.
Sandy studied the picture. It was good. It was painfully sad, but it was artistically perfect.
"See how he emphasized his scars? And how he stands out against the background like he's totally out of place? See how his face is so sad? See how he's standing on the edge of a cliff?"
"Kirsten…it's just a picture…"
"It says everything. He's not happy here, he doesn't belong…" She started.
"Stop. Are you having second thoughts? Now, after all we've been through, you're having second thoughts? You knew this would be hard, taking in a kid, but I thought that we'd…"
"I'd never put him out on the streets again, Sandy…but whatever we're doing, it's not enough."
"He sleepwalks. I told him last night that I thought he should move into the guestroom so he wouldn't wander off," He said after a long pause.
"Where was he?"
"Outside. Standing by the pool. He said it's only happened once before and he woke up in the driveway." He turned to face her, his frustration evident on his face. "I suggested he move inside. He said that I needed to talk to you about that."
"Sandy…"
"No, Kirsten. I want Ryan here. Seth wants Ryan here. He trusts us and I trust him. I want him safe. I'm sorry that you can't see what we see, but that's not the problem. If you can't figure out a way to connect with him, this isn't going to get better. He's a kid."
"Do you think he really has all those scars?" She whispered.
Sandy glanced back at the picture, his attention being drawn to the cluster of scars on Ryan's back. He recognized those. A friend in child services had explained what those scars probably meant. Someone had really hurt him.
"I think you should throw this away. If Ryan sees that you went and got it…it's only going to make things harder." He sighed. "Do you want to reconsider this?"
"No," She said immediately. "I don't. I just…can you talk to him?"
"Yes, I can. But you should be the one to talk to him. You're the one he's scared of."
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"What's wrong with you?" Seth asked him as they were walking down the stairs to the parking lot.
"Nothing."
"More than one word answers, please. You've been quiet all day, and for you, Ryan Atwood, quiet means silent. What's up?"
He sighed. He knew Seth meant well. He just couldn't explain it to him. How things were just getting worse and worse just because it was him. Things always got worse, they never got better. Even when things with him mom were out of control, things always got worse. Shit, she'd left him because she couldn't keep spiraling down into the pit of despair that he was stuck in.
"Dude?"
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Nothing."
Seth sighed in frustration. "Dude, come on, it's me. If you can't tell me, then you won't tell anyone and that's just not natural. Is it about me?"
"No."
"Good. So what is it? Marissa and Luke?"
"No." He hadn't thought about them in weeks. Marissa was glued to Luke's hip and after Ryan's new membership on the soccer team, Luke had actually become a friend of Ryan's. He'd told Ryan that he'd committed himself to Marissa after almost losing her.
"Just tell me, man."
Ryan didn't want to talk to Seth about Kirsten. It was his mother, he didn't want to turn Seth against his mother. He wouldn't say anything.
"I just didn't get much sleep last night. Let's go home." He wondered if the Cohen's house would ever be his home. He knew better.
Seth used Ryan's silence as an invitation to blast rock music at the highest volume, thus integrating Ryan into the 'modern age of rock'. Seth yelled factoids at him over the music but Ryan didn't bother to pay attention.
He needed to think. He'd gotten back a lot of assignments today, all with good grades. Great grades. His teachers were proud of him, even the damned principal had congratulated him on how well he was 'fitting in'.
But he wasn't. Sure, he could do the work, it wasn't hard, but he wasn't fitting in. The kids still whispered when he walked by. Some of the guys even spit on him but he hadn't fought back. He was keeping more and more anger inside and the only way he could let it out was to draw. But Kirsten had taken that from him, too. Sure, he could buy another sketchpad, or even retrieve the one he'd trashed, but it wouldn't be the same. She knew his secret.
"Dude? We're home."
"Oh. Okay. Man, I'm going to go crash out."
"Okay, I hope you're in a better mood when you wake up," Seth said, clearly confused.
"I've just got a lot on my mind today."
"Yeah, and you don't want to talk about it. I get it. I won't pester you. Yet."
"Thanks."
In the poolhouse, he sat down on the low bed again and took a deep breath.
He could always leave. Running away was always an option. But all the money that he had saved, he'd used to buy things he didn't want the Cohens to have to buy for him. Kirsten and Sandy had bought him an entire new wardrobe when he became 'permanent'. But Kirsten had bought him underwear, tighty-whities, as Seth would say. He'd bought himself boxers, wife-beaters and school supplies. He didn't want to freeload but now that he was considering leaving, he knew that he should have planned ahead.
Things never worked out. He should have remembered that instead of getting caught up in Sandy's fantasy of a clean slate and a new start.
He could still leave. Chino was out, he knew Sandy would find him there. And Texas was out because he'd told Seth about that and he knew Seth would look there first.
He needed a place that he could start over and not have any history.
"Ryan?" He jumped at her voice. Kirsten was standing by the door.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry. Can we talk?"
He shrugged. He hated the way he tensed up whenever she came around but he couldn't stop himself. She didn't want him here. She didn't like his influence on her son. Every time he started thinking that he could actually do something good here, he'd see her eyes looking at him. She knew that he was worthless inside. She knew that he didn't belong.
She stepped inside and closed the door. She flushed suddenly. "I didn't knock, I'm sorry…"
"It's okay."
She glanced around and saw that all the shades were closed. "Were you trying to sleep?"
He glanced up. Why the hell was she making small talk? She obviously had something she wanted to say.
"I'll come back…" She said, turning to leave when he didn't answer.
"It's okay. What's up?"
"Um…about this morning…"
"It's okay. It's no big deal."
"Yeah, it is. You threw your drawings out…I…"
He glanced down at the trash can and saw that the notebook was missing. She's going through my trash now?
"I shouldn't have invaded your privacy." She sat down and put her hands in her lap. "But Sandy and Seth…you talk to them. They know you, or as much as you let them. You and I…we're just coexisting here, and we need…I want to get to know you."
He was surprised. Sandy must've said something to her. She wouldn't be here otherwise.
"Sandy said that you were sleepwalking last night."
He nodded. "Sometimes."
"Hailey used to sleepwalk. We had to lock her room from the outside because she woke up down at the beach a couple of times and my mom thought that she'd drown."
He nodded again.
"Have you…"
"Trey and I always shared a room. He'd wake up usually when I'd get up and he'd get me back to bed."
"He always woke up?"
"Light sleeper." When he lived with Ryan, anyway.
She nodded. "Do you want your notebook back?"
If she gave it back to him, at least he could dispose of it without any more attention.
"Are you still going to throw it out?"
He nodded.
"Then…can I keep it?"
"Whatever."
She sighed. "How's school? I know it's been only a few weeks, but how's it going so far?"
"Good."
"What classes are you taking?"
He could see that she was really trying. He owed it to Sandy and Seth to try back. He lifted his backpack and pulled out the papers that he'd gotten back today. He passed them to her.
"We got these back today. The teachers say I'm doing fine."
She flipped through the papers. "Fine? This looks like you're doing better than fine. All A's…and an A in Mr. Gregory's class…he must love you, he never gives A's."
"They say I need to work on my participation," He said quietly.
She smiled. "Yeah, me, too." She stood up and walked over to sit down on the bed beside him. "I really am sorry about looking at your things. It was wrong. I don't go through Seth's things and I should have the same respect for you. This isn't just my house. It's your house, too."
He didn't look up.
"You and I…we need to work this out. For Sandy. And for ourselves. I know that you think I don't want you here, but that's not true."
"You're looking out for your family, I understand…"
"No, you don't. At first, I was hesitant, but now…do you have any idea how much good you've brought to this house? Seth wouldn't leave the house on the weekends, he had no friends. And Sandy and Seth wouldn't even talk unless they were arguing…now, they've got a real relationship again. And after all the cases that Sandy's handled, you've given him hope that he can actually do some good. You have made this house a home again, Ryan."
He shook his head silently. She was wrong. She was just saying this because of Sandy. He'd asked her or something, she didn't really believe it.
"I know…I know that it must be hard to be here. Your mother walked away from you…your brother's gone…but you have a chance to start over. With a new family…"
"I'm sixteen. I can't start over. In two years…" He started.
"Ryan, if you think this family is a temporary thing, you're wrong. Sandy and I…we'll be here after you turn eighteen. We'll be here when you get married and graduate college. We didn't take you in just to give you a place to stay. We took you in so we could give you a family. To give you a home. I'm sorry that…that it's taken me so long to accept you."
"It's okay. I don't expect…"
"You don't expect anything. But we do. We expect you to stick around and make yourself at home. Accept your place here, Ryan. Please."
He nodded.
"Can I show your papers to Sandy? He's going to be thrilled."
Ryan shrugged. He forced himself not to flinch when she put her hand on his shoulder.
"Give me another chance, Ryan. Give yourself another chance."
"Okay," He murmured.
She stood up and took his papers to the door. "You look tired. I'll send Seth to wake you for dinner. Get some rest."
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Seth trotted in from the poolhouse after Kirsten sent him out to get Ryan for dinner. Sandy gave his son a curious glance. "Where is he?"
"I tried to wake him, but he's dead to the world. He didn't even mumble when I shook him. He's not dead, he's breathing, but he's sleeping like a rock," Seth explained.
"He needs to eat something, Sandy, he hasn't been out of the poolhouse all day," Kirsten chimed in.
"Did he eat lunch?"
"He was in the library for lunch…" Seth started.
"And he didn't have breakfast. Sandy…"
"I'll get him." He put down the pizza box and walked outside.
He was glad that Kirsten had taken his advice and talked to Ryan. She wasn't optimistic but he knew that Ryan had listened to everything and just needed time to process.
He was still thinking about the drawing. Ryan's scars. His mark. He knew that there was abuse in Ryan's background, but he never considered sexual abuse.
He didn't want to consider sexual abuse. He knew, the lawyer in him, knew the signs. The kid had been through hell and back.
He'd thought that he could help Ryan without having to put the kid into therapy. He wanted to help him but this was out of his league. He'd never been abused, Seth and Kirsten, they'd never been abused.
He knocked on the door but there was no answer. He pushed open the door. Ryan was sleeping face down on top of his made bed.
"Ryan?" He stepped over to the bed and leaned over the boy. He shook him gently. "Ryan, wake up…"
He didn't react. He was sleeping soundly.
"Ryan, wake up." He shook him again. When Ryan still didn't wake up, he took him by the shoulder and flipped him over in the bed.
Ryan was limp and simply settled into his new position. He was dead weight.
"God, you really are sleeping like a rock…"
"Not sleeping…" Ryan mumbled suddenly, startling Sandy. He flipped over onto his stomach again.
"Ryan. Wake up. Ryan…" Sandy reached down to touch his shoulder again and the boy flinched, jerking awake with wide, frightened eyes. He struggled to a sitting position, completely panicked.
"Easy there, kid…" Sandy stepped back with his hands held up to show that he wasn't trying to hurt him.
"Sandy?" He blinked and seemed to relax slightly. "Damn…"
"We couldn't wake you. Seth tried and failed, so I came out…it's time for dinner."
"I'm not really hungry…"
"We've had a conference and decided that we don't care," Sandy smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "You didn't eat breakfast or lunch and…"
"My stomach's been upset all day," He said quietly.
"Are you sick? Let me see if you're running a fever…" Sandy reached out to put his hand against his forehead but Ryan turned away.
"It's not that. I…I just have a lot on my mind."
Sandy sat down on the bed and was pleased when Ryan turned and swung his legs over the edge to sit beside him. "You want to talk about it?"
"Not really. But…but I probably should eat something."
"If your stomach's upset…"
"It's fine. Let's go inside."
Sandy followed him to the door, wanting to say more but knowing that Ryan wouldn't talk to him. He'd been learning how to interpret the kid's moods and it definitely wasn't a good time to try and broach the subject of how he got his 'mark.'
Ryan stopped outside the doors to the kitchen and turned to face him. "You didn't have to ask Kirsten to talk to me. I'm sorry that she feels like she has to make this extra effort for me. That's not what I wanted…"
"Ryan, I didn't…"
"It doesn't matter. I'm sorry that she got upset." He turned and walked into the house.
Sandy followed him but Seth had already ushered him into the dining room and was chattering excitedly about a new comic he'd picked up.
"What's wrong?" Kirsten asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"Nothing. Let's eat."
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