Summary: Seth/Ryan mild slash. They're keeping it simple. Uncomplicated, straightforward, trouble-free. Post-finale season 2. One-shot.

Disclaimer: Josh Schwartz and I are getting a divorce. Sad, I know. But he didn't sign a pre-nup…sucker! The O.C. is partly mine! Oh, don't look so shocked, I'm only joking. What I own isnothing.

A/N: So I started this out feeling very emo and angsty, and ended it in a rather content mood. Maybe that's why it turned out so weird. I hope you enjoy it. I think this is the longest one-shot I've ever written! W00t. Title and story inspired by Jamisonparker.

XxX

They're insomniacs. Sleep deprived, ashen monsters wearing blood-shot eyes like they'll never go out of style. And they crawl under the sheets as if they have any intention of falling asleep, while stars appear bashfully in the night sky.

The hardwood floor groans under Ryan's weight as his bare feet pad softly into Seth's bedroom. Seth immediately rolls over, throwing back the covers and propping himself up on his elbow.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, and soft laughter trickles from their mouths. Seth stretches his right arm, grunting as he struggles to reach the light switch. The room pools quickly with fluorescent light, and Ryan lazily blinks it back.

"Can I stay?" Ryan requests hesitantly, turning the light off as Seth nods. He lies next to Seth on the creaking mattress. Seth battles the sheets, tossing restlessly while Ryan remains perfectly still, barely breathing. And when Ryan tangles his fingers hectically in Seth's, he's not sure he notices. But the movement stops and Seth closes his eyes.

The wall clock, face down on the dresser, says it's morning, but of course, they don't see that. They stay up waiting for the sun to creep invasively through the parting curtains, spilling on the carpet like the cheap liquor they used to drink.

XxX

The parties are copious, every night of the week, because, well, it's summer. The weather begs for festivities, and the girls, bikini clad and bright eyed, are everywhere, giggling incessantly in the arms of equally attractive partners. Ryan and Seth, they've never been the Newport beach, let's get drunk and make fools of ourselves type, but things change. And it makes them a little ill, the staggering stench of cologne, bubbly bottle blonds, deep tanned skin, white smiles and dazzling eyes. Or maybe it's just the alcohol.

Their heads buzz while they echo each other's grins, spreading their mouths wider and wider, swaying along the side of the pool. Seth's body is prickling with heat and he pulls off his striped polo shirt, unintentionally draping it over a couple cuddling on a lawn chair. He flashes Ryan a closed eyes smile and dives into the gleaming water, causing wrinkles in the smooth expanse of the surface. He floats limply for a minute, taking pleasure in this dead feeling, a world without sensation and breathing is just too much to ask. But he's gasping for air before he knows it, thrashing on the concrete as Ryan strokes his cheek.

Ryan drives home, tight lipped and grinding his teeth, squinting through darkness and headlights. Seth beseeches words to come, but his throat is cracking, his tongue is numb, and all he can do is clutch Ryan's arm in the silence.

XxX

"How did we get like this, Ryan?"

"Could have something to do with my girlfriend shooting my brother, and your girlfriend fleeing to Europe."

"How long are you going to keep blaming them? This is the way we've made ourselves. Face it."

"No, Seth! This isn't me. This is me without a mind, and without a heart, because someone has abused them a few too many times."

"Ryan, I…"

"Why do you always do this? Analyze the way we are. The way I am. I can't stand it!"

"It's just…"

"What, Seth?"

"We've become everything we hate."

XxX

The walls of his room are lined with his drawings, hung neatly in rows like pages of a book. But they're not of Little Miss Vixen, or Kid Chino. They're the faces behind the costumes, he likes to think, sketching quietly on the pier in the evenings. Boys with no eyes and flat lines for smiles bleed on the bleak, white paper. Girls with messy hair and ragged lips stare blankly from inside the pictures. They've become so primitive, stumpy bodies and stick straight arms with broken fingers.

He watches Ryan's gaze wander over the sketches, flinching when he reaches the last one. He traces the lines with his index finger, slowly, smudging the pencil. His mouth begins to twitch and he drops his arm to his side, staring at the wall. The graphite boy lies on the ground, clawing at the carpet, terror seizing his body. And the pretty girl, with trembling thin hands and dripping glass eyes, is pulling the trigger.

XxX

"Ryan, you ready?" Seth calls, knocking on the pool house door. He peers through the window and spots Ryan exiting the bathroom, combing his wet hair with his fingers.

"Yeah, just a second," Ryan responds, slinging a jacket over his shoulder. Seth leans coyly against the door, pressing his shoulder blades into the thick glass, thinking about their earlier conversation.

"I know, I know. But I don't think I can do it, Seth. See her, talk to her. It's like I have this picture of her, in my head, and she's sitting in the sand, the wind in her hair, and she's just so beautiful. I don't want that to change," Ryan exhales.

"She really wants to see you. If I go back one more time without you, I think she might shoot me. I mean…no. Sorry," Seth stammers, a scarlet blush creeping up his neck.

"Okay, I'll do it. I'll come."

"Is Sandy coming?" Ryan asks, closing the door behind him.

"No, he's attempting to get some rich person out of jail. Looks like it's just us," Seth tries to smile, twirling the car keys around his finger.

They arrive at the juvenile detention center half an hour later, pulling into a visitor parking space. Seth puts the car in park and turns off the ignition.

"Are you okay?" he asks, touching Ryan's forehead with his fingertips, making small, gentle circles.

"I-I don't know, Seth…" Ryan squeezes his eyes shut, clenching and releasing a fist.

"It's going to be alright, I promise," Seth whispers softly in his ear.

"Um, hi, we're here to see Marissa Cooper," Ryan clears his throat, avoiding eye contact with the familiar receptionist. She taps her long, glossy fingernails on the computer screen, smiling politely.

"Sure, Pablo will take you," she explains, pointing to a burly security officer in the corner. He uncrosses his muscular arms and leads Ryan and Seth out of the room.

Seth gives Marissa a small wave when they enter the common room, nudging Ryan in the side to follow suit. Ryan only gazes at her. She's thinner than ever, no surprise, and her hair hangs limply over her eyes in a dirty blonde curtain. She folds her arms over her chest, invisible in the shapeless uniform. The only thing that reminds Ryan that this is Marissa, his Marissa, are her aquatic eyes, shining brilliantly as he approaches. They make trivial small talk for a while, hardly past the pleasantries of "Hello, how are you?" and "Fine, thanks, I'm doing well." But her voice sounds awkward and Ryan is stuttering answers like they're strangers at a bus stop. He can't take it any longer.

"So, when are you getting out?" he slips, dropping her hand and running his through his coarse hair. She lets out a small sigh and bites her lip.

"I'm not sure. Soon, I think, the lawyers are finishing some things…" she stops, wiping her dry eyes with the back of her hand.

"Good, soon is good." He nods, casting a sideward glance at Seth, who is idly picking at the toe of his sneakers. Marissa pulls Ryan towards her, cupping his elbows with her hands.

"Don't wait for me," she murmurs in his ear, brushing his cheek with hers.

"But, I--"

"Ryan. Don't, okay?" she says firmly, smiling meaningfully at Seth.

"Um, sorry to interrupt, but…" Seth interjects, nodding towards the security guard, who motions for them to come. "I'll meet you outside, Ryan. Marissa, take care." He kisses her softly on the cheek and strides over to Pablo.

"I guess I better go. I love you, Marissa," Ryan whispers, embracing her quickly as she suppresses tears. She wiggles her fingers in a wave as he joins Seth, smiling as they leave.

XxX

They're keeping it simple. Uncomplicated, straightforward, trouble-free. They spend afternoons lounging in the house, battling with PlayStation controllers, stealing looks through eager eyes. And when Ryan pokes fun at Seth's Zelda skills, and Seth tackles Ryan on the coach, attempting to pin his strong arms to his sides, they pretend to think nothing of it. But the sweaty palms and the wild eyes and the shallow breaths linger through the evening, into the volatile nights, when they flash streaks of pale skin in the black licorice dark. And they hear Summer's back from France, and Marissa's coming home, so they'll speed this up a little, throw in the catalyst, hold the match between their forefinger and thumb and strike it, fanning the flame in the dead hours.