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The adorable [livejournal.com profile] kattiya is feeling poorly. This distresses me greatly. (Almost as much as my hangover and the numb feeling in my middle finger.) This is for her.

The O.C.
Vice City



Cigarettes Will Kill You

Ryan doesn’t smoke anymore, except for when he does. He doesn’t need to smoke; he’s not addicted, but he finds holding a cigarette comforting in a way he prefers not to examine too closely. His dad used to smoke, and when he came home from the factory he always reeked of aftershave and Merits. The stale smell doesn’t particularly win Ryan over though, so he doesn’t always light the cigarette. He can be content with holding it.

Sometimes Ryan just needs something to *have*, and cigarettes are always there and available for under five dollars.

He can’t say that about anything else.

He knows that Mrs Cohen, correction: Kirsten, doesn’t approve, which is perfectly understandable. If he was a parent, he wouldn’t approve either.

The first time Seth catches him with a lit cigarette and wheedles Ryan for a hit; Ryan warns him off. If Ryan ever sees Seth smoking, he’ll kick his ass. It’s one thing for Ryan to smoke; it’s something else entirely for everyone else.

They’re different; they’re not him.


E’s and Whizz

Ryan’s not big on drugs. He was too young for Nancy Regan’s “Just Say No’ campaign, but he’s got plenty of first hand knowledge of the damage that drugs can do. Between his mom’s various boyfriends and her own propensity for dabbling, Ryan’s seen enough. He has no desire to drop tabs or snort lines or whatever. In Newport, when he’s exposed to all sorts of designer drugs and trendy pills, he turns away. They didn’t impress him in Chino, before they were cut with aspirin, and they don’t impress him now.

Whatever people are trying to run from will still be there when they come down, and the first time Ryan catches Seth with a blue pill on his tongue, he drags Seth to the bathroom and flushes his head in the toilet until he promises not to do it again.


Pass the Courvoisier

Ryan’s been drinking entirely too long for someone who’s only sixteen. The whole legal-thing was never really relevant to his way of life before he came to Newport though, and maybe he might see things differently if he was from somewhere else. But he’s not.

Where Ryan grew up there were normally two drinking options in the refrigerator, and the milk was usually sour and gross. So Ryan drank. So Ryan *drinks*. But he knows how to be responsible about it. He’s been on the wrong end of too many drunks to ever get carried away with the beers in his hand or the Seagram’s in a plastic cup, so watching Marissa’s “friends” staggering around making fools of themselves and getting blindingly drunk doesn’t amuse him at all. The slight sliver of jealousy that they’re free enough not to worry about the consequences niggles at him, but he cuts his 7 & 7’s with water and lets it go.

As far as Ryan can tell, getting drunk with other people requires a certain level of trust that he just doesn’t feel.

He doesn’t mind taking care of others though.


Why Won‘t You Shag Me?

Ryan lost his virginity a week after his fifteenth birthday to a stripper named Stacy with long, acrylic blue nails.

She was a co-worker of Trey‘s girlfriend at the time, and she worked the evening shift at the Boom-Boom Room off of South Euclid Ave. She wore a platinum blonde wig, which she took off to reveal mousy brown hair that she wore tucked behind her ears. She might’ve been really pretty, but Ryan was a little terrified at the time, so he didn’t really notice.

He had wanted a new bike for his birthday, and instead Trey brought home Stacey while his mom was in Reno with her Boyfriend of the Month.

Afterwards, Stacey wandered into the living room half-naked and high-fived Trey‘s girlfriend, as though she’d just won some sort of gambling contest or game. Ryan promised himself that his next time would be better.

Four months later he had his second time behind the equipment shed at the high school. He considered it an improvement.


One Man Guy

Ryan is a sixteen-year-old, red-blooded, all-American (via several trailer parks) boy, who’s just had his entire world upended for the promise of something better. Except that Ryan knows about promises; he knows better than to expect people to keep them. Ryan’s not stupid. He expects to be sent packing any day now. He expects to fuck up beyond repair very soon. Ryan expects a lot of things to happen to him that don’t.

At his age he should be chasing girls, experimenting with drugs and trying to sneak out every night of the week, but Ryan’s already done all that stuff. And maybe this makes him weird, but he doesn’t really want to do it anymore.

He’s already lived a thousand lives before he even set foot in Newport, and frankly, he’s bored. He would rather watch television with Seth and read comic books in the kitchen than go to another party at Holly’s house. He would rather go to Comic Con and the Skateboard Museum than party in Tijuana. Ryan would rather lie next to Seth on inflatable rafts than run after Marissa’s indecision on the boardwalk. And maybe that means he’s not like everyone else, but Ryan doesn’t really mind. In fact, he feels kind of bad for everyone else. See unlike most people his age, Ryan doesn’t have to try a million things out to know what he needs or what makes him happy.

He’s already found it.

-end-

Notes: Titles taken from too many video games and songs. Not a politicial commentary.
1. Ben Lee
2. Pulp
3. Busta Rhymes feat p. Diddy & Pharrell
4. The Young Person’s Guide to Becoming a Rock Star (A Channel 4 Prod.)
5. Rufus Wainwright

Date: 2003-09-29 11:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hackthis.livejournal.com
Oh, honey, this is fabulous. Seriously. This is something I wish I'd written. Wow.

Dude, that's some seriously high praise right there. *high fives muses*

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