Sequel: If Only Until Morning

Pictures on Silence

Chapter 58

After splashing around for a few hours, the lot of us went inside to put on clothes. "Don't waste your time trying," I called when I heard the doorknob turn. "I locked it." It jostled, but didn't budge. Glancing at it smugly, I pulled my shirt on and looked at myself in the mirror. Makeup-less and paler from being in the water, I looked a little better than dead. Good. No temptation then.

When I nonchalantly opened the door to stroll out, Ryan was waiting for me and pushed me back into the bathroom before locking the door himself. I frowned down at it and up at him, standing there shirt-in-hand and still slightly drippy.

"I still haven't forgiven you for walking in on me and being a peeping Tom," I stated obstinately, crossing my arms. "I don't care if I am dating you, I haven't given you explicit viewing rights yet."

As a reply, Ryan walked me back against the wall, throwing his shirt on the counter, and planted his lips on mine. For a second, I completely lost all reason and melted into it, but then I figuratively shook myself and tried to straighten up. Only he wouldn't let me; with one hand on my waist under my shirt, Ryan pressed on me further and deepened the kiss.

No, I whimpered in my head, still kissing him back. No, stop! You can't do this to me!

That's about the point that I started freaking out. Not only did I resent being dominated, I found that I couldn't have pushed him off if I tried; my brain wanted to, but the rest of my body wanted to enjoy every part of him it. Even when Ryan detached our lips to trail kisses down my neck, I couldn't find voice enough to raise a protest.

The worst situation for my mental health to put me in is one over which I have no control and no way to gain a foothold.

After too long (and all too soon), he eased from putting such pressure on me and moved far enough away to look me in the eye. Both of us were breathing heavily, I realised. "You still think I couldn't scare a three year-old?" he asked breathlessly.

I lowered my chin and narrowed my eyes at him. "Is that what this is about? You're trying to prove a point?"

"Answer the question."

I swallowed, taking deep breaths and closing my eyes. I could still feel his weight holding me to the wall, his damp skin beneath my fingertips. "Yes, I do," I replied after collecting myself. Ryan's hips pushed against mine and my throat emitted a tiny noise. "But you certainly scare the living shit out of me."

A smile flashed across his face and he lightly planted another kiss on my mouth. I fixed him with an icy stare as he took my hand and led me out of the bathroom. "You didn't answer me."

Ryan smiled at me, no visible sign of what just happened on his face. Nope, just his usual adorable self. "If I really want to prove that point," he responded amusedly as we went downstairs, "I would have just snuck up on you. You give me too much credit for being devious and underhanded."

"Whereas the rest of the world don't give you enough," Brendon commented from the couch. I tilted my head at him as I sat down on the floor next to his feet. "Everyone thinks he's the mature one who doesn't get into any trouble.

"He's the one who had the idea to blow up the mailbox!" Spencer put in as an example.

I turned to look at Ryan so fast my neck cracked and everyone else in the room flinched. I blinked at him a few times, him staring back at me warily, before bursting into laughter, much to the confusion of my companions.

Don't bother trying to comprehend me. You won't get very far before getting a headache.

Someone had the oh-so original idea to watch a movie. Star Wars, particularly. But not the new ones because we were a bunch of movie snobs. So it was "Empire Strikes Back". As I was on the floor in front of the couch, my head was in perfect petting range of Ryan.

I smiled hazily when his hand appeared on the top of my head, and continued watching the movie. Only I kept losing track of what was happening, because there were fingers running through my hair, gently messaging my head. I couldn't tell who was on the screen anymore. Slowly my eyelids drooped and I floated suspended between reality and sleep.

"Uh, Ryan?" I heard Spencer say, "Maybe you should stop that."

"Why?" A smile drifted across my consciousness. Wonderful voice.

"I've never seen anyone's eyes roll that far up into their head before." The hand disappeared from my head, but it still took me a minute to come back to the room. Looking around, I found three very attractive young men staring at me curiously, like flowers were sprouting out of my head.

"That was creepy," Brendon observed. And when Brendon thinks something you're doing is creepy, you know you're screwed.

Man, I hate reality.

Brendon and Spencer left before the movie ended; Spence said he should go call his girlfriend, and a second later, Bren said he should head home for dinner. Suspicious. And I didn't like the looks they gave each other and Ryan. Ryan didn't say anything about it and just went back to stroke my hair.

I'm on to your evil schemes, boys. They won't go through.

...And I'll deal with them after I'm done being petted.

We ate leftover Chinese food for dinner and watched another movie. To be honest, I don't even remember what it was, because I kept waiting for Ryan to say something, as he obviously wanted to. I didn't forget about the serious talk that was coming; I just hoped it wasn't.

All of a sudden, the movie turned off and I looked at Ryan as he set down the remote. He shrugged. "Neither of us was watching it anyway," he said. "So you ready?"

While I could have played dumb as to what he was talking about, I didn't. Dumb is only a game I play to win, and I definitely wasn't going to win here. So I didn't the next best thing.

"I'm going to go grab a drink," I said a little too quickly, leaping up.

Only Ryan's reflexes were too fast. He reached up, grabbed me by the belt, and yanked me down to the couch, producing a lovely "Hurghk!" noise.

"Okay." I glanced at the clock and saw that it certainly was around the time I usually got depressed at home anyway. "Last night in your sleep you told me you loved me."

Well. Ryan certainly doesn't pull his punches, does he? I liked that about him, actually.

"Did I?" I asked conversationally.

"Yeah." The clock on the wall ticked. This probably wasn't going as well as he imagined. Ryan closed his eyes and sighed impatiently. "I don't get you at all. Most girls would happy to unload all their emotional baggage when their boyfriend asks them." I sat back into the couch and raised an eyebrow at him. "But of course, you're completely unlike other girls."

"You're learning," I remarked evenly.

He sent me a dark look. "You're not helping."

"Well, I'm sorry, Ryan, but I do not trust easily and I do not like explicating the intricacies of myself. You've seen interviews; you know how I am." I spoke plainly, not letting any inclination of emotion slip in. Was I blocking? Yes. Was it annoying him? Hell yes. Did that bother me? You bet your life it did.

"But I want you to talk to me," he insisted, leaning forward, "And not like a dictionary like when you cut people off. I want to know that you trust me like I can trust you." I crossed my arms and looked at him hard. Ryan unfolded my arms and took hold of my hands. "Why are you fighting this? What are you afraid of?"

I hated him for asking that, I thought as I looked down at our hands. I didn't want to tell him why I wouldn't say. I didn't want to admit that I was paranoid everything would fall apart. I didn't want to put myself out there. I wanted to keep my mouth shut and keep all my thoughts inside my head so I wouldn't bother anyone else with worrying.

But unfortunately for me, Ryan wanted to know, and making him happy automatically outranked any of my stupid, selfish whims.

"I've gotten used to being alone," I said softly, not looking up. "Depending on myself because other people don't hold up, are unpredictable. My so-called friends like me because I'm static; I'm always there for them." I stopped, taking a deep breath to collect myself. "I'm every second a performer. I am what people want me to be: the good oldest daughter, the little sister, the music-obsessed tomboy, the introverted bassist, the writer, the charismatic lead singer. It all depends on who wants it."

Ryan didn't move. I took another deep breath and tried to keep my voice from breaking. "I don't trust and I'm paranoid because the few times I've tried, people have let me down. I pretend that everything is fine because I want people to think that, so they'll be happy and not worry." The breath I tried to take shook, and I had to clear my throat to keep from breaking down. "I don't want them to worry because they've never worried before. But..."

The calloused hands around mine tightened. "But I-I know I need someone to worry. I can't stand feeling so fucking alone... it gets to me, and it hurts. And I hate myself for it, because I know it's my fault... I feel like a failure at everything... but I can't change it... Because there's never been any reason for it to be any different."

Voice dropping on the last syllable, I looked up at Ryan, staring back at me with those eyes I loved so much. Looked right up at the only reason I'd ever found to be myself. And it brought me to tears. "I was afraid no one would ever take a chance on me," I whispered, "Like I take chances on other people. But... I met you... And now I'm afraid... because I've never felt loved by anyone..." I hiccoughed and pressed my lips together, before sliding my hands out of his. "...And this is something that's far too important for me to screw up like everything else."

With that, I got to my feet and walked out of the room. Ryan didn't come after me as I went through the sliding door in the kitchen and out to the pool. I looked at the sparse drops of rain beginning to splash into the water, the perfect night around me, and sat down on the cement. Then I laid my forehead on my knees and tried not to make a sound as I sobbed into myself.

It was one of those moments that everything, especially the truth, hurt so much that I couldn't even form coherent thoughts. I knew I was doing something wrong, running away from my problems after I dropped them on someone else, telling myself I wasn't important enough to be worried about. One of my major character flaws, I guess.

Ryan was sitting down beside me before I realised he'd come outside. He didn't hesitate in pulling me apart and letting me curl up in his arms. I still felt like idiot-- crying into his shirt-- but I felt better with his arms around me and his head rested against mine. I hardly even noticed that the rain had started coming down harder.

After a while, he started to pick me up. "I don't want you getting sick," he murmured. Some things are too ingrained though; I wouldn't let him carry me; I walked myself, however close to him I was. Both sopping wet, we went inside and up to his room. Unwillingly letting me go, Ryan started taking off his wet clothes, turned to the wall.

I watched him numbly before realising why he had his back to me. Eyes glued to him, I pealed off my t-shirt and jeans, quickly hopped into a pair of boxers and a tank top, and Macgyver'd my way out of my bra without exposing anything. So he was turned around. Doesn't mean Ryan Ross doesn't have eyes in the back of his head.

Or he respects my integrity. One of those.

I didn't even need my iPod to get to sleep, though it was sitting right on the dresser. I had a sexy guitarist and probably the most excellent guy in the word to hold me and sing me to sleep.

Declarations of love and devotion should be delivered within two to four business days.