He knows it's meaningless. He knows it's an empty promise, and he knows--obviously, god, he knows--Ryan can't believe it anymore. And that--that he's so dismally failed to live up to that small measure of trust Ryan gave him--that hurts almost as much as...as every time he watches Ryan stumble back in here and curl up against the wall. But...but he has to say it anyway. Because it's all he has to say. Because promising this is like breathing, because finding a way is the only thing that matters now. "Ry, I'll...I'm going to get you out. I know I've...I know it's been months but...I'm going to find a way to save you. I swear. And you'll be okay again. One day, one day you're going to be okay Ry, I just...just give me a little longer. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I--" "Why bother, Spence?" The not crying in front of Ryan thing is dangerously close to failing too, and Spencer rubs at his eyes as briskly as he can. "What? Ryan, I--because you're--" "I'm not going to 'be okay'." Ryan shrugs, draws his feet a little closer, long, long legs pulling in so his knees are almost as high as his chin. "What would I do? If you did get me out? Where would I go? I...who would even care, Spencer? What am I good for? I..." his whole body shakes, sharp, involuntary, and it physically hurts Spencer not to reach out to him. His voice is so, so quiet, and...and shaking. "I...I don't want to be good for this, Spencer. I...I can't do this anymore. I...I just want to die, so badly. Please..."
And--fuck it. Spencer crawls forward on his knees, and Ryan tenses like he's been hit when Spencer's hands touch his shoulders, but...but he's shaking, almost invisibly, shaking and--and oh fuck, he's crying, Ryan's crying, crying like Spencer knows he does, but...but not in front of him. Ryan always tries so, so hard to be strong and..."Please," he whispers again, and he's curled so tight it's easy to imagine some subtle, secret shell closing right around him, the turtle's home, or the way flowers close in the rain, iridescent covers sliding shut until the clouds pass and the sun beams rainbows through the remnants of the dew.
And Spencer wishes he could. Wishes Ryan could hide, wishes Ryan could escape this. But he can't. And right now, Spencer has no idea how he can help him. So...he just holds on. Just holds onto Ryan's shoulders, just softly, until Ryan stops tensing away from him and then slowly, slowly, draws him close, arms just around his back, not even joined, but just...just holding. And Ryan stays there, curled up and shaking, crying into his knees, and Spencer just waits.
When the shaking finally stops, Spencer is almost certain for several seconds that Ryan is asleep. "Ryan? Ry?"
But he's not asleep--just not crying anymore. Past it--face back to an exhausted, drained-out blank. And when Spencer says his name, Ryan looks up. And Spencer's breath catches in his throat. Because...because he's never been this close to Ryan before. Because...because he doesn't touch Ryan, and Ryan doesn't look up from the floor, and--and Ryan's face is an inch from his, eyes huge, and--and---and Ryan's eyes narrow.
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Date: 2009-04-30 12:21 pm (UTC)He knows it's meaningless. He knows it's an empty promise, and he knows--obviously, god, he knows--Ryan can't believe it anymore. And that--that he's so dismally failed to live up to that small measure of trust Ryan gave him--that hurts almost as much as...as every time he watches Ryan stumble back in here and curl up against the wall. But...but he has to say it anyway. Because it's all he has to say. Because promising this is like breathing, because finding a way is the only thing that matters now. "Ry, I'll...I'm going to get you out. I know I've...I know it's been months but...I'm going to find a way to save you. I swear. And you'll be okay again. One day, one day you're going to be okay Ry, I just...just give me a little longer. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I--"
"Why bother, Spence?"
The not crying in front of Ryan thing is dangerously close to failing too, and Spencer rubs at his eyes as briskly as he can. "What? Ryan, I--because you're--"
"I'm not going to 'be okay'." Ryan shrugs, draws his feet a little closer, long, long legs pulling in so his knees are almost as high as his chin. "What would I do? If you did get me out? Where would I go? I...who would even care, Spencer? What am I good for? I..." his whole body shakes, sharp, involuntary, and it physically hurts Spencer not to reach out to him. His voice is so, so quiet, and...and shaking. "I...I don't want to be good for this, Spencer. I...I can't do this anymore. I...I just want to die, so badly. Please..."
And--fuck it. Spencer crawls forward on his knees, and Ryan tenses like he's been hit when Spencer's hands touch his shoulders, but...but he's shaking, almost invisibly, shaking and--and oh fuck, he's crying, Ryan's crying, crying like Spencer knows he does, but...but not in front of him. Ryan always tries so, so hard to be strong and..."Please," he whispers again, and he's curled so tight it's easy to imagine some subtle, secret shell closing right around him, the turtle's home, or the way flowers close in the rain, iridescent covers sliding shut until the clouds pass and the sun beams rainbows through the remnants of the dew.
And Spencer wishes he could. Wishes Ryan could hide, wishes Ryan could escape this. But he can't. And right now, Spencer has no idea how he can help him. So...he just holds on. Just holds onto Ryan's shoulders, just softly, until Ryan stops tensing away from him and then slowly, slowly, draws him close, arms just around his back, not even joined, but just...just holding. And Ryan stays there, curled up and shaking, crying into his knees, and Spencer just waits.
When the shaking finally stops, Spencer is almost certain for several seconds that Ryan is asleep. "Ryan? Ry?"
But he's not asleep--just not crying anymore. Past it--face back to an exhausted, drained-out blank. And when Spencer says his name, Ryan looks up. And Spencer's breath catches in his throat. Because...because he's never been this close to Ryan before. Because...because he doesn't touch Ryan, and Ryan doesn't look up from the floor, and--and Ryan's face is an inch from his, eyes huge, and--and---and Ryan's eyes narrow.
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