Title: What If (The O.C.)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
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Spoilers: Material missing from "The Ties that Bind" (season finale)
Rating: R for language and discussion of m/m sexual interaction
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me. The O.C. is the property of Josh Schwartz, Dave Bartis, Doug Liman, and McG, Warner Brothers Television, Hypnotic Productions, and the Fox Network. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is part of my as-yet untitled O.C. stories series, which can be found on my webpage - Enjoy!
DEDICATION: For Tiff, who is probably too hot right now
COPYRIGHT: (C) Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, July 18, 2004, firstname.lastname@example.org
Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.
(The text below was written with a black gel-ink pen in partially legible and frequently scratched-out longhand, on a sheet of college-ruled loose-leaf paper that now lies crumpled at the bottom of a wastebasket, which stands in a cluttered yet empty bedroom in Newport Beach, California:)
Ry... Dummy... Dear Ryan:
I don't know what I'm supposed to say. Where is the magic spell that will bind you to this house so you cannot leave it, ever? I would look through every last room of every last level of every last dungeon to find it, but I shouldn't have to. Why do I need to?
You can't leave. What if you just stayed here? I guess Theresa and her sprout could stay here, too. My folks won't care. I could put up with the kid if I had to, if it meant you wouldn't be going away.
Why didn't you at least use protection? Why did you fuck her in the first place? You could have fucked *me*, you know... I know we never did that, but it would be okay with me.
(A wet stain has obscured some of the handwriting here.)
I am NOT crying. You don't have that kind of power over me, you goblin king. That's come. Right. I thought about you fucking me and I got so hard I had to have some release. I mean, Summer's not going to give it to me anymore. I can take care of myself if I have to. It's not like you're going to be here to take care of me anymore.
There's nothing for me here if you go. What if Luke comes back? What if there's some new evil here? What if Marissa runs away from my grandpa's new house and comes here looking for you? I can only hide for so long, you know.
You don't have to love me.
(Remainder of handwriting blacked out entirely. Text continues other side in blue ballpoint.)
Thank you for the map. If you are reading this, it means I used your gift to go to Tahiti. I'll be okay. You don't have to worry about me. Mom and Dad will do that enough, I'm sure.
What am I going to do when I get there? I don't know. Can you become a monk in Tahiti? Do they let half-Jewish boys become monks, anyway? Do they let half-Jewish monks masturbate?
I love (Words crossed out) this town when you are here. It's like it's home, when it wasn't before. Brothers, right? Brothers who kiss when nobody is looking. Brothers who touch each other and suck each other and make each other come. I want (Word crossed out) that so much.
I will be alone without you, but I will think of you, no matter where I go. If I can't convince you that I'm more important...
If you don't think it's better for you to stay here and get an education, just fuck you.
That's it. Fuck you, Ryan. I fucking love you and you're not thinking about anything but her and her stupid baby that might not even be yours anyway and how could you leave me to go back there???
What if I never see you again? Fine. Just go. I don't want you anymore. I'm leaving. See, two can play that game. You won't ever see this letter so screw it. You'll be sorry if I drown in the ocean or get lost at sea. Don't tell me you love me now. It's too late...
(Rest of page blank except for tiny writing at very bottom:) P.S.: Captain Oats will miss you.
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