Today is Lyndsey and my three year anniversary! ^_^ Happy Anniversary, baby. Loves you. <3 Since we're both really fucking broke right now, we're writing stories for each other for presents this month. So I wrote her a story! Yay!

Title: And I Would Save You
Author: Clay
Characters/Pairings: Rick/Sean (friendship), Braeden
Rating: PG-13 (for cursing and drug references)
Summary: When the love of Sean's life leaves him broken-hearted, Sean finds comfort in the strangest of places. (Title from “Cure My Tragedy” by Cold because I know Lyndsey appreciates song lyrics, and this one fits Sean's mindset here rather well. ^_^)
Word Count: 3,128



He rolled the bottle between his hands, just enjoying the smoothness of the standard-issue plastic. Inside the transluscent walls and bathed in a wash of burnt orange light, pills shifted and clicked together, a stacatto waterfall that sounded far too much like music, but only because he'd already swallowed one, and the subtle play over his neurons left him out of sorts.

Just one managed to ease the pain from his appendectomy, dulling the ache from the absense of flesh in his side, from the hole blotted with wads of gauze that still left him feeling strangely empty. He wondered how many it would take to dull the pain of her absense.

She'd been wearing orange the first time he'd laid eyes on her. It was a barely decent bikini patterned in sunset-colored tiger lillies. He'd never forget it. Good things came in orange packages, he'd decided that day, and it had always held true.

He uprighted the bottle, the pills rushing to find a place in the pile forming along the bottom. How many left? A dozen? Maybe less? Would it be enough?

The orange of the bottle was dull and reflected over the pills like dried blood, rather than the warm glow Briar's flowers had emenated. Maybe it wasn't the same.

Suddenly he felt ill.

Outside his bedroom door, he could hear the muted fall of footsteps over deep cut pile carpet and the sharper sound of whispering. They were probably talking about him. Maybe her. He'd left Derek, Alex, Brae and Rick downstairs some time ago. It looked like they had migrated. Sean sighed. He'd come upstairs to escape their false smiles and half hearted encouragements. He hoped he was safe from them hidden away in his room, but somehow he doubted it.

Especially not when his room still echoed with her last words, her tears and that final, heartfelt “I love you” that lost all meaning the moment she stepped out the door because now she was gone. She was gone, and they were done, and even though logic told him that this couldn't last forever, that chances were she'd be back in six months at the very longest—she'd never been able to stay away before, after all—the fact remained that she'd actually spoken the words, actually, willingly ended it. She denounced the future he'd been building in his mind, that he'd been clinging to during the long nights apart, blacked it out and crushed it until it fit inside the walls of the small, plastic bottle filled with Vicodin.

How many pills would it take?

“Sean?”

Sean glanced up from his seat on the bed to see Braeden standing tentatively in the doorway, not even all the way in, just peeking, one hand curled around the door and holding it in place, almost a sheild. Braeden looked so different from his sister, his eyes and skin darker, his frame larger, but they shared the same high cheek bones and brilliant smile. It was all teeth and lips, and you couldn't look at it without smiling yourself, it was that addictively beautiful. Braeden wasn't smiling now, but the memory was enough to force one onto Sean's lips, small though it was.

“Yeah?”

“Rick and I are going to go...” Braeden started slowly. “Alex left. He said to tell you bye and he hopes you feel better. Derek is staying, though, but...I mean...um...do you want to...I mean, are you...”

“I’m fine,” he assured Braeden. He kept the smile, locked it in the bottle with his future and the pills, hoping to keep hold of it for as long as he possibly could. “I’m just going to go to sleep.”

Braeden didn’t answer at first. He just stared and thought, his eyes tripping back and forth as he scanned Sean’s face. Braeden didn’t believe him, nor should he. The smile wouldn’t come anymore, and Braeden wasn’t buying it anyway, so Sean let it drop, let Braeden see what he expected to see.

“Really,” he said. He shifted, the bed suddenly lumpy and awkward beneath him. The skin of his side pulled with the effort, and he cringed. He let Braeden see that, too. “I just want to sleep.”

Still Braeden hesitated. “You could come with us—sleep at my house…on the couch…or something.”

Sean almost laughed.

Braeden’s home. Where there would be even more pictures of her: baby pictures and graduation pictures and everything-in-between pictures, pictures that showed the progression to the strong, beautiful woman he had fallen in love with, that he had lost, always showing that brilliant smile he was sure he’d never see again.

“No. Thank you, though. I appreciate it…just…no.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

Braeden fell silent again. Sean could hear talking in the hallway; Rick and Derek by the sound of it. He’d seen them already, downstairs, their eyes and their pity so much like Braeden’s here and now. He rolled the bottle of pills between his hands once more and contemplated sleeping until the pain went away.

“We could hang out tomorrow?” Braeden offered, breaking into his thoughts.

Sean nodded again.

Braeden looked warily hopeful. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“If you want.”

“Yeah, I—we’ll see.”

Braeden let out a sigh, but Sean wasn’t watching him anymore. He was looking at the bottle, wondering why it seemed so empty. Pills didn’t take up much room, he supposed.

“All right,” Braeden said. “I’ll see you later, then. Feel…feel better.”

Sean didn’t bother answering.

The door closed after Braeden, and then Sean could hear talking again, louder now. They must have assumed he couldn’t hear them. Or Rick assumed it, at the very least, considering his sheer volume.

“What the fuck is he doing in there?” came the nasal, overly abrasive tone. The words were followed by a round of shushing, and that made Sean smile again. It was difficult to remember that people cared right now, but of course they did. Later that night, he’d have to thank Derek.

A frown turned down Sean’s mouth, and he sighed, turning his eyes to the ceiling. No. Derek would want to fix things, to hold him and comfort him and do all the things a good brother would do, and normally Sean wouldn’t mind all that. He’d eat it up, revel in it even, but not tonight. He didn’t want to be touched; he didn’t want to be coddled, and he sure as hell didn’t want things to be all better right now because there was no way anything could be good right now, not without her, and feeling better without her wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t let it.

So he would avoid Derek. Derek would be hurt, but he’d apologize later.

“What?” Rick was yelling just beyond his door. “Why do I have to be quiet? Is he dead?”

“Look.” That was Braeden’s voice now. “Just don’t, Rick. Just…”

“Don’t? Don’t what, Brae? Don’t set the carpet on fire? Don’t eat a pound of bacon smothered in mayonnaise again? Don’t fuck Margie up the ass with a big purple dildo? There’s a lot of shit you tell me not to do. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

His tirade brought the smile back to Sean’s lips, and it must have made Braeden smile as well because the next time Rick spoke, his voice had softened significantly, and now he sounded pleased. He sounded in love.

“Hey,” Rick said, “the kid can’t be anymore broken than he already is, right? So shove over and let me say bye to the little twerp.”

Braeden said something too low for Sean to make out, and then Rick continued, “Yeah, yeah. Just wait downstairs, will you? I’ll be down in a minute.”

Sean rolled the bottle between his hands and looked to the door, expecting to see Rick’s shit-eating grin appear any second, but the door remained closed for some time. Footfalls sounded and faded away. Sean could pick out Braeden’s heavier, more careful steps going toward and then down the stairs and what must have been Derek’s heading off in the direction of his room, followed by a door closing, and still his own door didn’t open. Sean had nearly resigned himself to the fact that Rick wasn’t going to come when the handle jiggled.

The door cracked open an inch, then seemed to hesitate. A few more seconds passed before it swung open fully and Rick made his grand entrance, all swagger and bluster, closing the door behind himself just a tad too loudly. He wore a tight, plastic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sean continued to roll the bottle between his hands and wondered if Rick had forgotten where he’d stored his real smiles.

“Hey, dork,” Rick greeted. The words were harsh even thought they lacked Rick’s usual edge. It sounded almost forced, but at least it wasn’t pity, and Sean let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in, unconsciously grateful for the façade of normalcy.

“Hi, Rick.”

Rick nodded, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, curiously defensive. “So what are you doing? Sitting here crying?”

A wry smile touched Sean’s lips as he shook his head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Such a pussy.”

Sean continued to smile. He looked away from Rick, glancing down at the bottle again. Cupped in his hands and cast in shadow, the plastic became almost opaque, the pills hidden from view.

Rick must have been looking as well because Sean caught movement out of the corner of his eye, Rick craning his neck as he asked, “What’s that?”

“My Vicodin.”

“Yeah? Good shit.”

Sean glanced up, frowning curiously. “You’ve taken Vicodin before?”

“Yeah.” Rick shrugged. He grinned, cocking his head to one side. “Not legally.”

“Ah.” Sean’s smile returned, and he shook his head again, returning his gaze to the bottle. Good old Rick. At least Sean could count on him to always stay the same.

But his good will only lasted another short moment because the more he thought about Rick, about the Vicodin, about everything, the more he realized that they were too alike, he and Rick, not that he’d ever bring that up, not unless he wanted Rick to laugh and mock him, possibly hit him if he caught him in just the right mood. It was strange, but in the faint haze of the drugs, it all came together seamlessly.

Sean shifted the bottle into the light, catching sight of the tiny pile of pills. All he wanted to do was make the pain go away, and—when it came down to the heart of it—that was all Rick wanted, too. The drugs and the alcohol, the sex and the distraction were all just there to make the days pass a little easier.

Both of them lusted after their own respective Carter. Sean felt himself lucky in that respect. At least Briar had admitted her feelings for him before he was slapped with a relationship caliber pink slip. Braeden had never said the words to Rick, and it was looking like he never would. Brother and sister alike had their own intentions with little regard to the men they left in their wake, the victims laid aside in a quest for self discovery.

And here they were now, two dead men closed off in the shared tomb of Sean’s room, masked beneath Star Wars posters and Lord of the Rings action figures. A model of the solar system rotated lazily in the far corner, and Sean frowned, wondering what a woman like Briar had ever seen in a man like him.

Suddenly a shadow fell over him, casting the pills into further obscurity, and Sean looked up into Rick's anxious face. Rick dropped a hand to his shoulder, remaining silent for just a moment, and when he did speak, his voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“She's coming back, you know,” he said. He squeezed Sean's shoulder lightly. “She has to.”

Sean could only stare.

Maybe it was the way he said it. It wasn't mocking, nor was it loaded down with the pity everyone else had showered over him since Briar's departure. More than anything else, Rick sounded desperate, like he needed Briar to come back almost more than Sean himself. That didn't make any sense, so Sean held his tongue and waited.

With a sigh, Rick slumped his shoulders, turning his face away, and a moment later, with a silent nod, he took a seat beside Sean on the bed. Sean followed him with his eyes, but Rick still wouldn't look at him. Instead he stared at the blank stretch of wall across the room and leaned forward, hands folded, elbows resting on his knees.

“Sean?” he said, nearly whispering now.

Sean shifted slightly and clutched his bottle. “Yeah?”

“I know I...” Rick cut himself off and smiled briefly before lifting his hands to run his fingers through his hair. When he dropped them again, the smile was gone. “She'll come back I don't know if you can see that right now, but she will. You're...like...soulmates...” Rick bowed his head, lowering his voice. “...or some shit like that. I mean...” He sighed, lifting his head again. “If soulmates exist, that's what you are. So if she doesn't come back, it wouldn't make any sense. She has to. She will. I know she will.”

Sean got the distinct impression that they were talking about more than just Briar. He looked away from Rick, considering the same stretch of blank wall and wondering just what Rick was seeing there.

“Braeden will come around one day,” he tried.

Rick let out a bitter laugh, running his fingers through his hair again. “One day,” he echoed, the mocking tone back in his voice. “Yeah. Maybe.”

They lapsed into silence, and Sean let his mind wander over something that wasn't Briar for the first time in a long time. He considered Braeden—waiting downstairs—and wondered if he was growing impatient. He wondered if Rick was growing impatient of waiting, too.

“Don't laugh,” Rick said suddenly. He paused then, and Sean caught a frown adorning his lips when he dared to glance over. Rick didn't say anything more, however. He continued to frown at the wall as the seconds passed, long enough for Sean to wonder if he wasn't supposed to say something, to give some encouragement or assurance that he wouldn't laugh. The thought was too ridiculous, though. Sean could never laugh at another man's pain.

“I believe in all that shit,” Rick finally said, unprompted. “Soulmates and true love, whatever that means, and...and all that. I kind of have to. You know?”

Sean did, but he kept his peace, curious where Rick was going.

“So if Briar doesn't come back...if you guys don't work out? Then...what does that mean? What does that say about...”

“About you and Braeden?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Sean regretted them, wishing he would have just kept quiet because Rick actually cringed, ducking his head, like a child caught doing something he shouldn't. Of course he had been talking about Braeden; it didn't need saying, and now Rick was clamming up, too put off or embarrassed to continue.

Sean considered going on, rambling if only to fill the silence, but he had a lifelong history of putting his foot in his mouth, and besides, anything he thought to say was just more of the same pathetic, pitying “one days” and condescening “buck ups” that he'd been receiving all day. Rick didn't want pity anymore than Sean did. Maybe, like Sean, he just wanted someone else to be miserable with.

With that realization, Sean offered Rick a small smile. “Braeden is a fucking idiot.”

Rick blinked, his head shooting back up as he stared Sean square in the eye. “What?” he asked in a barking laugh.

Sean flushed, shrugging, his smile only widening. “Well, he is.”

Rick watched him for a moment in appreciation, seemingly pleased that he was bringing Sean down to his own level. He gave a slight nod, his smile genuine. “Yeah. So is Briar.”

Sean wouldn't go that far, but he grinned anyway, oddly pleased. Rick continued to watch him in return, his gaze curious. A moment later, he tore his eyes away, shaking his head and laying a playful punch to Sean's arm. Sean cringed and laughed in turn, rubbing the spot gingerly.

“Ow.”

“Pussy,” Rick muttered affectionately.

“Yeah, I know.” Sean grinned wider, sighing. He lowered his head. The pills remained cupped in his free hand.

“Hey,” Rick said, climbing to his feet. Sean glanced up at him. “You're sure you don't want to hang out? We could get really, really drunk.”

The prospect did seem appealing, and Rick was still grinning at him in a way that was rare even at the best of times, but Sean shook his head.

“Nah. I think I'm just going to sleep. These have me really screwed up.” He lifted the bottle. “And yeah. I'd just pass out anyway.”

Rick eyed up the pills, nodding. “Be careful with those.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

Suddenly Rick looked somber again. Sean frowned. His eyes skipped from Rick to the bottle and back again.

“Yeah,” he agreed, thinking of what Rick had said before, about soulmates, and he wanted it to be true. For Rick's sake. “I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Nodding to himself, Rick started for the door, running his hands over his pockets as though making sure he wasn't leaving something behind. “I'm getting out of here,” he threw over his shoulder. “But tomorrow, right?”

“Tomorrow?”

“We're getting fucking smashed.” Rick grinned, the slightest bit of insanity coming into his eyes.

Sean laughed, nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

“All right, cool. See ya.”

Sean watched him go. His own smile lingered for a few more seconds, then he let out a sigh and shook his head. He turned to look at the bed, a sudden wave of weariness making it look far too inviting. He climbed into bed still holding the Vicodin, though he didn't realize it until he reached over to switch off the light and found the bottle impeding his grip.

Slowly, carefully, Sean set it on the nightstand. The light illuminated the bottle, casting a burnt orange glow over the wooden table top. He could see the pills inside, but somehow, they were only pills now. Nothing more resided in the bottle.

He thought of Briar and smiled, then turned off the light.

End.
.

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