missmara13

Title: A Little Trust
Fandom: The OC
Characters: Ryan Atwood, Sophie Cohen
Prompt: 073 - Bed
Word Count: 1055
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It was soft, warm, and safe. All Ryan could ask for.
Author's Notes: 9th in the Runaway Series, comes after: 'Finality', 'Breakaway', 'A Gnawing Pain', 'Desperate Times', 'Fake ID', 'Next Stop', 'Make A Change' and 'Cold Comfort'.

A Little Trust

When Ryan managed to calm down, Sophie led him upstairs to a room she said had been Sandy's when he was a kid, and let him know that the bathroom was across the hall, but she expected him to sleep before he tried to get cleaned up. Despite some reluctance to hand over his belongings to someone else, when Sophie told him to give her his dirty clothes to wash, he did so, wanting to have something clean to wear for once, and then he was alone in a bedroom filled with Sandy's childhood belongings.

Ryan looked around the room for a moment, then looked back to the bed and walked over to sit down for a moment. He didn't want to get the sheets and comforter dirty, both with the visible dirt and with the taint that no one but him could see, but Sophie had insisted she'd being going to change the bedding the next day anyway, so Ryan's shower could wait until morning, when he was better rested.

So, for now, Ryan found himself in a nice warm house, sitting on the edge of a nice comfortable bed that had a thick comforter and a fluffy pillow, and downstairs was a woman who had sworn to him she wouldn't tell anyone he was there. And, as suspicious as he could be, he believed Sophie when she promised him that she wouldn't call until either he left or he said it was okay. He supposed it was because he needed to trust someone now, since he'd finally admitted to himself that he couldn't deal with his life anymore.

Ryan shook his head and stood again, pulling his sweatshirt off, then shoving off his jeans so he was just in a t-shirt and his boxers. He folded the clothes over the back of the desk chair, then slid under the comforter, pulling it tight around his body as he started to shake, not just from the chill but also from relief. Sophie knew what he had done, and she didn't hate him or make him leave. She had held him while he sobbed against her shoulder, she had smoothed his hair and promised everything would be okay, she had continued to call him her grandson.

~~~~

In the morning, Ryan woke to find another comforter had been put over the first, making sure he was plenty warm, and his dirty clothes were gone from the chair. Replacing them was a pile of folded sheets, pillowcases, and a fresh comforter, and on the desk itself was a note telling him there were clean clothes in the bathroom, so get showered, get dressed, and come downstairs to breakfast. He slowly crossed the hall, a little self-conscious to be in only his t-shirt and boxers, especially considering the new scars that graced his skin, and stepped into the bathroom, looking at but not touching the old and worn, but still in good shape, jeans, sweater, and socks that were folded on the counter, a washed pair of his boxers and a wifebeater on top of them, and the old slippers on the floor.

His shower went on longer than he'd meant it to, scrubbing off weeks worth of dirt and grime and trying to scrub away the invisible taint, but finally he stepped out of the shower and used a towel to dry off. He quickly dressed and returned to the bedroom, stripping the bed and putting the fresh linen on. He heard a footfall behind him and spun around, eyes wide, only to relax immediately when he saw it was just Sophie. "Morning," he said.

"Now there's the boy I remember from Newport and Miami," Sophie teased as she stepped further into the room and gave Ryan a hug. "How you feeling?"

"Better," Ryan said. "I think."

Sophie gave him a sad smile, then inspected his bed making skills. "You know, I could never get Sandy to make his bed," she said conversationally, as though Ryan had just flown in for a visit instead of shown up at her door late the previous night, after being missing for a year and a half. "Probably the real reason they need a housekeeper is him and Seth. The two of them..."

Ryan smiled slightly as she smoothed the comforter and fluffed the pillows. "Thanks, Mrs. Cohen, for letting me stay last night..."

"First off," Sophie said. "You either call me Sophie, or you call me by my preference of 'Nana'."

Ryan hesitated, then nodded, deciding he wanted this connection. "Okay... Nana."

Sophie smiled and patted his cheek. "Second, you are welcome here as long as you want. And I won't tell them you're here if you don't want me to. But, I am gonna tell them I heard from you."

"Will you tell them I'm okay?" Ryan asked.

"I'll tell them I think you're gonna be okay, and that maybe you'll call them soon," Sophie said. "And that if you do, they shouldn't push or they might lose you all over again."

"I just can't deal with it," Ryan said, sinking down to sit on the bed. "I... I didn't even remember that you lived in New York until yesterday. I was... I was broke, and I... I was desperate not to spend another night feeling cold..."

"I'm glad you remembered..." Sophie said, sitting down and resting a hand on his back.

"I didn't," Ryan admitted. "I... I know you figured out what I did, for money... I was gonna do it again, but there were these boys, younger than me, and all I could think is... I do have people who I could call and get help from... so I got into a phone booth, to think out of the cold, and I was flipping through the phonebook, and then... I saw your name. And... And I decided I wanted... I don't know..."

"Well, I'm glad you came," Sophie repeated. "I've been worried, too, you know." She patted his knee. "Come on, I made breakfast and you look like you need a couple hundred good meals in you."

Ryan smiled and stood with her, smoothing down a last wrinkle in the comforter before following Sophie back downstairs. For now, at least, he had somewhere to stay, somewhere to live, somewhere safe and warm. And that was all he could ask for.

THE END