15. secrecy (noun) - the action of keeping something secret or the state of being kept secret

Trigger Warning // alcohol use, mention of drug use, drinking while driving & death

"Ryan!"

Z's voice was cheery as ever as Ryan found his way to his friends that were huddled by a far wall at this random house party. He smiled toward them as Adam - Sisky, as everyone called him - handed him a drink. "You're late, dude."

"Sorry about that," he said with a soft laugh. "I had to convince my mom that Gabe wasn't going to almost kill me like last time. You know how paranoid she gets." All of his friends nodded as he took his first sip of the drink in his hands. "Now that I'm here though, what's the move for tonight?"

Z and Gabe laughs brightly as the pale blonde slung her arm around Ryan's shoulders. "No game plans," she said, a slight slur present in her voice, "we're just getting drunk and having a good time."

Ryan laughed and nodded his head, tilting back and taking a bigger drink than last time. "If we're getting drunk then let's get to it. Gabe, beer pong table."

- - -

Hours later, Ryan is laughing languidly as he sits with Z and Alex on a couch in the den, comfortable and completely drunk. There's kids smoking joints in the garage, kids passing bottles between each other because they're too lazy or too drunk to get off the floor and get their own, and there is soft laughter filtering through the whole house. It's comfortable, and it feels safe.

The party started winding down around two in the morning, leaving Ryan to decide where he would sleep in the large house when Sisky came and tapped him on the shoulder. "Ryan," he said, slurred words coming out softer than he'd probably intended them to, "can I talk to you please?"

Ryan nodded immediately and got off of the couch to follow Sisky into the empty kitchen. "What's up, man?"

Without a word, Sisky shoved what looked like his car keys into Ryan's hand and looked at him pleadingly. "I need you to take me home."

Ryan laughed gently, holding the keys back out to his friend. "I'm far too drunk to be driving myself home, let alone you, Sisky. You live farther away than me, it's dangerous--"

"Ryan, please," Sisky pleaded soflty. He took a deep breath before shaking his head gently. "I thought being out tonight would be good for me, with all the stress I've been having about taking my LSAT and everything. But I'm just more nervous. I've already had a panic attack, and I really, really need to go home. You're the only be I trust to drive me home in a state like this. Please, Ryan? You can even crash at my place, you know my mom won't mind."

Ryan swallowed softly. He knew he shouldn't do it. He's heard all of the stories, seen all of the videos that the police came up to his school to show kids about the dangers of drinking and driving. He knew he shouldn't get behind the wheel, but Sisky was right in front of him, almost in tears, begging to get out of here.

"Fuck," Ryan swore under his breath. "Fine," he aid softly. "Fine, come on let's go."

The entire walk from the house to Sisky's car he wouldn't stop thanking Ryan. As much as it amused Ryan, it was also starting to annoy him. He slid into the driver's seat as Sisky slid into the passenger and he started the car. The air conditioner kicked on and blew cool air into his face, clearing his eyesight just a little.

He cautiously pulled away from the drive of the house and started heading toward Sisky's home. They spoke about nothing and everything, blared music and sang at the top of their lungs, and the last thing Ryan remembered was the blare of a horn and the lights blinding him far more than they should have.

The sounds of shattering glass don't resonate in his ears until much later.

- - -

Time seemed to stop as Ryan watched Brendon's eyes scan over the papers in the folder sarah had handed him. She had a smug look on her face as she glared at Ryan, and Ryan felt like his feet were molded into the floor.

She then turned to Brendon. "Aren't you going to read it, Bren?"

Brendon opened and closed his mouth gently as he glanced up at her before his gaze was set on Ryan. Ryan couldn't read his gaze, but if he had to guess, it was one full of disappointment.

Sarah groaned in annoyance before snatching the folder from Brendon and reading out loud. "George Ryan Ross, the third," she started, and Ryan felt tears well up in his eyes, "age seventeen, male. Charges: reckless endangerment to a child, intoxicated manslaughter, vehicular manslaughter, driving while intoxicated. Sentence: 120 days in Summerlin County Containment Center, 90 days of probation, 100 hours community service." She snapped the folder closed and Ryan felt like he could die in this moment. "Seems like everyone's perfect little nobody isn't so perfect after all, huh?"

Ryan didn't handle anything very well. Trauma, rejection, hatred; none of it fared well with him. So, he did the only logical thing he could think of in that moment. He turned on his heel and ran from the shop. Where he was going, he wasn't exactly sure, but he knew he needed to get away.

Everyone standing in the shop looked at each other with worried eyes before Patty clambered out of his station without a word and followed Ryan out of the shop.

Brendon, furious and confused, grabbed Sarah harshly by the shoulder and spun her to face him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Sarah stood, speechless for a moment, before clearing her throat. "I just wanted to make sure everyone knew what kind of person he was. I'm just helping you and and your shop out."

"No," he snapped at her immediately, "you're doing what you've always done. You were looking out for you. You've always been nothing but a selfish, manipulative, self righteous bitch, and I'm done with it. You are fucking fired. Not only that, you can go to my apartment, pack up all of your shit and leave. You are nothing to me anymore, Sarah. Don't call me, don't try to contact me, and don't even bother with coming within seeing distance of my apartment or this shop. Do you understand me?"

Sarah had tears streaming down her face as Brendon spoke. "Brendon, I-"

"Do you," he emphasized once more, "understand me?"

Sarah squeaked quietly before nodding and turning away from Brendon to bolt from the shop. Brendon ran a hand through his hair and breathed out heavily. "Guys," he said to his remaining staff, "go home. Just. Go home."

Everyone obeyed without question, and once they were all gone, Brendon locked the shop door and then proceeded to lock himself in his office. As soon as he knew he was alone, he allowed his tears to fall from his eyes.

How had everything gotten so fucked up so quickly?

- - -

Patty walked into the only place Ryan would've come straight from the shop. After the revelation of his past, no one would expect him to be at the bar, which is why Party trusted his intuition that he would be there. And, of course, there he was, sitting at the end of the bar nursing a glass of water while Pete casted worried glances in his direction.

Once Pete's eyes landed on Patty, he rushed over to him and dropped his voice. "Kid's been asking for whiskey since he got here," he said in a hushed tone, eyes soft and worried. "I remember him saying he doesn't drink, so I've been denying him even a drop of alcohol. What's going on?"

Patty sighed, shaking his head. "Eventually, everyone's past comes back to haunt them, right?"

Pete relaxed in realization and nodded gently. "Well, I'm glad you're here," he said softly. "Do you want a soda or anything?"

Patty smiled. "No, thank you," he said. "I'm just gonna slide down here and check on him. Keep an eye out for any of the Gold crew, okay?"

"You got it," Pete said with a smile as Patty meandered down to where Ryan was seated at the bar.

Ryan didn't have to look to know who was there, but he stiffened anyway. "I understand if you hate me," Ryan whispered softly. "I killed someone. That's not something to be forgiven."

Patty shrugged softly. "We all have our backstories that we don't tell people because we're ashamed of them," Patty assured him. "It might do you some good to talk about it, you know."

Ryan shook his head and let out a dry laugh. "Sarah pretty much told you everything," he said as his eyes welled up with tears again. "What more is there to talk about?"

Patty shook his head in response. "There's more to it than that," he said. "I haven't known you long, but I feel like I know you better than you think. There's a reason it happened, and it wasn't your fault. Talk to me."

Ryan let our a heavy sigh. He told Patty the entire story. He told him about the party, about Sisky begging him to take him home, about the crash and about who he had hurt. He told him about the charges, and how they were lessened because it was his first offense and because Sisky's family didn't want to press charges on him because they knew what had happened. It did feel nice to talk about it to someone who didn't know him when he was that person.

"The mom and her son were sent to the hospital with minor injuries," he said softly. "They didn't press charges on me, either, but I feel like they should have."

"You just feel that way because you have a guilty conscience," Patty said softly. "But if it hadn't been you, it would've been your friend driving himself, and who knows how much worse it could have been. You can beat yourself up for the rest of your life for something that happened when you were too young to know better and in too much of an inebriated state to make the right decision. You have to let yourself move on from it, or it'll eat you for the rest of your life."

Ryan felt tears slip down his face. "Brendon hates me now, doesn't he?"

Patty laughed. Actually laughed. "You crack me up, Ryan," he said. "That boy couldn't hate you even if you held him captive in your basement and tortured him for the rest of his life."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "That's sound terribly specific."

Patty waved a hand in dismissal. "Point is," he said with a laugh, "he doesn't hate you. How about this? How about we go to my place, play some Halo or something, you can sleep on my couch - don't worry it's hella comfortable - and in the morning we go to the diner down the street from my apartment for breakfast?"

Ryan smiles softly. "Sounds like a good idea."

Patty smiled again. "Awesome," he replied, jumping up from his seat. "Let's get going, then."

"I need to pay Pete, first," Ryan said, reaching for his wallet.

Pete cut him off softly. "Don't even worry about it," he said. "You just take care of yourself alright?"

Ryan smiled gratefully, thanking him as he and Patty exited the bar and Patty hailed them a cab. They clambered into the back and Patty told the driver where to go. "You're going to like my apartment," he said smugly. "It'll remind you a lot of our artwork. In a sense, I suppose."

Ryan nodded. "Oh, don't let me forget to call Brendon when we get there," he said softly. "I need to at least let him know where I am so he's not worried about--"

The last thing Ryan remembers was the blare of a horn and headlights being much brighter than they should be.

He didn't have to hear the sounds of shattering glass to know what happened.