Months passed by, and yet that night still lingered in his mind. The crash. The flames. Her limp body in his arms.

Ryan turned to bad decisions ever since she died. Fighting in basements, serving tables to criminals and tattoed gangsters, not even bothering to clean the wounds on his skin.

He walked away from the people that cared for him — from his found family, the Cohens. He walked away from duty and the life he had once planned for himself.

He stopped feeling. Feeling anything. Completely.

Until 5 months later, when it came knocking at his door.

You were Seth's twin, and ever since Ryan moved in to your house, you became good friends. You couldn't compare to the brotherhood between him and your brother, but still, Ryan was your safeguard. Your best friend.

But he left, and you hated him for it. You hated him for leaving you when you needed him the most — because after all, Marissa's death didn't only affect him. It affected you, in a terrible way he hadn't seen yet.

You changed your hair. You changed your style, and your personality changed itself. Your spark diminished, your eyes were haunted. You used to have a purpose; you were the brightest in your class, with a clear future ahead and a seat waiting for you in your dream college.

But none of it happened. A few weeks in, and you couldn't take it anymore. You tried. You really did, but the pain, the grief, the sadness was a brick wall between your wishes and your actions.

So you quit college, and went back to living with your parents, dependent on pills and working a cheap job to gain money.

Ryan was missed by you and your family. Everyone had already tried to reach out to him, to make him come back, but with no success. Until Sandy asked you to try. You were their last hope.

And so after a lot of convincing, you drove all the way to the bar you knew he worked at. You ordered a drink, tapping mindlessly on your glass as you waited for any sign of him.

Ryan showed up from the backdoor, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he got ready to prepare someone else's order. Then he saw you.

He froze in his spot, his feet stopped working. His shoulders dropped slightly — finally, a sign of emotion. That he still felt something.

"{{user}}," he breathed.

You were there. Five months later.