17 | in which she sees his layers

I'm not letting my walls down for anyone again.

You want to get in? Climb.

.\.|./.

Crystal Monroe

|in which she sees his layers|

You know how in movies, after a big revelation, the episode usually ends? Or there is a blackout, giving the audience time to dwell on the bomb that was just dropped.

I kind of wish something like that would happen now.

How do you react when a weird, totally-creepy, disturbingly handsome, and always so happy-go-lucky guy tells you he tried to kill himself by throwing himself in the way of your car?

How the hell do you react when anyone tells you they tried to kill themselves?

This is not something we are taught in school, or in life in general. Why are we never trained in socially appropriate ways of responding to unusual behaviors and phrases? Why am I so lost right now, shocked and disturbed too, but mostly inefficient to answer him the way he might be expecting?

His silver-grey eyes bore into mine, a smile sneaking its way onto his face.

"You what?" I blurt out, sounding stupider than I feel.

His smile widens, and he leans back against his pillows, folding his arms across his chest and giving me a smoldering look.

"That was slow," he says, shaking his head sympathetically.

"You want to die?" I reiterate, feeling increasingly awkward. "So, it wasn't an accident? It was a suicide --"

"Crystal, I'm kidding." He chuckles.

I stare at him, not knowing what to believe. How can he change his statement this fast?

"But you just said --"

"I lied."

"You were supposed to speak the truth," I point out.

His eyes turn a shade lighter, a mischievous glint in the grey that sparkles like glitter.

"So were you," he says, fighting a smile and failing.

I should probably take it lightly, laugh his comment off and roll my eyes. A normal girl would probably even let out a laugh and toss her hair over her shoulder to play it cool. She might even have a cocky comeback that would give her the upper hand on the conversation.

Being as lame as I am, though, I have nothing cool to either say or do. I just stare at him without blinking, my mouth hanging open while I gawk at the totally-hot-totally-psycho guy in from of me.

Yeah, I'm that lame.

"Ryan, I'm serious," I say, hoping to regain some of my lost dignity.

What makes him think I'm lying? Well, yes, I lied. I lied about seeing Jeremy, but I have my reasons. I don't want him to look at me and pity me, the poor girl stuck in an abusive relationship. I'm no longer stuck. Jeremy is gone and he might never come back.

He hasn't looked back in two months, what do I expect?

Regardless, I don't like the fact that this man can see through me. Is it really as easy as he makes it seem? Why can't anyone else see through me then? The cracks in my façade? The flaws in my illusion? The lies in my words?

"Sirius Black? I liked that guy," says the jerk.

Without giving him time to mock me some more, I jump to my feet, fuming and glaring at the man who looks like lucifer himself.

"Did you or did you not try to kill yourself, Ryan?" I phrase my question clearly.

He looks at me, his eyes serious but smile playful.

"Ryan!" I snap.

"Are you always this catty?" he teases. "Or did Skillet remind you of how alive you used to be?"

My hands curl into fists, my temper rising. This man is driving me out of my freaking mind by being so damn difficult, and I don't even know how to react. What does he want from me? One minute he tells me he wants to kill himself, the next saying I'm catty? Why would he even say something like this if it was a joke, and if it wasn't a joke, why is he refusing to admit it now?

I close my eyes, pursing my lips and inhaling deeply through my nose.

"I'm pretty frustrating, huh?" his voice interrupts my attempt to calm myself and my eyes snap open.

The sight of his smile sets me off further, and my hand twitches with a desire to punch his already scarred face.

"You know what? Fuck you!"

I only pause a moment to register the look of disbelief on his face before spinning on my heels and barging out of his room. I stop in the doorway, turning quickly back to look at him. His smile is gone, face serious and looking so much older than it did just a minute ago when he was being so childish.

I don't know what it is that circles with the darkness, but it is the same shadow I saw on his face the day he had his panic attack. It's complex, the dark void, but I see a hint of fear in it. Fear of what? Of being exposed? Of being judged? Of being rejected? Of being left because of what he might confess?

And suddenly, my anger vanishes.

"Does ... does your sister know?" I ask, the realization settling on top of me with all its overwhelming weight.

He doesn't answer, confirming my worst fears.

The truth is, that the man doesn't look so dark and destructive just half-lying there on his bed. With the scar running across his eyebrow, his leg in a cast, and a face as pale as the walls around me, he looks almost vulnerable. Like a boy who hides his pain behind humor and tries to fool the world. He seems like me, and while I hide in the background, he plasters on a smile and jumps into the spotlight.

"Would you ..." I begin, clearing my throat and unable to meet his gaze. "Would you do it again?"

His eyes stare unblinkingly at me, surprised and unexpectedly blank.

"Jump in front of my car? Or any other car?" I add.

The corners of his mouth tilt up in a slight smile.

"A truth for a truth, Crystal," he reminds me.

I close my eyes and sigh, licking my lips and trying to avoid his question. Why does he want to know when I was last with Jem? Why does he even think I'm lying about Jeremy in the first place?

"But just for today," he speaks, catching me by surprise. He doesn't blink as he answers, and I try my best not to react. "My answer is yes to the first question --"

The fuck?

"-- and 'I don't know' to the second."

Not an answer I expected, probably because I've kind of forgotten the way I phrased my questions. I take a moment to go back in my mind and make sense of things.

"You mean you don't know if you'd jump in front of a car, but you'd definitely jump in front of mine again?" I paraphrase, hoping he would correct me if I'm wrong.

He doesn't.

"Why?" I breathe, shocked by his unconventional and slightly psychotic answer.

In return, Ryan proves his insanity by smiling once more.

What is it with him smiling so much?

"I wouldn't have met you if I didn't do it," he says, his voice as casual as if he were talking about the weather.

I stand there for a moment longer, just staring at the man who has more layers than the onions rotting on his kitchen shelves. A few of the things that revolve in my mind like an obnoxious merry-go-round include ...

This man who looks like God isn't really a god, but a super-flawed human being.

His creepy smile and overly friendly behavior might be a façade he's using to hide his inner demons.

He's clearly semi-psychotic and just confessed to being suicidal too, not to mention the fact that he's willing to jump in front of a car and risk death so he can meet me again.

Without giving him an answer like I probably should, I pull open the door of his one-bedroom house and walk out, closing the door behind me. Unlike every other time I leave his house and doubt myself for being so transparent to him, I don't feel uncomfortable at all today.

Maybe Ryan is right. Maybe a truth for a truth doesn't seem too bad.

No upper-hand, no power-dynamics. Just two flawed people letting down their walls in the hope that the other can help.

Maybe we can help each other.

.\.|./.

A/N: Views about Ryan and Crystal? I love writing them both, playing with all these emotions woven into threads of slight humor and light-hearted romance.

I don't know about you, but I love people with whom I can just be myself, no rules, no façades. My best friend used to be the only one I did this with, but *sigh* :D