Be gentle.
Everyone hurts.

.\.|./.

Crystal Monroe

| in which she stops him |

The knocking on the window startles us, awakening me from sleep.

I don't know when I fell asleep with Ryan's arms around me. He jerks awake, straightening up with sleepy eyes and wiping a trail of saliva. I have no time to ponder on how adorable that is, glancing out of the windshield to see who it is. With the dome-light illuminating the inside of the car, I'm sure whoever is outside can see us clearly. As for them, they're shadowed in the darkness.

Them, because I can tell there is more than one person.

The knocking is on my window but I can see Ryan looking out of his own window as if he can sense movement on that side too. Glancing at the door to make sure it's locked, I peek outside.

"Who is it?" Ryan raises his voice to ask.

"Open up," is the answer.

Fishing out his phone from his pocket, Ryan flashes the light towards my door. The man who stands there isn't wearing a uniform or holding a badge, and I can tell Ryan doesn't trust him.

"Open," the man says again, knocking on my window. "Now or else."

His voice sends shivers down my spine and I automatically reach out towards the door-handle.

Ryan grabs my arm, pulling me back towards me to give me an admonishing look.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his eyes wide and panicked.

"I ... I ..." I stammer, not knowing what to say. I blink multiple times as the knocking continues, and I hear the person outside attempting to unlock the car door.

"Crystal?" Ryan brings my attention back to himself. "Do you trust me?"

His question catches me off guard, but his beautiful grey eyes soothe me in a way no words can. I nod without a beat, and Ryan inhales a deep breath through his nose.

"That's all I need," he whispers, taking my hand before turning the key in the ignition.

Wide-eyed and deafened by my heart beating wildly in my chest, I stare straight out of the windshield, seeing a man standing in front of our hood. His face is in the darkness, but his legs illuminated by our headlights.

The knocking is louder, echoing in the empty car that whirs suddenly to life. Holding my hand firmly in his own, Ryan hits the gas, sending the car plunging forward.

My heart jumps up my throat when the car hits the man who was standing in front of it, sending him scurrying to the side. Even as screams and shouts echo behind us, Ryan neither stops nor glances back, driving straight ahead and away from danger.

Driving in the dark night on the deserted Alaskan highway, I keep my eyes peeled and staring ahead, aware of Ryan's sweaty hand holding mine as firm as possible. Neither of us speaks for a long time, not even when the morning light begins to appear across the horizon, causing our sleep-deprived brains to hurt and our eyes to sting.

We stop on the side of the road, and Ryan closes his eyes, running his free hand down his face.

"I'm sorry," I say, taking advantage of the moment.

"What?"

I've been wanting to apologize all night, wondering why I almost-did what I almost-did. I don't know what made me reach out to open the door, even when I knew Ryan was being cautious. Perhaps it was my automatic reflex to obey all commands directed my way. Or perhaps it was fear numbing my senses and driving me half-mad. I have to say, the first option seems more likely.

Ryan looks at me like he doesn't understand, a reddish tinge in the whites of his eyes. He looks exhausted, but he's good at hiding his pain. That's only one of the things I have learned about Ryan.

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

"I ... I almost opened the door last night," I say, staring at our intertwined hands instead of at Ryan's face. "I don't know what came over me, but ... we could have been in so much trouble if you didn't stop me. I'm sorry, Ryan, I just ..."

"Wait, stop," Ryan says to me, turning halfway in his seat to look right at me. "It ... it wasn't your fault. You freaked out, I freaked out too. If anyone's to blame, it's me. If not for me, they wouldn't even have known we were there. The lights, they gave us away. I'm the stupid one, Crystal, we wouldn't even have been in that mess if I was just ... normal."

I look up at him, shocked to hear his words. What was he thinking? That what happened last night was his fault? How can he even think that?

"Ryan, no --" I begin.

"I know, Crystal," Ryan says, huffing out a breath. "I know, it's crazy. I know I'm crazy. Normal people aren't afraid of the dark. They're not close to breaking down and having a panic attack as soon as the lights go out. They don't risk other people's lives because they're not right in the head."

"Ryan, that's not it," I counter, unable to believe my ears. "That's not --"

"You wouldn't have been in that place if not for me," Ryan says, dropping my hand and running his fingers through his hair. "I blew it, Crystal. I promised to keep you safe and I was the one who put you at risk when --"

"Are you crazy?" I interrupt.

"Yes, Crystal, I am crazy!" Ryan exclaims, his eyes expressing a mixture of sadness and panic. He looks like he doesn't want to be here, like he doesn't know what to say or what to do to make himself feel better. "Can't you see? It was the dome-light that --"

"Stop!" I say, placing my hands on either side of Ryan's face and leaning close to him. "No, Ryan! That was not your fault. It was ... it was an experience. It was an adventure, a bad experience, but an experience nonetheless."

Ryan huffs, rolling his eyes and trying to pull free of me. I hold on, forcing him to look into my eyes.

"No, listen!" I insist. "This is what road-trips are about. You sleep in the car. You pee behind trees. You eat canned foods and travel by hitching rides when you run out of gas. You smell of sweat because you can't bathe, or wash, or brush your teeth. You may encounter wild boars or bandits, Ryan, but that's what happens. It's not because of ... because of whatever --"

"Whatever haunts me?" Ryan says, not a hint of smile on his face.

My rant was meant to cheer him up, but it didn't. He looks as sad as he did, like a broken man with his walls about to crumble down. Ryan looks defeated and tired, like whatever haunts him is eating him alive. 

I begin to shake my head, but he closes his eyes, refusing to look at me as his brow creases.

"You know what happened to me, Crystal?" he whispers, a mournful sound. "I was --"

"No!" I place a hand on his mouth, preventing him from speaking.

Ryan opens his eyes, staring at me with a mixture of shock and confusion. I lower my hand from his lips and wind my fingers through his, staring at his big hands.

"I don't want to hear it," I say, wishing I had a better option. "Not now, Ryan."

His lips part, but no words leave them.

"I want to know," I say, looking up into his grey eyes. "Trust me, I do. But not ... like this. You're emotional and ... shaken right now. If you tell me whatever you're about to tell me, you'll regret it later, when you calm down. I know because ... because I would."

Ryan doesn't answer, but I can tell; he knows I'm right. I had a secret, Jeremy being my secret. I can still feel it, my own inability to share it.

"I'll wait," I promise Ryan. "I'll wait till you're ready, Ryan. Like you waited for me to be ready. Ready to talk about it. Ready to accept it. Ready to fight it. And when you're ready ..."

I stare into his eyes as he stares unblinkingly into mine.

"I'll be right here," I say.

He doesn't speak, and for a long time, he doesn't move either. It scares me because I don't like how fragile he is, how vulnerable. I want him to be himself again, the Ryan always laughing and joking, and teasing me until I let out my hideous laugh. I want the Ryan who looks like a god and acts like a child. The Ryan who makes me smile just by casting me a single look.

"Let me drive," I say to him, my tone light. "I need to do something with my hands."

I raise them up to show him, wiggling my fingers. Ryan finally blinks, smiling slightly as he reaches out and takes both of my hands in his own. He lifts them to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

"Sure," he whispers against my skin.

No matter how many times a man kisses a woman, and no matter how many times they make love, some things are will always be more intimate. Ryan holding my hands in his own, his touch as gentle as if he were caressing flower petals, his lips tender against my skin as his warm breath tickles my fingers ... this is better than any kiss on the lips could ever be.

And this is something only Ryan can do.

.\.|./.

A/N: Would you have let Ryan speak now? I know I wouldn't want that. Why? Because sometimes we make decisions when we're emotional even when we're not ready to make them. Later, we regret it and the guilt eats away at us from inside. I know because it has happened to me. So now, I always think before I confide in someone. I'd want Ryan to do the same, be sure that he was sharing his secret because he was ready and trusted me and not because he wanted to explain himself or apologize.

Views about Crystal and Ryan? Do you like how things are going? Just a few more chapters to go before I mark this story complete too <3