so i was watching 6x14, and when Ryan fills out Chloe's crossword, i noticed his handwriting is atrocious, like, worse than mine. And bad handwriting happens when your mind works faster than your hands, and it got me thinking, maybe Ryan is a writer, and i loved that idea a lot so I had to get it down.

When he was a kid, Ryan remembered that he wrote all the time. Wrote about nothing, and everything. He kept it all in a notebook that he slept on, so nobody would find it. Of course, as soon as he was taken into care, Laces and his mates went through his stuff and found it. Read all his private, personal thoughts. To everyone. Since then, he'd learned to bottle it up- leaving it external was dangerous, as he'd proved to Jody when he posted her private letter to her mum. He had to admit that that was one of the few things he genuinely felt bad about doing. It hadn't occurred to him that it was almost what had happened to him a few years prior. But his pride couldn't take apologising.

Somehow, though, he knew Ashdene Ridge was different- if he wrote, he wouldn't be called out for it. So he stopped May-Li when she went out to do the shopping one day, and asked if she could buy him a notepad. She looked a bit confused, but by the end of that day, he had a brand new notepad to write in. He was grateful that the next day was a Saturday, although knowing his luck, he'll have some early-morning chore to do. Sure enough, he woke up at nine the next morning, and as soon as he sat down to write, May-Li shouted,
"Ryan! Can you come and do the dishes please!" He groaned and got up, heading downstairs. And of course, Alex smiled that smile that made his stomach flutter- he'd admit that he had a tiny crush on the other boy. Understandably, he thought. Alex was muscular, well-built, had gorgeous hair, his eyes had that spark of mischief, his lips looked soft and kissable, the list went on. He was fairly certain every straight female at their school harboured a (not so) secret crush on him. Finally, everybody had finished breakfast and he was done with the washing up, so he headed back up to his room. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to write fiction, but he still had to put pen to paper. So he spilled his heart onto the page. He didn't hold back. He wrote his good deeds and bad- mostly bad- he wrote apologies he'd never speak, stories he'd never tell, truths he'd never say. He wrote about his, probably more than tiny, crush on Alex, and just as he finished scrawling a page, Mike shouted that it was lunch. Checking his watch, he realised he'd been writing for hours and hours. Only then did he notice how badly his hand had cramped up. He cradled it as he walked down the stairs. Alex looked at him with concern (there went the butterflies again) and said,
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just, uh," He thought quickly, "had to write up an essay," he covered.
"Oh, not the history essay due tomorrow?" Alex replied
"Yeah, actually. Why?"
"Just... mine isn't the best, you know, so, could I, um, borrow it?" muttered Alex self-consciously.
"Sure, I'll grab it for you after lunch."
"No need, I'll just go get it now. Where is it?" Luckily, Ryan had, in fact, already done the essay, and he knew it was under his notebook. He told Alex as much, and the other boy ran upstairs to get it, leaving Ryan to go and get lunch. After lunch, he pushed open his bedroom door to find Alex sitting at his desk, reading the page titled 'Alex'. His heart stops. Shit, shit, shit! He's gonna think I'm a creepy fuck! He'll never speak to me again! Oh God, oh no no no- his thoughts were cut off by Alex standing up and saying something to him.
"Say that again, sorry?" he muttered.
"Is- is that all true? About me, I mean?" he asked, and Ryan was suddenly conscious of how close together they were, and how beautiful Alex looked and how- oh God. Alex was practically pressing his body against Ryan's. "Ryan?" he murmured. He gave the barest hint of a nod, and it was all the invitation Alex needed. He crushed his lips against Ryan's, pushing forcefully against him. Ryan ran one hand up and tangled it in Alex's hair, and the other rested on the small of his back, itching to roam just an inch or two downwards. Perhaps sensing his desire, Alex took one of his hands from Ryan's waist and used it to guide one of the other boy's hands onto his ass. Ryan barely suppressed a moan at the contact, but then suddenly he pushed Alex off, breathing heavily.
"By the way," Alex murmured, "your handwriting is fucking atrocious." He pushed past Ryan and walked out of the door. "You know where I am." he said, quietly, leaving Ryan staring after him at the closed door. He turned around and picked up his pen, needing to make sense of the tangled mess of feelings within him. He blamed Alex and his stupid, perfect face and his incredibly soft lips, and Ryan's absolute burning desire to kiss him again. He sighed, putting his head in his hands. This was going to take a while.