RoadTrip Oneshots

Forever Until Tommorow ( Randy )

Rye wonders how he made it sixteen years.

How did something as beautiful as Andy turn out to be something so beautifully tragic?

Rye wonders how he got to the point where he'd watch Andy interact with their kids, dancing around their kitchen to whatever the top song of that morning was, making pancakes saturated with maple syrup and hearing nothing but noise and irritation.

Rye wonders if they used to argue this often or he convinced himself it was just friendly banter.

On a chilly Saturday morning he watches Jess kick the soccerball to one of her teammates and Andy cheers loudly beside him, shouting words of encouragement and all he feels is the cold and a radiation too hot to touch.

He thinks his mum notices, she watches him with sad eyes but quickly smiles when Andy and the kids enter the room, bringing them all into a big hug full of love and Rye is overwhelmed with remorse.

Maybe Andy notices, he isn't dumb. If he has he hasn't said anything.

Rye loves his kids all the same, he wonders if they realize their dad has been acting weirdly. Nathanial must have, he turns fourteen next month, he must have.

Rye wonders how he first thought sunlight bled from Andy's every pore when now all he can think about when he's lying in bed is that Andy glows like he is a cloud covered moon.

"Your eyes are cold," Alex states one afternoon, glove covered hands holding his coffee to his mouth. He blows the steam coming off the top into Rye's face.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," Rye said with a shrug, looking down into his hot chocolate. He feels as cold as his eyes look.

"Then don't think."

Rye tries not to think, really, he does.

Soon Rye is back to wondering.

He wonders while he's sitting in his car waiting to pick up the kids from school and Andy is at the office.

He wonders when he's serving dinner onto the table and Andy kisses his cheek in thanks and begins to eat, mumbling, "Tastes great Baby."

Rye wonders when he stopped looking at Andy and feeling blinded white with love.

He doesn't put a name to how he feels for a long time.

In the darkness Rye can feel Andy watching him. "I love you."

Rye pretends he's asleep.

***

"Are you cheating on me?"

Rye looks up shocked and Andy's fierce stance wavers for a moment before he composes himself. "No, where would you get that idea from?"

Rye watches Andy wipe his face quickly. He didn't even realize he'd begun crying, he used to be so aware of everything Andy did.

Andy lowers to a crouch and grabs Rye's hands. "You've been so cold, I don't know what's going through your head anymore."

Rye squeezes his eyes closed when he feels tears of his own prickle his eyes. God, he wishes it was as easy as saying he'd cheated.

Rye traces the tattoo of the rose on his forearm, the same place as Andy's dagger. They'd gotten dozens of matching tattoos when they were young and blinded by love. Now they all look like mistakes.

Hannah, their youngest at four, tugs at Rye's sleeve one afternoon in late July with a worry in her brow.

Rye gently picks her up and sits her on his lap, fingers automatically going to run through her wavy hair.