The Gray City - Ryan Ross x Reader

Chapter Four

Ryan knew something was up with (Y/n). He did not have to be able to read minds to tell that. There was only a hand full of days left until Christmas, and like a child he was excited for these holidays, but it seemed to him that the closer these days moved, the more and more anxious grew (Y/n). Her dancing was not concentrated anymore; she was quieter in the hours they spent together at breakfast. Her eyes grew dull and it almost seemed as if all color was drained out of them. Her head hung lower, her steps were not filled with the same energy as they had used to. Ryan had asked if she was ill, if she needed medicine, a day off maybe, but she declined, told him she would be fine. But days passed and she did not get any better, maybe even worse than before. She avoided his eyes and questions and Ryan knew she was suffering, from whatever it was that was terrorizing her mind, and he wanted to help, he had to help.

Of course (Y/n) refused to tell Ryan what really was going on. Hansen had made sure to remind her regularly about the deal with the customer who wanted to spend Christmas night with her. She was ashamed and felt helpless, lost. She was scared that if she told Ryan, he would reject her. He could not help her anyway, so why bother him with the truth. She knew it was driving him crazy, and she pretended to be happy and alright, but the closer the feared day moved, the harder it got to hide her true emotions. Ryan was not the only one who had noticed. The other dancers, Spencer, and Brendon noticed too, but no one got her to talk, not even Carry, who had finally recovered from a terrible cough.

Ryan watched with worry how all life seemed to drain out of the girl he had started to care for so endlessly much. It drove him mad, not being able to get through to her. Did she not trust him enough? Had he said or done something that had made her believe he was not the right person to talk to? He had learned a lot about her over the last weeks, about her favorite artists, how she loved Salvador Dalí's 'The Persistence of Memory', but how she personally favored the work of Vincent Van Gogh, especially the masterpieces from his last two years of life. Yet her all-time favorite picture was 'The Sea at Les Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer' by Van Gogh. She had described the painting to Ryan a few times, every time her eyes shining with wonderment and love for the dead artist.

It had been a struggle and a time intensive undertaking for Ryan to find an art print of this specific painting, once he had learned that she did not own one. It was the twenty-first of December, when he entered the bakery as usual, shivering from the cold outside, and dusted his coat off from the snow that had started to fall. (Y/n) was sitting at their usual table, not noticing his arrival. She was staring at the surface of the table, absentmindedly drawing little patterns on the wood with her fingers. Ryan grabbed the roll with the art print and slid on the chair opposite her, giving a quick wave to the owner of the shop.

(Y/n) looked up, her eyes tired and her skin gray, like the city outside. She looked like she had barely slept in the last days, which was not very far from the truth, and it hurt Ryan so much, knowing that she was so obviously suffering, and did not let him in on what caused it.

"Hello beautiful," he whispered, reaching his hand out to cover hers. Her skin was uncomfortably cold against his, as if it had been her who had just entered the shop escaping the cold, and not him.

She managed to give him a small, sad smile, before she retreated back into the lifeless state she had been in.

"I got you something," he told her, pulling the rolled up art print out from under the table and handed it to her.

A flicker of curiosity flashed over her face, and even if this might be all Ryan would get as a reaction, it would have been worth it.

Carefully she unwrapped the little copy of the painting from the paper that was protecting it, slowly and with barely shaking fingers so it would not rip. She placed the packaging paper aside and gently unrolled the thicker paper, revealing the blues, browns, and few reds of the art print. Ryan watched beaming as her eyes grew wide and one of her beautiful smiles lit up her face. Her eyes quickly studied the painting, then they flickered up to Ryan. Her eyes were carrying a light that Ryan had not seen in days, and it warmed his heart, knowing that she still carried this little flame around with her. She fixed her eyes back on the piece of paper in her hands that were now shaking, her heart overflowing with sudden joy and gratefulness for the amazing person opposite this simple table in the small bakery, in the middle of Manhattan. And that was enough to break the mask she had tried so hard to keep on. Overwhelmed not only with love for Ryan, but also with fear of what the following days would bring, with hesitation about her future, with all the pressure Hansen was putting her under, and the sheer terror that flooded her every time she thought about what would happen in the Christmas night, she buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the hot tears that spilled over.