FicWad

A/N: Well, mostly Ryan's POV this time. I'll have to make this a nice long chapter again... it makes me feel stupid to write short ones.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________

I grabbed some of Nicole's favorite clothes, her phone, and her bag before looking for her car keys. Her room was always ridiculously clean, much unlike her locker; it looked as if a tornado had passed through. I rummaged through her Weezer bag, and found the ancient-looking VW keys.
"Stay with me, baby. It's going to be OK," I whispered, unsure if she could here me. I threw everything but her keys in the canvas tote as I took her limp body into my arms; her blood dripped onto my shirt from the word carved into her stomach. Her breathing was shallow and labored as I carried her out the door, down the hall, into the elevator and to her car. The tears began to flow as I realized she had received this beating because of me. If I hadn't texted her about her mom so bluntly, that monster would have never posed as her. And my beautiful angel wouldn't be broken and bleeding as I sped to the hospital. I pulled up to the emergency entrance and carried her out of the van. I sprinted to the entrance as my tears began to fall. As I felt the cool rush of air conditioning and heard the gasps of concerned doctors, I felt my knees grow weak, and everything went black.
________________________________________________________________________________________________

I woke up sprawled on a chair in the ICU. The place reeked of chemicals and dead skin, a smell I had grown up with when I was living with my father. I stood up to find my beautiful girlfriend lying in a bed, hooked up to a machine that beeped in the rhythm of her heart. Her breathing was silent; she looked so broken. Her makeup had been washed off by her tears; I could see every cut, every bruise. Her face was covered in bruises, new and old. I gasped, and I took her fair and delicate hand into mine as the machine reminded me she was alive.
"Excuse me, um, sir," asked a young, handsome male doctor. "I am going to need her name, and other information," he said.
"Her name is Nicole. Nicole Teagan Greene."
"And what is your name and relation to Miss Greene?"
"I'm Ryan, George Ryan Ross III. And she is mt girlfriend of four years," I replied.
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to need a parent - " And I snapped. I let the secret spill out.
"GODDAMNIT, I'M ALL SHE HAS, OKAY?! HER ONLY FUCKING PARENT DID THIS TO HER, AND THEN SHE TOLD ME TO 'TAKE HER' AND THAT SHE WAS A 'FUCKING SLUT'!," I shouted as foam formed at the corners of my mouth. I took one deep breath, and calmly said, "Look, dude, I'm sorry. But I'm all she has; I'm eighteen and I live on my own. She's going to be eighteen in a few months. She's moving in with me."
"Um, I'm sorry, sir, I had no idea. Can we have her mother's phone number? For insurance reasons," he asked, still obviously scared from when I blew up at him. I obliged, and then I remembered about the beautiful reason I was there for.
"Is she going to be okay?," I asked, my voice small and shaking.
"She's going to be fine. She'll be on pain pills for a little bit, but right now, she's just sleeping. She was up for a little bit when you were out... She'll be fine." And with that, he walked away, leaving me with my beautiful angel.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
Two weeks later

"Come on, Ryro. Please, please, please?," she begged, her beautiful eyes begging along with her shaking protruded lower lip. "If you're going to write a song about what... happened," she paused, "then let me hear it!"
"No!," I replied.
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"Yes."
"Please, pretty please - Oh, wait, you said yes!," she said with a goofy smile. God, over those last couple weeks, I thought it would be forever since I saw that perfect smile; the kind of smile where her red lips pulled across her straight white teeth, and her lip ring clinked against them. I thought it would be an age before that twinkle in her eyes came back; before she gently bit her lip ring when she laughed. I picked up my vintage, cream colored Fender and plugged it in to the tiny amp that I had in my room. I opened my mouth, and started to sing.
The IV in, your hospital bed,
This was no accident,
This was a therapeutic chain of events...
As I played, I saw her eyes fill with tears. I finished the song and pulled her into my arms. I knew her bruises and cuts were healed; they had taken care of them at the hospital, so I pulled her to me tightly.
"What's wrong, baby? She's never going to hurt you again, ever. I promise," I said.
"I know, baby. I know. But that song, that's not just about what happened to me. That's about what happened to you, too," she gasped. She slowly stood up, brushed herself off and said, "But that's all in the past. We have each other now, and that's all that matters." I pressed my lips to hers, begging for her words to always be in both our minds.
I loved her, so much. I started thinking about when we'd first started dating. We were both in the eighth grade: neither of us had ever kissed anyone, she was a prep, and I was a rebel with long hair and an obsession with my guitar. My thoughts flashed back to a time where we played a game when we were kissing: whoever could get the other most aroused, won, and was thereby declared a pimp. I figured to bring back those memories and lighten the somber feelings hanging in the air of our happy home. So, I deepened the passion of our kiss and took off my shirt. I took her hands and slid them down my ribcage, and as she did, I moved my hands from hers and worked them up the loose yellow Modest Mouse shirt she'd borrowed from me to her purple satin bra. My thumbs slowly creeped under the underwire and massaged her warm, 36C breasts, extracting a loud moan from her lips, although they were still connected to mine. I pulled away and shouted:
"Haha, I win! Ryan Ross, pimp extraordinare!," I gloated.
"No fair! I didn't know we were playing!," she said, pouting her pierced lower lip as the ring glinted in the light.
"That's because you're just my sidekick, and I am Ryan Ross, pimp and sex symbol."
"Excuse me, bitch?!," She replied, just before pulling my hair lightly to get my lips to hers. Oh, fuck. She was an amazing kisser. Her tongue brushed lightly against my lower lip; it wasn't demanding anything, simply suggesting that things might be more fun if tongue was involved. Of course, I allowed her entry. She seductively pushed me back onto my bed as her hands trailed down, down... they were on my crotch, which felt like it was going to burst out of my pants, and she gave it a gentle squeeze. I let out the huge moan I was suppressing, and she pulled away with a victorious grin. "Who's the pimp now, sidekick?," she asked teasingly.
"But that's not fair! You were teasing me!," I replied. She silenced me with kisses, and soon enough, clothes were shed, limbs tangled, and through-the-wall neighbors were aggravated.
________________________________________________________________________________________________