#billy logan

"No, she doesn't know," Ryan says resignedly. Is he talking about you? To who? What don't you know? With the tone in his voice, it sounds like you're never finding out. You feel his weight on the bed, and his lips press a kiss to the side of your head before he lies down behind you.

"I'm not telling her," his words come out more frustrated now. Whoever he's talking to, the decision is final.

That's the last thing you remember before you slip into a deep slumber.

The sun is warming you through your kitchen window as you cook breakfast for your boys. Despite the anxiety you feel over the one-sided conversation you were privy to last night you enjoy the music softly playing from your phone. It provides a soundtrack against the silence of the morning you're trying to distract yourself from. Your thoughts would get the best of you if there was no sound to block them out.

You don't spend long in the stillness because Billy walks through the entryway. He's dressed for school and looks sullen. That's not surprising considering the trouble he got into over the weekend. Ryan had let him go to a party that some of his 'friends' were hosting and he ended up drunk driving and wrecking a car. He and Ryan had come bursting into the living room that night exchanging harsh words before both went their separate ways. It's been tense ever since. But when isn't it between them?

"Morning," Billy mummers, there's a whisper a smile on his face as he grabs toast from the table. You can tell he's trying to proceed with caution, to feel out the situation with you because of what's transpired the last few days.

"Morning sweetheart, why don't you sit down for a while?" You ask him over your shoulder. His face brightens when he realizes you hold no animosity towards him. You don't. You're disappointed at his decisions and how stressed they've made his dad- come to think of it, the crash is when Ryan started acting off- but you can't find it in your heart to hold it over his head. He's been through so much. They both have.

"Wish I could but I gotta get going if I wanna catch the bus," he ducks down to place a peck on your cheek as he passes you. "I'll see you later, love you!" He shouts and he's out the door.

"Love you!" You call after him.

You have everything set on the table. Eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice all adorn the piece of furniture Ryan had hand-crafted for your home. The smell of coffee permeates the air as it brews.

You feel Ryan before you see him, his arms slinking across your waist, the scent must have woken him up and it makes you smile in spite of yourself as the memory of last night washes over you. You have to know the secrets he's keeping. The front of his body is pressed into your back and his face is nuzzeled into your neck as he lays kisses against your exposed skin.

"Good morning," you say quietly, almost to yourself.

"Morning," Ryan sighs. He sounds at peace, the complete opposite of his demeanor the night before. It eats at you, the gnawing of knowing something you shouldn't.

Ryan lets you go to sit down in his chair. His eyes go straight to the spread in front of him. He lets out a groan before digging in.

"Oh my god, this brekkie is amazing," he says with his mouth half full. You guessed he worked up an appetite being god knows where till who knows when. It makes you let out a dry chuckle. He makes a cute sight, but you're not letting it go.

You sit down to eat and breakfast is a silent affair. The sound of forks hitting porcelain is all that passes between you to until Ryan puts his silverware down to speak.

"Love, why are you so quiet?" He asks. You freeze, unsure how to broach the subject. Do you just blurt it out? How would he react? You start to fiddle with the ring on your left hand in worry.

"Baby," Ryan says more insistently. His eyes are flicking between yours and your ring. "Seriously, what's goin' on with you?"

You sigh in defeat. It's now or never. "What's going on with you, Ryan?" Your question isn't accusatory; it's full of concern.

Ryan's body language changes. "What're you talkin' about?" He scoffs as he crosses his arms and leans back in his seat. He's closed off and distancing himself from you. He's trying to play it off like you haven't caught on to what he's been up to.

"I'm talking about the late nights where I fall asleep without you and wake up to you talking to no one. Things I don't know, things you won't tell me," you say. Your voice, giving away your frustration.

Ryan practically flinches when you bring that up, and he's standing before you can get another word in. The legs of the scrape across the floor as he makes his escape to avoid the conversation. It's Ryan's go to. Anything emotionally uncomfortable, he runs away.

"Yeah, nah, I'm not doin' this," he says with enraged certainty, like his is the last word on the matter. He goes to make his way out to the living room to get to the sliding glass doors leading to where his red pickup is parked.

"Why, what are you hiding!?" You're yelling at this point. You're so overwhelmed with needing to find out. You're starting to spiral into what you believe is the worst-case scenario. He's cheating. Your logical brain knows that this would never happen. Ryan is the most devoted man you've ever known. Your emotional brain, however, wins out in this situation, and you can feel your eyes start to brim with tears. Because how else can you explain the dodged calls, the dismissive 'Have to stay at the office' excuse, the late-night long showers?

"Nothing..." Ryan sounds dejected. He can't convince himself.

"Then why can't you tell me what you've been doing. We're married, I'm your wife!" This sentence that you uttered triggers a ferocious roar from Ryan. His fist coming in contact with the archway of your kitchen.

"SHE'S MY WIFE TOO!" You can hear his pain as he wails, and he slides down to the tiled floor. Your heart breaks for him, but you're so confused by his statement. What was he talking about?

You walk slowly to him, not wanting to disturb him in his emotional state. Ryan's shoulders are shaking from how hard he's crying. He's not loud anymore. His anguish has turned to whimpers.

"W-what?" You stammer out as you gingerly reach for him. You wish he would face you. You want so badly to understand him.

"Justine. I'm seeing her...I'm- I- I talk to her," Ryan whispers. You're shocked, scared, bewildered by his confession. Justine was Ryan's first wife and Billy's mother. She had died from internal bleeding after getting hit by a drunk driver in the middle of the day. Billy was in the car with her. Ryan had to choose between them. Who would get a blood transfusion and live and who he'd have to say goodbye to forever. Not only had Ryan lost his wife, that tragic day he had also lost his unborn daughter. Justine had been several months pregnant at the time of the wreck.

The years passed with so much grief and upheaval. The constant moving to find work, the emotions Ryan never stopped burying, and Billy's elopement, trying to outrun the feeling of being alone and unwanted.

Ryan's looking at you now, gauging your reaction to the bomb he just dropped. "How? Why?" You ask him, unable to keep from stumbling over the many thoughts that were created after his revelation.

"I don't know! I've been so stressed...I've done things I shouldn't. I've been hiding it all from you," Ryan exclaims, and his eyes fill with tears again.

What else have you been hiding?" You asked in a hush tone, your body fills with dread, your stomach in knots.

"Friday night, when I brought Billy home from the party, and I said I just wanted to get a better look at the damage, I went and torched it. I thought I could get the guy to write it off, but he's an insurance lawyer." Ryan's explanation is rushed, like he's trying to get it out in one breath before you scream that you're leaving him and walk out the door.

"Ryan-"

"Wait, I'm not done. Just...let me get it all out, and then you can give me hell." He's exasperated, his cheeks and nose are flushed red from crying, and he just wants it to be over.

"Okay," you answer softly as you put your hand in his. You're both hunkered next to each other still, on your kitchen floor. You press your forehead to his, a signal to him that you're willing to hear him out and that you want to be close to him. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, continuing on.

"He wants a couple hundered thousand dollars that we don't have cos I lost my job...again," Ryan says, embarrassed, and you can tell from how he pulls away.

You look at him, and you feel sorrow for how out of place he feels, how useless he seems to think himself. You want to tell him that you'd help in any way you could, but you knew what he'd say, 'We'd be in the same boat. My pension won't cover it, and you're a part-time nursery teacher. We're fucked, babe." You hear him let out a humorless huff through his nose, and you know he can read what you're thinking. He speaks once again.

"So," His voice breaks as he starts to talk. "I went to Johnny for help. He makes good money, but he's caught up in some pretty bad shit. I've stolen for him, I've killed for him, all to make ends meet and pay off that car. I'm caught too." Ryan's jaw is tight, and his words are clenched in his teeth. His tears are flowing once again at the thought of all that he had done, everything he couldn't undo, what he thought he couldn't get out of...and that he kept it all from you.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't terrified. Not terrified of Ryan because you never could be. Even though he had kept so many monumental secrets from you, you understood it was all to protect you and Billy. The two most precious things in his life, he couldn't lose Billy. He wouldn't lose a wife a second time. No, you're petrified of the life you've built together being torn asunder. Being ripped away from your husband and the boy you considered your own flesh and blood is a fate worse than death in your opinion. You can feel the bile rising just thinking about it.

Ryan won't meet your gaze, his shame keeping him frozen and eating him alive. You lift your hand from his to hold his jaw between your fingers. You make sure he sees you before you start to speak.

"Ryan, I love you. Whatever happens now, we'll figure it out...together. Okay?" Your tone is sure. You need him to know that you mean every word you say, that you're willing to fight for your family.

"Okay," he agrees, giving a curt nod. You meet in a kiss that voices all that was left unsaid. How sorry he is that he lied, that he won't keep hiding from you. You assure him that he doesn't have to be afraid and that he doesn't have to carry burdens alone anymore. He'd never have to be alone again.

This fic kicked my ass. I stayed up till almost 3AM writing it cos I was determined to get it done. I hope you enjoy anon, and everyone who reads this! Please, if you haven't watched Transfusion, treat yourself. It really is such a good film. Like I said in my note, I do plan on writing more for Ryan cos I lurve him.