Title: Drabbles # 056, 061, 067, 077
Author: ezra_t
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Pairing: (In Order) Eric+Ryan with refrence of EricNatalia; Eric+Ryan with refrence to EricNatalia and hint of RyanOMC; Tim+Ryan; Eric+Ryan
Rating: PG-13 (for minor swear words, reference to cheating) Warning: Gay guys. =p
Summary: 056. Betrayl can be like a slap to the face.
061. When your feeling down, there's always Natalia.
067. He could still feel it after all this time. Even after he's been buried.
077. He wishes he could just say those three little words and mean it. He wishes he could just come out and say "I remember you."
Disclaimer: I don't own (even though I wish I did).

***

056. Betrayal

Ryan blinked. Blinked again, this time squeezing his eyes shut hard, before opening them. Praying and hoping that he wasn't seeing what he thought he was seeing. But he guessed it wasn't meant to be because there was Eric lying in bed asleep with an obviously naked Natalia laying her disheveled head on Eric's equally naked shoulder.
Ryan shuddered, clenching his teeth shut not breathing. How could this have happened? He had only been gone for four days, attending a convention in Georgia at the the request of Horatio. The entire time thinking of Eric and counting down the minuets till he could be back in the arms of his lover. Only to come home to her, in his lovers arms.
He wasn't stupid. He knew that they still flirted and when he had confronted Eric about it he had replied,

"Relax baby, it's just harmless flirting. A way of saying to each other that there's no hard feelings."

Against his better judgment he had let it drop, after all; he trusted Eric and he knew for a fact that Natalia knew about them. And he wasn't as oblivious as some people believed, he saw the looks she gave him. But he had Eric's word, his promise and God he had actually believed it when Eric had said he loved him, not Natalia.
But there Eric was. In their bed. Her in his arms. And god, he never felt so heart broken.
He swallowed a sob, held in his tears and quietly set his house key on the table with a note,

'Came home early.
Hope she was worth it and don't worry, I won't let this get in the way of work just as long as you don't.
I'll be by to pick up my stuff later.'

- Ryan

He quietly slipped out, just as unnoticed by the still slumbering Eric as he had when he had slipped in.
How could this have happened? He had gone into the room with the intentions of kissing his lover awake and whispering he was home. He was not expecting to see that.
And it wasn't until he was in the car that he finally allowed himself to cry, because really, he had never felt so betrayed.


---



061. Lost

He felt so lost.
He knew that he had promised, not just to Ryan but to himself, that he would not allow their break up to affect him at work.
But god he missed Ryan; and really what had he been thinking? Going home with Natalia like that?
He snorts.
Oh he knew what he had been thinking.
He was horny and he was drunk and his lover had not been home to warm his bed in days.
He was a man after all and as a man he needed some kind of stimulation; and wasn't it just his luck that Natalia was there, once again flirting and really who was he to turn her down for drinks?

"Just as friends of course."

He snorted again.
Friends.
Sure.
But he can't lie.
He knew what her real intentions were when he had agreed and damn him for giving in, but he was lonely and lost and he missed Ryan so much.
And damn when he had seen Ryan today flirting with that cop he couldn't help but see green and of course he didn't deal with jealousy real well and it shouldn't have been surprising that it would turn into anger and he couldn't help yelling at Ryan, telling him to get to work.
He really wanted to hit himself over the head, especially since he couldn't get that hurt look on Ryan's face out of his head.
But here he was, once again in the bar that had led him into this whole mess.
Once again feeling lonely.
And look.
Just his luck.
Here came Natalia, again. Flirting. Again.
And he was just too lost inside himself to tell her no.


---



067. Touch

He swears on all things holy, though that surly mustn't be worth much coming from a gay man, that he could still feel his touch.
Caressing his stomach as he slept.
Massaging his head as it laid there in his lap.
Always, always lingering, like a phantom.
And that's what it was really, wasn't it?
Because really; how does a dead man touch?


---



077. Memories

He felt saddened, looking at these frozen memories and not being able to recall a single one.
He felt lost hearing them speak of something he knew that he should know but not being able to contribute to anything. Forcing a laugh when the others laughed and feeling even more an outcast surrounded by these familiar yet unfamiliar faces.

A quick flash of a wide sunny smile here, bright green eyes there and the sound of a soft husky laugh lost into the wind. But damn he could not remember where he had seen those eyes before. Seen that smile before. Heard that sweet laugh before.
Until now.
And yet he still could not remember.

He could not explain the flashes of the hot and sweaty pale skin that popped into his head.
Or why he continued to hear sweet nothings whispered into his hear.
Saying words that only he could hear.
Having meanings that he should know but did not.

Why the eyes that looked so familiar in his dreams seemed so alike to those that he saw on the face of that beautiful man who called himself Ryan.
He wondered how that face he could barley remember when he was awake could hold absolutely none of the same emotion of the only thing he could remember when he was asleep.
He wanted to cry and scream and yell like a child.

'Why can't I remember?!'

And softer yet.

'Why don't I have any memories?'

***