It Hurts （8）

"I think his phone might be dead, but I'm pretty sure I know where to find him."

Hayes stood at the edge of the boardwalk, removing his socks and shoes before heading out onto the beach. He turned back toward Ryan, who had taken a seat on a nearby bench. "Guess you're stayin' here. Good, hang onto these for me," Hayes called, stuffing his socks inside his Vans and chucking them at Ryan's feet. "I'll be back, hopefully with TK."

"Great. Can't wait," Ryan mumbled, shaking his head.

If someone had told Ryan Baylor six months ago that he'd be sitting by himself on a bench at the Santa Monica pier, after having missed his flight home so his junkie boyfriend could search the beach for his missing junkie friend, he'd have laughed maniacally in their face.

Yet here he was doing exactly that.

Hayes glanced back one final time at Ryan, who was looking the other way, inhaled the salty air, then began walking along the sand. He took a moment to appreciate the way it felt between his toes as the oxy had kicked in full force and he was feeling normal again. Head on a swivel, he dipped underneath the pier, making sure to check around each piling as he called out TK's name repeatedly.

The tide had come in a few hours ago, so his feet were caked with clumps of wet sand, but he didn't mind. It was raw and gritty, yet still soft and gentle at the same time.

He felt that.

It provided him with a sense of comfort as he searched desperately for his friend, knowing full well that TK would do the same for him if the roles were reversed.

Ryan, on the other hand?

He wasn't sure he could say the same about him.

They were in love; he knew it. He felt it deep down in places of his soul that he'd previously assumed were dead for good. Ryan had resurrected all of those lifeless remnants. He'd reassured him that he wasn't just some broken, abused, damaged little boy who used cockiness as a coping mechanism; he was a strong, resilient young man who, despite all of the past trauma he'd endured, was absolutely worthy of healing and love. It was something for which he'd be eternally grateful.

The problem was that Ryan didn't know how to love another addict yet. Having only recently learned to love himself and accept his own struggles with dependency, Hayes knew he just didn't have the capacity to effectively love another addict right now. That wasn't something for which Hayes faulted him; to effectively love an addict was a task even the strongest, toughest, and most well-adjusted people on the planet struggled with.

Hayes knew Ryan was doing his very best.

Ryan had lived a sheltered life for the most part, the only experience he'd ever had with addiction being his own. And Hayes was beyond proud of his boyfriend's progress; he wasn't the same man Hayes met for the first time in that sixth-floor Bridgeport apartment over a year ago, when he'd shown up with beer, flowers, and Osi. But Hayes also knew that even if Ryan had fallen back to his old ways, or if he hadn't progressed the way he had, Hayes would still know how to love him. He'd been loving addicts his whole life; it was second nature to him.

Ryan Baylor knew how to love the version of Tyler Hayes he wanted him to be, and Tyler Hayes wasn't sure he could ever be that version of himself.

Where that left them, he had no clue.

"Ty?" a faint voice cried out.

"Teek?" His heart leapt in his chest as he rounded one of the pilings and found his teammate slumped against it. He was barely upright, holding himself there by one shoulder, as the rest of his lower body was soaked and covered in wet sand.

Hayes knelt down beside him, knees sinking into the damp beach, and hooked an arm under his shoulder. "I'm so fuckin' glad to see you, man. Come on, let's stand up."

TK fought him, refusing to cooperate, so Hayes plopped down next to him. He reached into his friend's pants pockets and started checking, but there was nothing: no phone, no wallet, no room key for his hotel. "Where's all your shit, man?"

He shrugged, groaning, and Hayes noticed the front of his shirt was covered in vomit.

"What happened last night?"

"I shot up," he said quietly. "Was just gonna take a bunch of pills and drink, but I met up with this girl and she wanted to shoot me up while she sucked my dick. I don't fuckin' remember a thing after that. Said it was heroin. Probably fentanyl. I don't ever throw up this much from heroin.

Shit. I didn't know he fucked with heroin, too.

Hayes was pretty sure he knew where all of TK's belongings went.

"Listen, Ryan's up at the boardwalk. Let's get you back there so we can get somewhere safe, get you comfortable and dry, OK?"

"It hurts," TK cried, tears streaming down his face. "It hurts so bad. My stomach…I can't stop fuckin' puking. I think I'm dying, Ty."

"Nah, fuck that. You're a tough son of a bitch, man." Hayes reached down to the bottom of TK's shirt, told him to hold his breath, and pulled it as carefully and gently as he could up over his head, tossing it aside. He used his hands to scoop some water and tried to rinse the small amount of vomit that was plastered to one side of TK's face. "Come on. We really gotta go, Trav. We'll get you into the car and you can lie down. I gotta let everyone know you're OK. The boys were worried about you."

"Oh, shit! I missed the flight, didn't I? Fuck. They're so gonna bench me!" He broke down sobbing, and Hayes immediately threw his arms around him.

"No way," Hayes lied, knowing most likely, both of them would be sitting on their asses for a long time. "They're just gonna be so happy you're OK, man."

"Wait. So, they all…just left without me? They didn't know where I was and they all fuckin' left anyway?"

Hayes squeezed him. "Not all of them left, man."

TK sobbed even harder, the beautiful, broken boy completely falling apart in his teammate's arms. His teammate who was willing to sit there and let him for as long as he needed to.

Or for as long as the oxy kept doing its thing.

"You're an angel, Ty Hayes. A real one. You know that?"

Hayes scoffed, tears welling up in his own eyes, thinking about just how screwed up this all was, but how lucky they were to at least have each other to cling to while the world caught fire and burned down around them. "Far from it, man."

"No, for real you are. You're the only one of them who gives a shit about me. You…you fuckin' came for me, baby."

"Would you have come for me?"

"Damn right I would've."

???

Ryan finished checking his phone for the 20th time, having already waited over a half hour for Hayes to return, but there was no sign of him. He knew he couldn't just leave him here, and he wouldn't, but dammit if he didn't want to.

He recalled the conversation he had with Amara yesterday.

"Rehab. He needs to go to rehab, Ryan."

Ryan scrunched his nose and shook his head.

Rehab.

Rehab was a place for people with real addictions and problems, not a place for his boyfriend. For God's sake, it was Hayes.

A confident, cocky son of a bitch.

Wise beyond his years.

An unbelievable hockey player.

So much fun to be around.

Thatwas Hayes.

At least, he used to be all of those things before he began his love affair with oxycodone.

Ryan assured himself that it would be fine. Hayes was just…going through a rough time. Clearly he was struggling with his past, the unrelenting demands of being in the NHL, the pressure of trying to keep their floundering relationship afloat. It was a lot for anyone, let alone a 21-year-old kid to handle; maybe Ryan just needed to be more understanding of that.

Or maybe Ryan was just making excuses because he had no idea how to manage the fact that he was in a relationship with a drug addict who was currently racing head first down an incredibly dangerous path.

Handling life's curve balls had never been Ryan Baylor's strong suit, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he fought to ignore the familiar feeling of his anxiety beginning to creep up on him.

However, there was no time for it to set up shop, because no sooner than he heard yelling coming from the beach, he looked up and saw his boyfriend arguing with a police officer while another one had a shirtless, soaking wet and sand-covered TK in handcuffs.

"Shit!"

He flew off the bench and jogged onto the beach, slowing down and hanging back as he approached the scene, so as not to give the cops any reason to panic.

"Yo, come on! I had him! I fuckin' had him and I was gettin' him outta here!" Hayes screamed. "Come on, man. You don't have to do this!"

Ryan, with his hands up, slowly moved over to his boyfriend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hayes, you need to calm down, OK?" he told him. "What's going on, officers?"

"They're arrestin' him for public intoxication! It's fuckin' bullshit! I can get him outta here. Just let him come home with me, with us. Please? You really don't have to do this!" Hayes pleaded desperately.

"Listen, he's coming with us. He's clearly wasted, he smells like vomit, and he can hardly stand up. And unless you wanna join him for disturbing the peace, I suggest you calm down like your friend said. You understand me, son?"

"I ain't your fuckin' son, bitch! And fine, you wanna arrest me, too? Here!" Hayes flipped around so his back was to the officers and clasped his hands behind him. "Fuckin' do it then!"

"Tyler, enough!" Ryan yelled, grabbing him by the wrist and turning him back around. "Don't be stupid."

"Don't let ‘em take me, Ty!" TK whimpered, slumping over. "I can't have another misdemeanor on my record, man. Please?"

Ryan, betraying every fiber of his being, turned toward the officer who didn't have TK detained. "Can I please talk to you for a second?" He figured it was a long shot, but at this point, there didn't seem to be another choice. He gestured to the right. "Over there. Please?"

The officer rolled his eyes, nodded, and he and Ryan stepped about 10 feet away.

"Thanks. Listen, the mouth is my…he's my boyfriend, and the other fucking idiot is his friend. We came looking for him because he missed a flight back to New York this morning. I assure you I am completely sober and can drive them both safely to a hotel so they can rest. They both…Jesus," Ryan muttered, unable to believe that this was his actual life right now. "They're both addicts, and I'm currently in the process of figuring out how to get them some help, once I stop denying to myself that there's an issue."

"Kid, sometimes an arrest is the help they need. Kickstarts the process, gives ‘em a good reality check, you know?" the officer replied.

"I understand that. But I swear to God, if you turn them over to me, this will be the end of it, OK? You will never see them again. And hey, no hours of paperwork for you and your partner to fill out, no bullshit court appearances. It's a win-win. Please?"

"Your boyfriend's got quite the mouth on him."

Ryan smirked at the officer's observation, though there was nothing even remotely funny about what was taking place at the moment. "You have no idea. But I promise you he's all bark. Please? I'll handle this, officer. I swear. Let me get them the hell outta here." He stuck out his hand to shake it. "I'm Ryan, by the way. My boyfriend is Tyler, and the other…moron is Travis."

The officer gave him a quick handshake and tilted his head toward where they stood. "Let me see what I can do, OK? I can't promise anything though. My partner really likes locking up junkies."

"Either way, I sincerely appreciate your time."

They walked back to where Hayes and TK were standing with the other officer, TK sobbing so pathetically that snot was flying out of his face. He was still cuffed and Hayes was pleading incessantly with the officer to let him go, as a small crowd had begun to gather.

The cop Ryan had been talking to leaned in to his partner and whispered something into his ear. His partner immediately shook his head, but he kept on whispering. This went on for about 20 seconds, until finally, the arresting officer made a face and removed the cuffs from TK's wrists. "It's your lucky day, kid."

TK fell forward into Hayes's arms, almost knocking him backward, and squeezed the life outta him.

"And you better get him somewhere safe!" Ryan's officer demanded, as they both turned and began walking away.

Holy shit.

That actually worked?

"I will! Thank you again, officer!" Ryan called after him, then turned to his boyfriend, who was still holding onto TK.

"Rook," Hayes marveled, wide-eyed and staring at him. "Thank you."

"Yup," Ryan said coldly, not letting on how impressed he was with his own baller-ass negotiation skills. "Can he walk? We need to get him back to the car."

"Teek, I need you to walk for me, man. Can you do that?"

He continued to slump over onto Hayes's shoulder and shook his head. "Uh uh. I just wanna go to sleep."

"You can sleep in the car, OK? Rook, I'm gonna need your help…"

"Of course you are," Ryan mumbled, moving toward the two of them. He yanked TK's one arm off his boyfriend's body and threw it around his own shoulder, propping him up between them like Weekend at Bernie's. "You need to move your fucking feet right now. I'm not joking. Or I'll call his ass back over here and tell him to take you," Ryan warned, as they started making their way back toward the boardwalk.

Some blood had begun flowing to TK's extremities and he'd started walking better by the time they hit the boards, so he'd lowered his arms down by his sides, the boys buffering him on either side just in case.

"Thanks again, baby," TK said, leaning his head onto Hayes's shoulder as they made their way across the boardwalk and to the street where Ryan had parked.

"He's not your fucking baby!" Ryan snapped.

"Don't thank me, man. That was all Rook."

TK shifted his head from Hayes's shoulder onto Ryan's. "Well, then. Thanks, Rook…"

"Ryan," he replied coldly, eyes remaining straight ahead. "He's not your baby and I'm not Rook to you. And I did it for him, not you. I could give a shit less what happens to you..."

"Rook! Be nice," Hayes cut in.

At that moment, TK lifted the arm closest to Ryan and snaked it around his waist, his fingers wrapping around and clutching onto Ryan's hip. "Relax, pretty boy. You don't gotta be so tough. I just…wanted to say thank you."

Ryan rolled his eyes, mostly at the fact that his dick perked right the hell up at the feeling of TK's hand around his waist. "Don't mention it."

The fuck's he gotta be so hot for?

"Well, I mean. If you ever need a favor. If there's anything I could, you know," he said, giving Ryan's hip a quick squeeze, "help you out with, just, uh…let me know. I owe you one."

"Actually," Ryan said, sliding his hand on top of TK's. "I do kinda have something in mind."

"Really? What's that, pretty boy?"

"Rook?" Hayes asked cautiously, staring over at them.

Ryan pried TK's fingers off his hip aggressively and shoved his arm away. "Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, junkie."