Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ryder doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here.

Though the weather was nothing more than a light drizzle, his hair hung in front of his eyes, sticking uncomfortably to his forehead. He used to pride himself in his outward appearance, thinking it to be unbecoming of someone like him, the leader of the Paw Patrol, to not constantly look his best. But he couldn’t care less about the fact—how could he?

Part of him hoped, prayed, that it was all a dream. That the events of the past few days were nothing but a morbid fragment of his imagination, a concept quickly forgotten. That he would wake up with a jolt and a gasp, with all 6 pups accounted for, alive. But as always, his wishes remained unanswered.

The boy shifted, bringing his legs closer to his chest as his gaze trails from the concrete to the pup house across from him, its once vibrant red hue seemingly dulled in the rain. There was a variety of items, letters and bouquets, all of which seemingly intricately crafted and purposely placed outside the weather’s reach. He couldn’t seem to remember who dropped off after having locked himself away for who knows how long.

He likes to think that the entire town stopped by, paying respects and placing each trinket with delicate care. That they wrote each letter with heart-felt words, of which they know the pup will never be able to hear. That they paid no mind to the broken boy at the top of the lookout, far away from prying eyes and prying ears.

Ryder’s heart only ached thinking about the melancholic air that has settled throughout the town of Adventure Bay. That the cause of their anguish was because Marshall, one of the Paw Patrol, was taken far too soon. He didn’t know if there was any way of recovering from this–of regaining the sense of normalcy that they once had. Ryder was well aware that any semblance of a happy future was now down the drain.

Even worse, he knew it was all his fault. The thought had been at the forefront of his mind ever since he returned from that dreaded mission, playing on loop again and again, screaming at him despite how much he willed it to stop. Even so, the boy knew he deserved it. To suffer for his failure. For his faults.

If he had just been a bit faster, stronger, better, then none of this would have happened. Marshall wouldn’t have had to face the consequences of an incompetent leader. How ironic, the head of the Paw Patrol couldn’t even save one of his own. He wouldn’t be surprised if the town lost all trust in him. After all, the boy barely trusts himself. He knows It should have been him at the bottom of that ravine.

Tears—or the rain, he couldn’t tell—only blurred his vision further. He rubbed an angry fist across his eyes, only for them to return tenfold. Sobs unwillingly spilled out of his body like a broken cup, and though he desperately tried to clean up his mess, water only leaked through his fingers and jagged shards dug into his skin.

The downpour felt like ice on his skin, eating away at what little warmth he still had. He pulled his eyes away from the memorial, bringing his forehead down onto his knees, resting it gently atop them. He tried—oh how he tried—to stop the tears from flowing. The boy told himself that he was stronger than this, that he had to be brave for the rest of the crew and shoulder the burden of leadership. But the cries tore out of him, breaking out of his chest despite his efforts to keep them in. What a mess he was.

And in some far away world, past the nails that molded crescent shaped dents into his arms, past the tightly shut eyes that refused to contain the overflow, past the shaky breaths that seemed to never fill his lungs with enough air, soft footsteps slowly approached. Though, he couldn’t seem to realize this newfound company over the rush of blood in his head that throbbed with every beat of his heart. It’s not until they spoke that Ryder was forced out back to reality.

“Ryder,” The man pauses, tone hesitant, as if he were debating whether or not to continue. The boy hoped for the latter. “Is that you?”

He didn’t respond, giving no indication that the words even reached his ears. He refused to let anybody see the pitiful state he let himself fall to. Though, this only seemed to prompt the person to engage further.

“Are you alright?”

It was a simple question, one that fit the situation. He stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge their presence. Though after a few moments of awkward silence, the boy risked a quick side glance in the other’s vague direction, only to be met with the familiar face of Mayor Humdinger’s in a black suit that he hasn't seen before, holding a bouquet of purple flowers.

Ryder wants to scream, yell at the man to go away, bare his teeth and hurl insult after insult until the man leaves him alone, but he bites his tongue.

“... Are you here to gloat?” He just barely keeps the annoyance out of his tone, but it’s clear that he’s restraining himself. The boy just hopes that the man would take it as a hint to leave him alone. Though Mayor Humdinger does nothing of the such, making a choked noise at the accusation. Guilt churns in his stomach as he realizes that he found satisfaction in catching the man off guard.

“Why would– Of course not!” He was quick to refute, “I’m simply here to pay my respects.”

Before he could stop himself, the boy let out a scoff. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that their nemesis would actually care enough to do such a thing. Ryder doesn’t look back at the man to gauge his expression, keeping his line of sight schooled on the concrete in front of Marshall’s pup house.

The Mayor took a few cautious steps forward, moving to where he now stood beside him. Humdinger placed the flowers beside the plethora of other gifts, and Ryder was surprised at how intensely he wanted to push them away, let them get soaked in the rain. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, but he maintained his composure and refused to meet his gaze. 

“I'm serious, I’m not planning to do anything.”

Despite his attempts to keep his unbothered facade intact, his act quickly crumbled. Mayor Humdinger wasn’t supposed to be paying respects to his rivals, he wasn’t supposed to be uncharacteristically considerate of the situation, and most of all, he wasn’t supposed to see Ryder like this—a pathetic excuse of a leader. The boy’s hands rose to the sides of his head, gripping his hair in frustration.

“I don’t care if you’re not scheming, you shouldn’t be here.” He hisses venomously, unable to keep his irritation hidden any longer. He’s crying again, tears free flowing down his cold cheeks, trails blending in with the droplets of rain. His breath seemingly catches on the lump in his throat, as the strength by which his fingers grasped only increased.

“Ryder–”

“No! I don’t–” His breath hitches, he can’t stop crying. “Just get out!”

“I’m not going to leave you here like this.” The man says, firm in a way Ryder hadn’t heard in the past. Though, he still doesn’t bother to look at him. He just wants him to go. Leave him be so that he can break down in peace. 

The boy doesn’t wince at the hairs being tugged out from the root, nor the speckles of blood that trickled from his scalp. When a tentative hand touches his arm to urge him to lighten his grip, Ryder flinches away as if he just touched fire. He pushes himself up to a shaky stand, turning his head towards the man. He knew that tears were still openly falling, but the anger clouded what little rationality he had left.

For the first time since he had arrived, the boy finally looked at the other face to face. His expression held nothing but concern. His hands were held up, as if he were contemplating whether or not to grab the boy. It only made the fire burn hotter. He didn’t need Mayor Humdinger’s concern, he didn’t need anyone to worry about him. This was something for Ryder, and Ryder alone, to deal with.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone!” his hands had tightened into fists, arms pressed up against his sides and fingernails now pressing hard into the palm of his hands, keeping a steely gaze on the Mayor. Humdinger didn’t budge, standing unphased by his outburst. Instead, the man took a few steps towards him, ignoring the vicious glare that the other was sending his way. 

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t have to, anyways. Humdinger’s point was made, the boy knew that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon no matter what he said. The boiling hot anger that thrummed against his lungs dulled, replaced with a surge of guilt. And as a sob forced its way out of his throat, Ryder held his arms close to his chest, hugging himself with all the strength he could muster.

He felt his knees grow weaker with each wail that he let out, so he slowly lowered himself to the cold, wet asphalt. Ryder’s pitiful weeps only increased in intensity, and despite having not wanted to break in front of his arch-nemesis, there was nothing he could do to plug up the dam that once held his torrent of emotions. The boy could only kneel with his hands against him, wrapping himself an embrace as if to physically hold his cries in.

Suddenly, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. His first instinct was to pull himself away—scream at the person who dared touch him with such tender care, knowing full well he didn’t deserve it. But Ryder did nothing but lean closer to Mayor Humdinger, even though everything within him told him not to. So when the hand pulled him into a hug, the boy didn’t move away.

And even though the gaping void in his soul stretched wider than he knew how to handle, Ryder decided to cry his heart out, wail to the sky above, in the steady arms of the man he called his enemy.