Suspects name: Ryan Darius
Age: Thirty One
Residence: Suburbs
Occupation: Waiter at Dock of the bay cafe
Behavior: Clever, Vibrant — Volatile, Unreliable
INTEL: File corrupted. Information unavailable, delivered to unknown.
Mental illness, drugs & alcohol use, violence, death TW
Psychologist say that once the first-born child fills a role, the second-born child will almost always seek out a role that’s the opposite. Ryan Darius was no different. When he arrived into the world, Sophia and Brian already had a golden child in their first-born son and eldest child. Jordan was nearly four years old when Ryan was born but it was as though the newborn understood his role from the start. He wasn’t an easy child by any means, prone to tempers and tantrums early on– he didn’t listen well and his first word was a resounding “NO”. But none of that diminished the love his parents had for him.
It was clear from the start, however, that as difficult as Ryan tended to be, his mind was constantly racing, observant young eyes taking in the world around him for all it was worth, gears turning over and over and over. He was a sweet kid despite being strong-willed, ever clever and inquisitive and he tended to be closer to his mom because of it.
Sophia had a patience for her middle child’s lack of structure and racing mind and she saw the potential he had before anyone else did. She saw the way he’d build things, not like little kids often did– with no real rhyme or reason but she saw him methodical put structures together based on the things he’d seen on TV and around town. Ryan was always quick-witted and good with his hands– having a penchant for creating things whether they were random, useless inventions that he thought of during lunch break or the music Sophie taught him to play on the piano. He tended to fixate on things, even growing up and when he was in the piano-playing mindset, both Brian and Sophie had to remind him to do his other responsibilities or even just come down for dinner, same with when he was in the midst of tinkering with this machine or that or when he was nose-deep in a book, unable to put it down until he’d gotten to the end of the 500 pages.
Ryan was always searching for something, what he may never know, but there was a need to know more and do more and as he got older, he didn’t want to let his parents down. Not with Finley being the perfect daughter and artist like their mom, or Jordan most assuredly following in their father’s footsteps as the ideal son. Ryan wasn’t good with authority, ironic given who his father was but he never really did anything bad to start, it was more issues with teachers, with coaches or others in charge. He’d be the one who didn’t have to study for any test to do ace it but would still get a B or a C in his class for incomplete assignments he didn’t bother handing in or messy notebooks that didn’t follow the patterns teachers had set out.
As he got older, Ryan started to try a bit more– he needed to make sure his parents could be proud of him too, that he could focus and do well and succeed just like his siblings. And so in high school, he put more pressure on himself, trying to snap his mind out of the patterns it had fallen into, trying to put his way of thinking aside to conform to what was expected of a brilliant mind. That’s when he began having anxiety attacks, Sophia or Brian increasingly finding him in the middle of the night in his room struggling to keep it together over one missed problem or mistake. The thing was that this pressure was self imposed and that neither of his parents had ever put the burden on him to be just like his siblings. It didn’t help though that this pattern did work, he got the A’s he’d been chasing, got top prize for recitals, got that scholarship to MIT he’d gotten stuck in his mind that he needed.
And he thought it was good– the anxiety was a side effect and didn’t matter if he powered through it. He’d make his family proud of how far he’d come. But despite achieving all those things, Ryan wasn’t built to withstand pressure, not at the level required. The first few months at M.I.T. were a struggle enough but add into the mix the wrong crowd, booze, drugs and a perpetually anxious Ryan, it wasn’t long before he’d fallen into a steady decline even he couldn’t seem to escape.
Along with all of this, other things began to change in Ryan, things he didn’t really have the framework to understand. He’d be able to party for days some weeks, the energy he had infectious and lively. The life of any event most days, he was the sort of person who’s antics you talked about days after. But then there’d be days he couldn’t even get out of bed– class was a non-option and he couldn’t make himself feel much of anything. And it was in the aftermath of those days that the cycle began again. It was clear to anyone who knew Ryan that something was different and when he failed out of school halfway through sophomore year, he didn’t even tell his family until they found out weeks later. He still didn’t go home, though, unable to face the music and bummed around for several months– making ends meet through a series of odd jobs. Bartending until it was clear to employers they couldn’t have an alcoholic handling drinks on a daily basis, waiting tables until managers realized he was an asshole and music gigs until those who hired him realized that no matter how talented he was, Ryan was the definition of unreliable.
The only times he came home and stayed for longer than a few days were when he felt more or less put together. There were moments of clarity when he tossed the drugs and stopped the drinking and they were the moments his family could see the old Ryan, the Ryan they’d sent off who’d never come back except in those small pockets of time. But it never lasted, something would always shift and take over and before things got too bad, the Darius’ middle child would skip town again. It was during one of his times away in his mid-20s that he was diagnosed as bipolar and it broke him down in a way many things had failed to. Something was wrong with him and this was confirmation. He refused to take medicine for it, though, not wanting to let it change him or make him less than what he felt he was. That’s how he viewed it, however wrong his thoughts were, and because of this he never told his family or anyone else for that matter about it. He doesn’t want it to change their perception of him and he’s determined never to tell anyone.
The one person he might’ve told was his mom but his time came and went when she passed. Ryan returned home when she was diagnosed and it was the hardest thing he’d done. Trying to stay clean so he could help her– it was the one opportunity he saw to make things right– to make up for the hell he put her and his dad through being the flakey, unreliable, addict son they never asked for. The son who’d been given the world and had flushed it down the drain. He’d sit by her side, taking turns with his siblings as they talked with her in those final weeks. He’d play for her music she’d taught him years ago in hopes of lifting her spirits and once or twice, when she had the random surge of energy, she joined him. Those memories he has of their mom are some of his most cherished because he knows he wasted so much of his time with her and he’s never stopped regretting it.
When they said their final goodbye– when they ended her life Ryan was thrust back into darkness, sick with guilt and grief and anger and hurt. They couldn’t take it back and now she was gone for good. After that day, that day that’s found Ryan drinking until he’s blackout drunk two years in a row now, Ryan returned to old habits but stayed home. Despite doing his best to stay on the straight and narrow, he didn’t try as hard with their mom gone. But he wouldn’t leave his family because despite how unreliable he tends to be, family has always come first in his heart and he tried to exemplify that in his life. He’s been a waiter at various locations around town, most bars knowing not accept his application for bartending and other places giving him a shot (he usually blew) because of his family. Since their mom’s death, Ryan’s continued to lead a mediocre life but when their father died this month, everything’s changed. He’s doing his best to keep it together, to not fall apart when he, Jordan and Finley need to be united but it’s easier said than done and it’s only a matter of time before the middle Darius falls back into old patterns.
Works at Dock of the Bay as a waiter.
Ryan is a spot-checker when it comes to clothes, if it doesn’t have any (noticeable) stains and doesn’t smell, it’s good enough to wear. Usually jeans and a t-shirt will do with haphazardly brushed hair and scuffed shoes. He’s got one beat up leather jacket (he stole it from some asshole at a bar) and he’ll wear scarves sometimes if it’s cold but other than that he’s pretty simple in regards to attire.
He’s still incredibly smart and, in rare moments, be found with a 600 page book analyzing the merits of the Critique of Pure Reason or find him listening to Schubert’s Sonatas on repeat. But those moments are quickly clouded by the current reality of a high-functioning alcoholic who’s pissing away his future.
His family has always been his everything, despite how poorly he shows it and with their parents dead, his siblings are all he has and they’re the most important thing in his life.
He’s bipolar and suffers from panic/anxiety attacks.
He tries to clean up around Finley because she’s his little sister and he feels ashamed of how he is when he’s around her– he knows he should be a better example and support, especially in light of their father’s death.
He used to write a song for each family member and play it for them on their birthday. The last one he wrote, though, was for their mom, on her last birthday. After that…he didn’t feel like he could write more, especially considering she was the one who taught him how to play.
areudirty
tangentwithtanner
jacobvanloon
blakekathryn
kaledo-art
dailybridgerton
romaincrisis
