Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ One ❯ Chapter Nine ( Chapter 9 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Maria finds out...
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.26.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 681 | Status: Completed
Maria finds out...
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.26.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 681 | Status: Completed
One
Chapter Nine:
Earlier:
Static crouched low on his disk, charging through the early morning sky, his brow furrowed with worry and concern. Richie had been so out of character for himself that he was determined to find out what had happened to him. He was very confused over what he’d come onto on the roof–Ebon, Hotstreak, Gear without his helmet...he was very frightened if his friend’s identity had been compromised–Static was a jumble of confusion and worry. He really had no idea what was happening...why was Gear out on his own? Why in the world was Hotstreak holding him?
What pissed Ebon off?
He reached up, his fingers curling into his dreads as he gave a hot curse, sailing into Richie’s neighborhood----and stopped short, his energy cackling with slight protest as he brought the disk to a stop. There were multiple police cruisers around the house, along with a single newsvan, and the front porch was littered with activity. His mouth dropped open, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Sailing slowly, carefully, he reached down to grip the edge of his disk, unsure of what to think as he drew close.
One of the police officers that were keeping the media away looked up at him, and nodded in greeting. Aaron Lewis, the police chief, was talking into a cellphone as he left the front porch. Static hovered close to him, seeing Maggie sobbing quietly into her hands, while Sean gestured and spoke angrily to a couple of uniformed detectives.
“Chief? Wh–what’s going on, here?” Static asked, catching the chief’s attention.
Lewis snapped his phone shut, shaking his bald head with a stern frown. “A meta performed a B and E and took off with some kid...a teen. Right in front of his parents.”
Static felt his stomach turn to lead, and he gripped his disk with both hands. “Wh–what? Who?”
“Stone. Hotstreak. Sonofvabitch just climbed right in, snatched the teen, threatened the parents, and disappeared. I have some boys lookin’ for him, but the question is–why? Far as we know, the kid isn’t a gangbanger, hasn’t been in any real trouble...”
“Richie...?”
“Yeah. Richard Foley...you know him, Static?”
“...Hangs out at the...community center. For Youths.” Static swallowed hard, darting a glance toward the distraught parents.
“Damndest thing, really. But his father mentioned he’s been staying out late. Kinda got a feeling about that one. You wanna pitch in?”
“I...yeah. I’ll...do what I can. Hotstreak, huh? On foot?”
“Vehicle. Late model Buick. White. No license plates. Guy’s got a record of hot-roding in cars that don’t belong to him.”
Static forced himself to nod.
“I’ll get on it.”
“You got a picture of the kid? About five six, hundred and thirty, blond, brown, and was wearing,” Lewis checked his notes, “blue jeans and a plain tee. Mother mentioned he’d come in earlier with a friend of his, and was...seemingly...under the influence.”
God, why?
“Had been passed out for nearly forty minutes.”
I took that long----?
“...Next thing they knew, Hotstreak was in there, dragging their son out of his room. Threatened them. Left. Kid didn’t struggle, but she mentioned he could possibly still be out of it.”
“Right. I’ll...I’ll get right on it...”
Lewis nodded firmly, and slapped his notebook shut. “Keep in contact.”
Static nodded once, then lifted into the air, his heart racing with fear and bewilderment. He fell into a crouch, his legs weak–and his thoughts were racing from one thing to another. What was Hotstreak doing? Why Richie? Where were they? Was he hurt? Was he going to be okay?
He let out an emotionally charged scream as he sailed through the early morning air.
OooooooooooO
“We late for the party?” Shiv hissed, peering over Talon’s shoulder as the pair looked at the house before them. Both had taken over their hiding spot from the other night, careful to keep out of sight from the numerous men in blue that lingered about. “Damn it...I totally forgot about my infamous seven layer dip...”
“Can it, stupid,” Talon muttered, narrowing her eyes. “It looks like we’re too late. That Foley kid’s gone.”
“Shit shit shit! There’s Static! Think like a bush–think like a bush...”
The pair listened intently as the chief described briefly what happened. As Static took off, the pair looked at each other with widened eyes.
“He took ‘im!”
Shiv took on a thoughtful look, pulling on his goatee. “Hmm. Kid has more power than I thought. Maybe he’s born with it. Maybe it’s Mayball----”
Talon used the back of her hand to whack him across the mouth. “Shut up. Let’s go tell Ebon what happened. He’s going to be really pissed...Huh. This is just...huh.”
Shiv snickered as he looked over at her stunned expression, wide eyes blinking furiously as she tried to accept this. She turned to him with a shrug. “Why you think he took him?”
“Dunno.”
“Where you think–you know what? Maria knows. She’s closer to that bitch than anybody else, is.”
“Maria? Dude...she’s gonna tear out Foley’s eyes. That bitch gets scary whenever she gets jealous.”
“She don’t like him that way, stupid! She just makin’ sure alla us meta stay together...”
“Not uh! An IDIOT can tell! She’s always all over him! She’s always cooking for him, cleaning for him, following him, stalking him, making prank phone calls to him, touching him, talking to him, getting mad at him, staring at him, wiggles around for him, dominates him–she totally wants his babies.”
“Will you SHUT UP? Let’s get out of here. And Maria isn’t that way.”
“Bitch, you totally are stupid, aren’t you? Too many feathers on the brain?” Shiv then yelped as the bird woman leapt on him, snarling as she tried to rip one of his earrings out.
Minutes later, the pair were hurrying through various backyards, looking for the man that lorded power and control over them. Ebon had stayed behind to settle some unfinished business with a couple of people. When Talon and Shiv arrived, he looked away from the members of his human gang and gave a questioning gesture.
“Police be all over that joint, man,” Talon said with a shake of her head. “You ain’t getting near that place.”
“What happened?” Ebon demanded, the two humans walking away.
“Francis-Kun stole away into the night with his lover! How romantic...maybe I’ll get to rent their escapades together someday...” Shiv said on a love sick sigh, batting his eyelashes repeatedly.
“Huh? What?”
“Francis left with the kid,” Talon reported with a scowl. “Came and went. The parents reported it.”
“How did he beat us here?” Ebon raged, his arms flying up with fury. “That fuckin’ cracker’s gonna pay for what he did! I’m going to fuckin’ kill him when I see him! Motherfuckin’ sonofvabitch cock sucking faggot!”
“Damn, boss. You sure get angry when you’re denied ass, huh?” Shiv asked curiously, giving Ebon a close examination. Ebon swatted lazily at him.
“I wanna talk to Maria,” Talon interjected. “She knows Hotstreak better. She might know where he ran off to.”
“He won’t leave Dakota,” Ebon muttered. “He ain’t that smart.”
“Where should I contact you?”
“...At Patty’s. no one will think to look for us, there. And keep an eye out. He ain’t gone far. I’ma get my revenge...Take over his bitch the way he did mine.” Muttering more obscenities and vows, Ebon opened a vortex, Shiv jumping through with an ecstatic yell. Talon took flight, knowing exactly where to find Maria.
“Sick ass bastard,” she muttered, sure that Ebon couldn’t hear her. “All for a piece of ass. Just find another fuckin’ white boy, you stupid, perverted freak of nature...”
OooooooooooO
“He WHAT?”
Talon winced, Maria dropping the sack of jewelry she’d pilfered earlier. After gaining control and use of her powers, the watery beauty had learned how to break into various banks and safes to take over on what she wanted. Talon thought that having power to do such things gave Maria a big head, and too much confidence. But she wouldn’t dare say that out loud.
“Took off with some kid. Skipped outta town. He gone an’ pissed Ebon off, last night. Ebon fuckin’ crazy, man. Wanted revenge, an’ we were set to get that kid Francis be hangin’ out with, all the time. But he got there first.”
“Why the HELL would he take off with some stupid kid?” Maria growled, watery teeth showing as she snarled. “What the fuck would he care what happened with some stupid kid?”
“Dunno. Maybe Shiv be right. Maybe he all loved up.”
“Fuck that gay bullshit, Theresa! He ain’t gay! That guy probably valuable for somethin’ else! He probably needed a hostage! Ain’t no way he’s gay! He fuckin’ beat up boys eyeing other boys! I was there when he bashed his first faggot! I KNOW HE AIN’T GAY!”
Talon winced once more, reaching up to rub at her ears. “I’m just sayin’, girl. He ran off with that boy. His parents already talkin’ to the police...and to Static. Static knows the guy.”
Maria’s fists balled, her eyes wide and stormy with her rage. Talon stepped back, not wanting to get soaked or splashed by anything Maria felt she was going to throw in her anger. Instead, the Latina stiffened, then narrowed her eyes.
“You be knowin’ where he’s at?” Talon asked cautiously.
“There are a few places he’d run to...he’s not at home. He’s got an uncle he goes to, sometimes, outta Dakota. And a couple of friends’ houses on the north side, in the Hills...and then there’s this busted up joint just past the docks...”
“But where?”
Maria narrowed her eyes, then looked at Talon. “Try 34955 Debit Avenue...that’s the place he goes to when he wants to avoid the police. Ain’t no one look for him there...”
Talon nodded, then took flight.
Maria sneered after her, ignoring the jewelry she had taken as she liquified her form, sinking into a nearby storm drain. That should throw Ebon off for awhile...meanwhile, she was going to check aforementioned places for herself. Her confidence in that Francis Stone wasn’t a lovesick fag propelled her with strength, eager to get to him first.
OooooooooooO
Richie sighed as he ducked his head beneath the shower spray, feeling sore all over. His shoulders hurt, his arms hurt, his ribs hurt...it felt that everything from the golden hairs on his head to the white tips of his toenails hurt. The water wasn’t very warm, and he realized he had to hurry if he wanted to get clean. He still hadn’t any idea where he was...Hotstreak merely muttered that they were ‘out of area’...whatever that meant.
It had been an hour since that rather possessive bones-jumping, and since then, he really hadn’t gotten too much about why Hotstreak had made the decision he had. That jumble of confusion before Talon’s attack had left him seriously in the dark. Backpack had obviously been a trap... It wasn’t that hard to put two and two together–Ebon was definitely wanting him for something. ‘Something’ that was most decidedly unclear. Maybe to use him to lure in Static? For some evil plot? Whichever reason, it was definitely not clear. And Richie really didn’t want to think the worst–even as Ebon’s hitting on him during his brief stay with the living shadow suddenly popped to mind.
“No, not that! Not that!” he yelled to himself, banging on the unclean shower wall. He pulled his fists away and washed them quickly, shutting off the water. He didn’t want to think about that. That was just...most decidedly ew. It sent shivers down his spine in a very unpleasant way, and made his gut shift with disgust. Not that. He reached out for the single towel that hung by a nail from the wall and hurriedly dried off.
From what he saw, the bedroom was a hastily put together area that was meant to be comfortable for a brief stay...there had been a bed and nothing more. The place was in shambles–the dead stink, the peeling of the wallpaper, the water stains...the bathroom was in order, but by scrapes and luck. The shower worked only if it had been turned on for a good twenty minutes–the water coaxed out of a nearby well. The propane did not work–but the water wasn’t that cold.
The sink was torn out from the wall, and the mirror was just a few slivers that clung stubbornly to waterstained walls. The toilet...well...at least it flushed....after a few jiggles and a kick. There was a solitary roll of toilet paper that looked as if it had been dragged through the dirt and then left to dry after a good soaking. But...at least there was toilet paper.
The bathroom connected to the bedroom, and from the bedroom was at least four feet of hallway space...before leading into one twenty by thirty room that held nothing but old furniture that collected both cobwebs and dust. Three of the windows had been boarded over with planks and plastic had been stretched across each one, stapled haphazardly in place. The other window was inlaid with bricks. But there was a suggestion of use to the place that told Richie that it was never completely abandoned. Canned food in a box, complete with a bowl, can opener and a single tin cup sat atop a dresser with a metal safe at its feet.
He’d tried asking the older male where they were; but Hotstreak kept quiet about it, merely telling him that it was a place Ebon didn’t know of. When Richie asked why Ebon couldn’t know about it, Hotstreak had merely muttered “Just cuz.”
The older male had left–saying something about securing some supplies.
Richie was left in the dark–he had no idea where he was, why he was, and what they were doing. Hotstreak kept quiet about everything, save for a few select things. Which was a little unusual–Richie thought he’d at least brag about something embarrassing.
Walking out from the bathroom, with a towel around his waist, he heard an abrupt shift of sound, and paused, squinting to see what was going on. Damn it for not having his glasses...
His eyes then widened as Aquamaria stared at him, her eyes slowly widening as she gave him a once over. The woman looked as if she’d slipped in through a small crack in one of the boarded windows, and looked similar to a ghost with her inconsistent form. He could see right through her to the furniture that had been stored within the room.
He felt himself immediately perform a whole body blush, wishing that the towel he wore was somehow King Sized...his hands flitted up to make sure that it stayed in place as his legs threatened to collapse in mortification. Having Hotstreak see him naked was different than being bare before some woman stranger. Ultra self-consciousness made his knees knock.
“No...” she breathed tightly, her accent heavily pronounced. Her eyes were wider than they ever had been, taking in his appearance again. And again. Then, her body drew larger with tendrils of water threatening to escape her humanoid shape, Richie looking up at her in continued mortified shock. The floor beneath her feet protested as her water expanded with the stripping of moisture within the air, all of it gathering at her bidding.
“Wow, this isn’t my house!” he exclaimed shakily, looking around himself. “Where ever did I come in here for...? Did I pass through some multi-dimensional portal?”
“NO!”
“I didn’t think so, either.”
Maria’s hands snatched his head, her hands and fingers cold–it felt odd to be touched by her. She was cold–he thought he would get wet by her touch, but it merely chilled his bones. She jerked his head to one side, then another.
A finger was tracing patterns on his neck. He remembered, with a flush, how they got there. She slapped him hard across the face with an enraged snarl.
He then gave a wild cry as he turned and ran for the bathroom, only to have himself enveloped within a thick egg of water. He clutched his soaked towel, trying not to breathe as Maria kept him within the containment. It was obvious she was a woman scorned. This made him slightly hysterical–scorned women tended to do scary things. He thought of Glenn Close, and clutched his towel tightly.
“NO!” she screamed again, thrusting the egg aside. Richie spilled out, hacking violently as he kept both hands on his towel, making sure it covered all the right places. “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!”
“Would it help that I have no idea what you’re talking about?”
“You’re not with him!”
“...No. Definitely not. Can’t a guy take a shower in the middle of no where...?”
“FRANCIS!”
Ric hie cringed as her furious scream nearly stripped the walls of the badly stained paper, and quickly scrambled to his feet. He was soaking wet, and his towel wasn’t cooperating with him. Knees knocking together in his mortification, he turned and hurried into the bedroom, looking for his clothes. Unfortunately...his clothes were missing. His boxers were still lying at the foot of the bed, and he grabbed them as various things slammed, Maria throwing a fit. When he heard her approach, he stripped the bed of the stained sheets, wrapping them around himself, his face being the only thing visible.
She slammed her way into the bedroom as he backed himself against the wall, trying to ignore the dead smell that wafted through his panic. And the wet spot on his back.
“Where is he?” she snarled, water gathering all around her as she stared at him. “WHERE IS HE?”
“I don’t KNOW!”
“WHERE IS HE?”
“I DON’T KNOW! I just took a bath...I would appreciate it if I didn’t take another, right now. I just dried off.”
“Don’t you get smart with me!” she shrieked, coasting over to him. “You aren’t supposed to be here! Where are your clothes?”
“Silly me...I have a tendency to lose whatever I put onto my person. I’m afraid I have no idea.”
“FRANCIS!”
“Listen. ..I really have no idea why I’m here,” Richie said hurriedly, pulling the sheets tighter around him. He was really wishing he could put his boxers on. The towel was getting very cold. “Can you give me an idea where I am?”
She reared on him, her hands out, ready to drown him when she suddenly stiffened–Richie covered his face and prepared to be soaked when the sound of water receding with a hiss of air caught his ear. He looked up, cautiously, and saw that she was gone...but a bead of water was drawing into the bathroom.
Hotstreak walked into the room, giving him a curious expression as he set a plastic bag down onto the bed. Richie looked at him, swallowing hard, as he realized why Maria had disappeared. Unsure of how to bring this up, he started to speak when the older male beat him to it.
“Here’s some stuff. I’ve gotta get going.”
The statement caused Richie to blink. “Huh? Where...?’
“Out of here.”
“And...what happens to me?”
“Dunno. Hitch a ride back.”
“What?”
“I ain’t fond of repeatin’ myself. Hitch a ride back...”
“How far out are we?”
“Ain’t that far. Here. There’s some stuff here for you...”
“What is going on, here?”
“...Nothin’. Why you hidin’ in nat?”
“You–”
“You know why, right?”
Richie blinked, confused by the shift in subject. He shut his mouth as he drew away from the wall, pulling the sheet from his head. “‘Why’, what?”
“Why I...left Dakota.”
“We’re out of Dakota? Where are–?”
“...Ebon’s gonna try to blame shit on me. Don’t wanna take that rap, so...I cut town.”
Richie froze in the process of reaching for the bag, looking up at the other male. “But...you can’t. Your anklet–”
“I took it off. Ain’t gonna need it, anyway,” Hotstreak muttered. He looked away from the teen, shifting with an obvious show of agitation. “‘S not like I...was cut out for that shit, anyway. People been lettin’ me know, an’...it’s ‘bout time I started listenin’ to them.”
“Telling you what?” Richie exclaimed, forgetting about everything else. “Why do you listen to them? You were doing good! Every start has a rough beginning! You were doing your work! You were doing your hours! You were doing everything right–!”
“The first clue shoulda been easy!” Hotstreak snapped at him. “I ain’t cut out for this goody-goody bullshit! I ain’t gonna work no fuckin’ job! I already built a rep that has people recognizin’ me on spot! That fuckin’ foreign couple that I worked for lost a good majority of their customers cuz I started workin’ there! People don’t respect me, anymore–!”
“That’s bullshit!” Richie exclaimed, shaking his head. “Of course they do!”
“No they don’t! You don’t know shit about the streets. You ain’t grown up there! You don’t know how they play...you gotta home. Fucked up one, but you got one. You got two parents.”
“I don’t–!”
“You gots an education, you got a future. You got shit that everyone wants. That shit don’t play in my playground. I have to do other things in order to get respect. That don’t mean following fuckin’ rules and shit that the law comes up with. That means doin’ what I have to in order to keep people from fuckin’ me over. That’s why I have the Crew. That’s why I start shit with fuckin’ Static. When I do that shit, I get respect. I get what I need to keep goin’. Doin’ this shit...” He trailed off, gesturing uselessly at the bag. He shook his head. “I ain’t cut out for this ‘good’ bullshit.”
“You had a chance, Francis! You had a chance to get that all changed...who cares what those guys on the street, think? They’re the ones that are going no where in their lives! They’re the ones that–!”
“You don’t know shit, Richie! You don’t know what the fuck it means to have respect! Maybe ya should, but you don’t! You just don’t! Don’t fuckin’ lecture me on this shit! I know what I haveta do, an’ I’mina do it. That’s all.”
“But–!”
“THAT& #8217;S ALL! Get this shit on. You’re going back.”
“I don’t understand why you’re giving up so easily!” Richie yelled at him, hitting the bag away from him. “You haven’t been out for more than a week, and you’re giving up because some stupid person or two thinks you can’t do it! You were doing it, and you were showing them that you could!”
“Get out of my face–!”
“Why do you have to bow down to them? Why can’t you do things for yourself?”
“I AM!”
“NO! You’re going with what other people think you should do!”
“Fuckin’ bullshit–!”
“It’s TRUE! You think you’re doing what you want to do, but you’re listening to these asshole’s point of view on what you should be doing, and you’re not giving a chance to what you want! What do you want, Francis? Do you want to keep living your life running from the police? Having to hide and fight them because of every rule you keep breaking just to satisfy other people?”
“...Shut up.”
“You know it’s true! You’re satisfying them! Not yourself!”
“SHUT UP.”
“Why can’t you think for yourself? Do what you want?”
“I said, shut the fuck up!” Hotstreak roared, grabbing his arm and shaking him roughly. Richie then shoved at him, the two pushing and shoving at each other. “SHUT UP! You don’t know shit! You don’t fuckin' know anything out there! You ain’t like me. You got the life. You don’t have to work very hard to get what you want. You don’t have people wantin’ to stab you in the back all the time–”
“You’re wrong–!”
“You don’t haveta live through what I have to! Least you got a home. Least you got–”
“I may have got a home, but it isn’t like I have everything! I have to work for it, too!” Richie shouted at him, yanking his arm back. He gestured at the bruises he’d gotten from his father. “You think I got these because I asked for them? You think I live without having to look over my shoulder all the time? And I can get stabbed in the back, for being who I am! Among other things...but you aren’t the only one that lives like that! You just lack the encouragement and faith that I have from good, positive friends, Francis. They’re the only really good things that I have...your friends want to drag you down with them. They want you to suffer with them. But you don’t have to! You can do your own thing. You can do it, and I’ve seen you try! You can rise above all this bullshit...but you don’t. Because you listen to them.”
Hotstreak looked away sullenly. The silence was thick as Richie stared up at him, breathing shortly, afraid that if he caught his breath–it would somehow disrupt the thinking he knew was going on within that head of his. He reached out, cautiously, and lightly gripped one sleeve to a black tee.
“You can do better, Francis,” he said quietly, bunching the material within his hands. “You just think too highly of what other people think of you. Just think for yourself. Put yourself first...”
Hotstreak lifted his arm, throwing off Richie’s hands. “An’ I want that. I want my rep back.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s important to me! Because that’s what I grew up maintaining! Cuz, when everything else fell, that remained. No matter what, if somethin’ happened–I knew I had my rep. Cuz it brought me respect an’ it made people know who I am.”
“You can be someone–!”
“Don’t give me that fuckin’ Disney bullshit! Fuck that shit! You don’t know anything, Richie! Get the fuck out of my face! Get that shit on–I’m taking you back.”
“NO! I won’t go! And if you try and make me, I’ll...I’ll–bite you.”
Hotstreak blinked, then snorted. “Bite me, then.”
“...No. I don’t know where you’ve been...”
The two stared at each other, neither blinking or saying a word. Finally, Richie had to blink, and he rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “You can still change things.”
“...I’ve already made up my mind. There’s clothes in there. Prolly ain’t your style, but–”
“Why?” Richie then shouted again, flinging his arms about. He reached out and gripped his sleeve once more, pulling at the older male then shoving him as Hotstreak stumbled from the unexpected move. “You can do so much better! You can do things! You can change yourself around! You can–!”
“I SAID, end of subject!”
“Oh, yeah, be that way! Be weak and stupid! Be retarded! Be everything that you think is cool, because you give up easily! Weak minded follower!”
Hotstreak lifted a fist, face screwing up with fury as Richie cringed, waiting for the blow. Something stopped him, then, seeing the teen cringing before him. His fist shook as his indecision kept him from following through with the blow, the room silent and tense as each one waited for the move. Finally, Hotstreak exhaled heavily, lowering his fist, quietly reminded of his own childhood, where his father beat on him for saying what was on his mind. When Richie realized he wasn’t going to be hit, he opened his eyes, lowering his arms as Hotstreak moved his attention to the bag once more.
The rustle of the plastic bag took over the silence, as the redhead unloaded what he’d packed onto the bed. Not saying anything, Richie stepped in closer, pressing his forehead against the other male’s back, between his shoulder blades. Hotstreak stiffened at his closeness, at the move----but then relaxed. Sensing this, Richie gripped the older male’s shirt within both hands, inhaling his scent, listening to his heart beat...he calmed himself, overriding his frustrated anger and his sadness with other things.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, shifting his face out of Hotstreak’s back, pressing his cheek against his spine. “I don’t mean those things. I’m just...frustrated that you’re...giving up. I’m just angry because of it. I shouldn't have said those things...you don't deserve them.”
Hotstreak stared uncomfortably at the set of clothes he’d gotten for the teen, having gotten rid of the ones he’d worn earlier, and his own. The apology made his gut twist. Because it was sincere and it was real. Because that was what Richie was to him–sincere and real.
He exhaled quietly, feeling his shoulders drop. He felt, suddenly, as if he’d just finished fighting a great battle. Something that exerted all his energy and strength. But it wasn’t anything physical–no, he’d feel that on the surface. This battle was deep within.
He turned, reaching out to pull Richie close to him, running his fingers through that golden blond shag, bringing their foreheads together. He could breathe in the same air Richie breathed; could feel his heartbeat adjust to match with the teen’s; could feel their connection deep inside, something that couldn’t be penetrated by anything else. Richie reached up to grasp his hands, pressing his forehead against his. The pair breathed quietly, aware of only each other. Pale fingers curled through tanned ones, then untangled so that Richie’s arms could curl around his neck. Hotstreak adjusted his own arms, curling around the teen, both of them holding each other close.
“You’re the only one that understands me,” he heard himself mutter.
“It’s because we’re the same in a lot of ways,” Richie said quietly, against his neck. “That’s why.”
“No...not entirely. Not entirely the same.”
“I asked for too much, didn’t I?”
“I disappointed you...”
“There isn’t an ‘us’, is there?”
“No...can’t be.”
“I...I know.” Richie’s arms tightened, his face turned against his neck. “I don’t want to let go, yet.”
“No...haveta let go.”
“NO. Not yet. Because...cuz when we go back there, it’s...not going to be...we’d just...end up hurting each other. An’...it’s not that way. I can’t–!”
“Things’ll change. You’ll find someone else.”
“...but nothing like this!”
“I’ll be no where near you. Not like this. I’ve got my own thing.”
“...I can’t let go so easily! Not after this–! I’ll just keep remembering, and...”
Hotstreak just held him close, closing his eyes. He could smell the teen’s unique scent; feel his lashes brushing against his neck; feeling his body lock up with refusal.
His was doing the same–he couldn’t command his arms to let Richie go.
A few more seconds. That’s all, he kept telling himself. That’s all...
“...But I understand. An’ that’s what makes it hard,” Richie heard his voice crack. “I know why you have to...do what you do. I just wish...I just wish things could change for you. I just wish that you would see this before it’s too late to turn back.”
“I saw what I needed to. But it’s just not...not where I’m goin’. That’s not how I...that’s not my life.”
Richie pulled his head back, to look into the other male’s face. He saw the other one’s own hurt, sadness, reluctance, sincerity...many things he’d never imagine he’d see on this person’s face. In his eyes. But he was witnessing it, now. He reached up to touch his face, to somehow smooth away some of that hurt. Their heads moved, and lips met, each one showing their apologies and asking forgiveness for the things they’d done.
It seemed as if the conversation had been their last. The finality of it made their hearts heavy, for their heads to grow light. It seemed as if both were determined to memorize all that they could; with their hands, their sight, their hearts...they both knew what was coming. But neither wanted to let go.
Until Hotstreak pulled away from him, his hand trailing over Richie’s face with a lingering gesture. He looked down between them. “Why’s your towel wet?”
Richie paled, eyes widening and mouth dropping.
That’s when Maria finally decided to show herself.
Chapter Nine:
Earlier:
Static crouched low on his disk, charging through the early morning sky, his brow furrowed with worry and concern. Richie had been so out of character for himself that he was determined to find out what had happened to him. He was very confused over what he’d come onto on the roof–Ebon, Hotstreak, Gear without his helmet...he was very frightened if his friend’s identity had been compromised–Static was a jumble of confusion and worry. He really had no idea what was happening...why was Gear out on his own? Why in the world was Hotstreak holding him?
What pissed Ebon off?
He reached up, his fingers curling into his dreads as he gave a hot curse, sailing into Richie’s neighborhood----and stopped short, his energy cackling with slight protest as he brought the disk to a stop. There were multiple police cruisers around the house, along with a single newsvan, and the front porch was littered with activity. His mouth dropped open, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Sailing slowly, carefully, he reached down to grip the edge of his disk, unsure of what to think as he drew close.
One of the police officers that were keeping the media away looked up at him, and nodded in greeting. Aaron Lewis, the police chief, was talking into a cellphone as he left the front porch. Static hovered close to him, seeing Maggie sobbing quietly into her hands, while Sean gestured and spoke angrily to a couple of uniformed detectives.
“Chief? Wh–what’s going on, here?” Static asked, catching the chief’s attention.
Lewis snapped his phone shut, shaking his bald head with a stern frown. “A meta performed a B and E and took off with some kid...a teen. Right in front of his parents.”
Static felt his stomach turn to lead, and he gripped his disk with both hands. “Wh–what? Who?”
“Stone. Hotstreak. Sonofvabitch just climbed right in, snatched the teen, threatened the parents, and disappeared. I have some boys lookin’ for him, but the question is–why? Far as we know, the kid isn’t a gangbanger, hasn’t been in any real trouble...”
“Richie...?”
“Yeah. Richard Foley...you know him, Static?”
“...Hangs out at the...community center. For Youths.” Static swallowed hard, darting a glance toward the distraught parents.
“Damndest thing, really. But his father mentioned he’s been staying out late. Kinda got a feeling about that one. You wanna pitch in?”
“I...yeah. I’ll...do what I can. Hotstreak, huh? On foot?”
“Vehicle. Late model Buick. White. No license plates. Guy’s got a record of hot-roding in cars that don’t belong to him.”
Static forced himself to nod.
“I’ll get on it.”
“You got a picture of the kid? About five six, hundred and thirty, blond, brown, and was wearing,” Lewis checked his notes, “blue jeans and a plain tee. Mother mentioned he’d come in earlier with a friend of his, and was...seemingly...under the influence.”
God, why?
“Had been passed out for nearly forty minutes.”
I took that long----?
“...Next thing they knew, Hotstreak was in there, dragging their son out of his room. Threatened them. Left. Kid didn’t struggle, but she mentioned he could possibly still be out of it.”
“Right. I’ll...I’ll get right on it...”
Lewis nodded firmly, and slapped his notebook shut. “Keep in contact.”
Static nodded once, then lifted into the air, his heart racing with fear and bewilderment. He fell into a crouch, his legs weak–and his thoughts were racing from one thing to another. What was Hotstreak doing? Why Richie? Where were they? Was he hurt? Was he going to be okay?
He let out an emotionally charged scream as he sailed through the early morning air.
OooooooooooO
“We late for the party?” Shiv hissed, peering over Talon’s shoulder as the pair looked at the house before them. Both had taken over their hiding spot from the other night, careful to keep out of sight from the numerous men in blue that lingered about. “Damn it...I totally forgot about my infamous seven layer dip...”
“Can it, stupid,” Talon muttered, narrowing her eyes. “It looks like we’re too late. That Foley kid’s gone.”
“Shit shit shit! There’s Static! Think like a bush–think like a bush...”
The pair listened intently as the chief described briefly what happened. As Static took off, the pair looked at each other with widened eyes.
“He took ‘im!”
Shiv took on a thoughtful look, pulling on his goatee. “Hmm. Kid has more power than I thought. Maybe he’s born with it. Maybe it’s Mayball----”
Talon used the back of her hand to whack him across the mouth. “Shut up. Let’s go tell Ebon what happened. He’s going to be really pissed...Huh. This is just...huh.”
Shiv snickered as he looked over at her stunned expression, wide eyes blinking furiously as she tried to accept this. She turned to him with a shrug. “Why you think he took him?”
“Dunno.”
“Where you think–you know what? Maria knows. She’s closer to that bitch than anybody else, is.”
“Maria? Dude...she’s gonna tear out Foley’s eyes. That bitch gets scary whenever she gets jealous.”
“She don’t like him that way, stupid! She just makin’ sure alla us meta stay together...”
“Not uh! An IDIOT can tell! She’s always all over him! She’s always cooking for him, cleaning for him, following him, stalking him, making prank phone calls to him, touching him, talking to him, getting mad at him, staring at him, wiggles around for him, dominates him–she totally wants his babies.”
“Will you SHUT UP? Let’s get out of here. And Maria isn’t that way.”
“Bitch, you totally are stupid, aren’t you? Too many feathers on the brain?” Shiv then yelped as the bird woman leapt on him, snarling as she tried to rip one of his earrings out.
Minutes later, the pair were hurrying through various backyards, looking for the man that lorded power and control over them. Ebon had stayed behind to settle some unfinished business with a couple of people. When Talon and Shiv arrived, he looked away from the members of his human gang and gave a questioning gesture.
“Police be all over that joint, man,” Talon said with a shake of her head. “You ain’t getting near that place.”
“What happened?” Ebon demanded, the two humans walking away.
“Francis-Kun stole away into the night with his lover! How romantic...maybe I’ll get to rent their escapades together someday...” Shiv said on a love sick sigh, batting his eyelashes repeatedly.
“Huh? What?”
“Francis left with the kid,” Talon reported with a scowl. “Came and went. The parents reported it.”
“How did he beat us here?” Ebon raged, his arms flying up with fury. “That fuckin’ cracker’s gonna pay for what he did! I’m going to fuckin’ kill him when I see him! Motherfuckin’ sonofvabitch cock sucking faggot!”
“Damn, boss. You sure get angry when you’re denied ass, huh?” Shiv asked curiously, giving Ebon a close examination. Ebon swatted lazily at him.
“I wanna talk to Maria,” Talon interjected. “She knows Hotstreak better. She might know where he ran off to.”
“He won’t leave Dakota,” Ebon muttered. “He ain’t that smart.”
“Where should I contact you?”
“...At Patty’s. no one will think to look for us, there. And keep an eye out. He ain’t gone far. I’ma get my revenge...Take over his bitch the way he did mine.” Muttering more obscenities and vows, Ebon opened a vortex, Shiv jumping through with an ecstatic yell. Talon took flight, knowing exactly where to find Maria.
“Sick ass bastard,” she muttered, sure that Ebon couldn’t hear her. “All for a piece of ass. Just find another fuckin’ white boy, you stupid, perverted freak of nature...”
OooooooooooO
“He WHAT?”
Talon winced, Maria dropping the sack of jewelry she’d pilfered earlier. After gaining control and use of her powers, the watery beauty had learned how to break into various banks and safes to take over on what she wanted. Talon thought that having power to do such things gave Maria a big head, and too much confidence. But she wouldn’t dare say that out loud.
“Took off with some kid. Skipped outta town. He gone an’ pissed Ebon off, last night. Ebon fuckin’ crazy, man. Wanted revenge, an’ we were set to get that kid Francis be hangin’ out with, all the time. But he got there first.”
“Why the HELL would he take off with some stupid kid?” Maria growled, watery teeth showing as she snarled. “What the fuck would he care what happened with some stupid kid?”
“Dunno. Maybe Shiv be right. Maybe he all loved up.”
“Fuck that gay bullshit, Theresa! He ain’t gay! That guy probably valuable for somethin’ else! He probably needed a hostage! Ain’t no way he’s gay! He fuckin’ beat up boys eyeing other boys! I was there when he bashed his first faggot! I KNOW HE AIN’T GAY!”
Talon winced once more, reaching up to rub at her ears. “I’m just sayin’, girl. He ran off with that boy. His parents already talkin’ to the police...and to Static. Static knows the guy.”
Maria’s fists balled, her eyes wide and stormy with her rage. Talon stepped back, not wanting to get soaked or splashed by anything Maria felt she was going to throw in her anger. Instead, the Latina stiffened, then narrowed her eyes.
“You be knowin’ where he’s at?” Talon asked cautiously.
“There are a few places he’d run to...he’s not at home. He’s got an uncle he goes to, sometimes, outta Dakota. And a couple of friends’ houses on the north side, in the Hills...and then there’s this busted up joint just past the docks...”
“But where?”
Maria narrowed her eyes, then looked at Talon. “Try 34955 Debit Avenue...that’s the place he goes to when he wants to avoid the police. Ain’t no one look for him there...”
Talon nodded, then took flight.
Maria sneered after her, ignoring the jewelry she had taken as she liquified her form, sinking into a nearby storm drain. That should throw Ebon off for awhile...meanwhile, she was going to check aforementioned places for herself. Her confidence in that Francis Stone wasn’t a lovesick fag propelled her with strength, eager to get to him first.
OooooooooooO
Richie sighed as he ducked his head beneath the shower spray, feeling sore all over. His shoulders hurt, his arms hurt, his ribs hurt...it felt that everything from the golden hairs on his head to the white tips of his toenails hurt. The water wasn’t very warm, and he realized he had to hurry if he wanted to get clean. He still hadn’t any idea where he was...Hotstreak merely muttered that they were ‘out of area’...whatever that meant.
It had been an hour since that rather possessive bones-jumping, and since then, he really hadn’t gotten too much about why Hotstreak had made the decision he had. That jumble of confusion before Talon’s attack had left him seriously in the dark. Backpack had obviously been a trap... It wasn’t that hard to put two and two together–Ebon was definitely wanting him for something. ‘Something’ that was most decidedly unclear. Maybe to use him to lure in Static? For some evil plot? Whichever reason, it was definitely not clear. And Richie really didn’t want to think the worst–even as Ebon’s hitting on him during his brief stay with the living shadow suddenly popped to mind.
“No, not that! Not that!” he yelled to himself, banging on the unclean shower wall. He pulled his fists away and washed them quickly, shutting off the water. He didn’t want to think about that. That was just...most decidedly ew. It sent shivers down his spine in a very unpleasant way, and made his gut shift with disgust. Not that. He reached out for the single towel that hung by a nail from the wall and hurriedly dried off.
From what he saw, the bedroom was a hastily put together area that was meant to be comfortable for a brief stay...there had been a bed and nothing more. The place was in shambles–the dead stink, the peeling of the wallpaper, the water stains...the bathroom was in order, but by scrapes and luck. The shower worked only if it had been turned on for a good twenty minutes–the water coaxed out of a nearby well. The propane did not work–but the water wasn’t that cold.
The sink was torn out from the wall, and the mirror was just a few slivers that clung stubbornly to waterstained walls. The toilet...well...at least it flushed....after a few jiggles and a kick. There was a solitary roll of toilet paper that looked as if it had been dragged through the dirt and then left to dry after a good soaking. But...at least there was toilet paper.
The bathroom connected to the bedroom, and from the bedroom was at least four feet of hallway space...before leading into one twenty by thirty room that held nothing but old furniture that collected both cobwebs and dust. Three of the windows had been boarded over with planks and plastic had been stretched across each one, stapled haphazardly in place. The other window was inlaid with bricks. But there was a suggestion of use to the place that told Richie that it was never completely abandoned. Canned food in a box, complete with a bowl, can opener and a single tin cup sat atop a dresser with a metal safe at its feet.
He’d tried asking the older male where they were; but Hotstreak kept quiet about it, merely telling him that it was a place Ebon didn’t know of. When Richie asked why Ebon couldn’t know about it, Hotstreak had merely muttered “Just cuz.”
The older male had left–saying something about securing some supplies.
Richie was left in the dark–he had no idea where he was, why he was, and what they were doing. Hotstreak kept quiet about everything, save for a few select things. Which was a little unusual–Richie thought he’d at least brag about something embarrassing.
Walking out from the bathroom, with a towel around his waist, he heard an abrupt shift of sound, and paused, squinting to see what was going on. Damn it for not having his glasses...
His eyes then widened as Aquamaria stared at him, her eyes slowly widening as she gave him a once over. The woman looked as if she’d slipped in through a small crack in one of the boarded windows, and looked similar to a ghost with her inconsistent form. He could see right through her to the furniture that had been stored within the room.
He felt himself immediately perform a whole body blush, wishing that the towel he wore was somehow King Sized...his hands flitted up to make sure that it stayed in place as his legs threatened to collapse in mortification. Having Hotstreak see him naked was different than being bare before some woman stranger. Ultra self-consciousness made his knees knock.
“No...” she breathed tightly, her accent heavily pronounced. Her eyes were wider than they ever had been, taking in his appearance again. And again. Then, her body drew larger with tendrils of water threatening to escape her humanoid shape, Richie looking up at her in continued mortified shock. The floor beneath her feet protested as her water expanded with the stripping of moisture within the air, all of it gathering at her bidding.
“Wow, this isn’t my house!” he exclaimed shakily, looking around himself. “Where ever did I come in here for...? Did I pass through some multi-dimensional portal?”
“NO!”
“I didn’t think so, either.”
Maria’s hands snatched his head, her hands and fingers cold–it felt odd to be touched by her. She was cold–he thought he would get wet by her touch, but it merely chilled his bones. She jerked his head to one side, then another.
A finger was tracing patterns on his neck. He remembered, with a flush, how they got there. She slapped him hard across the face with an enraged snarl.
He then gave a wild cry as he turned and ran for the bathroom, only to have himself enveloped within a thick egg of water. He clutched his soaked towel, trying not to breathe as Maria kept him within the containment. It was obvious she was a woman scorned. This made him slightly hysterical–scorned women tended to do scary things. He thought of Glenn Close, and clutched his towel tightly.
“NO!” she screamed again, thrusting the egg aside. Richie spilled out, hacking violently as he kept both hands on his towel, making sure it covered all the right places. “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!”
“Would it help that I have no idea what you’re talking about?”
“You’re not with him!”
“...No. Definitely not. Can’t a guy take a shower in the middle of no where...?”
“FRANCIS!”
Ric hie cringed as her furious scream nearly stripped the walls of the badly stained paper, and quickly scrambled to his feet. He was soaking wet, and his towel wasn’t cooperating with him. Knees knocking together in his mortification, he turned and hurried into the bedroom, looking for his clothes. Unfortunately...his clothes were missing. His boxers were still lying at the foot of the bed, and he grabbed them as various things slammed, Maria throwing a fit. When he heard her approach, he stripped the bed of the stained sheets, wrapping them around himself, his face being the only thing visible.
She slammed her way into the bedroom as he backed himself against the wall, trying to ignore the dead smell that wafted through his panic. And the wet spot on his back.
“Where is he?” she snarled, water gathering all around her as she stared at him. “WHERE IS HE?”
“I don’t KNOW!”
“WHERE IS HE?”
“I DON’T KNOW! I just took a bath...I would appreciate it if I didn’t take another, right now. I just dried off.”
“Don’t you get smart with me!” she shrieked, coasting over to him. “You aren’t supposed to be here! Where are your clothes?”
“Silly me...I have a tendency to lose whatever I put onto my person. I’m afraid I have no idea.”
“FRANCIS!”
“Listen. ..I really have no idea why I’m here,” Richie said hurriedly, pulling the sheets tighter around him. He was really wishing he could put his boxers on. The towel was getting very cold. “Can you give me an idea where I am?”
She reared on him, her hands out, ready to drown him when she suddenly stiffened–Richie covered his face and prepared to be soaked when the sound of water receding with a hiss of air caught his ear. He looked up, cautiously, and saw that she was gone...but a bead of water was drawing into the bathroom.
Hotstreak walked into the room, giving him a curious expression as he set a plastic bag down onto the bed. Richie looked at him, swallowing hard, as he realized why Maria had disappeared. Unsure of how to bring this up, he started to speak when the older male beat him to it.
“Here’s some stuff. I’ve gotta get going.”
The statement caused Richie to blink. “Huh? Where...?’
“Out of here.”
“And...what happens to me?”
“Dunno. Hitch a ride back.”
“What?”
“I ain’t fond of repeatin’ myself. Hitch a ride back...”
“How far out are we?”
“Ain’t that far. Here. There’s some stuff here for you...”
“What is going on, here?”
“...Nothin’. Why you hidin’ in nat?”
“You–”
“You know why, right?”
Richie blinked, confused by the shift in subject. He shut his mouth as he drew away from the wall, pulling the sheet from his head. “‘Why’, what?”
“Why I...left Dakota.”
“We’re out of Dakota? Where are–?”
“...Ebon’s gonna try to blame shit on me. Don’t wanna take that rap, so...I cut town.”
Richie froze in the process of reaching for the bag, looking up at the other male. “But...you can’t. Your anklet–”
“I took it off. Ain’t gonna need it, anyway,” Hotstreak muttered. He looked away from the teen, shifting with an obvious show of agitation. “‘S not like I...was cut out for that shit, anyway. People been lettin’ me know, an’...it’s ‘bout time I started listenin’ to them.”
“Telling you what?” Richie exclaimed, forgetting about everything else. “Why do you listen to them? You were doing good! Every start has a rough beginning! You were doing your work! You were doing your hours! You were doing everything right–!”
“The first clue shoulda been easy!” Hotstreak snapped at him. “I ain’t cut out for this goody-goody bullshit! I ain’t gonna work no fuckin’ job! I already built a rep that has people recognizin’ me on spot! That fuckin’ foreign couple that I worked for lost a good majority of their customers cuz I started workin’ there! People don’t respect me, anymore–!”
“That’s bullshit!” Richie exclaimed, shaking his head. “Of course they do!”
“No they don’t! You don’t know shit about the streets. You ain’t grown up there! You don’t know how they play...you gotta home. Fucked up one, but you got one. You got two parents.”
“I don’t–!”
“You gots an education, you got a future. You got shit that everyone wants. That shit don’t play in my playground. I have to do other things in order to get respect. That don’t mean following fuckin’ rules and shit that the law comes up with. That means doin’ what I have to in order to keep people from fuckin’ me over. That’s why I have the Crew. That’s why I start shit with fuckin’ Static. When I do that shit, I get respect. I get what I need to keep goin’. Doin’ this shit...” He trailed off, gesturing uselessly at the bag. He shook his head. “I ain’t cut out for this ‘good’ bullshit.”
“You had a chance, Francis! You had a chance to get that all changed...who cares what those guys on the street, think? They’re the ones that are going no where in their lives! They’re the ones that–!”
“You don’t know shit, Richie! You don’t know what the fuck it means to have respect! Maybe ya should, but you don’t! You just don’t! Don’t fuckin’ lecture me on this shit! I know what I haveta do, an’ I’mina do it. That’s all.”
“But–!”
“THAT& #8217;S ALL! Get this shit on. You’re going back.”
“I don’t understand why you’re giving up so easily!” Richie yelled at him, hitting the bag away from him. “You haven’t been out for more than a week, and you’re giving up because some stupid person or two thinks you can’t do it! You were doing it, and you were showing them that you could!”
“Get out of my face–!”
“Why do you have to bow down to them? Why can’t you do things for yourself?”
“I AM!”
“NO! You’re going with what other people think you should do!”
“Fuckin’ bullshit–!”
“It’s TRUE! You think you’re doing what you want to do, but you’re listening to these asshole’s point of view on what you should be doing, and you’re not giving a chance to what you want! What do you want, Francis? Do you want to keep living your life running from the police? Having to hide and fight them because of every rule you keep breaking just to satisfy other people?”
“...Shut up.”
“You know it’s true! You’re satisfying them! Not yourself!”
“SHUT UP.”
“Why can’t you think for yourself? Do what you want?”
“I said, shut the fuck up!” Hotstreak roared, grabbing his arm and shaking him roughly. Richie then shoved at him, the two pushing and shoving at each other. “SHUT UP! You don’t know shit! You don’t fuckin' know anything out there! You ain’t like me. You got the life. You don’t have to work very hard to get what you want. You don’t have people wantin’ to stab you in the back all the time–”
“You’re wrong–!”
“You don’t haveta live through what I have to! Least you got a home. Least you got–”
“I may have got a home, but it isn’t like I have everything! I have to work for it, too!” Richie shouted at him, yanking his arm back. He gestured at the bruises he’d gotten from his father. “You think I got these because I asked for them? You think I live without having to look over my shoulder all the time? And I can get stabbed in the back, for being who I am! Among other things...but you aren’t the only one that lives like that! You just lack the encouragement and faith that I have from good, positive friends, Francis. They’re the only really good things that I have...your friends want to drag you down with them. They want you to suffer with them. But you don’t have to! You can do your own thing. You can do it, and I’ve seen you try! You can rise above all this bullshit...but you don’t. Because you listen to them.”
Hotstreak looked away sullenly. The silence was thick as Richie stared up at him, breathing shortly, afraid that if he caught his breath–it would somehow disrupt the thinking he knew was going on within that head of his. He reached out, cautiously, and lightly gripped one sleeve to a black tee.
“You can do better, Francis,” he said quietly, bunching the material within his hands. “You just think too highly of what other people think of you. Just think for yourself. Put yourself first...”
Hotstreak lifted his arm, throwing off Richie’s hands. “An’ I want that. I want my rep back.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s important to me! Because that’s what I grew up maintaining! Cuz, when everything else fell, that remained. No matter what, if somethin’ happened–I knew I had my rep. Cuz it brought me respect an’ it made people know who I am.”
“You can be someone–!”
“Don’t give me that fuckin’ Disney bullshit! Fuck that shit! You don’t know anything, Richie! Get the fuck out of my face! Get that shit on–I’m taking you back.”
“NO! I won’t go! And if you try and make me, I’ll...I’ll–bite you.”
Hotstreak blinked, then snorted. “Bite me, then.”
“...No. I don’t know where you’ve been...”
The two stared at each other, neither blinking or saying a word. Finally, Richie had to blink, and he rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “You can still change things.”
“...I’ve already made up my mind. There’s clothes in there. Prolly ain’t your style, but–”
“Why?” Richie then shouted again, flinging his arms about. He reached out and gripped his sleeve once more, pulling at the older male then shoving him as Hotstreak stumbled from the unexpected move. “You can do so much better! You can do things! You can change yourself around! You can–!”
“I SAID, end of subject!”
“Oh, yeah, be that way! Be weak and stupid! Be retarded! Be everything that you think is cool, because you give up easily! Weak minded follower!”
Hotstreak lifted a fist, face screwing up with fury as Richie cringed, waiting for the blow. Something stopped him, then, seeing the teen cringing before him. His fist shook as his indecision kept him from following through with the blow, the room silent and tense as each one waited for the move. Finally, Hotstreak exhaled heavily, lowering his fist, quietly reminded of his own childhood, where his father beat on him for saying what was on his mind. When Richie realized he wasn’t going to be hit, he opened his eyes, lowering his arms as Hotstreak moved his attention to the bag once more.
The rustle of the plastic bag took over the silence, as the redhead unloaded what he’d packed onto the bed. Not saying anything, Richie stepped in closer, pressing his forehead against the other male’s back, between his shoulder blades. Hotstreak stiffened at his closeness, at the move----but then relaxed. Sensing this, Richie gripped the older male’s shirt within both hands, inhaling his scent, listening to his heart beat...he calmed himself, overriding his frustrated anger and his sadness with other things.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, shifting his face out of Hotstreak’s back, pressing his cheek against his spine. “I don’t mean those things. I’m just...frustrated that you’re...giving up. I’m just angry because of it. I shouldn't have said those things...you don't deserve them.”
Hotstreak stared uncomfortably at the set of clothes he’d gotten for the teen, having gotten rid of the ones he’d worn earlier, and his own. The apology made his gut twist. Because it was sincere and it was real. Because that was what Richie was to him–sincere and real.
He exhaled quietly, feeling his shoulders drop. He felt, suddenly, as if he’d just finished fighting a great battle. Something that exerted all his energy and strength. But it wasn’t anything physical–no, he’d feel that on the surface. This battle was deep within.
He turned, reaching out to pull Richie close to him, running his fingers through that golden blond shag, bringing their foreheads together. He could breathe in the same air Richie breathed; could feel his heartbeat adjust to match with the teen’s; could feel their connection deep inside, something that couldn’t be penetrated by anything else. Richie reached up to grasp his hands, pressing his forehead against his. The pair breathed quietly, aware of only each other. Pale fingers curled through tanned ones, then untangled so that Richie’s arms could curl around his neck. Hotstreak adjusted his own arms, curling around the teen, both of them holding each other close.
“You’re the only one that understands me,” he heard himself mutter.
“It’s because we’re the same in a lot of ways,” Richie said quietly, against his neck. “That’s why.”
“No...not entirely. Not entirely the same.”
“I asked for too much, didn’t I?”
“I disappointed you...”
“There isn’t an ‘us’, is there?”
“No...can’t be.”
“I...I know.” Richie’s arms tightened, his face turned against his neck. “I don’t want to let go, yet.”
“No...haveta let go.”
“NO. Not yet. Because...cuz when we go back there, it’s...not going to be...we’d just...end up hurting each other. An’...it’s not that way. I can’t–!”
“Things’ll change. You’ll find someone else.”
“...but nothing like this!”
“I’ll be no where near you. Not like this. I’ve got my own thing.”
“...I can’t let go so easily! Not after this–! I’ll just keep remembering, and...”
Hotstreak just held him close, closing his eyes. He could smell the teen’s unique scent; feel his lashes brushing against his neck; feeling his body lock up with refusal.
His was doing the same–he couldn’t command his arms to let Richie go.
A few more seconds. That’s all, he kept telling himself. That’s all...
“...But I understand. An’ that’s what makes it hard,” Richie heard his voice crack. “I know why you have to...do what you do. I just wish...I just wish things could change for you. I just wish that you would see this before it’s too late to turn back.”
“I saw what I needed to. But it’s just not...not where I’m goin’. That’s not how I...that’s not my life.”
Richie pulled his head back, to look into the other male’s face. He saw the other one’s own hurt, sadness, reluctance, sincerity...many things he’d never imagine he’d see on this person’s face. In his eyes. But he was witnessing it, now. He reached up to touch his face, to somehow smooth away some of that hurt. Their heads moved, and lips met, each one showing their apologies and asking forgiveness for the things they’d done.
It seemed as if the conversation had been their last. The finality of it made their hearts heavy, for their heads to grow light. It seemed as if both were determined to memorize all that they could; with their hands, their sight, their hearts...they both knew what was coming. But neither wanted to let go.
Until Hotstreak pulled away from him, his hand trailing over Richie’s face with a lingering gesture. He looked down between them. “Why’s your towel wet?”
Richie paled, eyes widening and mouth dropping.
That’s when Maria finally decided to show herself.