fangednconfused (fangednconfused) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2021-01-30 13:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | derek mitchell, ronnie milam |
S.O.R.
Who: Derek/Ronnie
What: Plea Via Text
Where: Somewhere Outside Searchlight
When: Present
Ratings/Warnings: Low-ish
Days and nights seemed inseparable.
Though the curtains were drawn Ronnie could barely distinguish the hours as they presented themselves. All he knew was sleep, drink, drink, eat, rinse off, repeat. The whiskers on his chin had grown a bit, too, thankfully they had yet to become entirely unruly.
He knew when that week's rent for the room was due, how to thumb through the outdated phone book that kept the Bible in the drawer company. Housekeeping always gave him an odd look those sparse times they crossed paths - sometimes he asked for directions, sometimes recommendations for things like food. Everyone who was anyone had a smartphone adhesed to their palms and so the questions were strange yet always answered honestly.
Ronnie made sure to leave them a good amount for their trouble and in turn his room was nearly always cleaned and straightened.
But there were also times where he went into what Rocky would call a blackout - a period of amnesia onset by heavy intoxication - and did things he couldn’t recall. The little flip phone couldn’t do much more than make texting challenging, snap a few pixelated photographs (he didn’t even have the luxury of selfies), or play a good game of snake.
Somewhere during that blackout Ronnie had sent a message to Derek. I wanna come home, man. And then an address, the number to his room. Perhaps it was the weight of desperation. While he wasn’t one to necessarily push down his emotions, when he drank he became a little different.
Deep down in his core he was scared. The alcohol helped take the edge off and numb the fear. Any time he was out in public and a cell phone chimed, Ronnie could feel his throat tighten and his heart rate increase.
It was creeping into nine p.m. by that point. He had made it to the floor again. Mr. Coffee peered over the vanity perch silently judging. “You don’t owe me nothin’” Ronnie managed, words jutting up against each other laden with whiskey and heavy with burden.
Derek had gotten the text from Ronnie after he had woken up for the night. It didn’t sound like the usual happy-go-lucky man that was more likely to message him with a series of emojis. He didn’t think twice before hopping behind the wheel of a newly purchased beater he had found on Craigslist, an early 2000s Chevy with many, many miles on it. It didn’t have an onboard GPS, so the vampire followed the directions that chirped from his phone.
A tense car ride later, and Derek was pulling into the small, graveled parking lot of a cheap roadside motel. Actually, it looked exactly like the El Rey in Searchlight, just miles and miles away. He got out of the vehicle and looked for Ronnie’s room number. He knocked loudly and firmly on the door.
Dozing. Ronnie had been drifting in and out of a lull by the time the knocking had come. He nearly jumped out of his skin. With wide eyes and a groan of dissatisfaction of giving up the warm place on the floor, Ronnie rolled onto his stomach and made himself get up slowly. The room spun anyway.
Blinking, he waited for it to settle down, a hand finding the edge of a pristine bed for extra support. He couldn’t rationalize as to why anyone would be knocking or who it could be — what time was it even?
His free hand patted down the front of his tee shirt, jeans, looking for the little red flip phone. He finally found it laying on the floor and as the ground came too quickly up to meet him he caught himself and rolled over to avoid too much bruising. Ronnie lay there for a second squinting at the tiny screen to see if he accidentally messaged someone. Low and behold — Derek.
“Fuck,” Ronnie sighed.
“Comin’” he murmured to no one. It took another few minutes to peel away from the floor and then he went to the door. The barrier eased open enough for Ronnie to peek through the crack to make sure it was who he thought. “M’ I dreamin’?”
“I don’t know, do you usually dream about me?” Derek joked until he noticed just how terrible his friend looked. “Jesus, Ronnie.” The last part was whispered, and he tried to peer inside the motel room. He could smell alcohol and coffee, plus that weird, musty smell that seemed to permeate all motels, as reliable and ubiquitous as the Bible in the nightstand drawer. “Let me in and I can help you.” The vampire held up his phone which displayed the chef’s text messages.
“Sometimes,” Ronnie murmured. Who didn’t dream about their family or friends? The door eased open a bit more though he didn’t realize his knees were shaking a little bit more than usual. He wanted to ask if Derek was alone - the question was more loaded than he wanted it to be because it begged more questions to follow - and decided against it.
Another soft swear under his breath and the door swung open more. As much as he wanted to close it and hide, Derek was good. They were friends. And Ronnie had reached out reflexively in the most desperate of times. “No helpin’ me,” he murmured, shaking his head. “ There wasn’t anything to do except wait. “‘Less they caught the guy?”
Derek stepped into the motel room, looking at the disarray. “Running away isn’t going to help anything,” he said, a worried expression on his face. “What about Mikey? Does he know where you are?” The vampire sat on the edge of the bed, the fabric of the cheap comforter rasping at the friction. His hands rested on the knees of his jeans. “If you come home, we’ll figure this out. I’ll hunt him down myself.”
Ronnie nodded.
He peered out of the door to see if anyone else was there, and finding the threshold empty he closed the door promptly, tightly. And then he scurried away as if standing too close to the barrier was dangerous. “Stayin’ there wasn’t helpin’ either. Just less lonely,”
Plopping down on the edge of the bed next to Derek, Ronnie leaned over against his friend. His eyes closed. “We keep in contact a bit but I didn’t tell him outright where I’m stayin just in case…” In the darker parts of the night his mind created scenarios, some of which were harder than others. He didn’t want to think whoever it was would try to hurt Mikey to get to him, Mikey was capable of fending for himself.
“Scared, man.” There was nothing he could do except stay in the house. He’d been going stir crazy between keeping himself locked up and being paranoid about going outside. Mikey couldn’t be there all the time and he worried about being alone.
“Maybe whoever it is wants you to be scared,” Derek replied, a wave of sadness washing over him as Ronnie leaned against him. It reminded him too much of the state in which he had found his friend’s father, though the dark-haired man was much less belligerent and wasn’t trying to wield a baseball bat. “They might be enjoying the fact that you’ve run off.”
The vampire paused, not quite believing what was about to come out of his mouth. “Have you tried talking to the police about this? Like, reporting it. Maybe they can trace the number. Searchlight is so small, there’s a huge chance you’ve interacted with this person.”
Ronnie nodded. “Yeah, they aren’t helpful at all.” The police department didn’t really seem to take the claim seriously. And the idea that someone was targeting him and wanted to scare him, made his stomach twist into knots.
Mikey had done a bit with that, too, but they had gotten nowhere. “I dunno what to do anymore. Problem here is that I’m by myself. Problem there is the people I love are in danger too.”
“Ronnie, all of your friends have either super strength or know magic or can turn into giant cats. We’ll figure it out.” Derek stood up from the bed, the springs creaking as he did so, his sneakers swishing against the carpeting.
“But we can’t do anything if you keep running.” The vampire paused, considering whether to say this next part or not. “You don’t want to end up like your dad, do you?”
Derek had brought out the big words. That guilt twisted up again and Ronnie looked down at the floor before shaking his head slowly from side to side. He did not want to end up like his father. “Okay.”
He knew it was inevitable and also not worth fighting about, nor did he have the strength to go toe to toe with his friend. Whatever happened next wasn’t up to him and at least he could say he tried. That fear wouldn’t go away the closer they got to home, but he felt a surge of confidence at least.
Ronnie made himself get up and began shuffling around to get his stuff together.
The vampire felt guilty himself. He knew it hurt Ronnie to hear that. But he also knew he couldn’t let that happen to his friend. These thoughts, however, were temporarily driven from his head when he spotted a coffee maker with little plastic googly eyes stuck onto it. “Um...did you give an appliance eyes?”
Blinking, he turned toward the vanity. For the first time in a long time he was grinning. “Yeah man, that’s Douglas. He’s pretty cool.” There wasn’t anyone else so he had to make his own friends. “Can’t leave him here.” He decided at the last minute that the Mr. Coffee was coming with.
It didn’t take long to pack. The duffel bag was overfilled with bundles of stuff. Ronnie remembered where he put his shoes and his coat.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Derek nodded as he watched Ronnie pack. “Wait, did you drive here? Because I drove, too.” The vampire remembered the smell of alcohol, and the current state of his friend, and realized that maybe they would have to leave his truck behind for now if he had.
“Oh..” Ronnie replied. He paused to think, nodding. “Yeah, I did. Guess I gotta leave the truck.” He wasn’t stupid enough to try to convince anyone he was okay to get behind the wheel. They could come back for it, and if Derek couldn’t he was sure he could rustle up a friend or two to help. “Thanks man.”
With Douglas in one hand and the duffel bag in the other, Ronnie nodded. It felt good to be going home, leaving this place behind for the time being.
Derek opened the door for Ronnie, embraced by the cool night air. “Hey, guess what?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood a little. “I still have our road trip playlist on my phone.” He quickly scanned his memory to make sure there were no songs about stalking on it. Luckily he didn’t care much for Sting or the Police.
“Whaat? Really! I’ve been putting together a cool jamz playlist for Mikey on Spotify. Just like one for him. I dunno if he’s listened to it or not but it’s like….every song I think of that reminds me of him.” He felt that pang of guilt again.
“Thanks man.” Making his way out he looked around for a familiar car. “Uh. Which one is yours?” Did he forget?
The vampire gestured to the 2002 Chevy Aveo, a nondescript shade of gray with rust spots over the wheel wells. “That’s me,” he announced cheerfully. He pulled out his keychain, a tiny version of the ‘Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas’ sign, and slid the key into the driver’s side lock. He reached down and popped open the trunk for Ronnie to throw his belongings into.
“Nice! I like the color!”
Ronnie put everything but Douglas into the trunk. It closed with a soft pop and he got into the passenger side. Doug rode on the floor and the coffee pot would be placed into Ronnie’s lap once he got settled.
“Road trip playlist!” A fist would go into the air as the voyage began. “We should do something kickass for my birthday. No idea what, but yeah.”
Derek put the key into the ignition, the engine firing up after a few false starts and he shifted into reverse to pull out of the parking lot. “Skydiving, maybe?” He grinned, glancing over at Ronnie to see his reaction. “Or maybe something a little less death-defying. A bouncy castle!” He handed his friend his phone to connect to the Aux cord and they began trundling down the road back home to Searchlight.
“Bouncy castle, holy shit. Best way to turn thirty six.” He was old, he knew it. A bouncy castle in the front yard. They could make food. Or he could make food. Either way. He laughed at a mental image of Rhiannon jumping in a bouncy castle.
Ronnie took the cord and connected it to the phone. Road trip playlist, ahoy!