The rain hammered against the windshield like Jedediah's fists against his bedroom door just hours ago, each droplet serves as a reminder that some things never fucking stop coming at you. Ewan's thumb worked the edge of his phone screen, picking at the tempered glass protector until it lifted just enough to catch under his nail. Three-seventeen. They said three-thirty, but time moved different when you were waiting for something that might actually not turn to shit for once.
The truck smelled wrong without cigarette smoke choking the air. He'd scrubbed it down twice with that pine cleaner from the dollar store, even pulled out the floor mats and beat them against the fence post behind the barn until his arms ached. Now it just smelled like artificial forest and the faint ghost of motor oil that lived like a permanent resident in the seats. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his index finger catching on the peeling vinyl where he'd picked it raw during sleeplessly bad nights.
The blankets in the back were arranged perfect-like, the good ones he'd stolen from the Salvation Army drop box last week. Soft shit, not the scratchy wool that reminded him of all those punishment nights spent in the prayer closet. He even grabbed those fancy throw pillows from the clearance rack at Target, stuffed them under his jacket and walked right out while the security guard was busy with some tweaker trying to return empty gift cards.
His phone buzzed, and his heart lurched up into his throat like a rabbit spooked by headlights.
"Five minutes away! :)"
The smiley face mocked him, it’s what normal people sent. Normal people whose hands weren't scarred from their daddy's belt buckle, whose ribs hadn't been broken twice before they turned fifteen. He started typing back, then deleted it and tried it again. But, he settled on a thumbs up emoji because anything else felt like giving too much away.
The money in his wallet felt heavier than it should. Forty-three dollars and seventeen cents, counted out six times this morning. Every penny from helping old man Henderson fix his fence, from selling his pain pills to Jensen and Terrence instead of taking them, from skipping lunch for two weeks straight. Enough for them to order whatever the fuck they wanted at Sonic, maybe twice if they were one of those people who just got water and small fries.
Thunder rolled across the sky and he flinched hard with his hand jerking toward the gear shift before he caught himself. It was just weather, not Jedediah stumbling up the porch steps. And not God himself coming down to tell him what a piece of shit he was for even thinking he deserved this.
Three-twenty. The windows fogged up from his breathing, and he wiped a clear spot with his sleeve, leaving streaks across the glass. He should’ve brought paper towels. Should've thought about a lot of things. Like what the fuck he was gonna say when they climbed in and saw the blanket fort in the back like some middle school sleepover bullshit. Like how he was gonna keep his hands steady when they sat close enough that he could smell whatever shampoo they used.
Movement in the rearview stopped his self deprecating thoughts. His whole body went tight, that familiar coil of adrenaline that meant fight or get your ass beat, with absolutely no in-between. But it was just você’s car pulling up behind him, headlights cutting through the rain like an accusation he already thought he deserved.
This was it, this is the moment where everything either stayed exactly as fucked as it always was, or maybe--just fucking maybe--shifted toward something that didn't end with him bleeding on the kitchen floor, begging forgiveness for simply existing wrong.
He watched their silhouette move in their car, gathering things, probably debating whether to wait for the rain to lighten up. His hand moved to the door handle, then simply stopped. Let them come to him on their own, don’t let them see him as desperate as he truly is. He can’t seem like the kind of guy who'd practiced this moment in his head every night for the past week, who'd fallen asleep thinking about the way they smiled at him when they spoke to him.
