elytra
a beetle may or may not be inferior to a man
- One on One
- Group
baby van every.
Sitting in the court, Baby's heart felt like it was in her throat.
Somehow, it was more terrifying than when the Seaside Strangler had been loose. At that point, there'd been some sort of adrenaline. It felt wrong to label it as excitement, but the same sort of fervor had vibrated in her bones the entire time. A feeling of importance had risen up, knowing that she was helping- that she was part of the solution now. The terror had been overtaken by an overstimulation that had been, at the time, helpful.
Now, though? That energy was gone. In it's place was left a void, a gaping wound that only grew with the solemn proceedings of the trial. She stewed in guilt (could she have done more? She'd known things, she'd known something was wrong), a sense of unease (if he got out, if they didn't have enough, what would he do?), a jittery anxiety that seeped into her more and more the longer she sat in the stands. The prosecution had already called her up to testify at that point, but that didn't help. She worried she'd said the wrong thing. Worried she'd given the defense some sort of ammunition. Worried that somehow, she'd be the reason that the town stayed unsafe.
"The jury has come back with a verdict."
She twisted her hands in her lap, trying to reassure herself that things would be alright. There was no possibility that Hank Edwards would be let loose, not with what they had on him. She'd watched crime dramas, she knew how things like this went. The bad guy always got put away.
"The defendant has been found not guilty."
What? No. That wasn't possible. They'd done everything right, she'd done everything right. There was no way he was being released. No, no, no, no--
The bus went over a speedbump, jolting him away, his heart thumping against his chest. It felt hard to breath, like a hole had been punctured in his lungs, and he struggled to calm the shaking of his hands before the man in the seat next to him noticed his plight.
5 things he could see. The awful blue coloring of the fabric headrest in front of him. The overhead light, which he'd left on under the impression that he'd be staying awake. The passing buildings, blurring together. The man next to him, who was awake and in the same position he remembered him being in before. The book in his hands, which seemed to be a dime store paperback ala A Cowboy for Christmas.
4 things he could feel. The back of his seat, stiff and horribly uncomfortable. The metal of his watch, which was on slightly too tight, digging into the skin of his wrist. His sweater, which had been soft in texture earlier in the day but now felt unbearably itchy. His class ring from all the way back in high school, sitting on his finger as if he truly had ever cared about the place.
3 things he could hear. The wheels of the bus against the pavement, the snoring of the woman in front of him, and...fuck.
He'd lost track. Taking a deep breath in, then letting it out, he ran a hand through his hair; it was fine. He was on the bus, not in a court room, and Edwards hadn't been let go. The man was rotting in a cell somewhere, not coming out anytime soon. Things were fine.
The nightmare was probably a product of nights of lost sleep, not to mention why he was on the bus in the first place. Going home just to leave again with a group of people he hadn't spent time with in such a long time. God, how long had it been? Nothing but a few phone calls and texts on the appropriate occasions, he was sure. Certainly not recent enough to have seen him like he was, the thought making the feeling of the binder against his chest more prominent. What would they even think? Did it matter? Why did he care?
Next to him, his seat mate seemed to have picked up on his distress, looking over at Baby with a look on his face that suggested he wasn't looking to be bothered. Baby tried to give him a reassuring smile, but was positive it was a little wobbly. It seemed to do the trick, though; soon he was back to being ignore.
He leaned down to his bag, taking out a mirror and holding it up, one hand reached up to gently press against the skin under his eyes. Bags. He really hasn't wanted to look so exhausted for this meet up. There was no way he could let that slide. It wasn't a first impression technically, but it felt like one. The shortness of his hair, the clothes, the everything about him- it wasn't normal. Not normal to them. Not normal to the small town they'd all grown up in, either.
The next 20 minutes of the trip was spent putting on makeup, minimal concealer to cover up his bags. By the time the stop came around, he felt a little less restless and a little more put together. It was one road trip- if they hated him by the end of it, then they hated him. That was it. It was fine.
Stepping off the bus, the salty hair almost instantly noticeable. It was subtle, the sort of thing a lot of people may never notice, but one that hit him like a freight train, tied to a barrage of memories that threatened to send him right back to the state he'd been in during the trip. Now wasn't the time for that, though. He needed to stay composed, at least until the trip was over. Taking his bags, he made his way to the main station, trying to spot his next ride within the light crowd of people that had gathered around the stop.
He spotted a mop of brown hair. There we go.
He wasn't going to mention his appearance. He wasn't going to bring it up. Baby would act as if it were just any other meeting, as if they'd been still in contact, as if he'd not run away with his tail between his legs first chance he could. He quickened his pace and, when close enough, dropped his bag to the ground and drew Teddy into a hug. Almost as soon as he did, his anxiety welled up again, telling him it was far too familiar a motion to be doing, but he pushed it back down.
When he drew back, he flashed a bright smile, gently grabbing Teddy's face to get a good look at him.
He brushed by Teddy, though one hand remained on his shoulder, as if tethering himself there as he offered up a hand to the newcomer, hoping the bright demeanor he was displaying would be good enough to warrant a friendly reaction.
Somehow, it was more terrifying than when the Seaside Strangler had been loose. At that point, there'd been some sort of adrenaline. It felt wrong to label it as excitement, but the same sort of fervor had vibrated in her bones the entire time. A feeling of importance had risen up, knowing that she was helping- that she was part of the solution now. The terror had been overtaken by an overstimulation that had been, at the time, helpful.
Now, though? That energy was gone. In it's place was left a void, a gaping wound that only grew with the solemn proceedings of the trial. She stewed in guilt (could she have done more? She'd known things, she'd known something was wrong), a sense of unease (if he got out, if they didn't have enough, what would he do?), a jittery anxiety that seeped into her more and more the longer she sat in the stands. The prosecution had already called her up to testify at that point, but that didn't help. She worried she'd said the wrong thing. Worried she'd given the defense some sort of ammunition. Worried that somehow, she'd be the reason that the town stayed unsafe.
"The jury has come back with a verdict."
She twisted her hands in her lap, trying to reassure herself that things would be alright. There was no possibility that Hank Edwards would be let loose, not with what they had on him. She'd watched crime dramas, she knew how things like this went. The bad guy always got put away.
"The defendant has been found not guilty."
What? No. That wasn't possible. They'd done everything right, she'd done everything right. There was no way he was being released. No, no, no, no--
The bus went over a speedbump, jolting him away, his heart thumping against his chest. It felt hard to breath, like a hole had been punctured in his lungs, and he struggled to calm the shaking of his hands before the man in the seat next to him noticed his plight.
5 things he could see. The awful blue coloring of the fabric headrest in front of him. The overhead light, which he'd left on under the impression that he'd be staying awake. The passing buildings, blurring together. The man next to him, who was awake and in the same position he remembered him being in before. The book in his hands, which seemed to be a dime store paperback ala A Cowboy for Christmas.
4 things he could feel. The back of his seat, stiff and horribly uncomfortable. The metal of his watch, which was on slightly too tight, digging into the skin of his wrist. His sweater, which had been soft in texture earlier in the day but now felt unbearably itchy. His class ring from all the way back in high school, sitting on his finger as if he truly had ever cared about the place.
3 things he could hear. The wheels of the bus against the pavement, the snoring of the woman in front of him, and...fuck.
He'd lost track. Taking a deep breath in, then letting it out, he ran a hand through his hair; it was fine. He was on the bus, not in a court room, and Edwards hadn't been let go. The man was rotting in a cell somewhere, not coming out anytime soon. Things were fine.
The nightmare was probably a product of nights of lost sleep, not to mention why he was on the bus in the first place. Going home just to leave again with a group of people he hadn't spent time with in such a long time. God, how long had it been? Nothing but a few phone calls and texts on the appropriate occasions, he was sure. Certainly not recent enough to have seen him like he was, the thought making the feeling of the binder against his chest more prominent. What would they even think? Did it matter? Why did he care?
Next to him, his seat mate seemed to have picked up on his distress, looking over at Baby with a look on his face that suggested he wasn't looking to be bothered. Baby tried to give him a reassuring smile, but was positive it was a little wobbly. It seemed to do the trick, though; soon he was back to being ignore.
He leaned down to his bag, taking out a mirror and holding it up, one hand reached up to gently press against the skin under his eyes. Bags. He really hasn't wanted to look so exhausted for this meet up. There was no way he could let that slide. It wasn't a first impression technically, but it felt like one. The shortness of his hair, the clothes, the everything about him- it wasn't normal. Not normal to them. Not normal to the small town they'd all grown up in, either.
The next 20 minutes of the trip was spent putting on makeup, minimal concealer to cover up his bags. By the time the stop came around, he felt a little less restless and a little more put together. It was one road trip- if they hated him by the end of it, then they hated him. That was it. It was fine.
Stepping off the bus, the salty hair almost instantly noticeable. It was subtle, the sort of thing a lot of people may never notice, but one that hit him like a freight train, tied to a barrage of memories that threatened to send him right back to the state he'd been in during the trip. Now wasn't the time for that, though. He needed to stay composed, at least until the trip was over. Taking his bags, he made his way to the main station, trying to spot his next ride within the light crowd of people that had gathered around the stop.
He spotted a mop of brown hair. There we go.
"Teddy! Oh my god, it's been forever."
He wasn't going to mention his appearance. He wasn't going to bring it up. Baby would act as if it were just any other meeting, as if they'd been still in contact, as if he'd not run away with his tail between his legs first chance he could. He quickened his pace and, when close enough, dropped his bag to the ground and drew Teddy into a hug. Almost as soon as he did, his anxiety welled up again, telling him it was far too familiar a motion to be doing, but he pushed it back down.
When he drew back, he flashed a bright smile, gently grabbing Teddy's face to get a good look at him.
"Oh, honey, you look like you haven't changed a bit."
His hands fell to the others shoulders, squeezing them lightly, before his gaze looked to behind him, finding DJ and...well. He wasn't sure who that was, frankly."Deej! Good to see you."
DJ seemed less than happy to be pointed out, mouth pressing into a thin line as he practically shifted away, causing Baby's heart rate to stutter. It shouldn't have been as much of a hit as it felt like. "And someone new, too, that's nice. Hi there, darling, I'm Baby."
He brushed by Teddy, though one hand remained on his shoulder, as if tethering himself there as he offered up a hand to the newcomer, hoping the bright demeanor he was displaying would be good enough to warrant a friendly reaction.
cry for love
백현
♡coded by uxie♡
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