The Ineffable Ruth Rhodes

26 i'm starting to

ruth

content warning // vomit mentions, vomit descriptions, death

Ruth hadn't talked to Vincent for what felt like weeks. She couldn't tell you how long it was, all she knew was that she was not brave enough to tell him that she maybe, sort of really really really missed him.

It must've been something about his curls. or the way he spoke, or his hands with rings on them that made her go stir crazy, but she was on the verge of getting up herself and strutting to his house herself to demand an apology and speed up the process of them being around each other again.

It was weird, she decided.

After all, she wasn't in love with him.

Yet.

... right?

And to be frank, she didn't know if she could face him.

So when she received a frantic and clogged-voiced call from Sumaiya at 11 p.m., and had to make an emergency call, it wasn't with excitement.

"Is she okay?" her father asked her when she'd ran downstairs, thick brows furrowing.

She shook her head, feeling like she was going to cry. "I don't think so."

Her dad held her, giving her a warm hug and rubbing her back.

"Do we— is the car at home?" she managed, trying to steady her breathing.

Her dad shook his head solemnly and pushed her back, examining her. "Do you have anyone you can call? Your mom is with it at work."

She shook her head, but paused as a thought came to her head. A crazy and stupid thought.

"I do," she said, and stalked hastily into the other room.

Ruth dialed his number, squeezing her eyes shut more and more every time she heard another beep that didn't follow by him picking up.

"Ruth?" his smooth voice carried through the receiver.

Ruth shut her eyes for the last time, taking a deep sigh.

"I need your help."

"Is everything okay?"

"No." Her voice cracked as she spoke. "Something happened with Sumaiya and her house is too far to walk to tonight. I don't have my car."

"Are you home?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there in ten. Wait for me."

And she did.

And surely enough, he arrived there in seven minutes.

She rushed into his car, not bothering to explain everything to him, and he didn't try to ask her, which she was grateful for, because she wasn't ready to talk-- especially not to him. When they arrived at the familiar lavender and peach house, he finally spoke to her.

"Should I stay or go?" he asked her softly.

It would've been best for him to go. If not for the whole situation she wouldn't have even called him (he should've called her first, anyway) and she wasn't exactly in the mood to look at him, not after what he said to her. She couldn't wrap her head around why he was so angry at her for nothing, and she wished he'd had just left her alone.

She wished the whole thing just collectively, never happened.

But it was something about that night.

Something about the way his window was down, and he had an arm rested on the opening, tapping it lightly. Something about the way he was looking at her with very obvious remorse, but also with warmth and a small whisper that he was there for her. It was something about how he watched her steadily, searching her face, that made her reply the way she did.