Trapped In Your Bleeding Heart (Riff x Reader)

Chapter Twenty Seven - Home Sweet Home

From inside the truck, it looked quality– as if at some time it was a luxury item. Some time far before then. Riff pulled out of the parking lot, and pulled into the Main Street.

Wait, we're going to his apartment? Alone?

Suddenly, a nervousness that hadn't hit me before took over my mind. Why had I agreed to this so carelessly? Riff's window stayed rolled down, causing more and more cold air to flood the truck as we gained speed. Riff himself seemed unaffected by the dropping temperature. In fact, he looked at peIce– with one hand on the steering wheel and one holding the toothpick in between his teeth. His hair blew with gusts of wind, which made me–for once–see his point. His hair was long. "So Tony always cut your hair before now?" I asked loudly, though I wasn't sure if it was enough to be heard over the wind.

After flicking his toothpick out of the car, Riff rolled the window up, causing a newfound silence to settle into the space. "Sure, yeah." He said. "He's gettin' bad now, though. I don't know what's come over him."

"It isn't under his control, unfortunately."

"Yeah, I know." He said, almost defensively. When I didn't speak, he glanced over at me. "Who do you think brought him to all those appointments?... There's a reason I don't like docs... All that money wasted– and what did they tell Tony? That there's nothing to do but sit and wait to die."

There wasn't a particular amount of rage in his voice, but I could tell he was angry. I supposed that he'd have to be. How else would he be a gang leader? How else would he go through so much effort to negotiate one big fist fight? Wait... was it a fist fight? Or were other weapons going to be there? I shook the thought out of my head. It didn't concern me. "Have they given him anything? For pain?" I asked.

His dark eyebrows tightened towards the road. "If he is hurting, he doesn't say so."

"I see." The evening had grown sunless, causing the inside of Riff's car to fade into vague silhouettes and shapes. "Does your truck have a radio?"

This pulled a slight weight off of Riff's face. A success, in my book. "Sure, doll."

He pushed a button in between us, causing sound to erupt from the truck. It was muffled, and intrusive. But it was music– I was almost sure. A deep voice singing a jazzy song. "What's your favorite type of music?" I asked.

"The type you can dance to."

"Well, that's almost any music, isn't it?"

"It'd be a bummer if it wasn't." Riff took a quick right turn, causing me to lean towards him. He went on. "You know, lots of seniors think our type of music should be thrown out. They think it's makin' bad impressions on all the ankle-biters."

"'Ankle-biters'?"

Riff smiled. "The babies, baby."

A reluctant smile formed on my face. "Whatever, Jet." I shook my head.

With a left turn and a gap of silence, accompanied by the rumbling of Riff's truck and the fuzzy music from the speaker, we were past Uptown. "I've never been to the Northside before." I said, my voice shockingly small next to the white noise that filled the vehicle.

"We aren't going far." Riff replied. "Everything past the first seven blocks is being torn down. I guess that makes me one of the lucky ones."

I tried to observe the scenery around me. I wanted to see what the Northside was like. But there were no lit street lamps– no lights from stores. All I could see was profiles of buildings and the few lit rooms from the apartments above us. My eyes drifted to the road, which was visible from the truck's blaring headlights. And then there was Riff. He was more serious that night. Maybe I shouldn't have brought up Tony– or the Northside. Not a lot about Riff's life seemed very perky and bright. Maybe that's why he kept me around.