"Tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when I lose my mind."
In which two kids made it out together, though they aren't kids anymore. The pair is reunited with their old childhood friend-group, with the goal to save t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Elaine fumbled with her large leather purse, her fingers shaking as she dug for her house keys. "Where are you?" She grunted, exasperated, hands searching until the contents spilled onto the porch; scattering lipsticks, loose bills, pennies, and receipts across the ground. She let out a breath that was part sigh, part gasp. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she muttered, crouching down to sift through the mess. Of course this would happen to her. You see, she'd just come home from a particularly grueling hospital stay, and this was the last thing she needed.
Richie was close behind, locking his red sports car. His eyes lingered on her, a frown darkening his expression as he took in her shaking hands and unfocused stare. Without a word, he dropped her hospital bag and moved to her side, kneeling to gather the spilled items. "I've got it," he murmured gently, his voice a grounding presence. Elaine gave him a weak smile as she stood, a feeble attempt at thanks. She knew the last few days hadn't been easy for him either, and there was that unspoken weight between them as he unlocked the door.
He helped her through the doorway, dragging the bags behind them as she kicked off her shoes, wincing at the effort. She hesitated, her voice barely a whisper, "I'm going to shower," she said, as though speaking was an effort she could barely manage. Richie paused at her words, his hand still on the doorknob. Worry creased his brows and he sighed, "Laine... Honey," he began cautiously, as if careful not to set her off. "you know what they said at the hospital. I shouldn't be–" Elaine's temper flared, her shoulders tense as she crossed her arms defensively.
"Rich, please, don't start with me right now," she snapped, her words sharp and cutting. She saw the caution in his eyes shift to hurt but felt too exhausted to care. Her patience had run thin, frayed from her own grief and frustration. Richie took a slow breath, doing his best to stay calm. "They said not to leave you alone," he reminded her, his voice a gentle insistence. "I want to be alone!" she insisted, her voice breaking, drugged fatigue adding a slight slur to her words as she wobbled, clutching the wall for balance. Richie gave her a look, shoulders slumping.
"Fine," he muttered, the fight slipping out of him. "Do what you want," He brushed past her into the kitchen, lazily tossing his keys onto the granite counter with a clatter. Elaine closed her eyes for a moment, regretting her outburst, before she followed him, her feet shuffling as she forced herself to confront him. She cursed at herself, "Rich, I'm sorry," she said, voice softer, nearly pleading. He took a deep breath, not looking up as he took a glass from the cabinet and reached into the freezer for ice. "Just go," he said, exhaustion lacing his words.
"Do what you need to do." "I didn't mean it." Elaine's voice was quiet, her fingers playing nervously with the hem of her shirt, eyes glossy with unshed tears. "I'm sorry, I'm just-" she paused, not finding the right words to express how she felt. Richie finally turned, his expression softening with an understanding that only came from years of love and heartache. She had already been through so much in so little time, he didn't want her to get all worked up for nothing. So, Richie set down the glass and stepped forward to cup her face, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek.
