cash in. (au story)

chapter 6; kicked out & smoke breaks.

"richie! richie?!" mike yelled, shaking the boy's shoulders as kyle sobbed behind him. "fuck!" mike yelped, welling up in tears. he turned to kyle and gave him a hug. "he's gonna be okay.."

kyle just cried into his shoulder, and more police entered the building. an ambulance arrived shortly to take richie and get help, and mike stayed to take care of kyle.

"don't cry, he's in good hands," an officer said, patting the little boy on the shoulder. he looked at mike funny, who looked down. "what was the cause of his situation?"

"the literal woman in your car.." mike said, his voice cracking.

"hm," the man hummed with a nod, "just making sure.."

"what, you saying i did it?" mike asked.

"no, sir."

"you're trying to blame it on me because i'm not white?!" he snapped. the officer glared at him.

"we're just doing our job. now, i don't want another word out of you or you will be arrested. understand?" mike nodded, tears pricking the back of his eyes. "good. who are you, young sir?"

"k-kyle.." kyle mumbled.

"now is this your.. brother.. or were either of those two women your mother?" the officer asked. mike bit his tongue at the hesitation to say 'brother'.

"mommy's in the car.." kyle cried, hands below his chin.

"alright. do you have a father?" the man asked. kyle nodded. "okay. let's get you home."

the officer took one last glare at mike before walking away with kyle, leaving mike to be near sobs on the floor.

"bye, mister," kyle huffed, but was immediately turned around by the officer. mike smiled, but it faded when the two left.

"oh.. richie..?" mike asked as richie's eyes slowly opened. "can you hear me..?"

"mike?" he whispered. mike couldn't help but smile.

"how are you feeling?"

"uh.." richie mumbled, studying the room. "fine."

mike nodded and sat in the chair next to the bed, waiting for the doctor. when the man entered, he smiled at richie.

"ah, you're awake," he said, walking over to richie. "how are you feeling?"

"i'm alright. can i leave?" richie asked. the doctor shook his head.

"i'm afraid not. you may be feeling better, but you do still need to pay the hospital bill," the man said, scribbling random shit onto a piece of paper pressed against a light brown clipboard. richie's eyebrows rose.

"well shit.. i don't have any money," richie admitted. the doctor looked up at him.

"then we'll have your parents pay," the man said simply. richie looked down.

"yeah right," he mumbled beneath his breath.

wentworth slammed the door. "two-hundred dollars, richard! that's two hundred dollars down the fucking drain, do you realize that?!"

"yes.." richie mumbled.

"we don't even have that much money! so fuck eating for you. we won't serve you anymore. you'll have to pay on your own. you cost us two hundred dollars for something you could've just wiped up and put a bandaid on!" he screamed. richie zoned out into the carpet. "are you even listening?!"

"of course," richie answered. wentworth brought his hand up to put on richie's shoulder, but richie flinched away and backed up a few steps.

wentworth stared at the kid for a second before shaking his head and letting his arm fall back to his side.