Mayans, MC Collection

NOT ALONE Creeper Vargas (1/1)

summary
After Steve takes his own life, Creeper comes home to Bella.

adria arjona as
BELLA LINARES-VARGAS

joseph raymond lucero as
NERON "CREEPER" VARGAS

Bella knew something was wrong the second Neron came through the door. It was late, past midnight when she heard his bike pull into the driveway, and since she hadn't heard from him in hours, she'd gotten out of bed to meet him at the door. Even in the dark with just the soft glow of the kitchen night light bouncing off his face, she could see that his eyes were red and bloodshot.

He's relapsed, she thought, heart sinking. It was a fear she had every time he left the house, a sad and unfortunate truth that came with being married to a former addict. It shot through her mind like a bolt of lightening each time he turned his back to leave. Would this be the time he slipped?

But when he met her eyes, she knew that wasn't the case. No, he wasn't drunk or high, he was devastated.

"Neron, what's happened?" she asked, coming forward to take his face in her hands. She dipped her head a little to try and catch his gaze, but he just pulled back, and her hands dropped to her sides. He ignored the question and pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

Bella's eyes widened. Whatever it was, it was bad enough to render her husband speechless, and that scared her, but she had to hold it together at least long enough for him to process his emotions. So she wrapped her arms around him, and ran her hands up to cradle the back of his head. His hands came to rest on her waist where he fisted the material of her t-shirt like he was holding on for dear life.

Neron only knew a little bit of Spanish, just what Bella had taught him over the years of their relationship, but he loved when she rambled on in her native tongue. She whispered soft words of comfort to him now, and ran her fingers across his skin in soft patterns in the way she knew he liked. Along the back of his head, down his neck, across his leather-clad back and shoulders she traced. She could feel his tears, the tremble of his arms around her.

"What is it, Neron?" she tried after a few quiet moments.

Bella pulled back and took his face in her hands again. The skin of his cheeks was wet with tears. "It's Steve," he said. "He, uh, he shot himself tonight. In the head."

Bella felt all the blood in her body run cold, like an enormous ice cube was dropped down the back of her shirt and melted instantly. "The prospect, why?"

Neron refused to meet her gaze, but he shrugged, looking anywhere but at her. "I don't know. He just pulled the gun out at the table and—" He let out a shuddering breath. "Right in front of us."

She couldn't stand to see him struggle. Neron had always been strong, almost always the caretaker, and to see him so rattled was unnatural. It broke her heart.

"I'm so sorry, mi amor," she whispered as she pulled him back in for another hug.

"I didn't know he was, nobody thought he'd—"

"Shhh," she soothed. "Estás bien, estás seguro, y estoy aquí contigo."

Bella took him by the hand and led him back down the hallway to their bedroom. Neron didn't resist, and once they were inside, he stood listlessly like he was frozen, like he was somewhere else. She started with his cut, pulling it gently from his shoulders, and he allowed it to drop away. The piece of leather was his most valuable possession, and Bella handled it with care, draping it over the top of the dresser.

Beneath the cut was a plain t-shirt, and Bella pulled it up. Neron cooperated, raising his arms over his head, but he wouldn't look at her as she stood in front of him, and that made her heart crack. After his shirt was off, she reached for his belt, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his shoulder.

"Shower or bed?" she asked in a whisper.

Neron reached up and wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. "Bed," he said. "I just wanna hold you for a second."

Neron's limbs seemed to come back to life, and he pushed his jeans down and stepped out of them. Then he took Bella's hand and led her to their bed. He sat down on the edge and reached for her, and she gladly stepped into his arms. With his head resting on her chest, she held him tight. The tears had stopped, and his breaths came even and slow in the dark room.

She couldn't begin to understand what he'd been through tonight, what he'd seen. Steve was a nice guy, so incredibly kind. At first, Bella couldn't wrap her head around him wanting to join the club at all, but then she saw the determined way he looked at the Mayans every time they walked into a room. Whatever happened, it'd tested his humanity, and Steve refused to give it up.

"Sé que el dolor es abrumador, pero estamos juntos en esto. No estás solo. Estoy aquí para ti, siempre," she said. "You're not alone, I'm here."

Neron rested his chin on her chest and looked up at her. She cradled his face once more, brushing her thumbs beneath the reddened skin of his eyes. She kissed him, soft and slow, trying to force every ounce of love she felt for him into it.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Neron said, pulling back. "All the shit we do, the club, it fuckin' weighs on my soul." He patted the place over his heart. "Maybe I'd end up like Steve if I didn't have you to come home to."

Bella's brows pinched together as a wave of pain washed over her. The thought of Neron taking his own life hurt so badly it was a physical thing that took up space in her chest. "I guess I just wonder how many times this thing between us, I wonder how many times it's saved my life and I didn't even know it."

"Promise me you'll never even consider it. No matter what happens." She couldn't help that there was a little hysteria in her tone. That's what the thought of losing him did to her. "Promise me, Neron."

He held her gaze for a few drawn out seconds. "I'm not going anywhere, baby. I promise."

Neron moved back on the bed, dragging her with him until they were both nestled into the pillows. She turned into his side and rested her head on his chest as his arms instinctively wound around her shoulders.