Burn in Hell | C137cest AU

Found But Forgotten - Chapter 23

       Rick sat perched on his front porch, cigarette lazily dangling from his lips as he went through his phone, seeing for the umpteenth time just how many arguments he and Morty had been through, and those were only texts. They had definitely had their fair share of disagreements, but way before that, the amount of naughty messages they'd shared sat, almost lost completely. But Rick found solace in the fact that, for every argument they had, there were at least four conversations where everything was fine, and often borderline loving.

       But he supposed it hadn't been enough. Not enough to save them, and certainly not enough to keep him and the brunet together. It was just . . . not enough. Nowhere near it.

       Rick sighed heavily, putting his cigarette out simply by flicking what remained into his shrubs. It didn't matter anymore, but he put effort into everything just the same. He would have to face the fact that he'd missed out on love twice in his life now. And because of his own stupidity, to boot. 

       Stepping into his house, careful not to let the cat escape, Rick donned his jacket and shoes. If he was stuck at home, he may as well go out and buy something. Maybe some junk food and cheap liquor. That seemed to be all he was interested in anymore. Just lazing about until the end of his days. He was even growing far more lax with his business deals now. 

       Sitting on his table near the door sat the little golden gun he had purchased for the brunet. He had taken it when he went through his house and cleaned up the best he could, not wanting Morty to find it and get himself in trouble. Especially if he didn't remember how to handle a gun. 

       Supposing there was no better time than the present to make a snack run, Rick headed outside, taking the longer route and deciding to walk. Morty had always loved to walk, and the man found to his own surprise that it was the most relaxing thing he could do; walk through the city for no particular reason. But he knew he'd be walking home with snacks and alcohol, so he last minute turned back with a scowl and decided to take his convertible, rolling the top down instantly before he headed into town. If he remembered correctly, Jeff's would have a holiday sale.

       God, that would be so hard. Rick had been hoping they could pull together long enough to spend the holidays together, but it was obviously impossible now. There was no magic wish, nothing that could fix this. The kid - wherever he was now - was just . . . gone. Worse than dead.

       Pulling into the lot with an exasperated huff, Rick exited his vehicle, wallet in his back pocket as he had checked, and made his way into the store, grabbing a half sized cart as he didn't want to carry everything around like a dumbass. He wasn't new to personal shopping, but he still preferred delivery.  But that took hours, and he wanted it now.

       Rick perused the aisle ways, grabbing candies he knew were influenced by the brunet. He loved them, and he couldn't give up the sugar for anything. Morty had gotten him hooked. Slowly, Rick meandered through, making his way to the freezer aisle that he knew led to the cheap alcohol.

      Morty, funnily enough, had been attacked earlier by Joel, who had stamped the brunet repeatedly while they went around looking for a box of walnuts missing from the baking aisle they were to stock next. He had pulled off a price tag, the final one as far as he could see in his reflection down the freezer aisle, and shut the door, finally done stamping everything. With a tired sigh, he hiked up his khakis as a shopper advanced down the aisle. The brunet thought little of him, heading towards the alcohol to unload and stamp.

       The brunet hadn't been sleeping well recently, finding himself haunted by nightmares. He could barely stand knowing he had seven minutes to finish stocking and labeling before he could punch out. The best thing was that he could punch and go, having forgotten his phone at home and decided to keep his wallet on his. He hadn't had to use his locker today, so he was free to go once he punched his card, loving the classic method of clocking in for work.