teen romance. ( richard gecko )

I. SUMMER RAIN

Fourteen months after.

     He smelt like summer when it rains. Crisp, but still the hint of humidity stuck in the air. Richie in himself was like summer when it rains. Melancholy. Happy it's summer, because you can finally admire the girl next door's freckles everyday instead of on weekends, but sad because it's raining and that said girl next door just got a new skateboard that you planned on riding that day. So you sit, with this gloomy look as you watch the rain pour outside and count up to how many minutes it's been since the sky's been clear, because it feels like fucking years.

     Nonetheless his face still held that solemn look that Seth was just tired of looking at. It's been a year, more than that, actually, and still Seth felt like absolute shit. One, because it's his brother we're talking about. The one person in the whole world Seth would absolutely die for, and would never want to be melancholy because again, it's his brother.

     So, yeah, it stings when he looks over at him through the corner of his eye when they're going 80 down the highway after just robbing a bank, taking all the fresh green with them, just to see Richie doesn't have the same look of triumph as him.

    And two, because it's been over a year and Carter is God knows where doing God knows what, and after all she was just some high school fling Richie was lucky enough to even have. Well, at least that's what Seth tells himself.

     "How you feeling, brother?" The question was stupid, because if you couldn't tell from the monologue before Richie didn't quite feel anything. His finger traced a drop of condensation as it maneuvered it's way down the window, Seth's eyes boring a hole into the side of his head.

     "Relieved." He let out a dry chuckle, his shaky hand flattening over his gelled hair for it was starting to fall over his face from the sweat. Partially from the humidity, partially because a gun just minutes before was pointed at his head, and for a second Richie didn't think dying was all that bad. As if death would bring him the peace in life Seth never could. That scared him, all the way to his core, the desire for death that runs through his bones is something he never thought he'd have.

     (Richie doesn't know this, but Seth watched the whole damn thing. Watched the gun in Richie's hand drop, watched as his eyes closed and head dropped. Waiting, no, wanting that bullet to pierce through his skin.)

     He turns to Seth, giving him that small, distinctive grin where the left side of his mouth lifts up and Seth swears up and down that if Richie just had the charisma he would be able to get any girl with that stupid smile plastered on his face.

     Seth's hand reaches up and pats Richie on the back of his head, then smooths over his hair before sticking it back onto the wheel. The signature Seth comforting Richie move, the same move Seth would use on him when their Pop drank too much whiskey than normal and turned on his "retarded" little brother.

     (Seth can still smell the blood, especially when it's late at night and he's struggling to sleep, they just finished a job, or a police officer gave him a funny look at the convenience store, whichever one it was Seth was tense and sleep was the last thing on his mind.

     So he looks over to his baby brother on the other bed, and watches the rise and fall of his chest. Slow at first, then quickening because the nightmare he's having is getting worse and all Seth can do is watch. Watch like when Seth couldn't answer a question right and the leather from their dad's expensive belt came slapping down onto Richie's nine year old hands. Like a whip, and every whack of leather against flesh sent a crack through Seth's already steel heart.)

     Seth can't remember the last time Richie's smile was genuine, but it feels like fourteen months ago.