Validation (A Cricky Fan Fiction)(REWRITING.)

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The dark grey clouds hung over the city of Seattle, rain pouring down onto the grounds surface. Birds flying to their nests and the stench of gas and oil filtered through the air. Business people marching the sidewalk with their umbrellas and suitcases, dressed in their executive uniform.

Chris was never much of a sunny day person. He preferred to stay home and work when the sun was out. He stayed home and worked any day he wasn't called in for meetings. His whole life was surrounded by two things. Control and work. He had his hobbies, they were more like everyday chores but still hobbies.

Chris took the last mouthful of his muesli cereal and thanked the maid before walking to one of his multiple walk in wardrobes. He picked out another pair of sweatpants and a grey shirt, quickly throwing them on as well as his socks and shoes. He grabbed his Balenciaga speed trainers and his earphones, clicking shuffle on his workout playlist and starting his daily circuit around Seattle.

Time went by and Chris was almost finished his run. He jogged through the long boardwalk by the yachts, 7 of which he owned himself, and back to his penthouse complex. He showered and changed into his expensive suit for work. He tied his tie and took the elevator down to the basement where all of his cars sat. His driver pulled up beside the elevator doors and opened the door for Chris, driving off to Cerulli Enterprise.

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Ricky finished his morning class and quickly made his way through the many people the crowded the halls. He ignored the whispers, snide comments and the harsh looks as he made his way to his car. He walked out of campus and spotted the wet shine on his black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, quickly walking to unlock the car door and sit inside. He started the car and drove home to care for his sick friend and get ready for his interview.

He stood in front of the mirror and checked his bat nest before fixing the rest of his makeup. He put his contacts in, filled his eyebrows and put his piercings back in before gathering his stuff and getting the soup from the bench to give to Ryan.

"Hey Rickle Pickle, take my car." Ryan said, sounding like he swallowed a handful of live bees.

"I gave you the recorder, right?" He continued.

"Oh, uh yes." Ricky said, grabbing the recorder off of the side table.

"And you have all the questions?"

"Yes."

"And you know where you're going?"

"Yes. I do have a GPS and a 4.0 GPA. I can figure it out."

"You're wearing that?"

Ricky looked down at his slightly oversized sweater, skinny jeans and creepers, nodding to himself.

"Ryan, your gay is showing. Shut up and eat, I'll be home soon."

"Hey, just because your favourite flavour of popsicle is dick, doesn't mean mine is."

"Says the one who was begging to blow me last week. Now I'm leaving, eat your fucking soup and watch the TV." Ricky laughed.

Ricky picked up Ryan's car keys and the folder for the interview, kissing Ryan's cheek before walking out the door. He got into the car and started his hour long journey to Seattle, blasting his music and singing at the top of his lungs.