While having just been released from prison, due to a night full of misfortunate mistakes, Red McCoy witnesses an old friend of his, son being kicked out of his apartment in the middle of the night.
Beverly Reid had been living on his own since he...
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Beverly's knees weren't facing Red as they drove in silence. Red noticed this, his wanting so badly to reach over, and slide hand along his thigh. But after what he'd said after the whole one night thing, he knew Beverly would most likely snap at him for doing so.
So, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, the boredom over shining his need for silence to avoid conflict. He watched Beverly in the corner of his eye, as the small boy playing with each finger.
"So, we gonna talk about this?"
Beverly's heart began to beat erratically, him biting at his bottom lip in confusion. "W-What are you talking about? Talk about what?"
Red laughed bitterly, him pulling the truck onto an abandoned side of the road. "You know what I'm talking about, and I'm fucking sick and tired of you ignoring me, so please—voice your thoughts."
Beverly takes bitter deep breaths, him hardly refraining from smacking Red clear across the face. "I'm not ignoring you, you wanted this. You're the one who said it was a one time thing, and that in the real world it happened all the time."
The last bit of his words are slightly louder. "Because it does. And you're a fucking kid—a literal kid. Who I slept with because what, it was in the moment? You were coming onto me!—"
"So, it's my fault that I have feelings for you?" Beverly was close to tears again, his bottom he'd been previously biting on, beginning to wobble.
"I'm saying you shouldn't have pushed your way into my fucking room, and stripped bare naked. Then, maybe we'd still be talking right now." Beverly leaned back into the car's seat, a tear finally slipping, as he Red sat their and blamed him.
Red sighed, lifting his hand to his face, and running it down. Just then, Beverly let out a shaky whisper. "You're such an ass."
Red pulled the truck back onto the road, resuming the slow, quiet ride. Beverly's words washed over him, he really was an ass. Sitting there and blaming the hurt and neglected ex-virgin, who believed he was walking into something more.
Something worth risking it all for.
When Red first let Beverly stay with him, he had no idea he'd be stuck in such a situation. But how else was he supposed to act toward Beverly. It wasn't as though he could just pull Beverly into a soul-sucking kiss and proclaim the love he could feel coming on so strong.
Although, that would be nice.
Red pulled into the parking lot of an old, deserted diner, his mind wandering off to whether or not it was open. Beverly wondered the same, his eyes narrowing on the sign that seemed to be meant to light up, but wasn't.
Red slid out of the drivers seat, Beverly following him closely behind. Red wanted so badly to turn, and tell him to stay in the truck—but what good would that do? He'd only piss Beverly off again.
Red pushed the door open, surprised when it in deed—opened.
Beverly slid in first, Red close behind, as the two slid into a booth. The booth was old, but smooth, its interior red, with a blue lining.
The restaurant seemed as though it hadn't been renovated since the 50s, and Beverly couldn't deny, the place was cute.
Seconds later, a waitress made her way to the table, a notepad and pen in hand. "Hello, welcome to Bingo's, my name is J.J., and I'll be your server for the evening. What can I get you?"
Red ordered with ease, Beverly getting the same thing.
"Thanks." Red thanked her, before fully turning to Beverly, his hand gripping harshly onto the tabletop.
"I'm sorry about what I said in the car . . ." Beverly shrugged, playing with a pack of seasoning that had been placed onto the tabletop by their waitress.
"I guess it was kind of the truth. I did kind of push myself onto you, I'm sorry."
Beverly's eyes shown his pure sadness, him being absolutely devastated by the fact that the first man he'd ever gotten feelings for, was obviously lying and in some kind of denial.
And he couldn't help but thinking that maybe it was time to get his own place.
