Call Me Sometime, a Bradley Steven Perry Fanfiction.

Missing.

I wake up, with tears streaming down my face, with the smell of rust and gasoline tinting the air surrounding me. I was still curled in a ball, face buried deep in Bradley’s hoodie. I missed him. I needed him. Then all of a sudden, it seemed my entire body was cramping. I stretch out, feeling my muscles relax. I looked out the window, slowly, to try and figure out where I was. Rain cascaded down the window, but I could still see the shining light from the sign. Quik Trip. I was outside of the city, I knew that for sure. I had already missed my Disney audition, but that was fine. I didn’t need to be on TV. I was worried about my dancing. What if Cindy thought I bailed? What if my team hates me now? Do people even know I’m gone? If they do know I’m gone, do they even know I’m gone? I have no idea, but I can kiss all of those competitions goodbye. Where was the person that was driving? I had the answer to that fairly quickly. A man emerged from the station, with two coffees and two pretzels. He was wearing a baseball cap. Wait a second, I thought. The bill was signed by an old pitcher, Roger Clemens. It was a faded red cap that I had seen so many times in my childhood. He opens the door to the driver’s seat, and slides in.

“Sweetheart.”

“Dad.” I say. I try and make my voice sound as cold and bitter as I possibly could. How dare he do this to me?!

“I brought you breakfast.” He passes it to me. I take it. I set the pretzel in my lap, and put the coffee in a cup holder next to me. He sighs and turned around.

“I knew you wouldn’t take anything from me.” I don’t answer him.

“Just take me where you need me to go, do what you need to do, and leave me and everyone else alone.” I huff. He stays silent, starts the car, and starts to drive again. It wasn’t exactly a car, it was his old pickup truck.

“Where exactly are we going?” I asked him.

“You’ll see. And, I would eat if I were you.” I look in the mirror uncertainty. He rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t do anything to either of those things. For the next few days, you are going to have to trust me.” I was appalled.

“Why?! Why?! After you basically tore our family apart, and did all of these terrible things, tell me, why I should trust you?!”

“I’ll tell you when we get to where we are going.”

“Not telling me where we are going and practically forcing me to eat gas station food isn’t exactly helping me trust you any more than I do now.” I said, crossing my arms. He lets out a breathy laugh.

“You are just like your mother. Stubborn and proud.” I roll my eyes.

“Don’t talk to me about mom. Where are we going?”

“Your childhood.” I felt that was all I would ever be able to get out of him. We were heading farther and farther from LA. I tentatively sip the coffee and nibble at the pretzel. Nothing weird happened in the minutes that followed, so I felt it was fine. He smiled at me, and not his usually devious, I- know- something- you- don’t smile. His real, and slightly crooked smile. I didn’t smile back, I only kept eating. I felt the caffeine settle in, and I felt more awake and alert. But that didn’t stop me from leaning on the window, and staring at the rain. What a summer, I thought. We kept driving, neither of us saying a word. I was spaced out, even when he finally stopped the truck. Only when he slammed the car door did I realize, we were in my childhood.

Our old house.

I looked up into the attic, and saw the faint glow of blue. My old room. I follow him inside, despite what my brain was yelling at me. I really wanted to listen to my brain, but my heart was telling me there was something else I needed to do, something I needed to find. I walk inside, and see nothing had changed at all. Same photographs, same carpet, same TV, hell, even the same lamps. I look around for a while. My dad was sitting on the couch. I sit down next to him. Once I do, he turns on the TV, and plays Star Wars, Return of the Jedi. We used to watch this all the time.

“Why are you here?” He doesn’t answer. I drop it. After the movie is over, he looks at me.

“People are looking for you.” My head snaps in his direction.”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“To try to get me.”

“Again, why?” I ask. He sighs.

“They want me to do something I’m not ever going to do, so I’m hiding. My biggest weakness is my only true daughter and my ex-wife, but mostly you. I decided to protect you to hide myself in the process.”

“What did they ask you to do, and how long do you and I have to stay hidden?”

“They asked me to kill you.” I take a step away from him. I couldn’t believe this!

“How do I know that you aren’t stalling, and you’re keeping me here to kill me later?” I ask with my arms crossed. He steps towards me, and gives me a hug. I had no idea what I was doing, but I hugged him back. I almost started crying. He was so familiar. No matter what he has done, he smelled the same, and it felt good to know he was at least concerned about me in the slightest.

“I have no idea how long we have to hide.” I felt like I was punched in the stomach. I pull away, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. He must’ve noticed too.

“Your old room is still cleaned and has some comfy clothes in there.” I nodded, and went up the stairs. My bed had different sheets and comforter. I go to my closet, and I find a gigantic T- shirt. I stripped down, and slipped into it. I folded up Bradley’s sweater, and set it on the nightstand. I run my fingers through my hair, since I didn’t have a brush. I eventually slip into my bed, and try to relax. I couldn’t. I kept tossing and turning, and never found a comfortable position to sleep in. I land on my side, facing the door. Then, I felt weight added to the bed, dipping slightly to the other side of me. I sleepily turn over, and I see Bradley, shirtless in basketball shorts.

“How did you get up here?” He shrugs. He reaches over, and strokes my hair with his soft fingers. I close my eyes and savor his touch. A tear slips down my cheek. He scooches closer to me.

“I’m so scared, Bradley. I’m so sorry for what happened, nothing happened, I swear! I miss you, I want, I need you! Please.” He kisses my forehead.

“I love you.” I whisper. He smiles at me. He kisses my forehead again.

“I love you.” I smile at him through sleepy eyes.

“Goodnight angel. Just remember that I miss you so much. I’m looking for you, and I’ll find you. I’ll get to you.” I furrow my eyebrows.

“Why do you need to look for me, or find me? You’re here.” He raises his eyebrows slightly, and tilts his head.

“Aren’t you?” I ask, whispering. He smiles, and stays still. I reach for him to hold him, but all I grasp is empty air. I sigh. It felt so real. I take his hoodie, and use it to replace my pillow. It still smelled like rain and his cologne. I take a deep inhale, and fall asleep as the illusion of him dulled my senses. I dreamt of him that night. All he and I said was, “I love you.” And each time we spoke those words, I knew that it was true. I loved him. Even if he was mad at me, and I couldn’t see him for who knows how long, I know I do. Was he really looking for me? Will he ever find me? Will I get out alive? Does he love me as much as I love him?