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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Red avoided Beverly at all costs. When the two finally arrived home, Beverly watched in awe, as Red practically jumped from the drivers seat, and sprinted into their home. Beverly called out to him, instantly regretting the small bit of words they exchanged in Red's truck.
Then, don't compose yourself, Beverly had said, in his quietest voice, that had Red's head scrambling in confusion.
Had Beverly meant it? Or was he simply caught in the heat of moment? Red hoped to God it wasn't the ladder.
But Beverly wasn't having it, he marched inside of their small, quaint home, watching with raised eyebrows at Red's insistency on distance.
"Red, can you please stop being so weird? If I'd known that you would've reacted this way, I never would've even said what I said. And if you don't want me to mean it—then, I didn't."
Red didn't stop scrambling. His heart was erratic in his chest, as he poured himself a tall glass of whatever he could find.
"Red—come on, talk to me. Why did that freak you out so much?"
Red doesn't answer, once more, only sparing Beverly one look of what seemed to be fear, and taking off toward his bedroom. The door slammed shut, and Beverly was left speechless, again.
He couldn't handle Red's tactics with tomorrow being one of the most important days in his life, in a long time. It had been so long since he lied down in a bed, and looked forward to the next day.
Sure, he wasn't much of a downer, but he wasn't always too chipper, either.
As Beverly heads into his own bedroom, he's overcome with both silence and questions about both his father and Red.
But he ignores the uncertainty lying in his chest, simply closing his eyes and focusing on his steady breathing and not the tears wanting to spill from his eyes.
Red was the man who'd been nothing but kind to him, and he hadn't meant to make him feel so uncomfortable in his own home. But he had. And he felt horrible about it.
When the first tear spills, he sits up in his sheets, taking steady deep breaths, before he makes his move. He creeps down the hallway, and in front of Red's bedroom door.
If he were to open it, who knows what Red would do. Would he welcome him with open arms? Or would he scream at him for his invasion of his privacy? Only ripping off the bandage would tell.
So, he did.
He pushed the door open, his eyes trying their best time adjust to the darkness surrounding him, but failing miserably.
Red's ears perk at the creaking on his hardwood flooring, knowing instantly that Beverly small, long feet were padding themselves closer to his bed. And he would be lying if he were to say his heart was accustomed to it's normal pace.
Beverly tapped at Red's turned shoulder, watching as the man turned, and sat up straight.
"What are you doing in here, Bev?"
Beverly doesn't waste another moment, sliding himself into Red's lap, and watching as Red's eyes flutter closed in frustration. "You need to get out before I do something stupid—"
"This isn't stupid—we're not stupid enough to make it stupid. Just trust me, Red."
Red breathes in deeply through his nose, pushing his forehead up against Beverly's. "And, how can you be so sure?"
