ADJOURNMENT || benny watts x reader

chapter two

AN: Hi. For the fact I got confused about Matt and Mike (the twins from Beth's high school) being Benny's friends (Hilton Wexler, etc.), the Matt and Mike in this fic are original characters. Sorry!

After the funeral, your mother went to stay with her sister, leaving you at the family house. You had your own place a drive away, but your lease was almost done anyway.

You had plans to go to university in New York City; you'd be leaving in just under a month. But instead of packing and planning, you were sorting through your father's will.

He'd asked for certain people to be called and read what he'd written for them. You spent the days after the funeral calling up old chess players, friends, acquaintances, and reading your father's last words to them—

It was hellish.

It wasn't something that a daughter should ever have to do, but still, you pushed on.

You couldn't put this on your mother—she wouldn't have been able to handle it in the slightest.

You sighed as you hung up yet another call, your emotional stability crumbling by the second. You only had one more phone call to make, but it was one you'd been dreading from the very beginning.

You quickly ran to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of red wine and uncorking it aggressively. You took a few large gulps, breathing heavily as you looked back at the phone, laid on the ground, surrounded by various papers and letters sprawled across the floor haphazardly.

You had no idea why your father specified to call, instead of just sending a letter. That would have certainly made your job easier—

But you were on the final one. Just one more to go.

You sat on the carpet and picked up the note you were meant to recite. You read it through three times over, gulping at wine as you did so.

You inhaled deeply, before grabbing the phone and placing it between your shoulder and cheek and punching in the telephone number.

It dialled four times before he picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Benny," You said, and the line went silent, nothing but white noise piercing your ears, until he finally spoke.

"Y/N, hi," He said, but you could tell his heart had just dropped. "How are you? I mean—what a shit question, but—how are you?" You let out a shaky breath.

"I've been better," You let out. You didn't want to stall this. "Look, my father left something for you in his will."

"Right, okay," Benny said, trying to comprehend your words.

"I'm gonna read it out for you, okay?"

"Okay," He replied, but you could tell he was frozen. You took another gulp of wine before you began, too anxious to have this over and done with.

"He added this a week after the tournament in Jacksonville, in 1956."

Benny was silent. You pressed on.

"He writes to you, 'Never before has a teenager made me fumble like that. Those seven hours of play was one of the greatest games of chess I've ever played. Thank you, Benny Watts. Don't stop playing.'"

Benny stayed silent. You didn't blame him at all.

As you breathed in and out, you felt your stomach begin to crawl up your throat. Your eyes began to water, your brow began to sweat. You tried desperately to stop yourself from letting out a cry, yell, wail—