Trapped In Your Bleeding Heart (Riff x Reader)

Chapter Thirty Three - Parkinson's

Despite giving me grief, Riff drove straight to the Northside, and back to his apartment. I chose not to say more, in case he would change his mind.

During the day, the streets and buildings of the Northside looked completely different. One could notice the age of the area, the lack of renovations– or any care at all. If I hadn't been to the Underside as much as I had, I'd speculate that the Northside was just as bad.

When we came to a stop, a different energy filled the air. An expectant energy. A set of sky blue eyes were stuck on me, though I couldn't tell you why. I looked over at Riff. "Can I help you?"

Riff shrugged, and his eyes squinted up to his apartment building. "I'm in the market for a girl, if you've got any."

My head shook consciously, but my smile grew all by itself. "Put a lid on it, Jet." I released my seatbelt and hopped out of the truck, and then I froze.

When I looked back at Riff now, a satisfied smile sat on his face. "What?" He asked.

"You–" I began making my way around the car, to the driver's side door. "You fixed it?"

Like a lying child, Riff arced his head away from me, and gestured to the car. "I didn't like the way it hung by the door. It was distracting."

When I didn't speak, he continued. "Imagine if I crashed the car because of a broken seat belt." He paused. "That'd be ironic."

He fixed the seatbelt for me. Now I wouldn't get stuck.

Good lord.

No matter how much Riff tried to play the tough guy, he was a sweetheart. He was to me, at least. It was easy to forget that Riff had hurt people. It was easy to forget how violent he could be. How he got into a fight with three Sharks, and won. How he pounced on the drunk man at Gammy's with casual anger, as if it were common. He was a beacon of fear that struck through the Southside like a clap of thunder. Thunder.
Thunder?

It was a small rumble in the distance. An echo drifting between the buildings of Santa Rusto– groaning like a faraway cry.

"Was that the storm?" Riff hit the pavement and slammed his car door shut. "It's not even noon."

"It came from pretty far away." My eyes drifted to the calm sky. Was this the calm before the storm? "Looks like it's making its way to us."

CLAP

It shattered through the sky like a gunshot. It came from the Southside. "That doesn't sound good." Riff's hand touched the center of my back, and he guided me inside.

To my surprise, the apartment building looked even more ominous in doomy daylight than in the cold darkness. Suspicious stains coated the walls, and it was somehow more still in the day. Between the rare yet fearsome strikes of thunder, it was near silent. Thank goodness, Riff's apartment itself looked fine. The inside was just as I had seen the day prior. Two chairs. One table. Small kitchen. Jets.

"It's Riff!" Action jumped up from his seat, and rushed to the door. "And Dolly!"

Behind him came Ice and Mouthpiece, followed by Mac, who had been petting Squinty. "You hear that thunder?" Mouthpiece asked.

"How was work?" Mac intervened.

Ice pushed past the two. "Did you win cards against that lousy old man?"

"Yeah," Action interrupted himself with a cough. "How's Bill?"

Squinty swarmed my feet. In the corner, Big-Deal, Hit, and Slack were once more piled up on the ground, sleeping like they had been awake for weeks. I still hadn't gotten a chance to meet them. Curled up on the loveseat, Baby-B slept soundly as well. It must have been a long week.
Cryboy emerged from Riff's room. "Did you see Tiger?" He asked.

One-Step followed behind Cryboy. I remembered him counting along to music when I was there last. He looked more serious than the rest of them. "Tony's in here." He said.

A new expression came over Riff's face. Without another moment passing, he was crossing to the bedroom. "Dolly." He said, signaling for me to follow.

"He froze up half an hour ago." Cryboy returned to the bedroom, and edged around the mattress. "He panicked a little, but he's gettin' better now."

Tony laid on Riff's bed, facing away from the door. I could see his hands shake from where I stood. His breaths were long, and shivered with his body. And there were moments when his loud breathing would cut out completely, and then come back, as if his frightened lungs couldn't handle taking in such large amounts of air. Little-Tony. Tony. Maria's Tony. The sweet, tall blonde who slicked his hair back like it was the twenties, and spoke sweet words to Maria, no matter who might've judged him.

He was too far gone.

Gentle and slow, Riff made his way around the bed. Around One-Step, and then Cryboy. He knelt down to Tony and tilted his head to the right, so he was face to face with the shaking man. As if this were routine, he sighed, and took one of Tony's hands in his own. The shaking in that hand stopped, though I wasn't sure if it was because of Tony calming down, or Riff's strong grip on his hand. At first, Riff's lips were tight and thoughtful. But then Tony spoke.

"The doc said it wouldn't be long." His words were slurred, and monotonous. "Guess I shoulda listened."

"The doctor doesn't know his ass from his elbow." Riff sounded sure. "You'll bounce back. You always do."

Coughing came from the living room. Garish, sickly coughing. I almost turned around, but One-Step was close enough to mumble, "It's just Action."

What was that supposed to mean? My eyes stayed on Tony. "I still wanna do it, Riff." Tony attempted to sit up. He was met with Riff's palm pushing him back down to the mattress.

"I didn't mean bounce back like that—for that. Come on, Tony."

"We need as many men as we can get-"

"I said no." Riff's voice regressed from being tender. "You can't dance, you can't fight. That's the rule. End of story."

Cogs turned in my brain. Even as Riff left the bedside and approached me, I stayed absent in thought.

"Will you check on him– while I shower?"

This grabbed my attention. Riff was entrusting me with Tony. "Do whatever doctor thing you do." Riff leaned down to me. "Make him feel better."

There was nothing to do but nod. In truth, I wasn't trained with how to treat anything surrounding Parkinson's disease. But I could pretend I did. For Riff, and for Tony. Soon eyes fell on me. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Action's coughing raged through the walls of the bedroom. Squinty barked. Micheal shook like a spooked cat. And back in the living room, the four sleeping boys were so exhausted they couldn't be bothered to care about the ruckus.

Good God, I thought, the Jets are a wreck.

Once Riff left to the bathroom, my thoughts scattered into calm worries that gathered in the back of my mind. Now what? Riff expected me to make Tony feel better. It's not like I was qualified for that. But Mouthpiece and Snowboy looked to me as if Riff had left me in charge. The apartment quieted. I made my way over to Tony. My skin crawled when his eyes met mine.

"Don't tell Maria."

Debilitated. Utterly, undeniably debilitated.  He displayed his fatigue so intensely, I could feel what it would be like to be so exhausted. To have your body move against your will so much, your fatigued muscles can't help but quiver with the tremors. His trembling made the exhaustion that visible. So visible that I could imagine him dead. Lifeless.

"Oh, Tony."

Authors note: uh oh lul lookz like someone is having a bad day