I Love The Idea Of Benson Being Somewhere Between 30-40 Years Old.

i love the idea of benson being somewhere between 30-40 years old.

he grunts when he gets out of his car and when he lays down in bed at night. he bought his shotgun when he was in his mid twenties and only uses it to hunt, but he can’t ever kill anything. he went to college at 18, dropped out in his junior year, and moved back in with his mom.

he’s worked odd jobs since then. his favorites have been repairing cars and a random construction job an old friend from school needed help on.

with age, he’s become a quieter person. he hates how randy gets bullied at work; it brings him back to his childhood. there’s something deep inside him that burns with guilt after he gets off work after a long day of watching the torment but never stepping in.

his hips have gotten worse, and his knees get weak after a while. he consistently asks hardy for jobs in the back like inventory or stocking the freezer because it means he can sit down and take breaks. when he takes his actual break during a shift, a shitty 30 minutes of sitting with customers while eating cold fries before going outside to smoke, it’s never enough. he’s always tired.

he’s had his eyes on randy for a while. he doesn’t get his hopes up that the boy might like him or even feel anything other than apathy for him. still, randy is something he can look forward to when he gets up in the morning. he’s far from his teenage years and his twenties, but something about randy brings him joy like a crush in elementary school.

cal definitely walked into andre’s house multiple times yelling “honey, i’m home!!”

andre grabs cal by the collar and drags him into his room. he shuts the door before chewing him out, saying some shit like “why the fuck would you say that? dude, my parents are here! you want them to think we’re fucking faggots?” while cal laughs and throws himself onto the bed.

starts gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

randy’s love language has always been physical touch. when he was little, he used to get hugs and cuddles from his parents. after his dad left, his mom became overbearing and every hug he gets from her feels like she’s trying to suffocate him.

he avoids everyone’s touch. when someone passes by him and hits his shoulder, he feels like dying. when hardy slaps him on the back, trying to be supportive, randy feels like he’s gotten the wind knocked out of him. even when he’s working front of house and someone sneaks behind him, their slight touch makes him jump.

it changes when he runs away with benson, though. benson’s touchier than he’d like to admit. his hands are always cupping randy’s face, rustling his hair, and wrapping around his waist.

after a while, randy becomes comfortable with the contact. he doesn’t get goosebumps or back away from benson when his hands come near. when they’re laying in bed in some random worn down motel, randy wraps his arms around benson’s neck and lays his head on his breast, listening to benson’s heartbeat and feeling the rise of his chest. on days when they drive for hours, randy intertwines their fingers and traces patterns on benson’s skin.

it’s subtle, but randy’s in love with it. the touch makes him feel grounded, as if they aren’t escaping from the police.

imagine parents crowding around iroquois high school, waiting and praying to see their children run out.

in the middle of the horde of people stood the kriegman and gabriel parents. they ran from work, hopping in their cars and going at least 20 over the speed limit. they’re standing together, arm in arm, knowing that their boys will run out together.

suddenly, a student runs out, yelling that it’s andre and cal. she’d had a class with them and recognized them straight away. cal and andre’s parent’s hearts drop. people around them start staring.

a policeman comes through the crowd to get the kriegmans and gabriels. multiple people had stated that their children were the shooters, not just that one girl.

mrs. gabriel falls to the ground and mr. kriegman goes completely silent. there’s something in the air, a sick and stale cloud that has overtaken the entire world. cal and andre’s parents think they could vomit and hope that the world will swallow them up.

they repeat over and over again that there’s no way it could be their kids, absolutely no way. somewhere deep inside them, though, they know cal and andre are behind the shooting.

happy 9/11 everyone!!! i might go on a posting spree to celebrate but i also might not… who knows