Locking the door behind him, he ran straight for his bedroom window, only to push it open easily and without a sound and sneak out. Hopping straight down from the window sill, he could smell the roses that were but a few feet away. Roses that his mother and sister planted together for Mother’s Day. Angry and hurt, Mike couldn’t bear looking at them for very long. Turning away from the house that he called home, he ran through the field. They owned a few acres and it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so, but even as he thought to stop, thought to go and see her and talk to her, to just forget the pain that he was feeling, he couldn’t. Instead, he ran until every muscle in his body practically sung out in pain. He ran until he was prepared to collapse in exhaustion. But instead, his foot caught hold of an old tree root sticking out of the ground.
Staring at the ground, he screamed and yelled and bashed his fists against the ground, doing what he could to take his torment out on it. As if this were his tormentor and not that man that sent him that letter. That man his mother wanted him to speak to on the phone. No, instead everything that he did was seen as an act of rebellion and not the actions of a boy without a father. A boy that felt as though he would not be good enough because one man didn’t want him. Tears falling and breathing roughly, he finally pushed himself over to star at the sky above him. It was a sky he knew all too well. He stayed there, watching day turn into night falling asleep to the sounds of crickets. Or at least he did until that soft familiar voice started in on him. "Michael Ryan Winters. You had better not be sleepin' out here 'gain. What's yer momma gonna say? She's gonna think ya caught your death out here." Waving her off, as usual, he only turned onto his side, to find her nudging him with her sneaker. "I'm fine. Get." Mike muttered, only to find himself nudged that much harder.
Thump!
Opening his groggy eyes, Mike found himself staring into the dark at a pale, white ceiling. Wrapped up in his own sheets, he groaned and arched his back as he stretched and yawned, not caring for the hard, flat surface underneath him. It wasn't the worst dream he had, but it certainly wasn't the best. If anything, it only served as a grim reminder that it had become a nightmare based upon hearing one familiar voice. A voice he would rather forget. A voice that no longer held what he needed from it. As if thoughts of his own father weren't enough. Running a groggy hand over his face, Mike stayed where he was, tempted to just continue to sleep on the floor. But his bed practically beckoned him near as he turned his head to look up in it's general direction. Moving to sit up, he only bumped his head on corner of the end table. Clenching his jaw, he held his head in his hands, whispering an angry, "Son of a-" Kicking at the sheets wrapped around his legs, he managed to swing a fist back to hit the offending end table. This caused one crumpled, old card to fall out of it, along with a few receipts. Staring at the card that he had been unable to give up after all this time, as if some sort of sick reminder of the one thing he would never become, Mike shoved it back into the drawer, and stood up. Getting dressed, he barely noticed that it was nearly two in the morning. He needed to breathe. For some reason he just couldn't do that here. Walking over to his bedroom window, he stared out it for a moment before grabbing his keys and his phone and heading out for a run wishing he could literally run away from the memories.
The focus of tonight appeared to be the long, dark road ahead. It was hardly winding, but even with a few twists and turns, it was hardly easy. Not only did he have to stay awake and pay attention, but the man sitting in this car had to come to a few realizations of his own. Not so much that he was like the road he was driving upon, with it's impurities and imperfections, appearing emotionless and leading some across certain paths to be crossed, but that he was stronger than he was. That while someone might have laid the groundwork for his own path, his own direction in life, the choice was up to him and he did matter. That even with his own sense of duty, and difficult personality, that the rocky road ahead wasn't always the best way to guard himself. Whether he finally came to understanding this tonight or any other night, no one could be certain but that was something that was ultimately up to Ross and the events that led to that point.
Very few things ever came easy to Ross, but driving was always one of them. His younger brother? Not so much. The thought alone made it difficult to withhold the smile it brought to his own face, even if the thought hurt. The thought of driving down country back roads teaching Tripp to drive a stick shift. Even how aggravated his brother became over the whole thing, but Ross shrugged it off, seemingly uncaring, just pushing the younger boy to try again. To keep doing what he was doing. "It's all in the timing." Ross repeated quietly, only to actually shift into a lower gear, as he slowed his car. There were few things out there in this world that Ross missed in his life, but his family, even for all the bad memories, was still family. His choice in leaving so many years ago was completely his own and he would never say that he really regretted it. Just a series of events that led in that direction and he felt that it was in everyone's best interests if he were simply gone and out of the way.
Pulling over to the side of the road, Ross stepped out of his car, leaving the headlights on as he stepped towards the one place he used to call home. A place he still did sometimes. But with each step that he took towards what he knew were deemed city limits, his chest hurt and it was difficult to breathe. Each step was harder to take than the last, causing his movements to slow before finally stopping. Staring past the trees and at an all too familiar farm, the corners of his lips nearly turning upward into a small but sad smile. Fighting back his own watery eyes, he chewed on his inner cheek before turning around and moving back towards the car. Head down, feeling defeated by everything. Thoughts of family, friendships and finally feeling truly alone. It was something he had grown accustomed to over the years but not this type of solitude. The kind where you have to become suffocated with memories as if he were a man standing in a crowded room. Unable to breathe and accept anything surrounding him. His blurry gaze turned towards a rock near his feet.
Dropping down to his knees, he picked up this rock, feeling out its rough edges with his hand while letting it glide back and forth through this fingers. A familiar tune coming to mind as he slowly forced himself upright again, as he turned and looked back at Lucky. "And you could have it all. My empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt." Raising his arm back, he focused on his own pain, the pain he didn't want to ever really show through, as he threw the rock out into the dark field before him. Wiping his face with his sleeve, Ross didn't care where it was the rock had landed, obviously, but moved back towards the car, his last memories of Lucky and leaving home very much playing in his mind. Seeing his brother and his soon-to-be bride through the window of their mother's home. Happy, smiling faces going over last minute plans. Plans he would never gain the ability to see happen with his own eyes due to his own decision to leave. Sliding back into the drivers side, he quickly closed the door and rubbed his eyes with his palms roughly. Starting the car, he found himself cranking up the stereo. Not paying attention to the song that was playing, he took hold of the steering wheel and stared out at the road before him. He knew where this road led and it was one that he had been running from for years. A road he was not sure he would ever really be prepared to handle. This little trip would easily make or break him, and given all that has happened, he couldn't help but believe it was going to break him. Focusing on keeping his breathing steady, he shifted the car into gear and drove on forward.
Reaching the site.
Trying to force himself to not lean back against his car, knowing full well that the wedding he was about to attend in not much over an hour, Ross crossed his arms over his chest, a few roses hanging from his fingertips. This was just another memory and another place he did not want to be. Nothing against Jason, not even in the slightest. That bothered him more than anything else while standing here though. It was hard to blame him for anything. Whatever happened, he just wished he could have been there more for him, just like anyone else probably did at this point. That he were here now rather than six feet under, hopefully enjoying a peace Ross didn't think he would ever see, even in death. Sure, certain religions would say otherwise, but Ross wasn't going to stand there and believe that Jason didn't deserve anything but the best. "A morbid wedding ceremony in your honor, to boot." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned before shaking his head. Crossing the road, Ross made his way toward Jason's grave. Each step more bothersome than the last, but all too careful not to actually walk over someone's grave in the process. There was just something to be said about that and having respect for the dead. Something long ingrained into Ross, even as a young child.
Looking around, he found himself unable to actually look down. His own memories replaying of the actual day Jason was buried. Not exactly something he cared to think about. It just left so much unsaid. Far too final for even Ross. "I wish I knew what was going on. Everyone did. And what's worse, is that I think I have more in common with you now then I did then. What the hell were you thinking?" Closing his eyes, Ross took a deep breath. "You can't apologize to anyone you left behind. You can't make anything right like this. But would it matter? Did you need to? Or was this just supposed to be easier on everyone too? Was it even hard for you to commit to?" He whispered harshly, knowing full well that his eyes were becoming watery, but he ignored it. Focusing on his own breathing instead, and the feeling that seemed to be dwelling within the pit of his stomach. "They wouldn't even care if you were sorry. No one would. They would rather just have you. You deserve to be at that wedding and not just honored in the oddest ways over here. Not just leaving me to talk to a grave. Not just leaving us all to talk to a grave. I'd rather talk to a wall. A stone is just...I don't even know anymore." His own thoughts quickly turning towards his own brother. Thoughts of him lying underground or vice versa. Swallowing thickly, Ross closed his eyes just long enough to lean down and drop the roses on the ground before the headstone. "Enjoy your peace. I really hope it was worth it. Looks like I'm stuck finding my own."
It's over.
Leaving the reception seemed like the easiest thing to do, but realistically, it was actually quite difficult for Ross. Not because so many wanted him to stay or what have you, given he had actually left as quickly and quietly as he could. No, he was more so worried about a run in with his family, which was long overdue but he was unprepared for still. Ross wasn't one for apologies. He found them pointless. Just words. Words hardly meant anything unless they were backed by actions. Getting into his car, he started it up and was about to back out when he turned to see an all too familiar face that nearly broke him in two. His whole body froze as he stared into Tripp's eyes. It took him a few minutes before he finally was able to turn around, put the car in park and shut it off.
Tripp stayed behind the car, dressed nicely in a dress shirt and slacks but without a real expression on his face. Slowly but surely, Ross finally moved out of the car, but unable to take a step near his own brother. Not that he would ever realize just how nervous his brother was standing there all but a few feet away, but it made sense given the amount of time there had been since the last time the two had seen one another. But Tripp had wondered if Ross wouldn't show up to this wedding given the closeness he was to the McKibbon brothers when they were younger and having heard of some stranger heading into town last night. It was running on a lot of maybes, but it was all based on a chance Tripp felt the need to take. Tripp knew that he had hurt his brother when he had fallen in love with his now ex-fiancee, but he hadn't taken into account of just how deep Ross's feelings were in regards to her. At some point, he figured that Ross would just get over it and come back home and everyone would live happily ever after. But none of that mattered since not only had Ross never came back before now, but apparently that love Tripp had believed himself to find, was not quite what he thought it was.
Tripp was surprised that it had only taken an hour of waiting outside to actually find Ross. If anything, he was nearly about ready to turn around and head home himself believing that Ross really hadn't showed up in town after all, but that was mostly him trying to work up the courage to take this first step that Ross had obviously not yet taken. Finally taking a step out from behind the car and towards Ross, he offered Ross an awkward but small smile. "Hey brother."
Ross didn't know what to think or do, standing there in front of his brother as he was. Thoughts of the night he left swirling around in his mind. But what was he going to do? Just sit there and watch his brother marry her? He couldn't be that guy. He couldn't be that person that watched that kind of thing. To hurt quietly worried that someone was going to catch on. They were family and were easily the people that knew him the best. Ross wouldn't be able to hide it all from them like he might others. Nor did he want to worry about becoming that guy that makes the girl choose. That tries to get her to choose him. No, that was for movies. This, well, this was more real life. "Tripp." Could this get any worse?
Bright blue eyes staring at what felt more like a ghost before him, paying little mind to the canine companion he had not seen since it were a pup. He just stood there as she smiled at him. It became all too easy to reminisce in old times and made him really stop himself from welcoming her in a way that he had always done in the past. Even an embrace seemed to be too much to ask for, right now. The words spoken a moment ago were enough of a slip. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "Would that be so bad? I think I remember some times when we did." A light, but teasing tone there, that was hard to escape. One he hadn't been so sure was best to use, but force of habit was making its way through.
This gave way to him becoming lost momentarily, as he internally berated himself on how to act. Even as he did so, he still found himself practically mesmerized in her features. Little had seemed to change over the years, regardless of aging. To him, even out here with the bright headlights splashing against her skin the way they were, she looked as angelic as ever. Something that he knew full well she was not. Of course, even with the years that had passed, she still found a way to have a hold over him. Something that would later leave him even more stuck on the fact that this probably wasn't the best of ideas. He hadn't come all this way for her. No, there were more points in this picture that he had to deal with. "Been a long time. Don't know so much about heading in."
It would be so easy to back out now. To walk away, even as he had already been caught. He knew that she wouldn't hurt his mother in telling her he had shown up but walked away. It was her right to know, but it was a painful point. Or so that was the woman he once knew. Questions raced through his mind on who she may have changed into now. Why had she stayed behind, even now? He had no idea. "If I don't, you going to rat me out?" Visibly cringing at his own words this time, it really did feel far too nostalgic to say. Having known her for so many years, even as kids, he wanted to take steps back towards the car. He wanted to, yet his own feet worked against him, as they would not move.