Work Text:
At least he still likes Kahuna burgers, Seth thinks. Since getting out of prison it’s about the only thing Seth recognizes in Richie. Five years is a long time — the kid doesn’t even like sour worms anymore, after spending the entirety of his teenage years insisting on wasting their money on them every time they entered a corner store — but the difference in Richie isn’t just time. Seth squeezes his eyes shut to push away the image of the bank teller — Monica? — lonely on the motel bed, her eyes mutilated like something out of the movies that used to air after midnight on Fridays when he was a kid.
Richie promised that he didn’t do it for fun, that she was going to hurt him, that he could see. Seth didn’t know what the hell to make of that, didn’t know if he should believe it or even want to believe it. But he had to try. He couldn’t let Vanessa or any of the others be proved right. He wrapped his arms around his brother and rubbed his back and reminded Richie and himself that everything would be okay once they made it to El Rey. Carlos owed them that, and he seemed to know something about Richie that even Richie didn’t.
In truth, something inside Seth knows El Rey won’t be the magic fix for Richie that he wants it to be. But he’ll keep saying it is so Richie will believe it. Seth slides the cup over to Richie and watches his brother’s eyes brighten as he sips it and realizes it’s horchata. Seth has no idea when Richie could’ve found the time to become such a Mexican cuisine enthusiast while living out in the woods in Kansas, but it’s a relief to finally get something right for him. Seth sips from his own cup and is surprised to agree that rice milk or whatever it is isn’t so bad. But the creaminess of the drink sticks to his throat.
As Richie casually drinks and eats like he didn’t just murder an innocent woman, Seth wonders how he ever thought this trip would work out. He’d been getting word in prison for months that something wasn’t right with Richie, and Richie displayed the truth of that at every turn. This was the genius kid who once successfully planned and executed a heist at Graceland Museum — stealing a gun that got them a quick 8,000 dollars — yet couldn’t manage to crack the safe at Nowhere Bank in Bumfuck, Texas and couldn’t go anywhere anymore without putting a bullet in someone.
That is not what they do. They are thieves, Seth reminds himself, repeating it in his head over and over. Richie, really, is a better thief than he is, or he would be if he’d grow a personality and take a break from logic once in a while. Seth almost laughs then at how illogical Richie has been over the past few days. He’s even further off the map than ever before and it’s all Seth can do to keep him on course. He’d like his little brother back, the one who can hardly talk to women let alone get close enough to one to slice her up, please. He’s seen glimpses of that kid since the jailbreak, when he gets bratty and doesn’t want to follow Seth’s orders, but it’s only that — glimpses. Seth feels Richie is so far away, and he’s only drifting further and further the longer it takes them to get to El Rey. He has to grab hold of Richie because if he doesn’t his brother might just float right off the ground.
Seth sees Richie notice his eyes boring into him. Richie crunches the burger wrapper and tosses it to the table. He opens his mouth to speak, but Seth shakes his head with authority. “No.” Richie reluctantly shuts his mouth, sits back stiffly in his chair. Seth isn’t exactly sure what he’s feeling toward Richie right now. Anger, sure, and worry, but that’s not quite all. If Richie weren’t his brother he’d ditch him right now and continue onto Mexico solo, or maybe go rescue Vanessa and take off with her like she wanted. It’d be a hell of a lot less stressful than dealing with his giant freak of a little brother. But like he told her in the parking lot, he’s all Richie’s got. And if he’s honest with himself, Seth knows Richie is all he’s got, too. Ultimately, Seth isn’t doing this because he owes Richie anything. For every time Richie outsmarted their dad as kids and saved Seth a beating, Seth protected Richie from the kids at school, from the tough guys in Uncle Eddie’s crew, from anyone whoever doubted Richie because he wasn’t like them. Seth doesn’t owe Richie for pulling him out of that fire. Seth needs him. But it’d be real nice if Richie would just make it a little easier on him.
Seth gives Richie his own horchata when Richie’s straw begins sucking up air. Richie sets it aside, his face stern, still waiting to be allowed to speak. Seth prides himself on his ability to keep cool in rocky situations. He’s the smooth one, the talker, the face. But he can feel himself about to boil over because Richie has ruined their escape again, he’s brought that relentless ranger even closer to them, and he’s left Seth to figure out their next move on his own. And yet he still thinks he can explain this all away. Seth shakes his head again. It’s only a matter of time before the cops catch up with them, before the bank teller is found in their room. They have to plan their escape, but Seth’s mind is swirling with flashes of gauged-out eyes and Richie in a straightjacket and he realizes right then that he is terrified. Terrified that his brother is crazy, terrified that he can’t fix it, terrified that they won’t make it, they’ll be separated forever. Terrified that Richie isn’t crazy at all, that they will make it, that it’ll be Richie’s choice to leave him forever.
The knock on the door snaps Seth into focus. Time to perform.