Chapter Text
Palace Motel had a name that would suggest many things - luxury, comfort, wealth. It just so happened that this building was the complete opposite of those things. With cracked brick walls and graffiti-littered doors, which creaked obnoxiously upon each opening, it didn’t exactly live up to its name by any means. It was notorious for its bad track record with crime, and only the most desperate people generally sought shelter there.
Cyrus Goodman and TJ Kippen weren’t desperate by any means, they just happened to find comfort in old, run-down motels where people wouldn’t dare come looking for them. There was no particular reason for this - or so they would tell you. Faded motels just had a certain charm about them, Cyrus would say with one of his naturally bright smiles.
It was late into the evening when the pair finally collapsed onto their double bed. They were used to claustrophobic rooms like these - ones with beige walls, creaky taps that had a tendency to stop working and small windows. Cyrus was looking out one of the said windows, admiring the night sky. It was clear, with bright stars beginning to dot it. He looked up to TJ, knowing that he would likely be appreciating the view too. TJ was always telling Cyrus how comforting he found the night sky, how it gave him a sense of anonymity that day time could just never deliver.
Their darkened room was illuminated occasionally by the faint glow emanating from Cyrus’ camera screen. Everything felt peaceful, and that wasn’t something Cyrus could say he often felt.
TJ gave him a fond smile, his hair unruly in the most breathtaking way possible as he shuffled even closer to him, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Cyrus’ neck.
“Babe,” he complained. “Stop looking at the photos you took today.”
Cyrus gave him a teasing smile, bringing the camera up purposely to snap a quick photo of him.
“Hey!” he spluttered, playfully taking the camera away from him.
Cyrus watched as TJ scooted off of bed and got to his feet, wandering over to the small kitchen counter and pointed placing the camera down there.
Cyrus had a smirk on his lips as TJ turned back to him, a hand on his hips.
“That’s staying there,” he said sternly, but Cyrus could see the soft smile that was threatening to appear on his face as he walked back over to the bed, gracefully lowering himself down next to Cyrus. He had become nuanced in the way he interpreted TJ’s facial expressions by now and, often to TJ’s dismay, he was able to read him somewhat like an open book. He supposed that spending so much time with someone did that to a person.
“Happy now? No distractions,” Cyrus teased, rolling over to look up fondly at TJ.
He just smiled and nodded, placing a gentle hand under Cyrus’ chin and tipping his head up slightly so he could lean down and place a lingering kiss on his lips. Cyrus’ eyes fluttered shut almost instinctively, melting into the touch right away and shuffling even closer to TJ. He wrapped his arms around TJ’s waist, burying his head in the taller man’s chest and letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.
He had a tendency to forget just how much tension he held throughout the day, always feeling it seep right out of him when TJ brought him close like this. He felt TJ’s eyelashes flutter against his skin, pulling an embarrassing giggle from him as it always did.
Motel rooms like these always seemed to be freezing at night, and Cyrus had regrettably never dealt well with cold. He snuggled further into TJ, trying to soak in as much of his body heat as was physically possible.
“Cold?” TJ asked him knowingly, smiling when Cyrus just let out an annoyed huff.
He took that response as a ‘yes’, briefly sitting up and grabbed one of the blankets that lay in a heap on the end of the bed. He threw it over Cyrus, smiling slightly as he watched him wriggle his way up and poke his head out from the top.
“There you go. Warmth,” said TJ, laying back down and snuggling under the blanket beside him.
Cyrus always appreciated nights like these - ones where they could lay together and feel the world around them gradually melt away. TJ gave the most comforting hugs imaginable, and that proved to be particularly useful when Cyrus was having a bad day. Sometimes they would spend hours talking the night away, but on a lot of occasions they would just lay there, wrapped up in one another, finding solace in one another after the day’s events.
It was 9:30pm when TJ began to shift restlessly, eventually sitting up in bed and looking down at Cyrus in a somewhat pleading fashion.
Cyrus raised a curious eyebrow. “What is it?”
TJ just hummed, taking Cyrus’ hand and intertwining their fingers. After all these years the action still managed to turn Cyrus’ heart turn into a butterfly, fluttering about wildly in his chest. TJ, the asshole, knew this well.
“I’m hungry. Wanna get something from the vending machine downstairs?”
He leaned down to press another kiss to Cyrus’ lips for good measure, clearly having noticed the hesitant look on his face.
“Come on, baby. How much trouble can we cause?”
Cyrus let out a huff and pulled his hand away, looking stern.
“You know it’s safer up here,” he argued.
TJ just bit his lip though, his eyes wide, silently pleading with him. Cyrus let out a heavy sigh. It was always like this; TJ desperately chasing freedom in any way he could, Cyrus holding him back, always cautious. Their dynamic had been this way as long as he could remember, and he had gotten used to the varying ways TJ would attempt to play to his weaknesses. It still didn’t mean he was immune though, as demonstrated by the words that fell from his lips next.
“No side-quests. No distractions. Down to the vending machine, then back up. Got it?”
TJ smirked at that, raising a playful eyebrow at him as he untangled himself from the blankets and got up. “You’re cute when you’re being bossy,” was all he said, smiling wide at Cyrus’ responding huff.
One of TJ’s most infuriating qualities had to be his effortless ability to make Cyrus’ heart melt. He had never known anyone in his life that could affect him in the way TJ did without even thinking about it and this was as much a curse as it was a blessing. He loved TJ Kippen. He loved TJ Kippen so much it often felt all-consuming, swallowing him whole in a way that left him feeling somewhat helpless, gasping for air. He loved tracing lines between the freckles on TJ’s face, playing with his hair, listening to his rants about cinematography and why life wasn’t all black and white. It filled him to the brim with contentment, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Even if he was a smug asshole sometimes.
“Ready?” TJ asked him, stumbling slightly as he tugged on a coat. Stolen, of course - Cyrus just couldn’t remember where from.
“No," Cyrus deadpanned, reluctantly getting up from the bed and moving over to the kitchen counter.
“Aren’t you fun,” TJ teased, stepping up to the boy and tipping his head slightly to the side. The corners of Cyrus’ lips twitched upwards slightly, and he couldn’t help but bring his hands up to smooth over TJ’s chest, up to his shoulders, letting them hang loosely around his neck. It was an affectionate gesture, and it had TJ’s smile melting into something softer as he leaned down to press a brief kiss to Cyrus’ lips.
Cyrus couldn’t deny the excitement beginning to swell in his chest as they separated, turning towards the door. There was a reason they lived the way they did after all - seeking thrills, even as simple as this one. Cyrus had become somewhat dependent upon the adrenaline that would surge through his veins whenever they took risks. He would never admit this to anyone apart from TJ though; that was a secret he kept gladly buried within himself. He lived for the things they did just as much as TJ did; he had just become skilled at hiding it.
He bit his lip, and TJ seemed to sense the direction his thoughts had taken because he gave the latter a smug smile as he approached the door.
“It’s just a vending machine, babe,” he said, “nothing scandalous about that.”
Cyrus rolled his eyes and grabbed their bag of essentials from the counter before following TJ out. He always had this bag on him, to the point where he’d go into a full-blown panic if it left his sight for too long. TJ wasn’t carrying a bag at all, but Cyrus knew that was because he preferred to use baggier clothing to conceal the things he carried on him.
The hallway outside their room was dark, with varying shadows dancing across the walls due to the flickering light above their head. Cyrus watched a faint smile ghost over TJ’s lips - he lived for darkness, always referring to light as something unnecessarily harsh. Where darkness was comforting, light was exposing, and this belief is what kept them in dingy motels like these. Silence like the one they were currently experiencing as they walked towards the stairwell, with the echoes of their footsteps bouncing loudly off the walls, would’ve been eerie to the average person. Cyrus Goodman and TJ Kippen weren’t average people.
“Surely there has to be laws surrounding the need for elevators in motels,” TJ mused, glancing back briefly at Cyrus as they began to descend down the stairs.
“There are laws surrounding a lot of things TJ,” came the teasing response.
TJ glanced back at him again, his expression amused, but he didn’t respond otherwise. Silence fell for a minute or so as they continued to descend down the stairs, which had quite apparently been painted a long while ago.
“That store owner from today was pretty cooperative,” TJ mentioned casually, which had Cyrus’ heart leaping in his chest.
“TJ!” he whisper-yelled, wondering to himself why he was shocked by the latter’s recklessness at this point.
Cyrus was one to tread carefully, turn a situation over in his head, calculate his actions to an almost excessive extent. His manipulation, although just as effective as TJ’s, was incredibly subtle. His smiles were sweet and his looks were soft, giving other people the illusion of someone who could be trusted. He took risks - of course he did - but he was always precise and calculated in taking them. If Cyrus was a breeze, washing over people without them realising, then TJ was most definitely fire. There was nothing calculated about the way TJ took risks. It was sporadic; out of nowhere, always stemming from some form of uncontrolled emotion. He was rarely one to think - he just acted, and sometimes Cyrus found himself trying to remember if it had always been like that, or if this was TJ’s way of trying to distance himself from the things he had done.
“I’m just saying! He was probably the most cooperative person we’ve had yet,” TJ continued, keeping his voice somewhat hushed to Cyrus’ relief.
Cyrus just rolled his eyes, knowing well TJ couldn’t see him.
“I can’t believe you,” he huffed out as they approached the door to the main lobby.
Much like all of the doors at that motel, it creaked open loudly as though it hadn’t been tended to in years. They stepped out in a relatively small lobby, with a front counter that was clearly closed up for the night. They walked past the sliding glass doors, only to find that they didn’t budge at all.
“This place closes up early,” TJ mused.
Cyrus nodded in agreement, spinning around on the spot as he took in his darkened surroundings. If possible, this place was even less lit then the stairwell had been. A fake potted plant had been callously pushed into the corner of the lobby, clearly in attempt to add some element of seeming luxury to the place. Shivers wracked through him then, and he brought his arms up to warm himself as best he could.
“Let’s just get some food and get back upstairs, it’s freezing here,” he complained.
TJ nodded and walked over to the run-down looking vending machine, pushing into another corner of the lobby. “Feel like anything?” he asked as he peered through the glass.
Cyrus just shrugged. “Some chips, maybe?”
TJ nodded again and fished around in his pockets for loose change, pulling some out a moment later and inserting them into the machine. “Number...7,” he mumbled to himself.
Cyrus was lingering a few feet behind him, watching as a bag of chips was slowly released.
“You’re reckless, you know that?” he asked suddenly, prompting TJ to turn around with a smile.
“I do, yeah. You’ve told me,” he responded playfully, stepping up to Cyrus and attempting to reel him in. The latter twirled away from his grasp, which had TJ rolling his eyes fondly.
“You’re gonna get us caught one day doing what you did to that guy,” Cyrus continued, his voice hushed now; more serious.
TJ’s playful smile eased into something more understanding. He stepped forward again, bringing a gentle hand up to cup the side of Cyrus’ face. “Hey. We’re fine okay? You’re just being paranoid.”
“I don’t know, TJ…” he trailed off uncertainly, watching as he walked back over to the vending and collected his bag of chips.
“We’re fine baby, I promise,” TJ repeated, wrapping an arm around Cyrus’ shoulders as they made their way back over to the stairwell. He opened the door, wincing slightly as it creaked open on its hinges.
TJ stepped inside, and Cyrus’ heart leapt into his throat when he came to an abrupt, seemingly instinctive halt. His shoulders were tensed, and Cyrus could already feel panic beginning to course through him. He pushed in beside TJ, prepared to face pretty much anyone but the old, frail looking man that was standing there.
Only Cyrus would’ve been able to pick up on the brief panic that flitted across TJ’s face before it was smoothed over with his normal confidence.
“Hello sir,” TJ said conversationally, stepping casually up to the staircase. The man’s eyes were sunken, knowing in a way that had an anxious pit forming in Cyrus’ stomach. He was a lot shorter than both them, slightly hunched over as though standing in itself was an effort for him. Cyrus took a deep, calming breath, following TJ hesitantly up the first few stairs. Adrenaline was kicking in now, with his heart hammering away in his chest and his blood rushing in his ears.
Had he heard them? Surely not.
Cyrus was able to maintain his composure until they reached the second flight of stairs, something he had become particularly adept at over the past few years.
It was then that they heard a yell; one that had Cyrus’ blood running cold.
“I know what game you guys are playing!”
The old man’s voice had been so rough; so unsettling, that for a moment Cyrus froze. TJ immediately stepped back down, looking somewhat shocked at the outburst.
“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice heavy with implication. It was his way of saying ‘you might want to rethink what you just said’, but it clearly seemed to fall on deaf ears because the man just yelled out again, his eyes bulging dangerously now. The sight only added to the uneasy pit forming in Cyrus’ stomach; one that lingered uncomfortably as he stepped down another few stairs.
“We don’t know what you’re trying to say sir,” he stated calmly, ghosting a hand over TJ’s shoulder as he stepped in front of him.
They could most certainly run away and never look back; the man didn’t look as though he’d be particularly hard to outrun, but the heart-stopping possibility of him telling other people about this incident kept TJ and Cyrus firmly rooted to the spot. They couldn’t risk that in the slightest.
“I heard you two!” the man continued somewhat hysterically, his breathing becoming noticeably laboured.
Cyrus nodded slowly, trying to seem sympathetic. “I’m sorry, I’m really not sure what you think you heard but-”
“I heard you two!”
TJ let out a heavy sigh, exchanging an exasperated glance with Cyrus as he descended down another stair, slowly closing the gap between him and the man.
“Look, we don’t want any trouble-” TJ immediately stopped speaking then, watching intently as the man pulled a phone from his pocket and began tapping away frantically. He brandished it in the air a few moments later as though it was a weapon, and Cyrus’ heart sank as he realised what numbers had likely been dialled into that keypad.
“Okay, you definitely don’t wanna do that,” TJ began, panic cracking his cool exterior slightly as stepped down yet another stair.
It wasn’t often they were faced with unplanned situations like these, but when they were it always a highly stressful experience; more so than what they faced day-to-day.
Silence fell for a moment. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating Cyrus slightly as he stood there, completely unmoving. Despite the man’s yelling, the motel remained eerily silent. Cyrus couldn’t make out many things amongst the darkness apart from TJ and the man, who appeared to be engaging in a staring contest of some kind. His heart was pounding now and his hands were shaking violently, but he didn’t dare move. Or breathe for that matter.
The man hurriedly tapped the call button, yelling frantically into the speaker as it went through, and Cyrus felt his body freeze up for a brief moment. The next few seconds happened so quickly Cyrus barely had time to process anything but the deafening, heart-stopping sound of a gun being fired, followed by the dull thud of a body against the concrete floor. His face twisted from one of shock to one of horror as realised what had happened, tears stinging at his eyes as he was tugged back down the stairs.
He hadn’t prepared for this tonight. He had not prepared for this tonight.
“We have to go now, okay?” came TJ’s voice a moment later, so gentle in comparison to what he had just done.
Cyrus tried his best to shake himself out of it, unable to respond as he allowed himself to be pulled out of the door and into the lobby. He felt distant from everything around him, felt as though it wasn’t really him pushing the red button and running out of those glass double doors. All he could feel was TJ’s hand in his, providing a warm contrast to his own as they sprinted down the practically deserted sidewalk. Cyrus felt relief flood his system at the realisation that TJ still seemed somewhat level-headed, hurriedly approaching an old-looking model of car parked in a careless fashion on the side of the road.
“Cyrus baby, can I have the bag?” he asked.
He nodded and hastily handed it over, watching as TJ fumblingly unzipped it and began rummaging around inside. The sudden, unmistakable wailing of police sirens disturbed the neighbourhood around them, creating an atmosphere of panic that had TJ frantically grabbing a wooden doorstop from the bag and handing the bag back over to Cyrus. It was freezing out; icy winds were washing over them and tinging their faces red, but neither of them were worried about that in the slightest.
TJ forcefully wedged the doorstop in between the car roof and the door, which was usually something that took multiple attempts, but adrenaline seemed to be on his side because after a few heaves, pushing the palm of hand down against the doorstop, he was able to wrench the car door open with a loud metallic sounding bang. Cyrus moved automatically from there, fuelled entirely by panic as the police sirens grew nearer. He climbed inside and rummaged around for a screwdriver, handing it over to TJ as he entered on the driver’s side.
They were both well aware that jamming a screwdriver into the keyhole would permanently damage it, but they were almost entirely out of options. They were too low on fuel in their previous car to risk going back to it, and they had been due for a new car for what seemed like months. They’d likely only be using this one in particular only once, but that was a consequence they would happily accept; particularly with police sirens looming behind them like an insistent fog as TJ slammed down on the accelerator, driving away from Palace Motel as fast as he possibly could.
Cyrus didn’t relax in the slightest until about half an hour later, when the distant sounds of police sirens had faded into nothing. Once some of his blind panic had subsided, there was room for anger to swell up in chest. TJ’s recklessness could’ve costed them this time, and he honestly wasn’t sure if this had sunk in for him yet.
“You okay?” TJ asked quietly.
There had been silence in the car up until that point, and Cyrus was planning on keeping it that way so he folded his arms stubbornly and looked out the window.
“I know you’re probably mad,” TJ sighed. “But...we got away, right?”
No response. There were more stars beginning to dot the night sky now, but Cyrus couldn’t even fully appreciate the sight because of the anger he could feel bubbling in him, rising in his throat and settling there. That night had been one of the only times since their first that Cyrus had been so impacted by a gunshot that he completely blanked out, following TJ blindly and feeling as though he was moments away from throwing up. Maybe it had just been because of the unexpectedness of it all, but that time had just felt...closer...than the others had.
TJ sighed again, glancing briefly over at Cyrus. “Hey - our next stop is Oceanside Motel. That’s cool, right?”
Cyrus leant his head against the window with a soft thud, letting his eyes fall shut.
“Sure,” he mumbled, and that was the only word TJ received for the next few hours.
~
“The bastards got away again,” Officer Freemont said with a sigh, leaning back against the police car door as he took another slow drag of his cigarette.
“How?” asked the women stood in front of him, barely concealing her disgust as he exhaled.
“Carjacking most likely. The old man in there got rushed to hospital, but I think he’s a goner. Too much blood loss,” he continued.
She nodded slowly, feeling frustration welling up in her chest at the prospect of another grand escape from the unnamed duo.
“I suppose you’ll be on it then, huh Driscoll?”
She nodded again, a confident smile at the corner of her lips. “Oh yeah. I’m on it.”