Chapter Text
The rain pounded against the metal, waking BoJack from his sleep. Just hours ago he had heard of Secretariat's demise. Nothing in his world had really changed and yet, everything felt different. He was lost now with no one to look up to. His own hero, the man he idolized above all had decided that this world was not worth living in.
He could never explain it, but there was always something there. It wasn't just that Secretariat was a horse like him or that he was famous, but something else. Something about the way that he grew up. There were always mentions of him coming from a not so great home.
When he heard Secretariat talk about how running made sense and how he never stopped, it made sense to him as well. He trusted this man because he knew that Secretariat actually knew what it felt like to be in such a situation.
Seven Hours Earlier
BoJack stared at the screen, wide eyed and lost. All he could see was the headline, Secretariat Dead. The voices were muffled and incoherent. The only thing that he could hear were his parents fighting in the background. Something about someone named Chelsea.
“So now you feel the urge to let the whole world in on this shit show you call a family!? Is that what we’re doing now?” Beatrice yelled.
“Maybe if you would actually tend to me like a wife is supposed to, I wouldn’t have to go out and find all the women willing to take your spot!” Butterscotch coldly countered.
“Ohho, now there’s many women out there wanting to take my spot,” she snidely laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself. None of them would last half as long as I have. You’re no desirable bachelor. You’re a talentless hack who can’t even get a job by himself at best.”
He wanted to move his chair closer to the screen or even just turn up the volume, but he couldn't seem to move. He had no idea what he was supposed to do next.
When you get sad you run straight ahead. You keep running. No matter what.
Those words ran through his mind, cancelling out everything else. That was the only real advice he had ever received in his life and he was going to follow it. He bolted up from his seat and ran out the door. It was pouring down rain, but he didn't care. It didn't matter, nothing mattered.
All that mattered was that he got away from this place, his parents, his loss. There was no real way to escape your own life, but he was about to try.
He ran all the way down to the end of the street where the playground was and curled up into the slide.
That's where he was now. Just waking up and rejoining his reality. The sun was rising and he was beginning to wonder if he should just go ahead and walk back home. Where else was there for him to go?
Sighing, he climbed out and started back towards his house. He was getting drenched, but he didn't care. He still walked as slowly as he could as to avoid whatever brand of yelling and fighting awaited him at home.
He could feel his clothes sticking to him, normally something he hated. Today though, he was fighting the urge to go take a seat and stall on the sidewalk. He was hungry and tired and he still did not want to return home.
Yet, he went. Dread filled him as he sighed and reached for the doorknob. He managed to escape his life for a few hours and now he wanted more. It was a small taste of freedom he thought he would never receive.
He stepped inside, the smell of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol smacking him in the face. He could hear his father getting ready for work, listening to his records as he fussed in the bedroom. His mother stood at the stove attempting to make some sad omelet or something.
Making his way to the kitchen, he took a seat and waited for his meal.
“Jesus BoJack, you take your clothes off before you bathe. What the hell are we paying that nanny for if she can’t even tell you that?” Beatrice remarked as soon as she caught sight of him.
“Sorry Mother,” he sadly replied.