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By the time Kevin arrived in Birmingham, Alabama, he could barely keep his eyes open. The sharp, persistent throb of his hand was the only thing that kept him awake.
The first few hours of the drive had been almost easy , if that was possible. Kevin had been too desperate to get away and too focused on keeping the car on the road to really think about what he was doing.
Then Kevin’s car ran out of gas, and he was forced to stop at a random gas station in the middle of Tennessee. Kevin had been terrified that someone would recognize him, interrogate him, send him back to the Nest.
Once he got back on the road with his tank filled thanks to a random fan’s generosity, it was harder to shut out his thoughts.
Don’t think about Riko.
Don’t think about Jean.
Just keep your eyes on the road.
Kevin tried his best, he really did.
The further he drove, the less adrenaline numbed the pain, and the closer he got to Birmingham, the more nervous he became.
The more he began to doubt himself.
He knew that leaving like he did was stupid. He didn’t bring any money; he didn’t bring any clothes.
All Kevin had was his broken hand, his unsubstantiated trust in David Wymack, and the knowledge that he could never return to Evermore. Not after what Riko had done to Kevin, and not after what Kevin had asked Jean to do for him.
None of that made it any easier for Kevin to make his way to Wymack’s door.
The logistics of even finding it was a nightmare, considering that the Foxes were away from home for the Winter Banquet and Kevin had no idea where their hotel was. It was sheer luck that he managed to spot their team bus outside of a hotel, and luckier still that the hotel attendant was willing to tell Kevin exactly which room belonged to David Wymack.
All that was left to do was knock.
Somehow, that was the hardest part.
Kevin instinctively raised his left hand to knock. He recoiled at the fresh wave of pain that flooded his nerves from something that, mere hours ago, had been as simple as breathing. He tried to take a deep breath, tried to remind himself why he was here , at Wymack’s door, instead of back in West Virginia where he belonged.
Finally, Kevin worked up the courage to knock– with his right hand.
Wymack opened the door quicker than Kevin expected, an annoyed huff already on the tip of his tongue. “Do you even know what time it is, you–”
Wymack abruptly cut himself off as he looked into the hallway and realized just who had come knocking at his door.
“What are you doing here?” the man instead demanded, managing to sound both wary and concerned.
Kevin swallowed around the sudden lump of nausea in his throat. He forced himself to say, “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Wymack studied him intently. He searched Kevin’s gaze; for what, Kevin didn’t know.
After a moment of careful deliberation, Wymack said, “I think we’d better talk about this inside.” He stepped out of the doorway so that Kevin could pass him by.
Kevin tried to follow him into the room, but his legs buckled beneath him. He cursed himself internally. His body had been working on overtime for the past twelve hours, desperately trying to make up for both the lost sleep and the lost blood.
Now, having reached somewhere it apparently deemed ‘safe,’ Kevin was forced to contend with his exhausted, overworked limbs. He tried to push himself back onto his feet, but only succeeded in sending another shockwave of pain rippling down his arms.
Please , Kevin thought desperately.
He had made it so far. He snuck out of the Nest. He crossed multiple state lines. He found Wymack.
All that was left was to convince the man to let Kevin stay, and he couldn’t do that while he was collapsed on the floor in a shitty motel.
With every moment that Kevin failed to rise from the floor, he saw his future disappear.
Then, Wymack crouched down to see Kevin face-to-face, said, “Damn, Day, they really did a number on you,” and extended a hand.
Shaking, Kevin took it, and followed Wymack inside.