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Rob is a sad person. He knew. Everyone knew no matter how much he tried to bury it.
He was a traumatized child. His father’s heart attack when he was fourteen and his previous two divorces still tear at his core even with Redline on his back. He wonders if Winona has heard of them, he wonders if his dad would he proud of him. Ben is proud of him… Was.
Ben. Rob’s mentee, his confidant, his friend, his favorite “what if,” his best “I’ll never know.”
Ben overdosed in his hotel room the 28th of that month, three days after Christmas, three days after he and Rob threw snowballs at each other outside Redline’s corporate office in Chicago. Rob didn’t want to, embarrassed of the idea of one of his employees seeing him, but Ben insisted. He can’t say no to that toothy grin and the five or six hairs that poke out from his jaw. Rob could never say no to Ben, not during rain nor shine nor snow.
Rob doesn’t know if Ben commit suicide or not. He figures it’s not worth knowing. Ben’s already dead, it doesn’t matter why. If he did, Rob thinks it’s shamefully selfish. He’s old-school, even with the slightly-better societal approach on suicide compared to when he grew up. And, what? Rob’s self-centered. Ben’s selfish.
Despite his attitude, Rob knows this will eat at his brain for years to come. He knows he’ll have nightmares about Ben for even longer. He knows that, when he closes his eyes, he will just see Ben’s decomposing body. Rob will see the light leave Ben’s eyes every time the sun hits his.
Rob hopes to forget Ben’s face entirely.
☆
Rob is having a shitty day today. One of their high-profile clients just called and said they’re switching to a separate agency. Marty’s gone off the books again and simply didn’t come into work, so now Rob has to do Marty’s job today as well as his own.
He calls Ben for a bump or a line or whatever he can get his hands on.
Rob doesn’t take illegal substances much. He just runs an underground ring of distribution. They’re different things, he’ll tell you.
Ben comes, like always, bags stuffed in his pockets outside the Redline office building. Rob meets him, cigarette in his mouth and hand in his coat pocket. Ben smiles at him all wide and Rob stomps out the cigarette.
“You’re coming back to mine?”
“Why’d I come all this way if we’re jus’ going somewhere else?” Ben slurs out a laugh. Rob quirks up his lips at that.
An hour later, Rob’s nose was numb and Ben’s lips were red. High, Rob thinks this is how it should be.
☆
Ben’s sitting across from Rob’s desk today, in his glass box of an office. He’s sorting through papers and files alphabetically. Rob gets A-K, Ben gets L-Z. Typically, this would be the head accountant’s job. Marty’s fucked off on his lunch break.
Rob should fire him, but Ben says the work he does here is good.
“What if he has an episode and tells someone what’s happening here?” Ben said conspiratorially. The look on his face was enough for Rob to agree.
The younger of the two is snacking on chocolate oranges. The pattern on the inside looks neat to Rob. The chocolate looks hard. There’s a soft breaking sound when Ben bites into it.
Rob looks up from the file cabinet on his desk to the chocolate orange slices next to Ben. He smiles at them, and then turns his eyes to Ben’s mouth and hands. A little smidge of chocolate is on Ben’s finger. Rob wants to lick it off. He smiles up instead.
“What?” Ben says, tilting his head as soon as his eyes meet Rob’s aviators.
He clears his throat before saying “nothing” and going back to his work.
Silence. Rob can’t just ask to have a piece. That’s vulnerable in his eyes. It isn’t, actually, but the meaning of it makes him feel that way. It’s intimate to eat something someone else is eating for the one purpose of wanting to know what they’re experiencing.
Ben catches his eyes. He always does, even through the tinted glasses on Rob’s nose.
“Do you want one?” Ben smiles up.
“Uhm,” Rob’s voice comes out scratchy, “yeah. Thanks.”
☆
Rob’s body is slack with brandy tonight. He’s at a bar party with the rest of corporate. They met their budget this month for the first time in a few, even if they’re impressively successful. “Just a rough patch!” is what Ben keeps saying.
Rob looks around the crowded bar for someone he might care about enough to talk to. Marty isn’t here, clearly. If he was, he’d be sat at the bar right beside him. Or playing one of the various empty arcade games.
Ben’s next to him before the older man could spot him.
“Hey, having fun?”
“No. I’m too drunk to be having fun,” a pause, “I can’t help but notice you’re not drinking.”
He knows this because Ben gets all red when he drinks.
“Too expensive here.” A lie.
“Can I buy you a drink, B?”
“Are you flirting with me, McFlynn?” Ben laughs.
Rob smiles. “I just might be.”
They go to Ben’s hotel together that night.
☆
Rob skips Ben’s funeral. He will regret this decision. Rob is a sad person, so he knew he would cry at the funeral. It’s only been a couple days and he can’t utter his name. He can only really call him “Bedussey.” It’s dehumanizing, it reminds Rob of who his associate was at the end of his life. It’s just cruel enough to make him feel worse.
Instead of paying his respect to a man that doesn’t deserve it, Rob goes to 2111 W Roosevelt Road, or, the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He offers up all the information he can in exchange for protection.
The officers are hesitant, especially because Rob played such a big part in this, but they’d be capturing a good amount of bad people.
They place Rob in witness protection. He has to move to a nondescript state and city, change his name, get new identification cards. It’s a lot to keep track of.
It’s been five years.
Franklin is a sad person. It’s worse after Ben died.