Chapter Text
Roy pulled his truck over to the side of the road, shutting it off. Sitting in silence. The silence felt oppressing, louder than normal, pounding in his ears. His truck felt like a trap, the one thing that always saved him, always meant he could leave, he could get away. That was ruined for him.
He didn't know how long he was driving for, he stopped for gas a few times, for food, slept in the truck bed with his flannel acting as a pillow and his spare blankets keeping him warm enough to not get hypothermia. Like Gid had. Sleeping in a truck reminded him of Floyd, he tried not to think about him too much, the sight of a dead man's limp body, Gid's form in the headlights as he held his friend close. As he held him close. Held him, pet him, kissed-
Roy let out a cracking yell before he could even recognize his own voice, slamming his fist against the wheel. He let himself fall, his forehead hit the steering wheel with a thump, a whimper escaped his throat, it didn't sound like him. Roy Chutney couldn't tell you why he left. Maybe it was his mom, sinking deeper and deeper into disrepair, maybe it was his dad's death, maybe it was Skylar. Maybe it was Gid, maybe he felt like he was vivisected and displayed wide open in front of the rest of his team, maybe he felt like he couldn't go back to playing football. Maybe it was guilt, for Gid, for that boy that died. Maybe, somewhere deep down, he knew why that boy had held on to the boat, why he was out there with Gid. Maybe Roy just needed to get the fuck out of Blue Springs.
He missed his horse, he missed his mom, he missed Tracy. God above, he missed Tracy. His jokes, his will, his smile. Tracy was there for him, even if he never knew, never believed him. He could always fall back on him. Tracy was his brother, his best friend, his light in the dark, useless little town. He asked him if he wanted to come with him before he left, Tracy was the last person he had spoken to, in the hospital with a brace around his head and neck. He looked fucking stupid, and they had a long laugh about what happened. Gid's door stared down at him like a monster in a children's book. The night before he left, he sat with Tracy in his hospital bed, talking about everything, talking about nothing. It felt..normal. Like he'd wake up the next day, and drive Gid and Tracy to the game, play some ball, drive them home, go to the bar and forget what happened the day before. See Skylar.
And when he got in his truck, a duffel bag of his most important belongings in the passenger seat, staring him down like a deer strapped in barbed wire, he felt.. nothing. It was like his brain had disconnected from his body, and taken over for the long drive ahead of him.
Finally gathering his bearings, he sat back up, wiped his face with his sleeve, and went to start up the truck. It stalled, he tried again, it stalled again. He tried five or six more times before giving up, slipping out of the door to check the engine. Not before kicking the damn thing hard enough to make him wince.
Gas was empty. Of course it was. It was empty, and Roy didn't bring a can to refill. He didn't think he'd need it. Now he was stuck on the side of the road, in the middle of fucking where ever he was, with no ride, and a useless truck in the dead of night in November. It took a moment to fully hit him, and when it did, he cried. He cried like a child who'd scraped their knee for the first time and didn't understand why it hurt so much. He cried like he did when he was stuck at that train crossing. He cried, and cried, and leaned over his truck, and cried some more.
He barely had the strength to look up when he saw headlights pulling up in the distance. Help he thought, something in the back of his brain stabbed him with the thought that someone from Blue Springs had found him and come to take him home. But the car that pulled up was not one he recognized, it was too..clean. The man that stepped out was a stranger, as well. Taller, wider, definitely older, though not by a lot. He looked, frankly, scared. Roy thought maybe he did, too. Wiping his face again, he turned to the stranger approaching. Men don't cry.
“Hey, you, um, you need some help?” The man called out to him, it was nice to hear a new voice. One that wasn't mean, hardened, rough.
“Yeah. ‘M outta gas.”
“Oh, dear. I'm not sure I have a canister with me. L-let me check, stay there..” Roy pulled around to the side of the truck and slid to the asphalt ground, resting his forearms on his knees. He watched the stranger dig around in his trunk for a few moments, before returning with empty hands fiddling in front of him.
“Well, um.. bad news is, I don't have gas with me. I'm sorry..”
“It's fine.” Roy bristled, he didn't meet the man's eyes, but he sounded genuinely sorry that he couldn't help, not just pitiful that he's in this situation.
“I wouldn't be a very good man if I didn't help you, love thy neighbor, and all.” so he's religious. “Um, h-how about you come with me, and I can call someone to tow your truck? We can get you a place at a motel if you need to, and-”
“Sure.” Roy was already standing. He was already this far, what could go wrong getting in a strangers car in the middle of the night? He almost laughed at the idea. Grabbing his duffel and his keys, he walked over to the passenger side, waiting for the man's approval. The man jumped slightly, before rushing to unlock the car.
The man seems nervous to have a passenger, maybe just to have Roy as a passenger. Maybe he's a queer.
“I-I'll have to let my girlfriend know I'll be late, she doesn't like when things change, especially without warning. Don't want her to get worried..” Maybe not.
The drive was quiet, Roy didn't like quiet. It made him think. He sat with his shoulder to the door, his arms over his chest, his head on the window. The houses that passed by were far and few between, occasionally encumbered by large areas of trees. The whole damn place looked like a Bob Ross painting.
“Where are we?” Roy finally spoke up, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“Wisconsin. Well, specifically Alma. We're a..small town, I'd say. Oh! Uh, I'm Lars by the way.”
“Roy.”
It took maybe 20 minutes to finally see Lars pull into a driveway. There was a two story house, next to what looked like a small garage. Lars got out quickly, but kept the car on and let Roy stay in the warm air. Roy watched him rush up to the door, the lights were still on, so it couldn't be too late in the night. He couldn't hear, but he watched a woman open the door, she held a small baby on her hip. The sight made something in Roy's chest soften a little, he wasn't certain if Lars was a danger or not, but there was a mother, maybe one he could confide in.
What was he thinking? He wasn't staying here, he's just getting gas in the truck then he's gone as soon as he arrived. He'll drive until he can't. Maybe until he dies. Maybe he'll die on the tracks, like his father. Maybe he'll lie down in the snow and never get back up.
A knock on the window snaps him out of his thoughts, it was Lars. Roy opens the door and stands, keeping a few paces away.
“Karin and Gus are willing to help, Gus said he can borrow his company's tow truck to go and get your truck in the morning. Do you..need a place to stay for the night?”
Roy runs a hand through his hair. He did need to sleep somewhere that wasn't a gross, old truck bed. But, how well could he trust these people? A stranger picked him up, brought him to a happy little home in the middle of apparently Wisconsin. And offered him a bed for the night. It all seemed to good to be true, like Gid-
“Yes, please.”
“Alright, I'll tell Karin, I suppose you can take the guest room in their house, Bianca can sleep with me tonight. I've never done that..” Lars trails off, looking back at the house. Roy stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“You don't live here?”
“No, no, I live there.” Roy leans to see where Lars is pointing.
“You live in a fucking garage? What, are you their dog?” Roy knew he shouldn't be talking to the guy who's practically saving his ass like this, but, really, a garage?
“It's not like that. It's been renovated, it's more like a little cabin now. I just..don't like living with people.” Lars wrings his gloved hands again. He looks a little put off now..
“I.. didn't mean-”
“No, no it's okay!! Really, I understand the first impression it gives off.” That was reassuring, he didn't entirely hate him now. Roy was good at making people hate him.
“Let's get you inside, you must be freezing out here. Here,” Lars shrugs off his outermost layer of a thick wool coat, letting Roy drape it around his shoulders. He didn't put his hand on his shoulder or put the coat on him himself, something Roy was grateful for.
The inside of Karin and Gus's house was warm, hitting him like a well-timed tackle. Except tackles hurt. ‘Karin’ came out of the next room when she heard the door close, looking to Roy, then to Lars.
“I just put Elinor to sleep, she should stay asleep for the night. Gus is settling Bianca down at your place.” She turns to Roy again, putting a hand out for him to shake. Strong grip.
“I'm Karin, I'm sorry this happened, but I promise we'll have everything fixed up tomorrow. For now you'll be in the Pink Room. Is that alright?”
“You're giving me a place to stay and fixing my car, a guest room is perfect by me.” Roy lets a smile curl his lip and rubs his hands over his arms. He felt..safe here. It felt like his grandma's house. Like he'd walk into the kitchen and see a plate of cookies fresh from the oven waiting for him on a plate three times older than he was.
Something in Karin's eyes told him she could see through him, right to his core. “You look pretty young to be driving out here by yourself. What were you doing out there, anyways?”
“Ran away.”
“Oh. I'm..sorry to hear that. I won't press. The bathroom down the hall is two doors from the guest room if you need it and at the end of the hall is mine and Gus's room. Lars is next door. Sleep well.”
“Thanks.”
The Pink Room was. Well, pink. Very pink. Pink walls, pink bedding, pink carpet. It's like a Barbie's packaging exploded. But, it was a bed. A nice one at that. Much softer than his own back at home. Smelled clean. Too clean for someone to have been staying in here. Maybe Bianca's a clean freak or something.
The moment his head hits the pillow, Roy's out like a light.