Run, but Don't Hide - Secret Santa for BlackScatter (M, OC, cold - Part 1/2)

[PuddinPop]

*swoops in*

Hey, @BlackScatter! I am your Secret Santa this year! SURPRISE! Bet you didn't see that coming, huh?  

It wasn't supposed to happen this way, but after needing to change some of the matches around, this just sort of... happened

I'm also sorry that this is a little late being posted (if by 'a little late' I mean a few hours before the deadline xD). You already know how challenging things have been IRL lately, but I hope that you like this fic~!! This is the first installation of two, and I'm hoping to have the next part up within the week. 

I really do hope this is okay. I have never written anything like this before, and I'm still not sure how well it's worked, but if it's really, really terrible, then I can change it up, or even write you another fic  It was definitely a challenge, and it hasn't been beta'd or anything, so the shitty way it's written and all the mistakes are purely my own xD 

You're such a gifted writer, and I wanted to give you something super special. I'm not entirely happy with the way this turned out, but I have already scrapped off two fics already after starting them, and don't want to do it again xD I'm not crazy-keen about posting this, but if I don't, I never will, and you deserve something for your gift, even if it is sort of terrible x'DD. 

There was also some artwork that was going to accompany this, but I have just decided tonight that I hate it too much to include it, so for now - until I can fix the drawing - there is just the fic, I'm sorry, forgive me QwQ

ANYWAY~ Merry Christmas, you wonderful person. Thank you for being such a good friend to me over 2017, and the years before that. You are honestly my best friend, and I seriously wouldn't have made it through 2017 without you >w< here's to many more years of friendship, my darling~

Also, to others who may be reading this (aha, who else is gonna read this, amirite ) this fic involves my OC, Ren. I have written about him in some original pieces I have posted before. I'm not going to post them here, because that would be plugging my own work, but feel free to go read them if you want to get a feel a little more about him. I have literally never, ever written anything in first person before, especially not first person PRESENT TENSE, so this was a huge challenge. I hope it wasn't a complete disaster.. 

 

Run, but Don't Hide
 

 

Let it be said, whenever someone told me that the first day was always the hardest, I had no reason to doubt them. First day at school, first day on a new job, first date, first kiss. Most ‘firsts’ were always a challenge. There was always that challenge that came with it. That uncertainty, that not knowing. It was always difficult, especially for me, to go into something without really knowing what I’m doing. All my ‘firsts’ in life have always been so stressful, things that I can never accurately prepare for or know what to fully except.

And apparently, breaking the law is absolutely no exception to this rule.

Although that particular ‘first’ for me happened some time ago. It was fairly minor to begin with; I just stole some cookies from a large convenience store when I was 14 years old. I will always remember the adrenaline, the rush, the fear of getting caught. And then, finally, the absolute thrilling relief of getting away with it. It was an addictive feeling, something I couldn’t get enough of. I thrived on it. Ended up living for it. Deep down, I knew it was wrong; taking something that didn’t belong to me. But I ended up living for it, actively looking forward to my next ‘heist’.

I continued on with those small crimes for a while. Just petty shoplifting. I would steal goods and sell them at school, profiting from the proceeds. That way, I could buy the things I wanted without ever really having to do anything for it. I was young, naïve, and truly believed that I wasn’t hurting anyone in the process.

Of course, I eventually got caught. An off-duty cop happened to be in the store I was raiding one day, and actually caught me red-handed. He took me down to the station where I was tried and charged with theft. The store manager pressed charges and I was given a young offender’s order. I had to do over 100 hours of unpaid work over the next few weeks.

Anyone would think that would be a deterrent. A lot of kids in that situation would be dissuaded from ever doing any sort of illicit activity again. But not me. It taught me nothing except knowing that I needed to be more careful in the future. I had to plan better, ensure I was swifter, quicker, more tidy. Ensure that I didn’t get caught again.

Things progressed. I got in trouble more than once. My parents initially tried to help me, but after the fourth or fifth time I was escorted home by a police officer, they grew weary of my behavior. I was never actually kicked out, but it was made very clear that if I was to continue with my crimes then I was no longer welcome in the family home. I was not setting a suitable example for my younger sister, apparently. And because I was young, and of course knew better than anyone else, I left. In the middle of the night, mostly to avoid any awkward goodbyes. That was six years ago.

I’ve been alright since then. I steal my way from state to state. Make a few bucks and get a room in whatever motel has vacancy. Sometimes, if I really feel like treating myself, I’ll steal a car and sometimes sleep on the backseat. I usually try to save those instances for when the nights are really, really cold though.

And right now, it’s December. The weather is very, very cold. I’m only a day away from my family home. I haven’t been back in so long.. I call to speak to my mom sometimes. She still talks to me, just like any mother would when her son is away from home. My dad too. And my sister. They all say they miss me, but never ask when I’m coming home. They’ve never asked once since I left. It’s just sort of a thing now. That ‘elephant in the room’. No one asks when I’m coming home and I never tell them. Mostly because I had never planned on ever actually going home.

Not until now, anyway.

Living out on the road has its perks, for sure, but like all good things, it becomes boring. Mundane. Monotonous. There are only so many stores I can steal from, so many places I can hold up, so many cars I can steal, before that rush of adrenaline ebbs and fades. While I once thrived on the thrill of stealing, now it has become routine, and frankly, has lost its edge. It doesn’t thrill or excite me anymore, and has become the same as any repetitive job. It bores me, and I have discovered that more than anything, I just want to go home. I have to, really. I’ve decided that I no longer want to live this life, but to get to where I want to be, I need money; food; a car. All things which I currently don’t possess. Well, I have a car. I’m laid across the backseat of it right now, watching the cold, white wisps of my own breath dance in front of my face. I always thought it looked cool. I liked to pretend that I was smoking when I was a kid despite never having touched a cigarette in my life. It used to be such a fun thing.

Though right now, laid out on the backseat of a family saloon, I hate seeing it. I have no blankets, no sheets, nothing. Just my hoodie, which has served me well for a few years. Not just for keeping me warm, but for keeping my identity hidden too. It had a high neckline which is easy for me to cover the lower half of my face with. The hood is huge too, and if I’m not careful, it flops down over my eyes. Perfect for any sort of mugging or hold up.

It isn’t the warmest thing in the world though. And with the weather as it is – there’s fucking snow on the ground out there – I wish I had more than this meagre hoodie. More than the car with the broken heating system. I promise, when I get myself sorted and get home, the first thing I am doing is taking the longest, hottest bath known to man. Over a month in these conditions; they have been some of the toughest days of my life.

It also means that, inevitably, I’ve woken up feeling pretty grim. As I lay here, I can’t breathe at all through the left side of my nose. It’s completely sealed shut. The right side isn’t much better either. Some air can pass through, but the sound it makes is thick, clogged, and just vibrates around in my skull. I can’t seem to stop it running, which – randomly – has kept me awake most of the night. Seems like a stupid thing to be kept awake by, but when all you can feel is the constant, warm trickle of moisture escaping the edges of your nostrils for literally hours on end, it proves as a distraction.

My throat hurts too. A lot. Like thorns sticking in the inflamed tissue whenever I swallow. That wouldn’t be too bad usually, but the cough that has been steadily developing over the course of a few days means that each time I have to give in to the itchy, aching state of my lungs, my throat is torn to pieces. And don’t even get me started on the sneezing.. I’m not the sort of person that sneezes a great amount usually, but over the past two days, I’ve been hard pressed to stop. Even as I lay here now, just thinking about it, I can feel the tingling, sinus-deep ache that means a sneeze is coming. The urge never really goes away, not completely. It’s always there, just a steady, permanent irritation. It swells to undeniable levels too often for my liking, and it seems like now is another one of those times -…

“..hh’EEISSHHH’IUH!!”

Damn. That’s.. conflicting. It always feels so good, but it’s never enough. Already, I can feel another one coming. I’m powerless to the way my eyes are fluttering closed, my lips are parting, chest heaving, nostrils flaring –

“ – HH’IIHSSCHH’IUUHH-!!”

My hoodie is wrecked. Sneezing is great and everything, but it’s a damn messy affair. Though at least the left side of my nose has cleared enough for me to snuffle back with deep, thick noises. And it’s woken me up some. The force of those two have jarred me enough to encourage me to sit up. So now I’m sat pathetically rubbing my eyes, cursing this cold and its shitty timing for making me wake up so early. It’s a blessing, really, because the sooner I can get this done, the sooner I can go home. And with the way I feel right now – which is, frankly, terrible – I want to get home as soon as possible. I just hope that my parents won’t turn me away..

I do honestly plan to stop living this life. It’s not what I want, I’ve realized that now. But… I do need to do this job. Just this one last job. Get myself some money, get home, and sort myself out. Maybe even get some help. Mom used to always mention about me talking to someone about this ‘issue that I have’. Kleptomania, I think she called it once. Some shrinks at school mentioned that word too. They may be right, who knows. I don’t. I don’t care either. All I care about right now is getting this job done, getting in my car, and driving the couple of hundred miles back to my parents’ place.

It’s strange, but as I’m sitting here, sniffling miserably into the damp confines of my sleeves, I can’t help but notice that I’m having to psyche myself up for this. I’m nervous. I haven’t been nervous in months. Possibly even years. But my tummy is fluttering. My hands are a bit shaky. My brow is damp with sweat, but I’m reasonably certain that’s more to do with the fever that I’m now fairly confident that I’m rocking.

I have managed to get myself properly sitting up though. It doesn’t feel too good.. My head swims as I sit here, vaguely dizzy. Everything aches too. And those sneezes did a good job of clearing my nose up a bit, but now that I’m sat up again, it’s stuffed right back up. It’s throbbing softly around my eyes, across the bridge of my nose, down either side of my temple. Everything feels thick, clogged, and heavy. Like my skull is packed tight with wet sand or something. Pretty terrible simile, sue me. I have a fever and it’s the best I can think of.

Though I’ve been procrastinating long enough. My hands can only rub up and down over my face so many times before it starts to get weird, even just for me. I have to do this and do it quickly. The streets will start to get busy soon, more people flocking in to start their early Christmas shopping. Now is the ideal time, late enough for the store to be open but early enough that not many patrons will have arrived yet.

My movements are sluggish, I realise. My hand reaches for the handle of the door and it takes longer than I’d like. The plastic interior is cold, and I shiver near violently at the contact against my bare skin. I have to actually shove the door hard to get it open – it’s frozen shut – and step out into the bitter morning air. My legs tremble beneath me, not just from the freezing temperature, but from the sticky, clinging malaise that I can’t seem to shake. Granted, I didn’t sleep much last night, but I’ve been living on little sleep for years. It never usually bothers me so much.

Of course, my nose aggressively disapproves of the drastic chill in the air. It drips immediately before I can even lift a hand to stop it. I sniffle back, the sound liquid, before belatedly reaching a hand to swipe at the reddened underside of my nostrils. They flare in response, angered, and before I can barely take a breath, I've started to hitch. It sounds like I’m gasping or panting, my chest rising and falling spasmodically as my expression collapses into something probably hilarious. I’ve just managed to pull my sleeves over my hands just in time for me to rush them to my face, smothering the worst of the hit.

“.. hH’EEHDSZHH’UH!”

It’s strong, wet, messy, all the things that I don’t need right now. And what’s worse, is it’s terribly unsatisfying. I can’t even open my eyes. Another is coming, coming so quickly I can’t do-.. anything but -…

“HH’IHDDZSSHH’IIUHH!!”

I just gasp, feel my nostrils flare against my sleeves, and -!

“.. HHIH’EEIDZZSSHHH’UHH!!”

Gross.. That last one has come with enough force to practically double me over. My vision is spotting a little too, just little black specks around the peripheral as I blink damp lashes open. My nose is practically pouring, though it’s so blocked that I can’t even get any traction to suck anything back. And no, I don’t have any tissues. I live on the road, almost off of the land. My sleeves are all I have, and they’re starting to look a bit-.. ech..

This heist is probably the worst idea I’ve had in a long time. I know that ideally, I should take a day or two to recover. At least to get over the worst of this cold. It crept in steadily yesterday, and has landed on me like an anvil today. I know that the first couple days are always the worst – as they are with everything else in life – but I don’t have time to sit around and be sick. I have stores to hold up, people to mug, a getaway to make. These sorts of things can’t wait another day or two. I have to do it now, lest I’ll be stuck here for weeks. More snow is coming – a lot of it, tonight – and I have to get out of here before it does. Otherwise I’ll never get home. It’s now or never.

I’m left with no choice. My hands scrub up over my nose and I sniffle back as much as I can. My nose is still tingling unpleasantly up near my bridge, a feeling too deep to be sniffled or rubbed away. It’s apparently keen to indulge in more sneezing that I’m refusing to allow. I pull my hood up over my head, tucking the lower half of my face down into the neckline, shielding as much as I can. It works as a double-whammy today, because not only is it hiding my identity, but it’s also hiding the glistening around my nostrils that I would rather the rest of the world doesn’t see.

This is as good as it’s going to get. I probably look frightful – I’m not sure, I haven’t looked at my own reflection in some time now – but I can feel the heat in my cheeks. They’re probably flushed. My eyes feel damp. They’re probably glassy. My nose is sore. It’s probably red. Though maybe it could act in my favour… The less I look like myself, the better.

I force myself on. My shoes crunch on the asphalt, a mix of snow and grit. My legs feel weak, threatening to cave beneath my weight. I can feel my heart in my chest, pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to break out. My mouth is dry. Annoyingly, I have to pause to sneeze, just once, smothered in the material of the neckline of my hoodie. But I continue on, making the short walk across the parking lot until I reach the entrance of the store.

It’s still mostly dark out. The dull buzz of the neon lights hurts my ears almost as much as the glare from them hurts my eyes. My face sinks lower into my hoodie, hiding as much as I can until my eyes are the only thing visible. I’ve paused, I realise. Reading and re-reading the name of store several times. I’m hesitating. And I know I can’t. Not if I want this to end. Not if I want this to be over. It has to be now.

My legs move before my brain fully catches up. I’m walking. Towards the store. I’m walking, and I don’t stop. I get to the door, let my hand hover over the handle a moment before I push it open, listening to the little tinkle of the bell hanging above it. It’s warm in here, and for a random, fleeting moment, I contemplate staying. But I know I can’t. I need to go on. Need to do this. I have to, I keep telling myself. I have to..



[TBC~...]

Edited January 3, 2018 by PuddinPop
Typos, errors, mistakes galore!

[HideAndGoSneeze]

Oh my goodness. I am hooked. I know this is Scatter's story, but OMG. PUDDINPOP. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!! The detail and back story...I feel like I'm there, the story is so vivid!! Great job!!!!

[SterlingSilver]

32 minutes ago, PuddinPop said:

Hey, @ BlackScatter! I am your Secret Santa this year! SURPRISE!

*BREAKS DOWN DOOR* CHRISTMAS CAME A SECOND TIME.

For the sake of legibility I am going to write in lowercase but just know that literally everything I'm saying is me scrEAMING EXCITEDLY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~

Please don't worry for a second about this fic coming after Christmas because it's like SECOND CHRISTMAS TODAY and also genius like this takes time, you can't rush genius. Also, everything you write is poetic, empathetic, beautifully crafted with a tangible sense of detail and this fic is no exception~  (AND THE ART WILL BE NO EXCEPTION EITHER?? YOU ARE MAKING ME COMPANION ART FOR THE FIC, TWO GIFTS, OH MY GOD??) Don't for a second think this fic is bad. I LOVE IT. *hugs fic* I WILL CHERISH IT FOREVER QwQ. Not just because it's brilliantly written and stars my absolute favorite character, but because you made it for me, and that makes it very special 

Also let's talk more about the fic. Because, uh, haha, this fic??? 

*rips off clothes to reveal tuxedo underneath, drops on one knee, extends Ring Pop*

UM, MARRY ME PLEASE? KLEPTO!REN IS A REN I NEVER IMAGINED WOULD EXIST AND NOW THAT HE IS HERE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. Whoops, sorry, lowercase. I'm trying to remain somewhat civilized but uh uH UH THE SWEET SUNSHINE BEAN IS A CRIMINAL, THIS NEEDS TO BE SHOUTED FROM THE ROOFTOPS. SOMEONE RESCUE THE BEAN FROM HIMSELF. Fuck, sorry, I swear I will stop actually shouting. I just have sO mAnY fEeLiNgS.

*cracks knuckles* Allow me to ELABORATE -

 

49 minutes ago, PuddinPop said:

I have literally never, ever written anything in first person before, especially not first person PRESENT TENSE, so this was a huge challenge

HOLD THE PHONE HERE. FIRST PERSON PRESENT?? This is seriously one of the hardest tense and POV combos to do, in my opinion, and the fact that you felt inspired to do it here for this fic means so much to me, seriously. As a writer to a writer, I know the fear of trying something new and being scared it's bad. But Puds, you have executed this gorgeously. WITH PAGEANTRY. Everything is so incredibly immediate in this tense, like I'm right there with him. It's like he's speaking to me, which makes the words he's saying that much more powerful. For a situation like this, when someone is in a desperate situation and is alone, and is being introspective on the choices that brought him here, it works so well. Truly, this was an amazing choice with this plot.

UM. ALSO LIKE. LISTENING TO REN DESCRIBE HIS OWN SNEZ? *fans self* .. Well, definitely hit some buttons. Not going to lie here LOL. I can see it so clearly and then he's talking about it. And the fact that's he's grumpy about it, feeling sick and gross and struggling to get a handle on himself.. *holds out plate* MORE PLEASE CHEF -

56 minutes ago, PuddinPop said:

And apparently, breaking the law is absolutely no exception to this rule.

As soon as I read this I legit said aloud to myself, alone in my room, "Oh shit."

57 minutes ago, PuddinPop said:

Although that particular ‘first’ for me happened some time ago.

AND THEN EVEN MORE OH SHIT BECAUSE THE BEAN IS A HARDENED CRIMINAL?? WHAT IS THIS, WHERE AM I -

1 hour ago, PuddinPop said:

They all say they miss me, but never ask when I’m coming home. They’ve never asked once since I left. It’s just sort of a thing now.

It's just so startling to see Ren in this position. This story is extremely well-written, so for someone first meeting Ren through this fic, it's a good time. But as someone who's gotten to know Ren as the clumsy, goody-two-shoes, mama's boy who's never done a crime and would trust just about anyone, it's so interesting to see him here. Interesting and utterly heart-breaking, since I've seen the other side of things. It really adds to this fic for me, and I really love getting the opportunity to see another version of Ren very different from the one I'm used to. That's one of my favorite things about OCs and I feel really lucky that I get the chance to read it here.

1 hour ago, PuddinPop said:

I do honestly plan to stop living this life. It’s not what I want, I’ve realized that now. But… I do need to do this job. Just this one last job. Get myself some money, get home, and sort myself out.

UGHHHHH, MY HEART. Like, to read this first person perspective from him when he's at a time in his life when he just wants to change and repent is so powerful. You've really worked all these elements of the fic together to work really well. You chose a great POV with a perfect tense and then situated it in a desperate situation at the climax of his time as a criminal. It's just so brilliantly constructed. And it tugs at my heart strings QwQ. I just want sweet sunshine man to have a good life TwT

1 hour ago, PuddinPop said:

I’ve just managed to pull my sleeves over my hands just in time for me to rush them to my face, smothering the worst of the hit.

I adore this little habit of his x333

1 hour ago, PuddinPop said:

I force myself on. My shoes crunch on the asphalt, a mix of snow and grit. My legs feel weak, threatening to cave beneath my weight. I can feel my heart in my chest, pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to break out. My mouth is dry. Annoyingly, I have to pause to sneeze, just once, smothered in the material of the neckline of my hoodie. But I continue on, making the short walk across the parking lot until I reach the entrance of the store.

HE'S SO DELICIOUSLY ILL~ I love your descriptions, but this one is particularly awesome. I love the simplicity of the sentences. In this voice/tense, it's like I can feel how tired he is. He's barely capable of enumerating how shitty he feels anymore, and what's going on around him. And I love the framing sentence of how he's continuing to force himself, even when he's so exhausted. Forcing himself through this one last job because he has to in order to get home. MY FEELINGS.

1 hour ago, PuddinPop said:

I get to the door, let my hand hover over the handle a moment before I push it open, listening to the little tinkle of the bell hanging above it. It’s warm in here, and for a random, fleeting moment, I contemplate staying. But I know I can’t. I need to go on. Need to do this. I have to, I keep telling myself. I have to..

*shaking the store clerk by the shoulders* HELP THE BEAN. SAVE THIS PRECIOUS BAE. PROTECT PUDS'S PRECIOUS SON. 

Please take your time with the next part, but just know I am absolutely SO CURIOUS to know what happens next. I love this verse, I love your writing, I love this Ren, and I cannot wait to see where you go with it  Thank you so, so much for giving me such an incredible gift, Puds QwQ. You put in a lot of thought into this, and I really appreciate that. There won't be a day I don't count my lucky stars for having a friend like you >w<

[Dusty15]

How can anything top BlackScatter's comment I'll say that this is SUPER fun, Puds, and I love the POV first person perspective. It works great for this and gives a vastly different look to Ren compared to the guy in BlackScatter's Secret Santa fic. He seems like a super cool character and I'm excited to read more about him from both of you!

[IveGotRedHair]

I'm really loving this!