Writing

Benny shrugged lazily at her confused look, dropping his hand and leaning back against the headboard of her bed like it was his. He wouldn’t mind if it was–wanted it to be his too.

“The bastard insulted you,” he said like it was obvious.

“Insulting me?” she echoed quietly. He gave a lazy nod as he took another drag of his cig. Annalise watched, her green eyes falling to his neck, watching his Adam’s apple as he leaned his head back and blew out whisps of smoke. They twirled in the air and Annalise watched them dance as guilt filled her chest down to her fingers.

She never liked when Benny fought, but he fought for the gang–for a family. For something he believed in. She couldn’t tell him to stop–well she could but she’d never expect him to listen. She’d never tell him anyway, because he felt a loyalty to Johnny; to the Vandals; and she wouldn’t try to get in the way of that. Wasn’t her place anyhow. They were friends is all.

But when he fought for her, it was different, because she could say something about it. And she always did because like her father always said, she wasn’t worth it.

Annalise looked away and inhaled slowly before releasing all the air in a huff. She grabbed a roll of dressing and went about wrapping the cut in his abdomen. “Just let ‘em talk…” she whispered. “Ignore ‘em,” she added, knowing Benny wouldn’t be Benny if he ignored something like that.

“Never,” was his scoffing reply because he was Benny. Benny was a bulldog; would chew and tear whatever threatened what was his. 

He was protective by nature and Annalise was at the damn top of what he’d keep respected and safe. Always had been ever since she had stumbled in front of him on the road so long ago; beaten and bloody but so concerned about him when he had crashed after swerving to avoid her. He’d fought for her ever since, and not a thing in the world would keep him from continuing to do it. Not even the sweet girl herself.

Benny watched her as she worked, admiring her focus. He reached out and brushed a loose strand of her hair out of her face. She looked up at him when he did, holding his gaze for a moment before looking back down. 

“Just..” she drifted off and fumbled with the bandaging in her small hands, “don’t want you hurt… cause of me… is all..” she muttered.

Silly girl never seemed to get he’d bleed dead for her, no matter how many times he told her.

Annalise stood from the bed. She grabbed the bowl of dirty, bloody water and walked into her bathroom to freshen it up. Benny watched her go, his gaze tracking her small frame in wonder–always did. She was such a different little thing… never dolled up, never dressed fancy, and yet he’d never seen anyone more beautiful. He took another puff of his cigarette, blue eyes on the half-closed bathroom door.

After a few moments, he put the cig out and stood from the bed, ignoring the sting of his bruises and cuts in favor of following after Annalise. She stood in front of the sink, her gaze on her hands as she repeatedly rinsed and rung out the rag in hopes of getting most of the blood out.

It took a few tries, but soon the water was clear enough. She rinsed out the bowl and began filling it, leaning her head back with a quiet sigh.

Annalise caught her reflection in the mirror and she felt self-consciousness slip its hands onto her shoulders. Look at you, it seemed to say. Look at you… And she did look. 

At her face; the countless freckles couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes. They were years in the making and not so easily erased. Nothing could hide the sleepless nights, and nothing could hide the exhausted results from them.

Her plain brown hair was pulled back as it always was, only it was a bit messy, tousled from sleep. 

And she was wearing a nightgown, a simple light blue thing that was a bit small and a bit worn. The straps were thinning, and the material was threadbare in a few spots.  She could use a new one, but all her money was spent on keeping her and her deadbeat dad afloat.

Look at you, it said again, in all your pathetic, useless glory…

Benny watched her in the mirror. Watched her look herself over. Something was wrong, though he wasn’t sure what. Slowly, he walked closer, stopping only when his bare chest hit her back. He leaned closer, a hand on the counter on either side of her and trapping her in. Benny pressed his nose to the crown of her head, inhaling and taking the sweet scent of her in. It was a gentle, sweet, clean smell, one that had him closing his eyes and relaxing–always. It smelled like her. His Annalise.

“You good, sugar?” he asked into her hair, his voice a quiet rumbled against her back.

Annalise’s response was a small nod. She wiped her face, though there were no tears on it, and turned around to give Benny a small smile. When she smiled, a little dimple always appeared in her left cheek–burned her skin. Imperfection.

The smile was supposed to be reassuring. Was supposed to tell Benny that she was alright. Maybe it didn’t work, but Benny didn’t say anything and Annalise was glad. He just sat on the closed toilet as she directed and she was grateful. Annalise brought the bowl closer and then moved to stand between his legs. She looked down at Benny for once, and gave another small smile–this one more shy and honest than the last–before she tenderly went to work cleaning his face. She could say she was okay, but Benny knew better. Benny kept his steady gaze on her, blue eye tracing the lines of her face like fingers tracing brail–like he needed to read, to know what the lines meant. He could read her fairly well by now, and he knew something was on her mind–probably the same something her worthless father drilled into her pretty little head on the daily. She wouldn’t listen to him when he refuted it, not right now, so Benny kept quiet. 

He moved his hands from his lap to her thighs then up to her hips, his calloused hands catching on the thin fabric of her shift. Benny brought her closer, close enough her knees bumped against the toiled lid. He tilted his head back, allowing her easier access to his face. “How’s it look, doc?” he questioned with a lazy grin, watching his girl through half-lidded eyes. Loaded question, Annalise thought. Benny always looked good, even when he was beat to shit. Something about red on his pretty, scruffy face just made sense. Granted, it was always better when the blood wasn’t his. She looked from the cuts to his blue eyes–they must be sharper than the blade that hurt him. Annalise let out a small huff of amusement and shook her head with a fond smile. “Like you got beat up,” she said soflty, brushing some of his blond hair from his face.

Benny’s lip curved slightly at her response, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. His hands shifted against her hips, moving up to the dip of her waist and then to her back. Those blue eyes of his moved down to Annalise’s hands and he leaned his head forward a small bit. “Nothin’ I ain’t dealt with before, sugar.”

He took her free hand in his–marveling at how small they were, yet how they were clearly working hands. Benny wasn’t sure how Annalise managed to get a job like she had; a sweet little thing like her doing demanding, hard work. He often wondered how she convinced her boss to give her the job. His thumb gently rubbed over her palm, tracing up to her fingers before he moved her hand in his and rubbed along her knuckles. He gave her hand a little squeeze before bringing her hand up and pressing his lips to the back of it, brushing a kiss over the patch of freckles found there.

Annalise watched him. She lowered her eyes when he kissed her hand, as if not seeing the feeling in his eyes would quell the feeling in her heart. “Benny…” she whispered, a soft reprimand she didn’t even mean.

He only guided her forward to straddle his lap. Annalise sighed but let him move her there. Her toes grazed the tiled floor as her legs hung off his thigs. Content, Benny moved her hand back to his lips and kissed her palm before placing it on his chest, above his beating heart.

Annalise’s fingers curled slightly against his warm skin. She shyly looked up at him through her lashes, pinching her lips together when she found he was staring at her. He held her like that for a few beats; his hand over hers while he languidly rubbed up and down her side with his other. She almost couldn’t feel his touch with how distracting his gaze was. He looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world because she was. She meant more to him than anything. Sometimes he wondered if she meant more to him than riding with the Vandals did. Sometimes he wasn’t sure.

“I did it for you, ya know,” he whispered, leaning a bit closer. “The fightin'… the bleedin’... all of it for you, Annalise.”

Annalise pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she looked away. “I know,” she whispered.

Her thumb absentmindedly rubbed against his chest, feeling his warm skin and heartbeat. “I know…”

She was worried about him again, and it made Benny huff quietly. He brought a finger to her chin and turned her face to his. “You worry too much, sugar,” he told her quietly.

“Well…” Annalise moved her hands to fiddle with the blond hair on the back of his head while his hands moved to rub along her slides, catching on her nightgown, “you do a lot to make me worry,” she whispered.

He couldn’t argue there because she was right. He got into trouble a lot. Never backed down from it and never ran. Did more harm than good for him most times, but he’d never change it because he was confident in his abilities to make it back in one piece. To… “Never gets bad enough that I can’t make it back to you,” he assured softly.

Damn Benny Cross… she thought when her heart fluttered like it always did with him. Her eyes fluttered and she met his gaze. Annalise clenched her teeth behind closed lips before looking away before he saw the way her green eyes watered. “I know,” she whispered again. Whispered because maybe she didn’t think she deserved that; someone who wanted to fight for her. And maybe she had rejected Benny so many times because she thought he could do better. Maybe she didn’t think she was worth it, but she knew Benny wasn’t lying. Not Benny.

Benny could read her like a damn book. He could see the way her face warmed due to the swarm of negative emotions welling up in her chest. He could see the way her pretty green eyes turned to glass and the way her shoulders sagged. 

And like always, he knew what she was thinking. She was thinking what she always thought when he voiced his feelings. He knew she thought she wasn’t worth it, and she had rejected him so many times because of it, saying he could do better and leaving it at that. And man did it hurt, more than a cut to his side or a snapped tendon in his ankle. Even now it hurt–always would till she made it go away with sweet words and soft touches, ones he’d dream about until they finally came to be.

Benny leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to her jaw and then to her cheek. He sighed quietly, warm breath fanning on her skin. It would be futile to try to convince her she was perfect–worth more than anything else. Worth too much really, too much for a guy like him to deserve, but God did he want anyway. 

It was her good for noting dad’s fault, and he’d wanted to kill the abusive bastard more times than Benny could really count, but his sweet girl always begged him not to and he couldn’t say no to her, no matter how hot his anger ran. So he pressed another kiss to her skin and mumbled against her; voice raspy and a bit more hurt than he had intended. “Gonna tell me you’re worthless again?”

Annalise shook her head, a small pout forming on her lips as she mumbled a quiet “no.”

There wasn’t much of a point anyway. He’d just confess to her again and tell her what he thought, and she’d hurt him by rejecting him again despite the warmth in her chest and ache in her heart.

“Not gonna say that,” she whispered before lightly pushing on his chest. He leaned back, per her silent request, and she went back to cleaning his face.

Benny gave a low chuckle that reverberated through his chest. He’d heard it all before anyway; she’d reject him after some line about how worthless she was–a line of shit her shit-for-nothing father beat into her skull. She’d say no to a date, but she never said no to this because she was a sweet thing who never belittled his feelings even when she was rejecting them.

“I love you,” he said quietly, not missing the way her body shifted at his words. Not missing the tensing of her thighs around him.

He smiled; small but true; up at her and placed his hand on her thighs, fingers sliding under her nightgown just a small bit. Never further.

Annalise paused, not because she was surprised by his admission because she wasn’t, but because her heart skipped again. Stupid Benny Cross… 

Annalise pulled her lip between her teeth before letting it go and going back to wiping the grime from his skin. “I know,” she whispered.

“Always gonna love you, Annalise.” “I know, Benny.” And she’d always love him too. Maybe one day she’d be able to tell him properly.

To make those dreams real.

He carefully watched the man, taking in the plainness of his face and the neatness of his slicked-back brown hair. The professionalism of it matched his spotless black suit, the detective thought. The sunglasses were an odd touch. Tsukauchi chalked it up to a commission thing before extending a professional hand. The suit-wearing man glanced at the appendage with disgust before staring coldly at the detective. He retracted his hand, grateful the man hadn't taken it. 'Fine. I didn't want to touch you either.'

"My name is not important, and I'm already aware of yours," he said, voice just as plain as he was.

It seemed introducing oneself was another thing the commission wasn't fond of. 'See if I care.'

He did care.

The detective had always felt like he and the police force were under the commission's boot, and they always liked to remind him of that fact. They had always been that way. So eager to remind him how little he and the rest of the force mattered. Tsukauchi opened his mouth to retort, only to close it when Suit spoke. "I'm looking for someone," he stated plainly. Yet also, as if he expected Tsukauchi to care.

The detective was silent for a few beats before gesturing behind him. "Yeah, we all are. The one responsible for that can't stay on the streets."

'Even if the commission wants it under the rug,' went unsaid, but damn, Tsukauchi wanted to say it.

The suit didn't care, not even acknowledging Tsukauchi's words and what they implied. "She'll be in there somewhere," he nodded to the flames, "and you need to find her for me."

"She's–" Tsukauchi closed his mouth before opening it again, repeating the action a few times as he struggled to respond to the impossible order.

Did the sunglasses impair his vision or something? Tsukauchi looked at the absolute mess behind him. How was he supposed to find someone in that, exactly? Even if he could find one girl, the detective still needed to find the villain behind it all. He didn't have time to search for and identify a–most certainly–dead woman.

His face must've given all his thoughts away because the man from the commission sighed before–with great annoyance–putting one of Tsukauchi's main concerns to rest. "You don't need to worry about finding the culprit behind this. We know who it was and have already acted accordingly."

It wasn't a lie, the detective decided. Did it still piss him off? Yes. But he was more surprised than angry at the moment. Did they find the villain already? In the middle of all the chaos?

The suit didn't give Tsukauchi any time to linger on his confusion. He began speaking once again. "As for the one you'll be looking for–" guess he didn't have a choice, "–she's a small girl–four foot eleven inches, to be precise–with long black hair. However, her eyes are her most distinctive feature. They're a mix of blue, purple, and pink, quite difficult to get confused with someone else's."

"She'll be in or under the building somewhere," he added.

"She won't be alive," was the detective's immediate response, although it was regretful.

The man didn't flinch in the slightest. He was unbothered by the statement–more than expecting it, it seemed the suit almost wanted it that way–almost like he wanted her dead. It bothered Tsukauchi a little, but he pushed the feeling down, taking the man's card with a small sigh. It seemed he was going to be ignored once again.

"We don't need her alive."

Perhaps not. However, Tsukauchi began to wish the suit had just ignored him because the lack of concern behind that statement made his skin crawl.

"We just need to confirm where she is."