#aaron trouble

Sharp's car went down easy enough, getting slammed into by a truck twice its size was enough to render it unusable. That's when Aaron got out, finally letting the pressure go off of his stomach while he ripped Sharp out from his wreck of a vehicle. Only to strangle him, right there.

He had tried to fight back, punching and clawing desperately through his dazed state. It only pissed the Saint off more. His grip tightening, fingers leaving purple bruises in his neck while he could hear the life being torn away from his body. It was nothing short of pathetic.

Only when the last bit of Sharp's soul left his husk did Aaron let go. Without a target, without something else clogging his mind like hair in a drain, he realized just how desperately he himself needed help. Even though he didn't feel like he'd earned it, Aaron's primal instincts took over, forcing him to get to a hospital.

Now, there he sat. In the church, alone. Other Saints had glanced at him when he finally walked the streets again, he could hear the murmuring, only for their conversations to kick back up once he was out of sight. The few who'd gotten close enough to say anything were met with the teenagers empty stare.

No one bothered him inside, the only one who'd even spoken to him was Julius. Aaron barely listened, only hearing something about Gat wanting blood for what'd happened. As eager as Aaron was to get up and join him on a warpath, he was forced to stay. Both by Johnny himself, and the still healing gutshot wound. The doctors had been desperate to get him to stay, but it was either his aura that made them stop arguing, or the knife in his hand.

The silence the religious structure brought was both comforting, yet deeply unsettling. It sent shivers down his spine with each shake in the air from a breeze outside. There was always a Saint running their mouth, or someone cleaning their weapons, or just someone smoking and drinking. People were avoiding him like the plague, which was the smart move.

Troy Bradshaw wasn't the brightest though.

His steps into the church brought the teenager back into reality, each thud echoing gently throughout the building. By the time he rounded the corner of the entrance, Aaron's head was already turned back to watch him. Troy gave a small wave, his hand not passing above his chest while he did. "Hey, kid." He murmured.

Aaron didn't respond, and Troy understood why no one wanted to go near him. Someone had to though, lord only knew just what was going through his damn head. With that in mind, he chose his next words carefully, all the while moving closer and sitting next to the gangbanger at one of the remaining pews. "You, er, you doin' okay?"

Stupid question, he immediately figured. After a few moments of silence, he continued. "At least- I don't know, relatively? The others, they're worried about you, y'know." For a second, he thought about putting a hand on the others shoulder. Although he feared he'd lose his hand in the process faster than he could actually get a word in.

"...Lin wasn't your fault." To the point, blunt. There was no real way to shuffle around the subject with this, it seemed to be easier to just cut straight to the chase, rather than keep up some cliche small talk that wouldn't actually help at all. "Everyone knows you did what you could. Nothing you coulda changed-"

"I shouldn't have made it out." Aaron cut him off.

Troy felt his blood run cold at that statement. Two things to unpack: One, the obvious. The kid thought he should've died? Two, he could fucking talk? It seemed inappropriate to begin questioning him about the latter, so he bit his tongue as Aaron continued to speak.

"Lin didn't deserve to die. She should've made it out of there, it... It should've been me." Aaron almost felt out of breath at that, finally letting out what had been stuck in his head for weeks. Troy was the only person who'd gotten close enough, and seemingly cared enough, to make Aaron's lips loose. And once it began spilling out, he couldn't seem to plug it back up. So, he continued.

He slumped over a little while he spoke, his head turning to stare down. "I thought she was gonna be right behind me when I got that trunk open, but when I got up- she just wasn't there. She wasn't fucking there, man!" He could feel his emotions ramping up in intensity, forcing tears to prick the seams of his eyes. "I could've saved her. I was just worryin' about myself- she shouldn't have died, Troy. It should've been me, you get that? Not her. ME."

Troy had heard all too much about survivors guilt, and this was a textbook example. It was somewhat horrifying to hear from someone clearly so young. Everything about Aaron told Troy that he was just a kid. How he carried himself, his expressions alone, Jesus, he didn't look like an adult. But it seemed to be too late to simply get him out now, so all he could do was help him out. Make sure he didn't die.

"...I can't say shit that's gonna make you magically feel better." Troy sighed, "But, I can tell you this much. I don't think Lin would want you to kick your own ass for this. You made it out, and you killed that fuckin' guy. From where I'm standin', you did pretty alright for her." He added, finally reaching a hand out and placing it on Aaron's back. He froze up for a split second, expecting a shot to the face, or a broken arm- but nothing came.

He just shook. Trembling in place as his hands reached up, cradling his head while silent cries finally began to escape. Troy didn't want to risk anything by pushing too hard with comfort, so he sat still, his hand remaining on the Saints back. A way to tell him he wasn't alone, at the very least. Troy knew he wasn't much better at comforting people with his words, so this seemed to be the best way. And that's just how he kept it. If Aaron needed someone to sit there with him, let him know that it truly wasn't his fault? Then Troy would do it.