1994 (TATE LANGDON FANFIC)

Twenty-four

"Yo, Tate!" I hear a voice speak from outside of my dreaming, even though I'm a heavy sleeper.

I suddenly become aware of the amount of light taking up the room and the boy staring down at me from the nest I've made on the couch. I expect Michael's face so when I see the distinctive features of Josh's my eyes widen with surprise. 

I can't believe I didn't remember that this is his house.

"Did you just crash on my couch?" he asks, peering down at me.

"Yeah, my friend and I were too drunk to drive. Sorry," I mutter, my voice only just stirring awake.

"It's fine. Half the party crashed here anyway," he laughs awkwardly. 

I do nothing but stare at him blankly, letting the numbness of sleep leave my body. 

"Well. We need to go pick up the gasoline," he reminds me. 

I didn't expect it but the reminder of today gives me a jolt of excitement. I sit up straight when I hear it, more eager about it than I was the night before.

I think the idea has settled nicely into my brain overnight. It's become not so much an idea, but a plan. A plan that's beginning to sound very appealing to me. 

"Okay let's go," I say, tearing my sluggish body away from the coach like a ragdoll. 

Michael in the corner hasn't yet woken up and I think it will be a while until he does. He still looks sleep-deprived even though he must've been asleep for hours.

A few other drunks line the floor, sprawled over the carpet in their sick. I pathe a way through their bodies, stepping lightly enough that they won't wake from the thudding of my shoes on the carpet. 

Josh and I take the car that sits on the front driveway to Dylan's house. We don't talk much and when we do I quickly shut the conversation down. I'd rather think about the things that the guys ignited in my head yesterday. They set fire to my thoughts and it spread like wildfire until it became all I can think about. 

And as for Josh, he's the evil creeping up my shoulder.

With an ominous feeling in my stomach, we stop at a quaint house with a porch out front. 

The car parks and I step out to begin walking towards the front door when Josh signals that I shouldn't go that way. 

"Not that way. You don't want to wake his parents. We have to go through the side gate," he hisses in the early morning breeze.

He takes me down the narrow alleyway and there we find Dylan glaring at us sourly. I don't know how long he's been anticipating us with his tub of gasoline.

"Just take it. It's cold out here," he grumbles then walks back inside without a second look. 

It's not a light container. It must be filled to the brim because to move it we have to haul it over our shoulders to the point where I can almost feel my spine being jammed into my organs. 

We do this all in silence, even when we have to toss the tub into the back of Josh's car. I don't see any blinds being drawn open or any fuming parents so I think we remained uncaught.

We drive back down the street with what we came for. Only after a minute, Josh turns to where I sit in the passenger's seat.

"What do we do now?" he asks me. 

"Drop me off at his office. My stepdad always comes in early."

Josh takes his eyes off the road to turn around to me in bewilderment.

"Don't you want me to come with you?"

"No."

"Why not?" he questions me, gripping the wheel even tighter.

"You don't know my stepdad so why should you be there? This is my thing," I say, stubbornly.

He breathes in and out, obviously frustrated with me. I've raised his hopes up only to bring them back down. 

"You are such a dick, Tate."

I ignore the snide comment and I just stare out of the window like it doesn't bother me. 

"You need to be my getaway driver," I say, leaving it at that. 

Unfortunately, I can't leave it at that because I need to direct the way and guide him down the streets. He however doesn't say much because I think he's mistaken my stress for anger. 

We eventually reach the street that Larry's office owns and we prowl around the building not knowing when to strike. It's a bleak building, guarded by a large, surrounding metal gate. I don't know this place so well because I've never had or looked for a reason to come visit Larry at work. I only know where it is because Constance dropped me off here once to "bond with my stepfather". Now we're further apart than ever. If we were closer maybe right now I wouldn't be at the ready with a box of matches. 

"You got a watch?" I ask Josh suddenly.

"No. Who the fuck carries around a watch?"

"Just wanted to know the time," I mutter, cursing him over and over again in my mind. 

I occupy myself by staring out the window trying to map out my next move. We're in a parking lot watching the workers enter the building, moving about their daily lives. It's a typical workday, the same as the day before and the same as the next. They all look painfully aware of it however they force themselves in, only to carry out their dull tasks and attend their tedious meetings.

After a while, something catches my eye. Through the grim faces and pinstripe business suits comes Larry's familiar face. He hobbles in on one foot and his coworkers rush to his side to help with his predicament. They get a couple of grateful glances from him however he brushes them aside and makes it in himself. When the doors swing behind him I know I've caught him in a trap.

I flick the matches impatiently, wondering how long I should wait until I follow him through those doors. I feel like I'm playing with my food here. Perhaps I should just go in for the kill. 

"He's inside," I say, severing the silence Josh and I have strung together. 

"So I'm guessing you should go..."

"Give it one minute. Open the back so I don't lose time," I instruct him, trying to think of every detail. It's the adrenaline that's telling me how to act.

He does as I say and we sit together in this heavy silence. It's so unknowing and that's why it weighs so much on our shoulders. I can't even see my future past the only fixed plan which is Larry's certain death. I've committed myself to this so there's no longer going to be a turning point. By now, I've bound myself to this.

Will I have to live like a criminal? Go on the run? I haven't even thought about the repercussions until these final seconds where I'm going to be innocent for the last time. 

Suddenly I get the feeling that my minute is up so I decide to move. I leave the car with my matches tucked away in my pocket then I reach for the other item that is so vital in all of this.

With my matches in my right pocket and the tub of gasoline in my left hand, I begin the enunciation of everything I've been planning in my head these past few minutes and it starts with walking towards the front entrance. I feel the stares of the suspicious, gossiping people around me but then I remember in my hands are items that could end them and then I feel untouchable. Above them even.

Their glares just glide off my skin. They can't even dent me right now let alone do anything to stop me from going in. Whatever happens, I won't stop walking and I won't drop anything in my hands. 

In fact I'm so close to the kill that it would be a shame to stop now.