The Walking Bomb Talks

Chapter 5

Whitty was sitting in the kitchen tapping his fingers on the countertop. It was currently 3 PM and Whitty was bored. Ruv and Sarvente went out to get more food, considering there was barely any around in the Church, Whitty might have been involved somehow-he knew how, everyone did. It took a moment before Whitty decided to go outside for a walk, he knew it would probably end up badly, but if a wanted Russian could do it, so could a wanted Bomb. With a nod of his head, Whitty walked out of the kitchen and headed out of the Church itself.

He didn't have a place in mind so he just let his legs lead the way. Though, what he wasn't expecting is to enter a familiar alleyway and stop in front of a familiar apartment door. It was his past home. Without thinking, he raised his hand and knocked.

The door creaked open, "hello?"

The voice sent chills up Whitty's robotic spin and not in a good way, "umm..." Whitty paused, choosing his words carefully before continuing, "is a woman named Carol there?"

The door opened fully, revealing a tall semi-old red-headed woman behind it, she smiled and motioned for the taller Bomb to come in, "ahh, yes. She didn't want you to come here, but I bet she'll be happy to see you!"

Whitty mentally weighed his options. He could either A, trust the woman and go see Carol-his best friend-or B, get kidnapped and have no one come to save him. Whitty questioned himself, why couldn't he be smart enough to leave a note in his room back at the Church? He shrugged as he entered the apartment, what harm could an old woman do anyways?

"Just make yourself at home, I'll go get Carol from upstairs," the woman smiled as she left Whitty's sight.

Weird, Whitty doesn't remember there being an upstairs. Not thinking too much about it, Whitty immediately made his way to the kitchen to stress eat. Would Carol be happy to see him? He thinks back to the nightmare he had recently. That Carol wasn't happy to see him at all, so what about this one? He frowned as he opened the kitchen cabinets, playing multiple scenarios in his head.

"It's such a pleasure to see you again, Whitmore."

Whitty dropped the bag of chips and whipped around to face the voice. Shit, it was Daddy Dearest. His breathing quickened as his eyes widen, why was he here of all places? How'd he even know Whitty was here? His eyes flickered on the woman beside Dearest. That bitch.

The woman smiled sweetly, "Hun, Carol moved out yesterday," she stepped closer to Whitty, which made Whitty push himself deeper into the cabinets, wishing that he was small enough to shrink into the cracks.

Daddy Dearest grinned as he reached out one of his hands, "Whitmore, come with me and you'll be the famous Rockstar you always wanted to be."

Whitty grind his teeth at that, his wick flickered to life and his vision blurred, "Bullshit! All you want to do is put people in danger without taking the blame!" Whitty grabbed Dearest's wrist and pulled him closer, "All you want to do is use me as a weapon." Whitty spat out, voice screeched.

"Whitmore, you have it all wrong. I want to help you,"

"Liar, you want to control me! You want to take everything I have!" Whitty cut Daddy Dearest off. Whitty was now crying, shaking, and on the verge of losing control, blowing up even.

"I have more control over you than you over yourself."

That-that was true and Whitty knew it, but the truth still hurt. That's why he let out an ear-piercing shriek. The scream itself broke glass around and echoed against the walls of the alley. His surrounding changed colors as the floors and walls cracked, time seemed to be slowing, but that was just an illusion his Ballistic scream held and whoever heard it, saw it. His wick near the end and his senses faded out as he felt himself collapse. Nothing but the sound of gunshots welcomed him into the darkness.

He woke up clenching his head, why did he still feel like he was in Ballistic? Whitty groaned as oil dripped from his eyes. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to calm his breathing. Why was he still in pain, why couldn't the pain stop? Why couldn't he relieve it with the flick of his wick? Why couldn't he light his wick? He cried out as the pain pushed against his head harder. Whitty's eyes widen and he curled up, clenching his head and letting out a broken screech.

His wick sparked but didn't light. He wanted to blow up, why couldn't he? He was a bomb, wasn't he? He was supposed to blow up, that's what bombs are for, right? That's what he was for.

A couple of hours passed and Witty headache calmed down, though his head still hurt. Whitty goes limp, wincing in pain.

"You should eat." Whitty looked over to the voice, Ruv.

Whitty turned away from him, "you should have been there."

Whitty heard Ruv huff, "you shouldn't have been there."

There was silence before Ruv spoke again, "I was there."

"I didn't see you." Whitty whipped around as he snapped, "leave me alone."

Whitty watched as Ruv sat on the edge of his bed, "good, you weren't supposed to see me." Ruv pulled out a gun from the unknown.

Whitty mumbled something inaudible before yelling again, turning away from him, "bloody leave!" He was mad, he was hurting and the pain was unbearable. He sought comfort but didn't want to admit it.

"Do you want me to leave?" Ruv asked carefully.

For a while, Whitty stayed silent before grumbling.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you."

Whitty grumbled again, louder.

"Repeat it one last time or I'm leaving."

"Bloody hell, don't leave me!" Whitty whined desperately.

Whitty blushed as he heard Ruv huff amusingly. Whitty felt an arm lay on top of his arm; fingers start slowly patting it. The touch was calming and comfortable. Whitty hesitated but scooted closer to Ruv. He felt his back hit the chest of the Russian. Whitty sighed in contentment, as he drifted into sleep.

~Angst and Fluff? Let's, goo boys! Updated: December 18 2022
Words: 1057