the girl in red

xx. cold cold cold

(tw: bill's dad.  seriously though, he's genuinely disgusting in this chapter.  also some racism and misogyny, also at the hands of bill's dad)

Wednesday, January 5th, 1976

Lafayette, Indiana

The clock showed exactly four-thirty p.m, though the ticking continued. The Sunday School room was musty and the smell of old oak lingered heavily no matter how many times the room was cleaned - which was a lot. The whole church held a similar smell, though some places smelled so strong that Bill would have to step out to really breathe. He was always put in those rooms. He pulled out one of the chairs by the door and sat down, kicking out his legs and smiling at all the kids that were ushered inside by parents eager to be free for an hour. A few other teens of similar age stood around the room, keeping the young kids entertained until the doors closed and the lesson started.

A light, velvet voice reached his ears and he turned to the familiar sound, smiling when he saw the young brunette step into the room. Her skin was more olive than that of the much taller boy next to her, and her hair carried hints of gold, while his was dark and cool. She looked around and waved once Bill's figure caught her eye, and he waved back smally. Dima waved, too, and walked towards him, his legs carrying him with freakish speed.

"Hi!" Annika said with a wide smile, staring up at Bill.

"Hello," he returned and sat forward.

Dima towered over him, his shoulders far above his head, and Bill had to nearly break his neck to look up at the eighteen-year-old. A stubble had grown on his chin and darkened the already harsh shadows even more. He finally tilted his head down and offered a grin that revealed a faint dimple just below his right eye.

"Hey, kid," Dima greeted, reaching out with his hand.

Bill shook it and smiled again. "Hey."

"You're teaching this, right?"

"Yup."

"And you're accepting help?"

"Mhm."

Dima nodded and reached for the chair next to him, pulling it closer before he flopped down. It seemed like a long way to go, and his back hit the chair with a thump that was a little too loud. His hand raked through his hair and he sighed. Muscled arms came up to cross over his chest, and Bill's eyes widened discreetly. He wasn't all too sure how the button's on the cuff hadn't popped off.

"My mom told me to stay, so I'll stay. Got nothing better to do," Dima said before gesturing for Annika to join the other kids. Once she had, he began to talk again, "You do this often?"

"Usually every Wednesday."

A low whistle escaped his lips and he nodded. "Impressive."

"Not that I want to. Kinda forced to, being the pastor's kid and all."

"I forgot about that. You ain't gonna rat me out for any cussing, right?"

"No. I'm not that type of pastor's kid."

"Thank the Lord," Dima said, and only then did Bill truly notice how heavy his accent was. It was muddled, though still distinctly southern. His words were slightly slurred and he liked to drop his g's, and he'd noticed the same thing in Dimitra, just less pronounced.

Bill laughed and shook his head, leaning back in the chair once again. A tall figure caught his eye at the corner door and he turned, his eyes meeting those of his father. He sat back up and tucked his legs under his chair as the man walked over, his hand tucked deep into the pockets of his nicest jeans.