Under Control (Ticci Toby X Reader)

Chapter Seventeen

I tossed the (f/c) duffle bag, that was sloppily shoved with clothes, in the back seats of the dark truck and slammed the door shut and jumped in the driver's seat. Toby hopped in at the passenger side. We didn't bother putting on our seatbelt, but just get out of there. Shifting the gear to drive, I began driving down the long driveway onto a quiet, empty road that would soon lead to a highway.

"Where to exactly?" I asked, keeping my eyes keen to the surroundings since it was still dark. It was only 2:14 AM at the time.

"Far f-from here," he replied.

I rolled my eyes, "Could you be more specific?" He gave a sharp glance of daggers at my way which I caught immediately and sunk into my seat. "Okay, okay, calm down, Time Bomb."

Toby already seemed agitated.

As I drove and Toby kept fumbling the radio for a station without static fizzing in and out. The static from the radio was normal, heard it all the time while driving, however it only made me feel uneasy while driving. I could see Toby felt uncomfortable with it too. I didn't exactly know why is made him seem at unease. I knew, from what happened a couple hours ago, that.... that wasn't normal at all. Abruptly, Toby all in together turned off the radio, "Nothing good I-is o-on anyway," He muttered, disappointed.

So then it was silence, both of us staring at the darkness that flooded around the bright, yellow beams in front of the car.  Hating the silence, I whistled a tune that had no meaning. Toby didn't seem to mind, so I continued. An hour passed and it still was absolute darkness, however Toby had fallen asleep in the seat, his posture looking very uncomfortable, his head leaning against the window and his arms crossed. He looked pleasant when he slept. A murderer looking pleasant while sleeping. I frowned, why do I.... Have feelings for this...? He made me murder someone just so my aunt could be alive. I sighed, I have choices, ones I could be selfish on or gracious on, but they all would end the same- dealing with the guilt and grief of loss. It t'was her aunt or the nephew of the old man. I had to follow along.

Once I knew I was in the clear, I slowed and stopped and parked at the dirtside of the old road. I turned everything off. I knew where I was. I sat silently, droopily looking at the windshield. I wasn't tired, I wasn't exhausted, I was... Numb. That little numbness that darkened into thoughts and turn to demons and cause chaos. Every night I had to deal with them. Seeing of how Toby was sleeping soundly, I quietly opened the truck door and threw on a hoodie that I snatched from under the seat and a black bag along with it.

The door closed in a way that it felt like I completely shut out something. I walked around the truck and hopped in the truck bed. I sat down, leaning my back against the side. I looked up, no moonlight, no stars, just darkness. Like everything else.

I pulled out the bottle from the black bag. "Ah, Scotch, gotta love it," I mumbled staring at the bottle in hand. I grimaced at it, feeling a bit disgusted by it, however that feeling numbed away as I twisted the cap off and took a swig. Letting the beverage burn my throat. I put a forced, smug smile of my face. I didn't like it, but I wanted it. As I took small sips, I awaited the fog that would soon come to me. I enjoyed this quiet time by myself that wouldn't last long. And it's true, it didn't last.

"What you doing?" I heard the hyped voice behind me, instantly ruining the peace.

"What the fuck?" I asked, feeling the fog that was forming in my mind and nerves.

"Oh," Toby eyed down the drink in my hand like it was his arch nemesis. Toby hopped in the bed of the truck and faced me. "Why do y-you even drink that?"

"It helps, 'kay?" He rolled his eyes and glanced around. "How the hell did you even get out without me knowing?" I inquired, curious but annoyed.

"Secrets!" He chirped. Why is he so hyped? How could anyone be hyped after waking up?

He kept eyeing down the drink, me catching this, I tried to be polite, "Want some?" he shook his head. "You sure? Scotch too much or something?"

"Nothing's too much," he retorted.

"Try it then," I insisted, accepting this as a challenge.

"No," he bluntly answered.

Frowning slightly, "C'mon a sip? Won't kill ya."

He groaned, annoyed as I was, and reached for the bottle and took a swig that seemed even too much for me. And that itself is saying something. However, it seemed to have no effect on him and he drank it without a problem.

I guess  I won the challenge. "Happy birthday, Ticci Boi," I told him. Oddly, he looked surprised by the gesture but seem to shrug it off like it was nothing.

I felt the fog expanding and I wanted to sleep and stay up. But It wasn't a hard choice. So, my eyes slowly fluttered and I slept while Toby stayed silent and waited for sun rise but had a close eye on the woods the bordered the surrounding field.

(Good night!)