Request for Katxhorror666
Motionless In White: Ricky Horror & OC Fluff
Permanently Taken
"Hey, Becca...Becca...Becca!" I heard, along with someone poking the side of my head. I knew it was Ricky, one of the members of the band I was on tour with, acting as their photographer. Ricky was sweet; always good for a joke or to watch a film in the back room with, but right now I just really wanted to be on my own. My boyfriend Adam had just dumped me; he said that I spent too much time on tour with guys with him back home, and that he couldn't trust me with them.
It was just offensive, really; 'he couldn't trust me'? Like he was some fucking saint - I'd never cheat on him; I'd never cheat on anybody, but even after knowing me since we were in high school he said he couldn't trust me?
Maybe he didn't know me as well as I'd thought he had...but then, what was there to do? He'd dumped me, I was upset, I'd cry a little and sulk for a few days but then I'd be fine. But you just couldn't sulk with these guys; they wormed their way in and made you laugh and smile, which was great, but I really needed to be miserable for a while. Just to balance out my feelings.
So I really wanted to be on my own...it just seemed I wasn't going to get my way:
"I know you're awake, Becca."
"Go away, Ricky; I don't want to talk to anyone." I mumbled into my pillow.
I heard him grunt, before suddenly his body was pressed against my side, and I was pulled over to lie on his chest, his hand tangling in my hair to press my face against his t-shirt as the other rubbed gently up and down my spine. "This isn't talking."
"That was."
"So was that, pedant."
"Moron."
"Meanie!"
"Child."
"Boring grown-up person!"
"Over-enthusiastic man-child."
"Ha, you said 'child' twice! I win!" he cheered, making me smile slightly. As much as I'd wanted to be miserable: I had to admit that this was better, and after throwing stupid and childish insults at Ricky, I was feeling a little better.
"Whatever."
"Do you feel better now?" Ricky asked, and I could feel him crane his neck to look down at me as he spoke. I didn't look back, but I shrugged as I pressed closer to him, trying to steal some of his body heat (we were in Canada, in November, so sue me) as I refused to speak: "C'mon, Becca, talk to me."
"Bit better, I guess."
"Good. Now, c'mon: we're gonna make you feel a lot better. Let's go."
"Where?"
"C'mon, let's go see the new Tim Burton film. I know it's on; I checked the times."
"Go with one of the guys, Ricky; I'm not good company right now."
He pouted: "But I want to go with you. You're cool, you don't bitch as much as Ryan or Balz, and you're sad: I want to cheer you up."
He stared at me with big, puppy-dog eyes and a sad pout, refusing to let it go until I finally sighed and nodded to go with him. As soon as I did, he jumped out of the bunk and shoved his HIM hoodie at me and pulled another one of his, practically jumping up and down on the spot with excitement and grinning like a mad man.
I smiled slightly, before lumbering out of the bunk and pulling his hoodie on and putting on my old, battered blue converse before Ricky grabbed my hand and led me out of the bus and down the road to the cinema we were luckily so close to.
