Erchomai [Ricochet/Adam Cole]

chapter 1: fools rush away

Trevor's heart hammers in his chest as his breathing picks up, the sun baring down hot on the back of his neck. He can't seem to get his breathing to level out, and that will only come back to bite him in the ass if he isn't careful. He flinches when he thinks he hears footsteps, sending a chill down his spine. Damn. He shouldn't be scared. He's done this before.

The traces of footsteps are heard again, and then nothing. Everything's quiet. Way too quiet. In a perfect world, that would be good news for him. He would be rejoicing at the silence. But this is not a perfect world, and Trevor knows he's screwed beyond belief. It's time for him to accept the shit hand faith has dealt him.

He says a mental prayer to anyone willing to listen before he stands and charges out from behind his hiding place. Trevor has about half of a second to register Bianca Belair's face before she's pelting him with her paintball gun. He oversells the shots of paint as best as he can, letting his gun slip out of his hand to the ground. Dropping to his knees with a deep, overly dramatic groan, Trevor then falls onto his back, clutching at his chest.

Bianca comes to stand over him, her pinned up braid (covered by a plastic cap) is high enough to block the sun from Trevor's face. She places a foot on his stomach, and the groan he emits this time is as real as it gets. Pointing the paintball gun to his head, she smirks down at him. "Surrender or I pull this trigger."

"What does surrendering look like to you," Trevor questions through a pained breath. He rolls off from under her foot, laying face-first in the grass until it starts to agitate his beard enough for him to pick his head up. "I don't have a white flag or anything to wave around. This isn't a cartoon."

"Stop whining," Bianca tells him with a roll of her eyes, removing her goggles and cap. She drops them to the ground beside him, then proceeds to offer him a hand. "You saw this ass-kicking coming from a mile away because this was your idea. How many times did you watch 10 Things I Hate About You this week?"

Trevor lets her pull him to his feet, then he looks around the sparse paintball field through his paint-speckled goggles. The only other people here are a family of four – mom and son versus the dad and daughter. They look so damn happy with their smiles and joys of laughter. Trevor wonders how long a high like that might last.

Refocusing on Bianca's question, he debates on if he should shave a bit off the actual number. Ultimately, he decides against it because this is Bianca he's talking to. And, as he's learned in the past, his friends are way too tuned in to his habits and ways of thinking. "Three and a half," he confesses, removing his goggles. "I fell asleep somewhere in the fourth one, and when I woke up Kat was reading her poem to the class."

Bianca smirks, all-knowing. "Does that scene still get you in your feelings?"

Trevor considers this. "Only when I'm drunk." He bends down to pick up Bianca's discarded things, cutting her off before she can launch into her same old spiel. "And no, I don't need you or Montez or your family to try and fix me up with anybody. That didn't work out so well the last time." A memory of dancing with Bianca's flirtatious grandma at her and Montez' wedding flickers through his mind. He shivers.

The two head towards the changing areas, Bianca waving a hand in dismissal. "Okay, so Nana Crawford wasn't your type." She hooks her arm around Trevor's, matching his pace. "But she's got a sister that I think would be down. Cataracts and all."

Trevor laughs humorlessly. "You got jokes, huh? See if you're laughing when I dine and ditch you at lunch."

"Boy, please," Bianca scoffs, patting at her hair. "I could have you back in that seat with this braid faster than you could even stand."

He chuckles, knowing full well she absolutely could.

Later, they're at a café not too far from the paintball range. Bianca keeps the conversation going as Trevor chimes in here and there. He's more out of it than usual though, but since he doesn't feel like doing any deep introspection at noon, he chalks it up to getting one too many paintballs to the head.

"—though I'm not a big Lion King fan, it's Beyoncé," Bianca is saying after swallowing a bite of her chicken salad sandwich. "I don't need to explain myself when I'm first in line at the theater next year, you know?"

"Oh, hell yeah," Trevor agrees, able to deduce what she's talking about from context. He feels the same way about the upcoming live-action film. "If I have to push a couple little kids out the way to get there, that's just how it is."

"See, this why I rock with you." Bianca's phone rings then, and she looks down at the caller. "Montez," she says, already stepping away from the table. "I'd take it here, but I don't want you to get lonely or whatever."

"I'm not lonely. I'm all I need," he calls out, but Bianca has already stepped outside, and the only people that hear him is an elderly couple that shoot him odd looks. He considers telling them about self-love, but forgoes it, turning back to his burger. Before he can take another bite, his phone chimes in his pocket. When he removes it, he sees an unexpected text from Adam Cole.

ADAM: You doing anything next Saturday?

ADAM: Besides watching 10 things again.

TREVOR: Man, how do you know about that?

ADAM: Please, everyone knows you're obsessed with it.

TREVOR: It's a classic, I don't have to justify it. You want something?

ADAM: Yeah, I want to know if you're free next Saturday.

TREVOR: Why? Need some wrestling tips?

ADAM: Ha, funny. No, I need you to go to this baseball game with me.

TREVOR: Nah, I'll pass.

ADAM: Trev, come on.

TREVOR: You've got other friends to go with.

ADAM: I asked all of them already and they said no. You're my only hope.

ADAM: Would it help if I begged? Is that your kink?

TREVOR: God, please don't. I'll think about it, alright?

ADAM: Awesome. I'll show up later with my pitch.

TREVOR: What?

ADAM: Don't worry, you'll love it.