Dirty Laundry by Gibslythe

Day 10 Ch. 43

Sunday, December 25th

Christmas Day

5:02 A.M.

They finally found Daniel's stolen minivan. It sat parked outfront a small McDonalds - just as Pidge said it would. However, the car was empty and locked, no remnants of Keith to be found.

Sophia turned around in the front seat, bags hanging beneath her tired eyes. "Alright," She bellowed, clapping her hands together. "What's the gameplan?"

It was obvious Benji had been planning this, because he was the first to speak. All wide eyes and enthusiastic cheeks, Benji spoke loudly. "Mom, you'll go in first. Keith is probably super torn up and heart broken; sending in Lance first would only fuck him up more."

"Language," Rosa chided. She sat up straight, pulling on her windbreaker and wrapping herself in a scarf.

"Sorry," Benji mumbled, before continuing. "Once Mamá enters she'll use her mom mojo. The mom moji is a very important factor - it'll soften Keith up. He'll agree to see Lance, and then we send the bad boy in. He'll reveal his feelings and they'll have a gay makeout; hence a great happily ever after. Alright? Good game plan?"

Lance rolled his eyes in agreement, gripping tightly to the folded letter like it was the only thing keeping his beating heart steady. "Yeah, yeah, good game plan. Let's just get it over with."

Once the decision was made and deemed final, Rosa opened the passenger door. It opened the car's interior to a heavy wind, the cold weather whipping at Rosa's hair like ropes. She'd let it down, too frantic to worry about pulling it into her signature bun.

"Alright," She called over the heavy weather, giving her children a small wave. "No raging parties while I'm gone. Okay?"

The kids only laughed, Benji ushering his mom forward. "Go get him, Mamá. Give him a kiss for me!"

Keith couldn't believe he'd forgotten his wallet.

He knew exactly where it was too - sitting on Lance's bedside table. A table that was in a room, a room that was in a house, a house that was four cities away.

He'd only had enough change in his pocket to buy a small fry - all in quarters and nickels no less. The small package of food was almost gone too; the very last one still lay resting in a pile of ketchup.

Keith sighed, stuffing the last fry into his mouth. What he wouldn't give for a milkshake.

His stomach growled, reminding him of every mistake he'd made. For the last couple hours Keith had done nothing but switch between modes: panic and anger. One moment he was terrified, the realization of how broke, how alone, and how out of gas he was. All he had was his phone, and he didn't dare call - or answer - anyone.

However, the next moment would come and Keith would be furious. He'd sit in his booth at the back of McDonalds and just stare, counting the number of tiles that lined the ceiling. For every tile there was he'd name off something he hated - each one letting him savor in the rage. The mental list had reached one hundred and nine so far, and he found it still going strong.

I hate Lance's freckles.

I hate Lance's stupid love of chickens.

I hate that he sleeps shirtless.

I hate Mateo's giggle.

I hate that Cleo could be the best sister ever.

I hate that Sophia rocks mom world.

I hate that Rosa rocks mom world even more.

I hate that Josie braids my hair and is super good at it.