I Can’t.

any mention of marie never fails to make kennedy advert their gaze from santiago. it's subtle, usually under the pretense of being occupied with something else, like inputing a password into a laptop. "thank you." they say, not willing to comment on the two reminders that passweord held. 3126— the house the two grew up in. marie—that house was never meant for kennedy and their mother to begin with.

it takes them back to one of their earliest memories as a new 'family'. at the time kennedy was certain their mother's attempt of uniting their two families was just a ploy to make her own father jealous. a classic move: mom and dad split. mom and dad introduce new partners. mom and dad get back together again. but suzanne's affinity with jonathan herrera was of a different beast. when suzanne wasn't with him, she was daydreaming about him—his wealth, his gifts, his home—3126. the future he would provide her and by extension, his daughter... and kennedy absolutely hated it. so the first time santiago mentions his mother and how she was not coming back, kennedy responds with. 'well my father isn't dead so he is.'

an apology had been given. indignantly. from behind her mother's legs. an 11 year old who knew the cruelty in their words but was too overwhelmed by their own emotions to worry about anyone else's. though the years had slowly managed to mend the bad foot in which the two started their sibling relationship, there is a part of kennedy that still replays that moment. they can still picture santiago's expression—the hurt in his brown eyes, raw and clear in their memory. he deserved a better apology and maybe tonight was the best night to finally give it—

"that's so depressing, santi. don't say that." they say instead, brows pinching together both at his words and at their own internal cowardice. "the city could suit you too, you know." now that they secured access to a laptop, kennedy's shoulders visibly relax. "you know what? after crashing in that disgusting dumpster fire that june, finch, and avery like to gaslight everyone into believing is an actual apartment... the guest room doesn't feel too bad." they say with a chuckle. if a zombie apocalypse hits kennedy swears that their apartment will be ground zero. "i was thinking of renting something closer to work for the time being." closer to santiago too.

then maybe jon's requests to 'talk some sense' into santiago would lessen to the occasional text or phone call. kennedy knew coming back to town would revert them back to the role they often played within the family— the devils advocate. if the oldest can't lead by example, they're expected to play the role of a third parent. "he doesn't mean it." there they go. "he’s just saying that cus he thinks it’ll... i don’t know. stir something in you.” a sigh escapes them then as they go pinch the bridge of their nose, the wright of the night settling in. "sorry, i know i brought it up but... can we not talk about our parents tonight? i don't want to fight." not when their chest still aches from the panic that gripped them earlier—the panic at the thought that the body found tonight might have been his.

⁑ he rolls his eyes at the comment, all in good fun. ❝ yup. i'm, uh, so well - versed in it, didn't even open the laptop to clear it out. ❞ all said while the dust on the laptop cover tells an entirely different story. as it hums to life, he presses the back of his hand to his temple – like added pressure could stop the pounding in his head. as an afterthought, he adds, ❝ password's marie three - one - two - six. ❞ ( small reminders of his late mother are constants throughout his daily life, if one was to look close enough. )

❝ sorry, freshly accepted i'm doomed to red creek livin' forever. the city suits you, though. ❞ a tired laugh escapes him. just 5 years ago, santi would've shrunk away from the thought. now, it's met with bittersweet acceptance. a life in red creek is— well, it's exactly what he deserves. a small sting ignites in his chest at mention of his own father's excitement. for all intents and purposes, kennedy was his child too. she probably saw his fatherly side more than santi ever would. ❝ noooo. just makin' sure they haven't roped you into a permanent residency of the guest bedroom or somethin'. ❞ he exhales sharply through his nose at the invitation, not quite in him to have a laugh over it. ❝ tell jon he can ask me himself. last i heard from him, i'm not welcome at the table. ❞

which hot priest are you today 

on the dance floor, they couldn't make much out of their newfound companion outside of their killer set of legs ( badum tss ) but now that they are in a quieter spot, kennedy takes the opportunity to quench her curiosity and look her over. "minnie? as in the mouse?" they ask, wanting to make sure they have it right. "that's so pretty. i'm kennedy." they introduce themselves with a smile. "yeah? are you saying we have the cosmos to thank then?" they can drink to that! they raise their shot glass toward her, angling their body to face her better. "me? oh i grew up here. born and raised like ninety percent of the town." they offer a one-sided shrug. they found their upbringing to be so mundane. "left town to pursue a career in writing— journalism mostly. i've only been back in town a couple months." a little detail that provides another practical reason as to why the two have never crossed paths before, but kennedy thinks they like minnie's poetic explanation better. "just the weekends? what do you do for work?"

"upped the budget? that sounds so for serial. i wouldn't know, i haven't been in town that long, i guess?" her nose wrinkled up. five years, give or take, could be a long time for some, but for minnie, it had passed in the blink of an eye. so much of that time wasn't remembered. she believed it though, and regardless, she twirls in the last song, and so does the other, and she thinks to herself: okay, yeah, this could be the whole point of this shit, and that's on that. eyes brightened at the rush of adrenaline, and the super change in the night, minnie sidles up to the bar, hand-in-hand, and look, it's the simple things. even this contact has them in a flush. oh, please blame it on the heat! "ooh, these are snazzy. we made a good choice. i'm minnie." is it a brilliant smile? at least the other can show it because her mask is over her shoulder, to avoid sweating her fucking balls off. "our orbits have totally chosen not to collide until, like, the time was right, and now's our time. that's just my opinion! or maybe it's because i work nights on weekends?" the nose scrunch returns. "okay, enough, what's your sitch?"

vikram makes no move to interrupt her rambling about what she lost. instead, he nods now that he understands what's truly at stake.  “i see.” he can't relate to the attachment kirby holds for her candy but he can respect that it matters to her that the bucket be recovered and that's enough. her question earns a bashful head dip and a chuckle from him, clearly flattered that she got the reference he was going for. maybe his costume isn't all that bad. “depends - are you going to kill me if i bring you back to my place?” he replies back with a smile, half concealed by the mask. jennifer check and the phantom... now there's a crazy combo! “okay then. you think you hid them down here?" he pulls out his phone and activates the flashlight before lowering to his knee and bending down to check under the cars beside them. “nothing here... are you sure you left it on this side of the street?”

god  ,  every  single  part  of  her  wants  to  sing  out  “  the  phantom  of  the  opera  is  here  ”  at  this  exact  given  moment  .  gerard  butler  amiright  ?  she  peers  down  at  the  cape  that  is  swishing  behind  him  and  raises  an  eyebrow  .  “  it's  a  pumpkin  container  filled  with  candy  .  i  left  it  somewhere  out  here  but  i  cannot  fuckin'  remember  where  and  i  was  in  the  ‘burbs  so  most  of  those  are  full  sized  candy  bars  .  ”  she  shuts  up  for  a  moment  ,  recognizing  that  her  incessant  rambling  about  her  love  for  the  ’  good  ‘  halloween  candy  matters  very  little  to  other  people  ,  actually  .  “  are  you  gonna  put  me  in  a  boat  and  row  me  through  a  shockingly  expansive  sewer  system  ?  ”  she  couldn’t  help  herself  ,  she  had  to  get  one  good  one  in  .

#me

the mention of santiago makes kennedy visibly cringe, nose scrunching in distaste as they shake their head. “no, thank god! do you think i would be able to show my face around town if i knew my brother was one of those losers? it's giving 'wheres my hug?'" kennedy lowers the octave of their voice to imitate what a man would so i don’t even know if he’s like, dating. maybe he should be.” perhaps a crush would give santiago some of the motivation that kennedy worries he sometimes lacks. “you don’t have any friends from other towns that you could... i don’t know, introduce him or something?” it's a silly question, one that they don't actually expect nadia to humor.

fingertips press against their own throat as they down the drink, a small grunt escaping them as they do so. "eugh, i think i just grew a chest hair." kennedy is biting into the flesh of a lime wedge when nadia asks her question, one that makes them fix their posture a bit. "of course. i didn't come back to town to settle down here or anything if that's what you're wondering. this is just, temporary. you know, while i figure out what to write next." kennedy isn't certain why they feel the need to explain themselves but they do. maybe it's to claw onto any superiority they might feel at the fact that they did it. in a town of wasted potential and unfulfilled dreams, ken made it out. "what about you?"

nadia pulls a face at the idea of tinder . and dating . and dating anyone in this town . it all feels too incestuous for her . " that makes two of us . " she agrees . " you have to tell me which redcreekian had ' searching for tinderella ' on their profile . was it santi ? please say it was santi . " the amount of shit she'll give him will TRIPLE . nadia barks out a laugh , loud and unceremonious . the bartender gives them another look but nadia is done paying him any mind . she raises her shot glass to kennedy before pressing it to her lips and downing the substance . immediately , it burns . nadia winces slightly but she's WELL VERSED with shots by now . " fucking CHEERS . " she rasps out , nodding . nadia looks around the bar , the crowded space , the familiar faces . " do you ever think about leaving redcreek ? " she doesn't know where the sudden question comes from , but it rips out of her from somewhere deep and unfounded .

“obsession?” she can’t help but laugh as that, though it lacks humor. "that is so dramatic, ricardo. i was just asking you a question." the silence that now envelopes them is not as comfortable. there's no solidarity no mutual understanding of how to navigate a story. what little patience they had for ricardo's antics is quickly depleting the more he speaks. "jesus, we get it. you're in a different tax bracket! do you really have to remind everyone of that every chance you get?" they are suddenly regretting the decision to accept the blazer. if he is intent on treating them like a child about it then they would rather freeze to death. kennedy meets ricardo's gaze as he scoffs at their plan, brows twitching into a frown. then they sigh, as if truly disappointed. “i must have mistaken you for someone with initiative,” they respond, fixing her gaze ahead of them once more, a newfound determination finding it's way to their bones. “fine — don’t help me gather intel. ill do it myself.” they don’t need him. they don’t need anybody. it was foolish of her to think the common goal or whipping up some notoriety was enough for them to work together. kennedy does remember him vaguely saying something like that to them and at the time, they bit their tongue. figured it was just him adding some good old corporate fear to the work culture. besides, what the hell could they possibly uncover in red creek? but now, their journalistic instinct tells them that there might just be a story to be told tonight and they aren’t interested in letting anyone’s ego get in the way of that.

they pick up their pace slightly, enough to step in front of him and put both of their strides to a pause. “i’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding between us, sir.” their voice shifts into a more professional tone but make no mistake — there is a definite bite in there. “i am sorry if i gave you the impression that i'm some lackey who's value rests on writing fluff stories for the piece of shit station you decided to burrow yourself into." it’s clear he doesn't know anything about them. the articles they’ve written, the stories they’ve uncovered, the damn book they wrote. and it's even clearer now that he simply doesn't care . "so let's re-evaluate each other's professional expectations, should we? how about you stop acting like i'm some inconvenience to have at your side and i'll stop mistaking your interest in the news as a willingness to help?" as per my last email, fuck you. 

HE SCOWLS AT THE LINE OF QUESTIONING . what may be harmless to others , royally pisses ricardo off . he doesn't like small talk . he doesn't like incessant questioning . this is the worst thing that reporters do and something he now only has HIMSELF to thank for picking the register to buy . inadvertently he's surrounded himself with nosy freaks . " what's the obsession with whether i watch movies or not ? are you planning an exposé on ricardo garcia's watching habits ? " it's not a snap , but it's close . his eyebrows set and his expression shutters off . he allows silence to wash over them as they continue walking , but he notes the way kennedy hugs the blazer slightly closer to their body . " don't spill anything on that . it's worth more than a year of your pay check . " he can't help add .

he silently agrees that the killer may be one for dramatics . a part of him wants to drive deeper and ask kennedy about their thoughts on what it means . why halloween . why that street . why that time . did they know people would be out ? was it accidental or planned ? but ricardo doesn't quite enjoy inciting conversation and a stronger part of him is worried that kennedy will take it as an invite to pester him with more questions in return . instead, he hums in agreement at their sentiment . ricardo glances at kennedy , with a scoff . " divide and conquer ? no thanks . i'm not your coworker . you ought to remember that . " he shakes his head . " i don't divide and conquer and i definitely don't take orders from my own staff . " he lifts a hand up , waving it . " what did i say on my first day here again ? something about ' you get me something interesting and you get to keep your jobs , otherwise , don't bother me ? ' tonight's hardly a call for us to sing kumbaya and collaborate . " ricardo feels restless then . itchy . he remembers why he doesn't like talking to people and especially shouldn't talk to his own workers . he doesn't need friends . he doesn't need anyone . he is uncomfortable because he knows , deep down , that's exactly what he needs . but a man raised a wolf will always only bare his teeth . it is in his nature . " no . " ricardo says flatly . " go find some sad loser to drink with you . " he's sure there's more than plenty still wandering around .

the   two   painted   an   amusing   contrast   against   the   sterile   backdrop   of   redcreek’s   pharmacy.   taylan,   fiery   and   impatient,   his   vivid   red   energy   pushing   past   vikram’s   more   solemn   blue.   "oh,   sorry."   sass   was   not   something   that   had   ever   come   naturally   to   vikram.   apologies   did.   always   something   to   be   sorry   for   when   your   dignity   is   paper   thin.   and   that’s   exactly   what   he   offers   now,   raising   a   hand   instinctively   in   submission   as   he   steps   aside.   he   had   fully   expected   their   interaction   to   end   there   so   when   taylan   speaks   again,   it   catches   vikram   fully   off   guard,   eyes   widening   as   the   other's   crude   humor   rings   in   the   air,   almost   as   loud   as   the   bell   he   was   relentlessly   pressing   a   moment   prior.

'business   is   blooming.'   vikram   clears   his   throat   at   that,   shifting   awkwardly   in   place.   “uh,   yeah,   i   suppose   it   is.”   brows   twitch   into   a   frown   at   his   own   reply.   immediately,   vikram   can   tell   this   conversation   will   be   one   he   regrets.   one   that   his   mind   will   save   into   the   memory   of   his   brain   and   safely   tuck   away   at   the   corner   of   his   mind   specifically   reserved   for   remembering   any   time   he   puts   his   foot   in   his   mouth.   for   anyone   wondering,   throwing   azi   under   the   bus   in   his   police   interview   is   stashed   away   in   there   as   well.   he   draws   in   a   sharp   breath,   trying   again,   more   composed   this   time.   “they’re   probably   at   lunch   and   forgot   to   put   up   a   sign.”   better   to   address   the   younger   man’s   actual   question   than   the   colorful   way   he   expressed   it.   “or   maybe   they   did   put   one   up,   and   we’re   both   equally   awful   at   noticing   it.”   there’s   a   hint   of   a   joke   in   his   tone   as   his   eyes   flicker   to   the   'no   smoking'   sign   hanging   in   the   crook   of   the   reception   counter,   right   above   the   forgotten   ashes   of   taylan’s   cigarette.

where : red creek pharmacy status : closed with @brntout

with a cigarette dangling between his lips and insomnia looming underneath his eyes , taylan's days and nights blend into an aching mess that he can’t ease with the pills that he takes . years of playing hockey and fighting on the ice led him to shed blood , and steal from others without repercussions . but one accident had pulled on a loose thread making everything come undone . unraveling a poorly stitched pattern that his coach attempted to stitch close over the years with the help of painkillers . no pharmacist in sight and patience running thin . rough , careless and blowing out a waft of smoke , taylan pushes past vikram and leans against the counter , disregarding the no - smoking sign as if it were mere decoration . impatiently , he presses the call bell , over and over again . ding , ding , ding , resounds and bounces against the the pharmacy walls . “ think they died ? ” toying with the cherry at the end of his cigarette , taylan burns the pad of his thumb before pressing it out on the reception desk , leaving a dark marring spot behind . “ for all we know , the boogeyman gutted them in the back , and we have one less pharmacist in this town . ” too soon . “ congrats business is blooming for you . ”

The Addams Family (1991)

"overall, i think i might be more of a beer guy." vikram admits with a small smile, taking one of the glasses into his hand. "not the type to say no to a free drink, though." especially when its paired with such an amicable smile. "thank you, that's very nice of you. quinn, right?" he's seen her around the hospital during his visits to the mortuary. "do you, uh, want to do a cheer?"

the crowd at the bar was becoming a problem as quinn was hoping the person beside her was actually able to hear her words clearly . quinn's eyes shifted up towards the much taller male in front of her . " it's tequila . " she states , offering a friendly smile . " i know not everyone is a tequila drinker , so i'm hoping you're more of a tequila guy instead of vodka . " she responds .