lowk bpd4bpd ranson is sooooo good.
(blah blah blah i've been diagnosed since 18 blah blah blah yes im romanticizing it blah blah blah dddne, don't like don't interact)
benson, who when he senses the slightest bit of rejection, flies into a rage. he needs to be needed and when he thinks randy is straying, he will do anything to keep him complacent. he doesn't want to hurt the boy, but he can't have him trying to leave either. benson loves randy so fucking much, it hurts him. the thought of losing him makes him feel like he's going crazy. his skin itches like there's bugs crawling underneath. his head somehow hyper focused and fuzzy. randy, randy randy. that's all he can think about. he can't leave. he won't leave. benson won't let him. he needs to know how much benson cares about him, he killed 4 fucking people for him. for godssake. but, sometimes, on a bad day, benson will think a little too hard about everything that's happened. he knows it's wrong, it's evil, to the core it's fucking evil. to his core, he believes he is evil. he doesn't deserve randy, he pulled him into this without a second thought and now randy hates him. he knows randy hates him, wants him gone, wants him dead. it sends him spiralling. so, he does the only thing he knows what to do. he shuts down. he pulls over on a dirt road, thousands of miles from where they came.
"get the fuck out of the car." blank, staring ahead.
it's not the first time he'd done this, but it was easily the most serious he'd been.
"w..what?" randy flicks his eyes towards benson, refusing to linger
"now. fucking now, randy. get the fuck out." still staring ahead, now with an edge, a threat to his voice
"why? did i- did i do something? i'm sorry- really, really i'm sorry if i did, i didn't mean it, benson-"
"if you don't get the fuck out in 5 fucking seconds, i'm putting a bullet through your fuckin' skull" but he just won't *look* at randy.
to be fair, randy doesn't entirely know if he wants him to. he's crying, pathetically and quietly, bewildered and scared. shaking.
you see, randys similar to benson in some ways. one way being, he can't live without the other. not now. not after everything. they'd spent well over a month attached the hip, whether randy originally wanted to or not. that was then, this was now. and now, randy didn't wanna leave, couldn't fathom leaving.
did benson finally get tired of him? why? what did randy do? he tried his best to follow all the rules, stayed close by benson's side, ate the food benson told him to eat, slept when benson said to sleep. why didn't benson want him anymore?
he couldn't leave. he wouldn't leave. no, he wouldn't, he decided. benson always wanted randy to have a backbone, well he fucking got one.
a silence. randy looks at benson, teary eyed, trembling.
in an instant, randy scrambled for the gun in the middle console. he snatched it right before benson could get to it, and before the older could wrestle it from him, randy put it to his own head.
"give that to me right now, randy." he was near seething, but there was a hint of something under his words. obvious worry.
"n-no! no, benson, you have to-to fucking listen to me!" he was crying, hard.
"okay, okay randy, im listening, baby, i am"
randy took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. he felt so small, horrified at the thought of being left like an abandoned dog on the side of the street. he didn't want to be without benson, to live without benson. the man consumed his every waking thought at this point. he loved his family, sure, but everything revolved around benson now.
"don't make me leave." his voice cracked, but he tried to continue
"i don't wanna leave you. please-" a heave "please, i can't leave you, please don't make me-"
his hands were shaking so violently, it was even more unsafe for him to be wielding a gun to his own head. but he stayed out, threat heavy in the air.
"can you put the fuckin' gun down, randy?" benson hissed, terrified on his own
"no! not until you promise!" the young man screamed against the small confines of the car.
benson is stubborn. never wants to relent to anything. but randy. fucking randy bradley. his heart feels like it's being ripped in two, physically making him sick to his stomach.
all that's heard is the sound of randy's stifled sobs, benson's ragged breath.
benson presses on the gas, tearing out of the dirt road. the impact sends an unbuckled randy back into his seat, the gun falling to the floor of the car.
no promises. no words spoken between the two of them.
but enough for randy and benson to know they were together for another day.
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