COMFORT AND CANDY - A "Rebecca Chronicles" Snippet
I went ahead and polished up that snippet I wrote. HOWEVER
It's tragically CHAPTER 5 of a much longer story I'm writing in the "You've Got A Friend In Me" saga.
So rather than hide it away until I get there, have the (as of now) completed form of that little story-section.
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Title: "Comfort and Candy" - Chapter 5 of "FALLEN" from You've Got A Friend In Me
Rating: G, but there's swearing.
Word count: 2020
Characters: Rebecca "Becca" Lynch, El Generico, Kevin Steen (Mentioned)
Relationships: Becca Lynch & El Generico (Friendship), El Generico/Kevin Steen (implied, pre-established)
Tags: Food, Injury (IRL Injury referenced as fiction), Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, A Toast (To health and friendship!)
Summary/Setup:
When Rebecca's trainer in Ireland, Finn Balor, calls Kevin Steen to report that Rebecca was injured in a match, no power on Earth cold prevent him and Generico from rushing to her aid in Chicago.
Effectively moving into her apartment for a week, they quickly 'set up shop' to help care for her, until arrangements can be made to get long term care... wherever she might find it.
In the meantime, though, Becca is just grateful to have her friends close. And while Kevin seems to be having trouble coping with the mess of emotions in his head, Generico is what he always is.
Ready, willing, and eager to help. Including and far beyond dragging home bags and bundles worth of goods to try and better accomodate Becca in-home.
And, among them?
Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
STORY UNDER CUT!
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Becca wasn’t sure how long she’d been buried in her book. Discworld was always so enthralling, and it was easy to get lost in Ankh-Morpork. However, when she heard the loud sound of the front door, almost as though someone had slammed it shut, she was so startled from her literary reverie that she shouted.
“LO SIENTO!” came the call from the other room.
Her heart began to calm itself immediately, replaced with joyful anticipation.
“Generico!” she called back, quickly putting her bookmark in and heading for the kitchen. When she got there, she was greeted with… bags.
And boxes. And, bizarrely, a footprint on the door.
She wasn’t sure why that was there, but, upon seeing Generico trying to coax the various packages he’d arrived with into not falling off her kitchen table, Becca chuckled.
“Where were you?” she asked.
“Compras,” he replied, his attention still fully focused on convincing his haphazard stack of goods not to topple.
Rebecca spoke almost no Spanish, but in that case, she didn’t need to. Shopping. Generico had gone shopping.
“What did you get?” she asked before, moving beside him, she decided to help organize the piles of stuff. “Here, let me help.”
Generico made a sound that was something between a hum and a grunt of approval before turning to tend to the box he’d left on the floor. Rebecca, meanwhile, first steadied, then went through the bags. It was largely groceries, but there were other things in there, too. Things like three different sleep-masks appearing to each have a different thickness and material, an assortment of ear-stuff, an oversized bottle of extra strength ibuprofen, something that looked like a great big button, or rather a box of great big buttons, and as Generico put the other treasures on the table, she saw what appeared to be a horseshoe shaped handle for *something* and a plastic stool.
“Generico…” she asked, staring at the wide assortment, “Did you take all this on the bus with you? What is all this???”
The luchador simply gestured to everything on the table, as though it was expected to speak for itself.
“Help,” he said, before starting to go through the groceries.
It explained nothing, and while she knew the stool was something for her to sit on in the shower, she was intrigued by the handle.
Looking closer at the tall, narrow box, she understood.
“It’s a grab-handle thing. Like a handrail. That you just… stick on.”
“Si,” Generico said, returning to get more groceries.
Rebecca kept reading, “For the… OH!”
She nodded and returned the box to the table as it made sense.
“You screw that on the bathtub so you can get in and out easier.”
“Si,” Generico confirmed again, opening the matching cases of Coke and root beer he’d put on the table, pulling several cans each, and, suddenly, stopping as his head popped upward in realization.
“Kevin…” he said softly before, turning to her, he asked again. “Becca, Kevin? Dónde?”
Rebecca shrugged. “He needed some air, I guess. He left…” Rebecca looked at the microwave clock, only to realize she had no clue when she had heard Kevin depart, “Uhh… at some point. I think he really just needed to get away for a bit. He was having a moment.”
Rebecca saw the distress spring up on Generico’s face immediately.
“No, he’s fine, promise,” she assured, “So am I. I think he’s just having some trouble handling this mess.”
Rebecca waved her hand at her own battered face and head.
“I think he gets emotional, when people he cares about are hurt. And whatever emotions they are? God knows. Because he sure hell doesn’t.”
It was a far more acute observation than Rebecca would ever want it to be and, from the resigned sigh and shoulder-slump Generico responded with, she knew she wasn’t the only one to have seen it.
And then, a moment later, Generico took the soda cans and headed for the fridge.
She looked over the bags and boxes once more.
It really was a lot of stuff. How he had gotten it back to her apartment without access to his own vehicle was a ridiculous thought, however he may have achieved it. But luckily, her building had an elevator, which would have left the biggest difficulty the task of bringing it inside, which…
Rebecca glanced over at her footprint-marked door once more in realization.
“Generico, did you kick my door closed?”
Generico that time stopped mid-grab beside her and hung his head.
“Lo siento,” he said again softly.
“No, no, it’s ok. Just…” Rebecca gently took his wrist in her hand. “You can let me help. I’m not completely hopeless, and I’m going a bit batty cooped up in here.”
There was a mournful sadness on Generico’s face, hidden behind his mask but still more than evident through the soul-windows his eyeholes provided. Slowly, Generico’s hand raised to her, reaching for the bandaged section of her head before, quickly, he jerked it back.
“No,” Generico said, turning away once more, and, as he dug through the bags again, he started humming a song Rebecca didn’t recognize.
“What song is that—” she asked. But before she could have an answer, Generico stopped, holding up the treasure he’d brought.
It was candy. But not just any candy. It was a ‘King Size’ pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. A sealed sleeve of four cups, all in a row, that were designed for “Sharing”.
At least, that was the plan. Rebecca could easily eat four of the four packs on her own. Reese’s cups were addictive.
“Oh shit,” Becca cheered, “Peanut butter cups! Hell yeah, gimme.”
It had been far too long since Rebecca had been blessed with the chocolate and peanut butter goodness of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and, while most American chocolate was pretty trash compared to the stuff from home, Reese, or whoever had invented the little cupcake-cup-shaped delights, had been inspired with the chocolate/peanut butter blend.
That said, Generico was still nervous, and his hands were still shaking slightly. It was probably for the best that she helped him. The last thing she needed was ants in her apartment because the choco-nutty goodness ended up on the floor.
“Here,” she said, taking the 4-pack from him, “I got it.”
It was barely a few seconds before she had managed to tear the top off the sleeve and, equally as swift, the paper shell was off the cup, on the table, and the cup half-devoured in her mouth.
It really had been too long. … perhaps far too long as, when she turned to look back at Generico, she stopped mid bite at the devastated look on his face.
“What?” she mumbled around a mouthful of candy.
Generico’s head dropped, and his eyes closed.
Rebecca quickly finished her cup and took a swallow of water before returning to him.
“Hey, Generico,” she asked, looking up at him, “What’s wrong? What’d I do?”
Generico just shook his head and remained silent.
“Come on, talk to me. Something about the cups, I got it wrong.”
She paused before pulling another cup from the sleeve and holding it out to him.
“Here. Whatever you were doing, show me. There’re three more of them, right? We got spares. Do your thing.”
The luchador wasn’t responding, and Rebecca moved her head forward, doing her best to position herself directly in Generico’s dejected, hidden line of sight.
“Hey, Generico. It’s ok, just - go on. Show me? Please?”
Generico’s head did not raise, but his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, Rebecca felt her breath catch at the sight of Generico’s deep, soulful eyes. Even when he wasn’t trying, it was as if they stared into her heart.
But, in that case, Generico was looking at the candy and, taking it, he nodded toward the sleeve on the table.
“Another?” Rebecca asked, pointing at the pack, “You want me to get another?”
That time Generico nodded in affirmation, and she did as she was told, presenting it to him.
“Ok here,” she said. “Now what?”
The soulful eyes squinted slightly as his brows dipped and his head tilted.
“No…” Generico said softly and, holding up his own cup, wiggled it in the air a couple times while pointing.
“What? What about… Oh!”
The idea became clear as Generico gestured more specifically to his hand placement, holding the cup by the edge.
She did her best to mimic it, putting her finger and thumb on either side of the round, making sure not to crumble the fragile chocolate peaks around the rim.
“Like this?” she said, holding it up.
Generico broke into a grin.
“Si,” he said warmly, his eyes delightful as they met hers. Then, he moved his cup forward… and gently tapped it into hers.
Rebecca doubled over, snorting with laughter. She couldn’t help it, and, putting her free hand over her mouth as she waved in apology with the candy hand.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to recover, “It’s not you, I promise, but…”
It took her a moment, but eventually Becca reeled in her chortled glee. She was under no presumption that The Generic Luchador had the name “El Generico” on his birth certificate. But she also was certain that the very Italian name she’d found stashed in his wallet when trying to register him after his concussion was an alias as well.
Despite the extremely loose similarities, The Future El Generico was not born The Pride of Tijuana as Giacomo. Also, the fact that she found the name written on a piece of paper, tucked into what would be the ID-Card slot, rather than his actual identification, was an effective clue.
“Mi chiamo Giacomo Masso” it said.
To her, at that point, he was just Generico. But it was the most ill-fitting name ever.
There would and could never be another like the flame-licked blessing she’d been given by having Generico in her life, regardless of how brief their time might be.
Eventually, she caught her breath and nodded in firm approval.
“It’s a toast,” she said with a smile, “You toast the cups. Like drinks.”
“Si!” Generico nodded and presented his cup again.
“Ok,” Rebecca said, raising hers in a toast as well. “Slaintѐ.”
“Salud!” Generico replied happily and, together, they took a bite. If the taste wasn’t delightful enough, the look on Generico’s face as he savored the candy would have lit Rebecca’s heart ablaze on its own. Somehow, with a simple pack of peanut butter cups, Generico had made everything better. Maybe not forever.
Certainly not forever.
But forever didn’t matter at that moment. All that Rebecca could feel was the way her soul was peaceful and filled with a gentle glow. Generico kindness was like a child’s night light that would keep away the darkness, if only until the sun could rise once more. She wondered, for a moment, if Generico had one when he was a boy; If he preferred to sleep with a glowing ward against the darkness.
She wondered if he still did.
More than that, as she finished the cup and Generico was already holding out the final cup to her, she knew something far more important for herself.
No lamp or lightbulb could shine like the soul of El Generico.
Whatever darkness was coming for her, for all of them – he would be their ward. All the pain that he had suffered before she knew him, somehow, hadn’t blackened his heart.
It had polished it. A shining gold beacon within him that, honestly?
The shadows didn’t stand a chance. They never would, not as long as her luchador slept beneath the same stars she did.
Becca finished the final peanut butter cup as she watched Generico quickly gather the wrappers and sleeve to throw away, turning back long enough to offer a toothy grin and a thumbs up.
For a moment, as she watched him, she could barely taste the chocolate and peanut butter at all.
All she could taste was heat, ginger-spice, and blazing light. And, at its core?
Hope.