Jonas Wagner wasn't one you would call rebellious, or particularly vexing. He was the exact opposite, actually. Always had listened to his foster parents, and any kind of authority in general. It got a bit confusing when that authority was made up of said vexing rebels.
Mitch mueller, and his group of drug riddled, criminals-for-friends were on a 'quick run', with Jonas in the rickety truck along for the ride, solely because Mitch told him to. Even without understanding 'quick run' meant 'transferring illegal substances', he knew he shouldn't have gone with them, or even be affiliated with them, but there was something about the way Mitch spoke to him.
Demanding, yet adoring, and full of confidence.
Every trait Jonas didn't have. There was something about it, about Mitch, that just took over his senses, his judgement. He could've been asked to jump off a cliff, if it was Mitch asking with bloodshot eyes full of smugness, he'd do it without hesitation.
Well no, a lot of hesitation. That's part of why he felt so bad. If all of your heart is telling you to turn and run, it can't be right. Especially when a sketchy looking, abandoned baseball field slowly came into view in the rear view mirror.
He felt like he needed to get help, though he couldn't get help from anyone near him. No one else but Mitch, and their friends.
Unless there was.
God, what if there was some.. some gangster-junkie outside the car? Who else would be in an abandoned baseball field? Sure, maybe people like Mitch, but that wouldn't be much better.
His thoughts were racing around, a tidal wave of worry and regret. He didn't how tense the air was before, and how hot it was. God, it was so hot in the car- He was so sweaty, and so was his seat, and so was his butt. And Mitch probably felt so embarrassed to have him in the car. Wait- where was Mitch..?
Suddenly a hand grabbed at his hips, and up to his arms, yanking him out of the car.
"HOLY CRAP- WHAT THE HECK!" A loud screech left his lips, accompanied by a surprisingly polite stream of mom-dubbed curse words.
As he wriggled and squirmed beneath the hand, he heard the very laid back laughter of Javier. What the hell was be doing, pulling him out of a car? What the hell was he doing get out of the car in the first place if Mitch was only one who said he was leaving? Jonas was ready to kill someone. And maybe cry. He didn't usually curse but this was a new kind of situation.
"What the FUCK?"
"Watch ya' language lil' bro". Javier was towering over Jonas, hands in the pockets of his sagging shorts. There was a crackling sound from behind Jonas, so he craned his neck towards it, still kneeling on the dirt road beneath him. The car is on fire.
wait. THE FREAKING CAR IS ON FIRE.
The bright orange flame was enveloping the poorly-painted semi-truck, in a beautiful show of color, actually. Loud steps, accompanied by a series of curse words made Its way closer.
Out of breath, with a mixture of shit-faced anger and relieved worry, Mitch bent down to a shocked and confused Jonas. "Are you okay?" He cupped Jonas's face with both hands, staring him straight into his eyes. "Umm... yeah... whys the car on fire?" Mitch nodded and stood up, pulling Jonas with him. "That's a good ducking question".
He was staring Javier down with so much anger in his eyes Javier looked horrified. "The last drop off ended with our car gettin' chased down by cops onto some old chick's lawn- I was gettin' rid of the evidence, ya' know?"
Dean was talking about that bust the night before, calling the driver (who happened to be the shaking mess in front of him) 'low life, moral-less scum'. As much as he wanted to agree, Javier looked fairly relenting right now. Jonas had never seen such a scary looking man so scared himself.
Mitch huffed in defeat. "Well next time don't let Joey burn". He nodded, "No problem, Mitch."