The next morning when Duncan woke the kid, he tried to be cheerful really he did. But Richie was determined to be as frustrating as possible. The teen was not in bed when Duncan came in but still begged not to have to have to work that day. Richie said he was sick. Normally the immortal would have insisted himself that the kid stay in bed after seeing the dark circles under the blue eyes, but things were not normal.
Then Richie was sullen all through breakfast, stubbornly refusing to eat the eggs and toast that Duncan prepared. Again Duncan almost relented when he saw the grimace on the kid's face as he took a bite of eggs, like the bite might be making a second appearance at any moment. They compromised on three bites of eggs and a glass of milk.
Then came actually working in the store, not that there was a lot of actual work happening for either of them. Every time Duncan turned around, Richie seemed to be staring off into space, completely forgetting about whatever he was doing. And every time Duncan would try to get the boy back on track it turned into a yelling match. Great for business.
Duncan tried desperately to control his temper. Richie wasn't doing this on purpose. That was the worst part though. He was a good kid and Duncan cared about him, probably more than the immortal should considering Richie's pre-immortal status. But Duncan wanted the kid to be healthy and happy and he wanted to be there for Richie if he ever did become immortal. He couldn't let Richie descend any further into this depression.
And Tessa, she was afraid to disturb them during the day, but was waiting in the kitchen with lunch already made when they took a break. Not that Richie would eat it. She looked like she could barely stand to be in the same room with the lad, could barely stand to see the changes in Richie and afraid that she would do something wrong, say something wrong. It couldn't go on, Duncan decided.
Three days passed like that. Then it was Friday night. Normally Richie would have a date, or three. He'd be flitting around, excited, telling them of his plans and asking Tess how he looked. Not sitting on the couch because Duncan forced him to after dinner instead of letting the kid run back to his room.
Duncan leveled a stern gaze at the kid sitting across from his place on the coffee table. "This can't go on."
Richie swallowed but didn't look up, so Duncan continued.
"You either need to talk to us about what's going on or we'll find you someone else to talk to. I just can't bear to see you like this tough guy."
Duncan knew that this was serious and he needed to be stern but he hoped that the love he felt for the lad was also apparent in his voice. But Richie never looked up, just nodded mutely.
They sat there in silence for a long moment. Duncan knew that the teen was waiting to be released back to his room so he obliged.
"Why don't you go back to your room and think about it tonight. We'll talk again in the morning." The immortal hoped the quiet frustration he felt wasn't noticeable to the lad. He wanted to be encouraging, he wanted his Richie back!
Richie sat curled up in the chair in his bedroom as he had for almost a week now. Feeling the burning of tears behind his eyes, he refused to let them fall. His hand shook as he raised a knuckle to his mouth, biting it to choke back the sobs that threatened to erupt from his exhausted frame.
He felt terrible, worn out, done in. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate. His stomach ached and his head throbbed continuously. And now Mac had delivered an ultimatum, shape up or ship out.
How many times had he heard that? As good as he had tried to be it never worked out. He always ended up back at the orphanage and then it was off to another family where all the rules were different. Until the day when he was fourteen and decided that it wasn't worth it anymore, that he wasn't going to waste anymore time trying to conform to everyone else's standards only to be punished anyway.
But Mac and Tess had been different. They knew that he was just a street punk and still invited him into their home, into Mac's confidence, their lives. They didn't pretend that all those years never existed but they did offer him a better life. He loved them dammit even if he hadn't told them and he had thought that they felt the same. Apparently not.
He didn't know what to do! He couldn't leave, didn't have the will to start over, to endure another betrayal. He couldn't pay attention long enough to work in a fucking antique store how was he supposed to survive on the streets again. And he was eighteen now.
He wanted to act normal, be normal again, but he knew he couldn't. It wasn't possible anymore. He couldn't control anything, his temper, his fear, even his body betrayed him. He was no longer allowed to make any decisions for himself, Mac just told him what to do, when to get up, when to eat, to work. He had ruined the best thing that ever happened to him but he just couldn't stop himself.
There was only one solution. Mac was right; he couldn't go on like this. If they didn't want him, no one would, ever. They had been right after all, all of his teachers and foster parents and social workers and cops when they said Richie was a worthless punk who'd never amount to anything. Strangely Richie felt calmer now that he had made a decision.