Like a Moth to a Flame

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"...What guy is going to look at me walking down the street and think, 'hey, she's a real hottie, I'd better go ask her her number'? None of them. All I want is a nice, funny guy who likes me for me, you know? Someone I can share a cheesecake at night with, all snuggled up under the covers. Hell, someone who prefers going out to a Chinese buffet and stuffing our faces than heading out partying all night, really. It isn't too much to ask," she sighed, reluctantly tugging on the cap and frowning at her appearance. It made her look even more of a kid than she did already-- but she much preferred that than having people stare at her stitches.

Trailing alongside her friend, the topic of her shit romantic life at least distracted from every other thing going on in their lives right now. "I don't want to do what other girls my age do. I don't want to go out partying in the city, sipping cocktails past 3 in the morning, you know? That's totally not me."
 
"Have you tried one of those dating apps? I mean, if I was a straight guy, I'd happily bring you home to dad, y'know? You're sweet, cute, funny, plus you're chill." Tim boasted proudly, before offering her hand a squeeze. "I know this sounds creepy, but some guys like the whole 'little girl' sort of thing. I knew a guy from school who had it. Made his girlfriend wear, like, frilly skirts and pastel collars... he was a strange guy. Look, there's going to be someone out there for you. Just make sure they aren't a serial killer, okay? I don't want to put up with that again."
 
"That sounds fucking mental. That said, I'm pretty desperate right now. Maybe not right now, with everything going on, but it's been years since I really had a genuine relationship. Knowing my luck, I'll end up with an axe murderer. You and I aren't exactly the luckiest people in the world," she pointed out, not having to give out any examples to stand as evidence against that. Everything they had gone through, and were still going through, was every piece of evidence he needed to show how unlucky they seemed to be. Sandra's shit relationships were just the icing on the cake.

"If I tried a dating app, I'd just get depressed when nobody matches with me," she continued, reaching to loop their arms together in what had become an instinctual thing to do at this point. It felt odd to be walking beside him without having their arms linked together. She may have only known him a handful of months, but she did feel they had a bond akin to people who'd known one another years. She was so comfortable around him that she'd often just get changed in front of him. For someone who was so insecure about her body that she flat-out refused to have sex with the lights on, it was clearly testament to how much she trusted and loved the other.

"When this all passes and you're a lot more relaxed, maybe we can focus properly on getting me a man. I'm 22, so, if I'm sticking to the plan I made when I was 10, I have until I'm 30 to get married, move to the suburbs, have three children, two dogs and a rabbit. A white rabbit. It's... all a little daunting."
 
"Jesus, Sandra. That's... so unnecessarily specific? I mean, fuck... if you wanted that, why do you live in the city? This place is expensive and definitely not conventional family material. I dunno, I don't really plan on leaving myself any time soon. I thought about it, and it would be too much of a hassle to have to get another job and be known as the gay cop who dating a murderer. If I stay here, I'll at least know everyone I'm working with. I kinda like how big the city is, y'know?" He whispered to her as he linked their arms together casually. If it weren't for the fact that everyone in the news had pasted the 'gay' title all over him, their casual and affectionate embrace could be taken as something more.

"This'll all be figured out. You'll find a cute man soon, and you can take him to me so I can judge him critically. I mean, fuck, I can be your dad for you - that sounds weird."
 
"Because I went to fashion school and then met Alexander and... everything that happened sort of kept me in the city. Besides, I love it here. I want to settle down in the suburbs, but not yet. I'm more of a city girl, even if I don't do all of that partying-til-dawn stuff," she shrugged, sighing loudly in relief the moment she found a park bench to settle on. She wasn't someone who usually held back on her opinion, and even if she tried, she never really was able to mask how she felt, so she made little secret of the fact she was exhausted. That was both mentally and physically, the latter from the whack on the head she'd sustained, and the fact her high heels had rubbed her feet raw during the run to escape.

"I don't think I'd date anyone without consulting you first. You're like my brother, right? I trust your judgement explicitly," she confirmed with a faint roll of her eyes. When the whole drama with Alexander was sorted, she knew that her compliment would be brought up and she'd be playfully teased for it. "Oh well, I'm sure there's some weirdo out there who'll like me. Preferably someone older than I am. They won't be up for partying and doing all that bullshit."
 
"So does that mean you would be into that DDLG stuff or whatever? How old are we talking?" He asked teasingly as he sat down besides her and enjoyed a few pigeons that fluttered about on the surprisingly calm, New York City day. Leaning back, he let out his own sigh in content as he just pushed Alexander from his mind as much as possible.

"Hey, partying isn't too bad. I've been to some fun clubs in my life, actually.. I'm not too interested now, granted, but it's okay. I've met quite a few cuties I brought home for a fun night or two."
 
"God, no-- maybe. I don't know, it depends, doesn't it? If it came off as cute and enjoyable and if it... excited me, sure, I'd give a shot. If it came across as creepy, fuck no. And hey, I'm not talking, like, pensioner age, dummy. The oldest I'd go would be, say... 40 something?" She shrugged, finding her cheeks were suddenly blazing hot-- though she never really cared how bashful she became. Best friends talked about this sort of stuff, and she was thankful that it was a far cry away from the conversations about court and murder and Alexander. To stop talking about that, she'd gladly talk about her sex life every second of the day.

"It's just not my scene. Point me towards a 40-something older guy who loves good food and sitting in front of the TV cuddling on a Saturday, and I'll be happy. Guys my age have turned out to be dicks."
 
"I like 'em young and spry. Someone who can last all night, you know? The amount of times I woke up in the morning with a bad back and locked hips when I was with Alex was ridiculous. I also want a man who can properly treat me, you know? I always wanted to be treated like royalty; someone who would fluff my pillows and, like, massage my feet. I don't card how old the guy is, as long as he can do those things, I couldn't care less," he stated casually, though his cheeks did grow pink at the talk.

"Let's be honest, though. I'm average, and average people don't find love often in a city like this. I only got with Alex because of my job, and I just fell for him naturally. You're unique and cute, you know? You'll catch someone's attention with ease."
 
"...I mean, I'd love to talk about my experiences with guys like that but, hey, it's hard to do that when I've never had sex, right? Like-- I've had chances-- I've had boyfriends before! I just get scared, I guess. Stupid, really," she shrugged, tugging the cap over her head a little more once growing self-conscious that people were staring at her. She wanted to smile casually at them, like she usually would, but smiling right now was more of a task than a natural instinct.

"Maybe I'll be one of those women who never have sex and end up with twenty cats. I'm allergic to cats, so maybe not-- maybe I'lll have dogs, I like dogs."
 
"Thirty little pugs running about? That sounds so cute, Sandra!" Timothy gushed, only to quiet down in embarrassment. "I say do it, but only out of my selfish need to see a million puppies running about your apartment. I'm no better, though, yeah? My rats would probably scurry all about if I didn't keep them in their proper cage."

Shooting her a smile, he offered to pull her into a light hug, making sure to be extra cautious as to not hurt his own bruises, nor the ones he assumed she had. Carefully, he got to his feet and sighed wearily. "We should go to the station tomorrow, talk to the guys about this."
 
"Again? I... No offence, but I hate the station. We've told them all about what happened, they arrested Alexander-- I don't really want to go back in that place, hon. It's... I don't know how you work there. It's intimidating," she grimaced, not hiding the fact that she'd hated every second of the long few hours she had spent in the place, giving her statements and evidence. The men (and they were mostly all men) had been nice enough, bringing cups of tea and looking sympathetic, but the stories Timothy had told her about them had clouded her judgement. She wasn't really prepared to like anyone that made homophobic, flippant remarks, however innocent they tried to make out they were. Sure, they might be 'jokes' that they didn't mean to cause offence with-- but it was enough for her to refuse to like any of them.

"Can't we just... I don't know, get out of the city like you said and then... then come back when we have to show up in court? I don't want to stay in this place much longer, it's suffocating and it all reminds me of Alex."
 
"Where do you think he'll go?" He asked curiously, though held the naive and sweet tone if only to make her comfortable. "There are plenty of prisons. I... I hope he doesn't get killed in there, you know? I'm thinking that he might be a changed man after this. I know that if I spent time in prison, it would be a good time to really think over my life choices. Or maybe he'll go to a psych ward. I... Like I said, I'm thinking about checking in. You should to - neither of us can sleep much, and maybe being properly taken care of might help. I mean, it's just an option, but it's a pretty good option, right?" He babbled quickly, his rapid-fire words being a sign of his anxiety.

He offered a smile nonetheless, even if it was strained. Taking her hand, he offered to walk her through the park. "I'm going down there, at least. If I'm going to be going away for a bit, I might as well tell them. I'm sure they'll understand, yeah?"
 
"I really don't care about him, I don't know why you're hoping he'll come out a changed man. He won't ever get out of prison, thank god. He'll get life sentences without parole, if the jury are fucking smart enough to see past his charming bullshit," she grunted, not exactly as complimentary about her former employer and best friend as she really thought she'd be. All her love for Alex had promptly ended the moment he knocked her unconscious. He wasn't really anything more than a monster, in her eyes, so even if he got beaten up terribly in prison, she was adamant that she wasn't going to care.

"...Can't you just ring them up? I mean, hell, they're assholes to you. You don't owe them fucking anything-- but I'll go with you if you're going. Moral support and all that."
 
"I mean, I do, sort of. They pay me, after all. They paid me to do nothing, essentially, except report back every week. I was so close to quitting my job because I thought Alex and I would have the perfect life, plus I really learned to like my job working with him. Can't really leave now, can I? I'd have no income." He explained to her, though didn't act very offended.

"Just... I want you to know that I've just got a lot of shit tk figure out, Sandra." He grumbled, before rolling his shoulders and sighing heavily. "That's why I want to go to the hospital."
 
"You've got a lot to shit to figure out, right... I'd still like to leave the city at some point.You might be alright walking around, reminiscing about the good times with Alex, but it's like a fucking nightmare for me. I can't sleep, I can't get back to a normal life, I... I just want to get out and recuperate somewhere, alright? Maybe to your Dad's, maybe we'll go see my brother, I... I don't know, I just hate it here."

Although, there was something that threw a spanner in the works: the arrival of Timothy's older brother, Benjamin. By the morning, having spent the previous night trying to integrate back into normality, Sandra had been feeling relatively... well, happy. She was far from being back to her usual self, that was certain, but she felt far more relaxed than she had done for a while. She had reached a point where going to the station didn't bother her too much, and she'd spent most of the morning getting herself ready just to put on a defiant front. She wasn't going to walk on in there looking like a victim; she was determined to wear her usual cutesy fashion and show that she was moving on with her life as best she could.

And then Benjamin turned up at Timothy's door, suitcase in hand and, without really introducing himself to a bewildered Sandra, strolled on in with a loud whistle in approval.

If Sandra knew the backstory, she'd never have let Benjamin over the line into the apartment. Timothy had only briefly mentioned he had an older brother, but he hadn't relayed any details. He hadn't mentioned, for instance, that Benjamin had been the wayward son, the one who dabbled in selling drugs, who tormented his parents and went as far as to pull out a shotgun one night in the hopes of killing them all. He'd disappeared when he was 20 once the charges against him were dropped, but here he was, nine years later, stood in his little brother's apartment with every intention to stay, if the suitcase at his side was anything to go by.

"Where's the nerd, then? You his girlfriend? I always thought he was, y'know, gay. But hey, if he's changed his mind on that, I don't care," shrugged Ben, flopping to the couch and tugging his biker boots off, tossing them casually to the side. He had left the family home as a young man, and even though he was almost 30 now, he still had the same wide, boyish grin on his face. He might not be exquisitely handsome like Alexander, but he definitely had something about him that would catch attention. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges with the scattering of tattoos he'd had during his teenage rebellion phase (where he was mostly high off his face), and his dyed platinum hair was undone and messy from rolling out of bed that morning, but... well, he definitely was handsome. Just in a different sort of way.

"I-- I think he's getting dressed, we were off to the station--"

"Ah, yeah. The whole fashion designer thing, right? That's a bummer. Sorta why I'm here, some brotherly support. Our Dad said I ought to come and, y'know, be the supportive big brother."
 
Much like Sandra, he felt... better. Not great, not at all, but he didn't wake up in the middle of the night panting and crying, which was a plus. Not to mention, the bruise around his eye was finally yellowing a tad which meant it was much easier to cover with Sandra's concealer, if need be. After a long shower, unafraid to take his sweet time, Timothy chose to carefully adjust his button-up shirt and tie, before tugging in a sweater over the top.

Once stepping out into the living room with a whistle, he froze in place in horror. The clearly contrasting aesthetic wasn't the only thing significantly different between the two. Despite being a police officer, Timothy paled in comparison to his brother's muscular build and chiseled features. Not to mention, the clearly processed hair was different compared to his own, natural locks. His casual shoulders slumped instantly as he clutched at the rim of his sweater as his mind slowly tried to figure out some sort of response.

"... What are you doing here, Ben?" He asked slowly, trying his hardest to keep the anger from his voice. "Let me guess, you need money? Did you get kicked out of the house and dad wouldn't let you back? I... This is not a good time, I hope you realize that." He grunted firmly, though it was definitely a bit of a funny scene to have someone smaller stand defensively against their much stronger brother.
 
"Why ain't it a good time? Because your boyfriend's a fucking murderer? I thought you'd want me being here for moral support, for protection. I'm real handy with a gun," he snorted, resting his arms back across the couch and crudely winked at Sandra once noticing her stood awkwardly in the corner. The fact she all but squeaked and rushed out to busy herself making cups of coffee in the kitchen amused him to no end.

Likewise, making jokes about what he'd done in the past didn't seem to affect him too much. He could be in prison at this point, facing life charges for attempted murder against his own family, if his parents hadn't chosen to drop the charges. Hell, he'd put his father in a wheelchair and disabled him, but here he was, smirking and cracking jokes over it all-- but that was Ben all over. He wasn't the most sensitive person in the world.

"Dad just said I should come to the big city, y'know? Said I might wanna come and see you, see how you're doing. I ain't here 'cos he threw me out, that isn't it. I wanted to see how you were. It isn't everyday your boyfriend turns out to be a fucking psychopath, is it? Can I smoke in here?" He asked suddenly, lighting a cigarette up without waiting for the approval, craning his neck to look out into the kitchen. "Got yourself a girlfriend pretty quickly though, didn't you? Hey, way to go. You're a real player, huh? I'm proud."
 
"S-She's not my girlfriend!" He squeaked in protest, his cheeks growing pink all the while. "Alex... H-He isn't a psychopath. He just... needs some time to realize what he did wasn't right. I dunno, he - he was a sweet guy, real proper. He's still sweet, to me. Granted, sending him to jail'll probably change his mind on that. Look, I-I don't need help! I'm perfectly fine, I just need to go on vacation. I might go see dad for a few days, take my mind off everything. If he's so concerned with me, he should have just called." He murmured, before beginning to pace a tad.

His nervous stammering was just indicative of the fact that, for starters, hadn't seen his brother in years. For him to just show up unannounced was definitely not good for his mental health, which was already poor. Nonetheless, after a few moments of pacing and wary glances towards Sandra, he eventually sat up and took a deep breath.

"Why do you have the suitcase? You don't plan on moving in, do you? I don't know if I'm even going to stay here, Ben, and I sure as hell know you couldn't afford living here."
 
"Chill, I don't care about your asshole ex boyfriend. I got plenty of psycho ex girlfriends-- and two fucking ex wives, by the way. Got married twice, got divorced twice. It was a whole fucking mess. One of 'em stabbed me, I got a mighty big scar across my leg," he boasted, almost amused at the fact that he seemed to just attract trouble-- though, he couldn't exactly play victim when he'd tried to kill three members of his family, could he?

"Oi, sweetheart, get me a beer, would you? Do you have beer here? I bet you don't, you're such a nerd-- wine'll do," he shrugged, his eyes locking back on Sandra, delighting himself in making her feel nervous. He did have an awful sense of humour, and her evident awkwardness around him only made him more and more amused. "I'm gonna stay a few days, a few weeks, I dunno. Dad said it'd help us both. Said you could do with my being here and I could get myself a job. Got sacked, like... last month, I think? Beat my boss up 'cos he didn't give me the extra wages I was owed. I'm in fucking debt, you know? I owe a lot, thousands, so I saw red when he didn't give me the cash I was kinda owed-- can you just be a supportive brother and let me crash here with you and your girlfriend over there?"
 
"How the hell did you get that much into debt?!" Timothy gasped, though a part of him wasn't surprised. While he wished his brother would turn the other cheek and make something of himself, his hope for the idea had left with age. If the man was willing to threaten his whole family and injure their dad, him beating up his boss wasn't really anything major. Nonetheless, he ran his hands down his face with a heavy groan.

"Whatever. Whatever. You're fucking lucky that I love dad. I am a cop, Ben. I c-can hurt you, but I won't because I know he cares about you. Not to mention, I have much more important things to do other than deal with your deadbeat ass.... Like keeping Sandra far the fuck away from you, and watching my boyfriend to go jail."
 
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