Derrick
"What do you want from me?! This is kidnapping! I'll report you to the police!" he shouted, practically scrambling backward in the seat the moment I settled behind the wheel. His panic hit the air loud, shaky and desperate.
I exhaled slowly, gripping the steering wheel with the kind of patience you earn after dealing with idiots for far too long.
"Sure, sure," I said, waving a hand casually. "You can do that if…"
I paused just long enough for him to freeze.
"…you make it out of here alive."
He went pale instantly — the kind of pale that drains all the bravado straight out of a person. He glared at me with everything he had left, eyes blazing.
If looks could kill, I would've been dead before the engine even turned on.
I just leaned closer, slow and controlled, reaching across him.
His breath hitched sharp and involuntary, like he thought I was going to do something far worse than he could imagine.
I purposely brushed my hand past his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut for a split second...
Click.
I pulled the seatbelt across his chest and buckled it in.
He gasped, confused, caught between confusion and humiliation.
"If this were kidnapping, you'd be in the trunk. You're sitting in a seat with working handles. The door's not even locked." with a smirk I added after seeing his reaction
"That's not— that's not the point!" he stammered. "Y‑You can't just drag me into your car!"
"I didn't drag you, I guided you. Because you were two seconds away from starting a fight"
His mouth opened, then closed, like his brain didn't know which argument to pick first.
"Listen," I continued, lowering my voice, letting the calm sink in. "I'm not hurting you. I'm not kidnapping you. I'm just stopping you from making a mess"
He blinked at me, still shaking, but I can see that his fear was slowly melting away.
"If you really want to get out, you can open that door right now. Nobody's stopping you."
He didn't move.
Didn't even touch the handle.
His glare flickered.
Just a flicker — but enough to show he wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or even more unnerved.
And honestly?
I'm having fun interacting with this scrawny kid.
Not in a cruel way — just… there's something weirdly entertaining about watching him swing between fear, attitude, and confusion like he can't decide which version of himself he wants to commit to.
His sharp words and shaky hands, glaring at me like he's trying to convince himself he's not terrified.
It's almost endearing.
Almost.
I tilt my head at him, studying the way he sits ramrod straight in the seat, pretending he's not about to jump out of his skin.
"You know," I say, voice calm, "for someone who keeps yelling 'kidnapping,' you sure haven't touched that door handle once."
His jaw clenches.
His ears go a little red.
He hates that I noticed.
"I'm not scared of you," he mutters.
I raise a brow.
"Oh, I know," I say with a slow grin. "That's what makes this fun."
He looks away, teeth grinding, trying so hard to act unfazed… while his knee bounces like he's about to launch into oblivion
And for the first time since this whole mess started, the tension in my chest loosens.
Yeah.
This kid's a handful — but he's not the worst company I've had to deal with.