Finlay Sawyer Bennett (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
truthrunswild) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2016-01-23 02:07 am
truthrunswild) wrote in muserevival2016-01-23 02:07 am
Entry tags:
114.7. Misc
"Bad is never good until worse happens."
Fin hated flying, so despite not wanting to be travelling at all, he was glad as ever-loving fuck to be disembarking the plane. He had begged his mom to let him get a bus rather than fly, but then his grandma had to go and suggest that it gave him more opportunity to run off on the trip over and not make it safely to his father. 'We just want you safe, dear, or you'll end up in prison for breaking your conditions,' had been her explanation. Fin had just sat there scowling at everyone because it was feeling like the whole world was against him right now.
It had all been bad enough that he woke up in the hospital after the party not knowing what the hell had happened. That seemed like the breezy option compared to ending up in a juvenile court after being arrested for being a minor and publicly intoxicated by an illegal substance. A couple of kids at the party had stepped up as witnesses and said they saw him drinking and taking drugs, probably to cover their own asses. Without a doubt, however, the worst part of this whole thing was the judge ruled he had to piss off to live with his father in New York... a father he didn't know, but was an 'upstanding citizen', and to be in court-appointed therapy for rehabilitation for at least six months. The other option had been community service or juvie. When he was innocent. But no one wanted to hear that.
So, he had to get on a plane back in Arkansas to leave him home, his friends, his beloved horse, Michelangelo (yes, after the Ninja Turtle) and come to live in this giant concrete erection until he was eighteen. He was homesick as soon as he walked throught the Departures gate but he would never admit to anyone that he spent a good portion of the flight crying because all this felt so shit and he was scared to go to somewhere completely foreign and so different to where he had grown up. By the time the pilot announced they were now getting ready to land, he had pulled himself together and washed his face in the miniscule bathroom probably dripping in horrible germs. He wasn't OCD, but he was a bit of a germ-o-phobe because he hated being sick. Who knew what these city folk could infect him with?
Because the New York airports were apparently crazy as all hell, his mom arranged with his father to meet him in the drop zone once he got his bags. He had two large carry-alls and his mom was sending some more of his stuff, including his drum kit, by a courier to get there in the next week or so. He hadn't been able to fit much of his entire fucking life into two bags and a backpack. The airport was intimidating but he tried not to let it show. His granddad has said he had to be careful of the shady types and that they preyed on the vulnerable. There were so many people, pushing, shoving, brushing up against him. He was agitated and ready to jump out of his skin by the time he located the exit... but only after getting lost three times and needing a flight attendant to escort him to where he was going.
Maybe juvie wouldn't be so bad. If he got back on the next flight home and broke the conditions of his court ruling, he would go to prison, sure. But at least he would be home, right? He was feeling hot and little woozy by the time he was getting the hell out of that place. He stopped at a vending machine to get a can of Coke. Parking the luggage cart in the right zone, he cracked the can of Coke open and had a long drink. He was keeping an eye out for his dad's car, the description he was given. After a couple of moments, he was still feeling a bit lightheaded, so he sat down on top of one of his bags at the end of the cart to wait, hair flopping into his face.
It was a few minutes before the black 70s Camaro pulled up and the guy built like a brick shithouse got out, coming over with a hesitant, "Finlay?"
Fin had his phone out, checking the messages his friends had sent him on Facebook, once again lamenting how shit it was that he had to leave and promising to keep asking their moms if they could come over and visit. Fin wasn't stupid. He knew it wouldn't happen because they all thought he was a druggo loser. He looked up, his dark blue eyes landing on his father in the flesh for the first time ever. At least, since he was in diapers and didn't even know how to lift his own head. "Fin," he corrected.
He just got up then and lifted his bags easily to go over and shove them into the back seat. He had the plenty of strength from lugging his drums to gigs with the band he had with a couple of his friends. Or just dragging his kit out into the outskirts of the ranch to play with nature around him. He was probably a bit of a weird kid, but he didn't care. He climbed into the passenger's side of the car and yanked the door closed with a bang. It couldn't be a new car with decent heating, could it?
Before his dad got back into the driver's seat, Fin had pulled his dark sunglasses on and was back to being engrossed in Facebook on his phone. After all, what else was he supposed to say to a complete stranger?
# finlay bennett | original character
Fin hated flying, so despite not wanting to be travelling at all, he was glad as ever-loving fuck to be disembarking the plane. He had begged his mom to let him get a bus rather than fly, but then his grandma had to go and suggest that it gave him more opportunity to run off on the trip over and not make it safely to his father. 'We just want you safe, dear, or you'll end up in prison for breaking your conditions,' had been her explanation. Fin had just sat there scowling at everyone because it was feeling like the whole world was against him right now.
It had all been bad enough that he woke up in the hospital after the party not knowing what the hell had happened. That seemed like the breezy option compared to ending up in a juvenile court after being arrested for being a minor and publicly intoxicated by an illegal substance. A couple of kids at the party had stepped up as witnesses and said they saw him drinking and taking drugs, probably to cover their own asses. Without a doubt, however, the worst part of this whole thing was the judge ruled he had to piss off to live with his father in New York... a father he didn't know, but was an 'upstanding citizen', and to be in court-appointed therapy for rehabilitation for at least six months. The other option had been community service or juvie. When he was innocent. But no one wanted to hear that.
So, he had to get on a plane back in Arkansas to leave him home, his friends, his beloved horse, Michelangelo (yes, after the Ninja Turtle) and come to live in this giant concrete erection until he was eighteen. He was homesick as soon as he walked throught the Departures gate but he would never admit to anyone that he spent a good portion of the flight crying because all this felt so shit and he was scared to go to somewhere completely foreign and so different to where he had grown up. By the time the pilot announced they were now getting ready to land, he had pulled himself together and washed his face in the miniscule bathroom probably dripping in horrible germs. He wasn't OCD, but he was a bit of a germ-o-phobe because he hated being sick. Who knew what these city folk could infect him with?
Because the New York airports were apparently crazy as all hell, his mom arranged with his father to meet him in the drop zone once he got his bags. He had two large carry-alls and his mom was sending some more of his stuff, including his drum kit, by a courier to get there in the next week or so. He hadn't been able to fit much of his entire fucking life into two bags and a backpack. The airport was intimidating but he tried not to let it show. His granddad has said he had to be careful of the shady types and that they preyed on the vulnerable. There were so many people, pushing, shoving, brushing up against him. He was agitated and ready to jump out of his skin by the time he located the exit... but only after getting lost three times and needing a flight attendant to escort him to where he was going.
Maybe juvie wouldn't be so bad. If he got back on the next flight home and broke the conditions of his court ruling, he would go to prison, sure. But at least he would be home, right? He was feeling hot and little woozy by the time he was getting the hell out of that place. He stopped at a vending machine to get a can of Coke. Parking the luggage cart in the right zone, he cracked the can of Coke open and had a long drink. He was keeping an eye out for his dad's car, the description he was given. After a couple of moments, he was still feeling a bit lightheaded, so he sat down on top of one of his bags at the end of the cart to wait, hair flopping into his face.
It was a few minutes before the black 70s Camaro pulled up and the guy built like a brick shithouse got out, coming over with a hesitant, "Finlay?"
Fin had his phone out, checking the messages his friends had sent him on Facebook, once again lamenting how shit it was that he had to leave and promising to keep asking their moms if they could come over and visit. Fin wasn't stupid. He knew it wouldn't happen because they all thought he was a druggo loser. He looked up, his dark blue eyes landing on his father in the flesh for the first time ever. At least, since he was in diapers and didn't even know how to lift his own head. "Fin," he corrected.
He just got up then and lifted his bags easily to go over and shove them into the back seat. He had the plenty of strength from lugging his drums to gigs with the band he had with a couple of his friends. Or just dragging his kit out into the outskirts of the ranch to play with nature around him. He was probably a bit of a weird kid, but he didn't care. He climbed into the passenger's side of the car and yanked the door closed with a bang. It couldn't be a new car with decent heating, could it?
Before his dad got back into the driver's seat, Fin had pulled his dark sunglasses on and was back to being engrossed in Facebook on his phone. After all, what else was he supposed to say to a complete stranger?
# finlay bennett | original character