Consequences
Jun. 2nd, 2022 07:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rage_rekkerNote: Linked threads, prompt, and replies deal with homophobia, violence, mental health collapse, and other subjects that might be triggering to some.
For Nexus prompt 5. "Everyone chooses which mask to show the world. What's beneath yours?"
Related to this thread and the Follow up thread(Potentially NSFW)
Rekker was glad that they came after Bjorn was called back to the hotel, and also furious about it. That one call he would get was weighing heavily on his mind; his brother who could help him or his fiancé who was going to be panicked when he came home to find the ginger gone. He hadn’t resisted and that was probably why he wasn’t cuffed in the room, but the door was locked. He’d heard them lock the door.
After what he had done, Rekker knew this was a possibility. It didn’t stop him in the moment when his fixated, paranoid mind went off the rails. Who knew if they would actually believe him when he said it, but the truth was runaway thoughts? His temper and the paranoia over losing people paired with old wounds and seeing the pain and fear on his brother’s face. Robert going white while talking on the phone was something etched into Rekker’s mind. He couldn’t ever remember his older brother looking afraid.
“Mr. Sterling?”
Rekker glanced up at the man walking into the room but didn’t move. “Can I call you Derek?”
The ginger’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
He didn’t think he needed to justify why he didn’t want his name used. Surely these Los Angeles cops knew his stage name, hardly anyone knew his real name any longer. His nervous twitches took over as he started to drum his fingers lightly on the table.
“You know why you’re here?”
Rekker stared at the man starting to sit across from him as if he was the dumbest person on Earth. The Brit would be the first to admit he was off his rocker, but he wasn’t dumb and saw no reason in denying anything. Someone had stabbed Erik and Rekker had gone after them. They tried to stab him, and he beat the shit out of them on the street. It wasn’t a hard plot to follow even if you included the way his mind had processed, or didn’t process, the trauma of the situation and news in general.
“Are you going to answer?”
Rekker’s temper flared up. “Are you going to ask something worth answering instead of making me puppet my way through what you already know?”
The detective was taken aback by the way Rekker spoke to him, bluntly and domineering. It was a defensive mechanism of sorts from years of his parents interrogating him, or worse his sister and teachers and the doctors early on in his treatment.
“Why did you attack…” The detective leafed through his folder. “Five… five men?”
Rekker smirked at the disbelief in the man’s voice. Rekker had a few bruises, some scratches and road rash but he was nowhere near how he left the other men. They had been down for the count when he walked away.
“They stabbed my… I guess, soon to be brother-in-law.” That was how Rekker saw it. Sure, Robert was adamant about thinking marriage was useless but what did the piece of paper matter anyway? Robert was just as devoted to Erik as anyone with the stupid paper.
“Are you proud of that?”
Rekker stared at the detective blankly. Was he proud of what he did? Well, no, he didn’t exactly pride himself on violence. Proud that he could defend the people he cared about; that he would say he was proud of in the long run but not to this person sitting across from him. The Brit finally cleared his throat and ignored the detective. If they thought, he was going to say he was proud of or liked the violence they were farther out of their minds than he was out of his own. He knew better and, honestly, he wasn’t proud of the moments when he lost control and blacked out. He hated them. He hated himself for not being in control all the time and felt furious with his own mind for becoming a blind freight train sometimes.
“Alright, who was stabbed? Your sister’s fiancé?”
He couldn’t control it. The snorted laugh escaped before he could quiet the sound. The confusion on the detective’s face was priceless. “My brother’s fiancé.”
The Brit rose a brow while he watched the detective process what he was getting at, what those words meant.
“Your brother is a faggot?”
Rekker’s hand froze, the drumming dying with those words as his palms pressed flat to the table. He could feel the sweat building up under them and his stomach flipped from rage. The heartburn that came with his anger started to burn as he barely bit back the razor words on his tongue, or worse his fists.
“Don’t say that word again.” Rekker’s voice came through clenched teeth as he pressed his hands more firmly to the table, if only to resist balling his fingers up and smashing this bastard right in the mouth.
“Is that a threat, Mr. Sterling?”
Rekker paused to contemplate what to say. Sitting back in the chair he folded his arms tightly against his body to try and self soothe the anger. He was overdue for his medication, and he didn’t want to think what this would be like in a few hours when his pills completely wore off.
“Take it however you want.” He finally spit the words out with utter dismay that this guy would even say that word to him. Rekker definitely took the slur personally, something he had never really done before with most words.
The Detective let out a sigh and blissfully allowed the moment to pass. “Tell me what happened yesterday evening.”
Rekker rolled his eyes and stared at the small, barred window of the room. “Isn’t my lawyer supposed to be here?”
The detective huffed and the ginger imagined it was because this buffoon thought this was his first time in this seat, or maybe that he was stupid because he was a musician or something.
“I’d like my therapist, too, and my phone call.” Rekker wasn’t going to budge. Eventually, someone would notice he was missing and start looking, Robert, Bjorn, Devon, someone would. He could wait this detective out if he didn’t
“How about we talk while we wait for them?”
The guitarist could smell the ploy on those words and scowled. “How about you shut your mouth until you comply with the laws?”
There was a flicker of startle again in the detective’s expression. Sure, maybe his attitude would make things worse but so what?
“Very well. We put in a call for your attorney. You can use your call when they arrive.”
Rekker watched the man across from him start to stand. “And my therapist.”
He reiterated that part because, despite his rage right now he knew this wasn’t going to be helpful in the long run. He needed assistance before he had another episode and flew off the handle at someone else. Beating a cop would not be a good charge to add to the list he already had from scuffling with the bastards that stabbed Erik.
Once the detective left the room Rekker went back to drumming on the table. He didn’t like confinement, not after his childhood. After a moment he stood up and stared out the tiny window. It was the only relief he could find for the anger and discomfort welling up inside. He didn’t want to be here. Sure, he acknowledged that he belonged here for attacking people but that didn’t mean he wanted to be trapped in this room. If he were out in an open space, he wouldn’t bother anyone, wouldn’t run, but no one would believe that of the crazy ginger musician that kept ending up in these rooms on assault charges. The Brit thought that three assault charges over his entire life, with the crap mental health of paranoia, depression, and unreasonable anger, wasn’t too bad. It was a herculean effort to function some days and they should all be glad he tried so hard. The ginger laughing as he stared out the window. If he didn’t try so hard, they might be dealing with a serial killer or an actual menace to society.
“Rekker?”
He turned to see his attorney walking in. The man sighed and Rekker understood why. He didn’t begrudge the man his emotions because this wasn’t their first time through this. He didn’t sit and his lawyer didn’t ask him to. Even in the office Rekker tended to get too agitated sitting still while talking about events that upset him.
“Let’s go through what happened and then we can get your call in.”
He nodded and related everything, every detail, from the call through Bjorn trying to snap him out of the madness the night before and to the arrest. He didn’t leave out that the detective had tried to convince him to speak without a lawyer which irritated the Brit if nothing else. It took almost an hour to get through while the lawyer took notes and asked follow up questions. Rekker knew he’d be in for another mental health screening from some police shrink later in the day. That was part of this dog and pony show, as if the whole world didn’t know about his mind. He wrote songs, whole albums about it during his career and never shied away from the topic when it cropped up in interviews. Nevertheless, he would have to go through yet another one.
“If you think of anything else, let me know.” The lawyer was always patient with him and smiled a little when the Brit turned to look at him. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you out but they’re probably going to have you confined to your house until we can sort this out.”
Rekker nodded. Being trapped at home wasn’t a bad thing. He locked himself in it often enough and refused to leave. Punishment for others, sure, but for the Brit it was a relief. Next would come a call and then his therapist, or theirs, and then escort home, hopefully, with an ankle monitor to make sure he didn’t run away. That idea agitated him too. The idiots here seriously thought he would try to run away. Sighing he turned back to the window to wait out the rest of the day.
For Nexus prompt 5. "Everyone chooses which mask to show the world. What's beneath yours?"
Related to this thread and the Follow up thread(Potentially NSFW)
Rekker was glad that they came after Bjorn was called back to the hotel, and also furious about it. That one call he would get was weighing heavily on his mind; his brother who could help him or his fiancé who was going to be panicked when he came home to find the ginger gone. He hadn’t resisted and that was probably why he wasn’t cuffed in the room, but the door was locked. He’d heard them lock the door.
After what he had done, Rekker knew this was a possibility. It didn’t stop him in the moment when his fixated, paranoid mind went off the rails. Who knew if they would actually believe him when he said it, but the truth was runaway thoughts? His temper and the paranoia over losing people paired with old wounds and seeing the pain and fear on his brother’s face. Robert going white while talking on the phone was something etched into Rekker’s mind. He couldn’t ever remember his older brother looking afraid.
“Mr. Sterling?”
Rekker glanced up at the man walking into the room but didn’t move. “Can I call you Derek?”
The ginger’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
He didn’t think he needed to justify why he didn’t want his name used. Surely these Los Angeles cops knew his stage name, hardly anyone knew his real name any longer. His nervous twitches took over as he started to drum his fingers lightly on the table.
“You know why you’re here?”
Rekker stared at the man starting to sit across from him as if he was the dumbest person on Earth. The Brit would be the first to admit he was off his rocker, but he wasn’t dumb and saw no reason in denying anything. Someone had stabbed Erik and Rekker had gone after them. They tried to stab him, and he beat the shit out of them on the street. It wasn’t a hard plot to follow even if you included the way his mind had processed, or didn’t process, the trauma of the situation and news in general.
“Are you going to answer?”
Rekker’s temper flared up. “Are you going to ask something worth answering instead of making me puppet my way through what you already know?”
The detective was taken aback by the way Rekker spoke to him, bluntly and domineering. It was a defensive mechanism of sorts from years of his parents interrogating him, or worse his sister and teachers and the doctors early on in his treatment.
“Why did you attack…” The detective leafed through his folder. “Five… five men?”
Rekker smirked at the disbelief in the man’s voice. Rekker had a few bruises, some scratches and road rash but he was nowhere near how he left the other men. They had been down for the count when he walked away.
“They stabbed my… I guess, soon to be brother-in-law.” That was how Rekker saw it. Sure, Robert was adamant about thinking marriage was useless but what did the piece of paper matter anyway? Robert was just as devoted to Erik as anyone with the stupid paper.
“Are you proud of that?”
Rekker stared at the detective blankly. Was he proud of what he did? Well, no, he didn’t exactly pride himself on violence. Proud that he could defend the people he cared about; that he would say he was proud of in the long run but not to this person sitting across from him. The Brit finally cleared his throat and ignored the detective. If they thought, he was going to say he was proud of or liked the violence they were farther out of their minds than he was out of his own. He knew better and, honestly, he wasn’t proud of the moments when he lost control and blacked out. He hated them. He hated himself for not being in control all the time and felt furious with his own mind for becoming a blind freight train sometimes.
“Alright, who was stabbed? Your sister’s fiancé?”
He couldn’t control it. The snorted laugh escaped before he could quiet the sound. The confusion on the detective’s face was priceless. “My brother’s fiancé.”
The Brit rose a brow while he watched the detective process what he was getting at, what those words meant.
“Your brother is a faggot?”
Rekker’s hand froze, the drumming dying with those words as his palms pressed flat to the table. He could feel the sweat building up under them and his stomach flipped from rage. The heartburn that came with his anger started to burn as he barely bit back the razor words on his tongue, or worse his fists.
“Don’t say that word again.” Rekker’s voice came through clenched teeth as he pressed his hands more firmly to the table, if only to resist balling his fingers up and smashing this bastard right in the mouth.
“Is that a threat, Mr. Sterling?”
Rekker paused to contemplate what to say. Sitting back in the chair he folded his arms tightly against his body to try and self soothe the anger. He was overdue for his medication, and he didn’t want to think what this would be like in a few hours when his pills completely wore off.
“Take it however you want.” He finally spit the words out with utter dismay that this guy would even say that word to him. Rekker definitely took the slur personally, something he had never really done before with most words.
The Detective let out a sigh and blissfully allowed the moment to pass. “Tell me what happened yesterday evening.”
Rekker rolled his eyes and stared at the small, barred window of the room. “Isn’t my lawyer supposed to be here?”
The detective huffed and the ginger imagined it was because this buffoon thought this was his first time in this seat, or maybe that he was stupid because he was a musician or something.
“I’d like my therapist, too, and my phone call.” Rekker wasn’t going to budge. Eventually, someone would notice he was missing and start looking, Robert, Bjorn, Devon, someone would. He could wait this detective out if he didn’t
“How about we talk while we wait for them?”
The guitarist could smell the ploy on those words and scowled. “How about you shut your mouth until you comply with the laws?”
There was a flicker of startle again in the detective’s expression. Sure, maybe his attitude would make things worse but so what?
“Very well. We put in a call for your attorney. You can use your call when they arrive.”
Rekker watched the man across from him start to stand. “And my therapist.”
He reiterated that part because, despite his rage right now he knew this wasn’t going to be helpful in the long run. He needed assistance before he had another episode and flew off the handle at someone else. Beating a cop would not be a good charge to add to the list he already had from scuffling with the bastards that stabbed Erik.
Once the detective left the room Rekker went back to drumming on the table. He didn’t like confinement, not after his childhood. After a moment he stood up and stared out the tiny window. It was the only relief he could find for the anger and discomfort welling up inside. He didn’t want to be here. Sure, he acknowledged that he belonged here for attacking people but that didn’t mean he wanted to be trapped in this room. If he were out in an open space, he wouldn’t bother anyone, wouldn’t run, but no one would believe that of the crazy ginger musician that kept ending up in these rooms on assault charges. The Brit thought that three assault charges over his entire life, with the crap mental health of paranoia, depression, and unreasonable anger, wasn’t too bad. It was a herculean effort to function some days and they should all be glad he tried so hard. The ginger laughing as he stared out the window. If he didn’t try so hard, they might be dealing with a serial killer or an actual menace to society.
“Rekker?”
He turned to see his attorney walking in. The man sighed and Rekker understood why. He didn’t begrudge the man his emotions because this wasn’t their first time through this. He didn’t sit and his lawyer didn’t ask him to. Even in the office Rekker tended to get too agitated sitting still while talking about events that upset him.
“Let’s go through what happened and then we can get your call in.”
He nodded and related everything, every detail, from the call through Bjorn trying to snap him out of the madness the night before and to the arrest. He didn’t leave out that the detective had tried to convince him to speak without a lawyer which irritated the Brit if nothing else. It took almost an hour to get through while the lawyer took notes and asked follow up questions. Rekker knew he’d be in for another mental health screening from some police shrink later in the day. That was part of this dog and pony show, as if the whole world didn’t know about his mind. He wrote songs, whole albums about it during his career and never shied away from the topic when it cropped up in interviews. Nevertheless, he would have to go through yet another one.
“If you think of anything else, let me know.” The lawyer was always patient with him and smiled a little when the Brit turned to look at him. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you out but they’re probably going to have you confined to your house until we can sort this out.”
Rekker nodded. Being trapped at home wasn’t a bad thing. He locked himself in it often enough and refused to leave. Punishment for others, sure, but for the Brit it was a relief. Next would come a call and then his therapist, or theirs, and then escort home, hopefully, with an ankle monitor to make sure he didn’t run away. That idea agitated him too. The idiots here seriously thought he would try to run away. Sighing he turned back to the window to wait out the rest of the day.
no subject
Date: 2022-06-10 06:54 pm (UTC)There was something appealing about spending this time taking care of each other. It felt right given they might not be together soon.
no subject
Date: 2022-10-12 08:43 pm (UTC)"I'd like that. Once I've shaved your face and neck you can shave my legs and do my nails. How does that sound, babe?"
The Swede wanted this because it sounded natural for a couple to tend to each other's needs. He kissed Rekker's lips softly and sighed.
no subject
Date: 2022-10-13 08:35 am (UTC)"Let's get in the shower." Rekker slipped away and started pulling off his shirt as he headed for the bathroom. He loved Bjorn and wanted to hold him but the Swede wasn't the only one who thought a shower needed to happen soon. Rekker felt gross too.
no subject
Date: 2022-10-13 08:03 pm (UTC)"I can wash your hair and sponge you down if you want."
A small giggle spilled from the blond's lips because Bjorn would make it flirty and dirty as usual to lighten the mood. Making Rekker smell good was something the Swede ached to do because he then wanted to shave all that horrible scruff off his face.
no subject
Date: 2022-10-14 01:48 am (UTC)"Can I do the same for you?" Rekker wanted to bond close in the time they had. Right now, he felt like tomorrow wasn't guaranteed. Maybe they would throw him in an asylum tomorrow. He had no idea.
no subject
Date: 2022-10-24 08:46 pm (UTC)Bjorn stuck his tongue out playfully then put his arms out, wanting Rekker to walk in to his hug. The man was everything to the trashy singer who loved his ginger so much. Rekker needed love and attention and Bjorn wanted to give that to him.
"We'll get you nice and clean."
no subject
Date: 2022-10-25 02:21 am (UTC)"I thought we always got nice and dirty?" Despite exhaustion and the rest, Bjorn's playfulness encouraged the Brit to flirt. Once under the shower he would slowly let the Swede back down on his feet. The hot water felt so good on his exhausted body. It would hopefully help with the muscle tension built up after so long stressed in the preceding hours. The water had the Brit letting out a loud sigh as he tried to relax.
no subject
Date: 2022-10-27 08:44 pm (UTC)"We always get nice and dirty. But you need to be cleaned, babe. You stink."
The singer was being a playful flirt and knew Rekker needed to clean himself up and get rid of any unwanted thoughts he might have. Bjorn didn't want to let Rekker go and the law system could suck his fucking balls!
"Want me to sponge you down first, honey?"
no subject
Date: 2022-10-28 12:56 am (UTC)"You stink too." Rekker ruffled his hair up, teasing him about his hair.
"You better first." Rekker leaned in kissing the singer along his neck. "Because, I'm going to wash you, shave you, carry you to bed and lick every inch of your body." Rekker was still feeling off but he wanted to return the flirting and the intimacy that he wanted. "Are you going to watch my hair too?"