Fics like now will it matter long after i'm gone? because you never learn a goddamn thing

Randy moved without thinking to the passenger side, the motion automatic, like he was on auto-pilot. His fingers found the handle, cold metal against warm skin, and he pulled the door open. The interior smelled like old upholstery and raspberry-scented air freshener. For a moment he hesitated, coming back to himself, realising what he had done. He heard, crystal clear, the faint click of a lock and the whisper of fabric sliding. Before he could reason it into law, wind, a faulty latch, the driver's door opened by itself. It swung open, as if someone had jerked it from the outside and was about to slide into the driver’s seat. For a second he thought he’d imagined it. His mind had felt frayed at the edges recently. But the door stayed open. The driver’s seat, visible through the gap, was empty, the headrest a dark silhouette. He could see, folded over the back of the seat, Benson’s jacket, the one he wore the entire Saturday, the collar rubbed soft. A thread of breath fogged in front of him even though it was blistering heat. He whispered, “Benson?”

Fics like now will it matter long after i'm gone? because you never learn a goddamn thing

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