Work Text:
Gina bursts through the door of the Bowen household without knocking. "Ricky!" she calls. No response.
Shit. She tugs her heels off roughly and races into the kitchen. "Ricky? Mike?"
A door further down the hallway opens and Ricky’s mom emerges, dressed and ready to go but for the frown lines lining her forehead. "Oh, Gina, sweetheart, I didn't know you were coming early."
"Ms. Bowen," Gina says, surprised. "Yeah, Mike just called—"
"It's Lynne," she corrects gently.
Gina nods, ignoring the comment like she always does. "How is he?"
"I don't know." Lynne nods toward the door of her son's bedroom. "He’s not crying, at least."
He was crying before? "Do you know why—"
"No. I thought it might have to do with the wedding—" Lynne nods to her own save-the-date sitting on the counter—"but that doesn't make much sense, because Todd and I told him about it months ago, before we even sent them out."
Gina feels her eyes blaze for a second, a familiar, unprovoked wave of irritation toward the older woman wafting over her. "No, I know it's not that," she says sharply.
"Right. Well, maybe you'll have more luck than I did." Lynne takes the box in Gina's hands (vegan cookies, in the shape of a graduation hat) and puts it on the counter. "Mike's gone to fill gas in the car, but you can go on in."
Gina mutters a quick thanks and tiptoes into the same room Lynne just came out of.
Ricky’s sitting on the floor by the side of his bed facing the wall so only his profile visible from the doorway. A graduation gown and hat are hung on the inner doorknob, but he’s in his dress shirt and tie already, his curls obviously freshly refreshed. One problem solved — at least he’s still planning to go.
“Hey, it’s me,” Gina whispers, shutting the door behind her carefully so the hanger doesn’t fall. Ricky tilts his head slightly, offering her a watery smile. She sits down next to him, folding her legs under her so she can wrap an arm around him and rest her chin on his shoulder. "You doing okay? You're kinda scaring us out there."
Ricky nods, acknowledging that she said something, but stays quiet. There's a piece of crumpled binder paper in his hand, angled in such a way that she can’t make out its contents clearly from her current vantage point (it doesn’t help that what she can see is that it's in his messiest handwriting, completed in what was clearly an extremely blunt pencil). She wants desperately to ask what it is.
Instead, she simply presses a kiss to his shoulder. I'm here, if you want to talk.
A few minutes later, Ricky hands it to her. "Wrote that in second grade," he says gruffly. "Ms. Carter mailed 'em to us today, grad gift."
Ten things about me in 10 years by Ricky Bowen
- Finished my bucket list
- I have a dog.
- Big Red Nini and I move to LA
It ends there. From the eraser marks and random drawings littering the margin, it's obvious even coming up with that much took some effort on his part, like he would have rather been doing something else. Gina feels a pang of fondness for Ricky's younger self and the undeniably adorable wishes he had at that age.
"You've got the first one down, and the second's easy…just visit Mack one day and steal a puppy from set," she says lightly. "And LA's not all it's cut out to be, trust me."
Ricky lets out a snort of laughter, but the sound that reverberates against the dresser and echoes around the room is hollow.
"You wanna talk about it?" Gina asks. She's unsure of what it even is, only that something about this old school assignment sent her boyfriend into enough of a spiral that he's been in his room like this for the past half-hour.
"The kid who wrote this—I don't remember this time all that well, anymore," he says finally. "My life has changed so much since then."
"And?"
Ricky shrugs. "Today's supposed to be like, some kind of launching point into the next phase of life or whatever, but I just feel like I already…I dunno…" He trails off and stares off to a distance, his fingers mindlessly folding the paper up into fourths, turning it around in his hands, and unfolding it again.
"The kid who wrote this would be proud of you," Gina says quietly, but firmly. "Confused, maybe, but proud."
"I know. I know. It's just, I miss this kid, I do, but at the same time—" Ricky looks at her, finally, eyes swimming. "I was happy then, it's not that I wasn't…"
"You're allowed to change, Ricky. You're allowed to change. It doesn't make him—" she gestures to the paper—"any less you."
A pair of deep brown eyes blink back at her, unbelieving at first, but as she holds his gaze, they soften. A tear falls down his cheek, and both of them reach to brush it away at the same time, tangling their fingers together as they touch.
Gina brings their hands up to her lips and presses a kiss against his knuckles. "That's why it's called 'growing up,' I think."
"Yeah." He shrugs and sighs, relaxing against her. "I never expected to…to enjoy it, that's all. I always assumed I'd have to be dragged there against my will, like for everything else."
"And yet, here you are." She holds him close to her chest, hugging him tight. "You made it, Wildcat."
They sit in silence for a while, staring at the paper in front of them, albeit for different reasons.
Gina didn't know him back then, obviously, but she actually has no problem at all picturing a tiny Ricky scrawling out the three bullet points before doodling in the corner. Some of her other friends were in that class too, she's pretty sure, and she can see them as well, just kids clutching their pencils or colored pens, writing letters to their future selves without a care in the world.
She feels a pang of jealousy—she can barely remember where she was at seven years old, let alone who her friends were back then—but it's quickly replaced by something else. Gratitude.
Everything that happened before then and ever since, every decision they made in their lives, has led them here, to this moment. And Gina wouldn't change it for the world.
"I'm sorry for scaring you guys earlier," Ricky murmurs, shaking her out of her reverie. "I think I just needed some time to say goodbye. And hello, too." He takes the folded-up piece of paper and holds it up in front of them, the light from his desk lamp illuminating the square from the back.
"What do you want to do with it?" Gina asks.
Ricky looks at the paper, and then at her, and then back at the paper again. "Keep it, I think. Somewhere safe." He hands it to her, a twinkle in his eye. "Do the honors?"
"Of course," Gina says, returning his smile. She stands, pulling Ricky to his feet in the process, and opens the top drawer of his dresser to pull out a shoebox. Inside are a couple of polaroids, the lottery ticket Nini gave him, a Hot Wheels car, a pair of rainbow shoelaces, a newspaper clipping of the two of them at the RJMND press conference, and a movie stub to Bolt. His treasured memories.
She's about to drop the square in, too, when suddenly, she stops, another idea taking its place. Walking over to the door, Ricky still in tow, she bends to find the pocket of his graduation gown hanging there. "You can put it away tonight," she says. "Let him carry you over the finish line, first."
Ricky watches her drop the note inside, then pulls her up and wraps his arms around her waist. "You'll be there, too, won't you?"
"What, you think I got this dressed up for nothing?" Gina gestures to her dress and makeup with mock-incredulity.
He kisses her softly. "Just checking."
Gina laughs, cupping his cheek. "Seriously, though. You ready to graduate?"
"Yeah." Ricky grins, big and wide. "Yeah, I am."