ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 24, 2011 12:54:34 GMT -5
Night fell, cascading over the bustling slice of civilization like a slow falling blanket, sunlight crinkling at the edges of the fields and pastures. Until the sun would soon completely receed behind the distant mountains a twilight was cast all around. A sort of rolling breeze drifted along the grassy hills surrounding the cluster of modernized town, cooling the sweaty foreheads of rushing business men, and boys riding their bikes to the bakery in the twilight. The moon began to emerge from behind a thin layer of gray clouds, and the sky blackened. The lights in the city rose just in time to block out the first stars, like always. You never saw stars here.
The sidewalks lead down the roads and streets everywhere; walking, always walking. There were less than a few hundred cars in a city of over 2,000 people. Now, with the neon lights blaring, most kids were headed to a club or to their love's house to get down low and enjoy their Friday night.
Parties all over were happening for college kids, but for high school kids only days from graduation( most from one grade to the next ) there was Maddie Creer's party. A senior, she was ready to let loose a lot more than most and have the biggest end of the year party ever accomplished. Booze, joints, ciggarettes, well-set-up guest rooms. . . the works. And everyone was invited - well, not the uninvited geeks and gross gamers with too much 'pride' to join in on the pubescent night of mischeif and outrageous fun. They'd been flat out told not to come, but sometimes it helped to pretend you had a choice.
One teenager was riding his purple Mongoose fast enough to beat Mustangs on his way to this party, in his usual black skinny jeans, beat up black converse and red jacket buttoned like the Chinese used to wear. Still do wear. See, he was weirdly into Asian stuff like that, and his friends were the invisibles in school with all sorta of mis-matched things about them, but they knew a good time when they heard one. They weren't as unfortunate looking as the nerds and gamers. They had a charming quality. . all they needed was opportunity.
Kite Trei was ready for his. His heart swelled with anxiety just at the thought. His raven black hair flew out behind him as he pedaled his bike, adrenaline pouring through him. His firm but slender arms bent forward on the handlebars as he sped, and he lifted his back end off the seat as he glided around a corner, leaning into it to help with the momentum. He was ready to meet some girls from across town; ready to hook up for the first time in his life with someone who could see beneath his oddities. As he skidded up to his friend's house impatiently, his windblown, wild rainwater-gray eyes fixed on the boy pumping air into his tire in the driveway. "Alex!" He snapped. "You were supposed to do that an hour ago! We gotta roll!"
The boy at the bike replaced the cap on the tire and tossed away the air compressor with one swift motion, turning on the heel he sat back on to scowl at Knite. Alexander Larxion was striking in his own way; slender, thin around the waist and at the wrists, with a partially jutting bridged nose that seemed to add handsome, instead of ugly, to his acne-clear face. His lips curved forward in almost an artistic way, sharp chinned as he was, and his light brown eyes blazed from beneath a head of lush, loose brown curls. The cheekbones, though pale, were sharp, and defined. He had on thin, rectangle glasses with no wire rim instead of his usual clunky black pair. "Shut the f*ck up, cracker," Alex spat in his usual overly-vulgar way, "my mom made me organize my AP work before I left. Some of us have summer work, unlike other lazy-a** regular students." AP was Advanced Placement; classes for the above and beyond students. They always gave you a summer reading assignment, or an essay, and this year since Alex was taking both Duel Enrollment and AP US History, he was loaded down with work this summer. He was smart though. He needed the work to push him to where he was capable of being, instead of where Kite was stuck. That was his weird. He hated sports, and worked like a mad dog up all night on the computer composing stories and roleplaying. He was a bit foul-mouthed, too. Their peers only tolerate that from people who make something of themselves while they're in highschool - AKA jocks.
The boy had neat curls falling loosely over his cheeks in shades of browns and golds and yellows, and over his eyes as well as over his glasses, giving his face the sense of mystery about his brow. He rose and dusted himself off. There was a black taper in his left ear; the ones made of plastic, curled in on themselves, and pointed like claws - zero-level gauges. Other than that his ears were his pale and slightly pointed at the tips. He was wearing thin black vans with black laces and black rubber bottoms, and khaki skinny jeans, as well as a gray v-neck shirt and a black jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his bony elbows. There were a few cuts in the jeans and his hands had a few black oil spots on them from further fixing of his crappy '02 bike, but it just added to his ladies-love-me air, and as he swung the bike around and mounted it, Kite wondered how the heck the guy managed to ignore all the goo-goo eyes chicks threw him at school. Douche.
"Fine, whatever! Lets just get a move on." Kite spun his bike around and pushed off, Alex close at his heels. They glided at first, then, reaching the hill outside the neighborhood, they struck off pedaling and flew down the hill like lightning bolts racing for the nearest metal skyscraper.
The wind blew passed them as they soared, cars easing passed at forty; their ear drums screamed with wind pressure. Kite lead the way, red jacket flying. They grinded curbs easily, jumped passes, and as they rode for twenty minutes down the highway and took an exit and two streets, they broke into a neighborhood surrounded by trees. A rich neighborhood. They passed two story buildings, with four car garages and pools and big rod iron fences, and turned down a driveway shrouded by trees. The pavement was smooth and perfect. Both boys could feel their bikes purring in happiness. Then, suddenly, broken through the trees, rose an enormous house. There were already tons of people there. The sky was getting darker by the minute, and the music was pounding, but the lights weren't on yet. Well, house lights were, but not THE lights.
The two boys stopped before they got within eye view of the other people at the house and dumped their bikes in a pile of bushes, so they couldn't be stolen or ruined be anybody. They kicked leaves over them wove through the barrage of cars and dove head first through the front doors into the party. The sound, bodies and smell of booze swelled around them as they made their way through the mass of people.
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 24, 2011 15:30:23 GMT -5
Alex grinned wickedly. "Booze table!!" He howled, and dove for the cloth-covered kitchen table, mounded with wine coolers and beer. Kite followed behind, a bit more wary. His black bangs shifted across his pale cheeks as he looked around. Most of their school was here.
Kite saw a lot of soccer players; two, which were the brothers, came from a town in El Salvador ravened by gangs. Good guys - better than most of the idiots at their school - dark skinned, short dark hair, solemn eyes. They were both lean, of average height and agile, but with an obvious air of power. Strength, maybe. It always seemed like they were keeping quiet from saying something, or holding something back. They probably saw all the same idiots Kite and Alex saw. The rest of the soccer team was normal; a couple brown-haired annoyances, a red head with unruly red curls that covered most of his face... and the team offense leader, Lance. He had dirty blond hair brushed to the side, always neat, and perfect, even after a game, and sharp gray eyes that seemed to pierce your soul, disapprove of it, and turn your heart to ice all in one glance. He was a fine enough guy. Polite to most people or he just didn't speak to you at all. Quiet, like the Salvadorian boys, but his air of power was real power. He was right beside the football quarterback on popularity, and nearly every girl in school had either vied for his sexual attention or gotten it. Mostly vied for it. He was picky about those sorts of things - but at least he wasn't a jerky, I'm-a-sexy-beast about it. He had a quiet intensity that told pretty much all of that without him ever having to speak.
Alex scoffed and raved about the weak alcohol on display before shifting to rifle through the other cabinets for vodka and whiskey. His presence added to the noise and bustle around the house, an a few girls stood outside the door to the kitchen, giggling about something. Kite sighed. Alex had the uncanny way to attract women without realizing it. The girls were mostly the invisibles; pretty, not too pretty, but all attractive in their own ways, hanging around, basically just taking up space. Kite knew almost all of them. When they were kids, they had all gone through a huge tornado in the school together for over three days, and since then, the small class that had grown up here had stuck together through thick and thin. They had stayed friends, even through their endless shifting and changing social classes. Now they all smiled and waved and chatted, but as Kite was used to, they always drifted back to their cliques after a while. They didn't feel safe out of their shallow waters for long. But, he didn't blame them, and still gave them company whenever their social lives went up in flame. He was one of the few still willing to be close friends through the differences in everybody.
Kite looked around as Alex pressed two bottles of Pucker vodka into his hands, and pushed his friend in the direction of the porch. "Here, distribute this into everybody's cups. It'll give the party a bit more... party." Confused, but keeping quiet, Kite nodded and headed for the porch. Two skater kids eyed him as he passed, and he handed them both a bottle. "Give this out to everybody," Kite instructed, and though their beanied heads bobbed, he knew that liquor wouldn't last in their hands. He turned back to the kitchen anyways in search of Alex, and found him knocking back his own bottle of pucker. You could hear the tipsy girls cackling through the door. "Hey, you know theres like a mob out there waiting for you, right?" Kite said to his friend as he took a spot by his side, leaning back against the counter. Alex pressed a cup of the potent stuff into his hand and blew his bangs from his eyes. "I can kick all their a**es with my hands tied behind my back," he grumbled, putting his lips to the bottle and swigging it. Kite barked a laugh and swished around the clear liquid without drinking any. "They're girls. And I'm pretty sure they just want some attention, not a fight." Alex looked to be mulling this over. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and eyed the kitchen door, listening to the females laugh. "Sounds like Courtney and Kathery." Courtney and Kathery were the dance twins. Or, everyone called them that, anyway. They transfered from New Zealand a couple years ago - short, slight, with amazing blue eyes and straight red hair, they had the perfect bodies of dancers, and the pose of professionals. Both savory pictures. They ruled dance club, and won three competitions already in their short time here. Kite whistled. "You'd be nuts to pass that up." Alex shrugged nonchalantly.
Kite looked at him. He was about to open his mouth and ask him if he was sane when the door opened, and the girls piled in. Sure enough, it was Courtney and Kathery, with their dance club members crowding around them. They approached the two boys with a fragile confidence, and as Alex couldn't suppress a smirk, Kite saw that confidence crack a smidge. "Hey, Alex," Courtney said innocently, "could you come in back with us? We found a stash of booze, and we want to ask you how strong it is." Alex looked her up and down, very carefully, and Kite suppressed a snigger. He was being such a jack-a**, playing this up. "Sure, girls. Show the way." He got up and followed them out, brushing Kite's shoulder as he left, in way saying, 'I'll be back.' Waiting for a bit turned into waiting for an hour, and then Kite had to clear out because the loud, obnoxious football players all arrived fashionable late. Creeping along the back halls keeping an eye out for Alex, Kite turned a corner, and saw a flash of a blue coat diving at him before a drunk college kid knocked him over. He yelped as a guy about twice his size crushed him against the carpet, and rolled off laughing maniacally. Kite swore and rose, glaring daggers at the moron. Three chubby girls sat pealing laughter in a rather small armchair. Kite thought it looked like it was about to break, and as he limped away from them, it sounded with a crack. He was gone before their screams started. He shouldered through a group of potheads swaggering around like they were stoned( shocker there ) and spotted the back door through a mass of people dancing under strobe lights. The music made his head throb and the pulsations made his heart stammer. So he coughed through the smell of booze and smoke and made for the back door.
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 24, 2011 17:29:37 GMT -5
Outside was just as noisy and loud, but clean air helped clear Kite's head. He hung out listening to the music, and watched the sun go down over the trees from a stone step away from the ruckus. He tipped back a beer and took a swig of it, sloshing the half-empty bottle in his hands. So far this was all the drink he'd had, and he intended to keep it that way. Any fuzzier than a buzz and he'd be useless on a bike getting home. Kite wasn't a big partier. He liked the music, and losing himself in the people, but right now there was too much booze for his likings. When people drank, they got crazy, and he knew that well. Both his parents were drinkers. They weren't alcoholics - anymore - but when he was a little kid, they'd both go nuts on beer, and like scream at him and smacked him until he cried. Those memories still burn him now, as he looked at the brown glass of his beer bottle, his stomach turning. Bloody noses, going to school having to explain finger bruises.. it had been a nightmare with social services. But now both his folks were clean, apologetic, and great parents.. even through their divorce.
To his left a group of guys took something wrapped in a dirty t-shirt and snuck into the woods, disappearing into the foliage as soon as they'd hit it. Kite frowned, put down his beer and slid back inside through the press of grynding bodies, wincing as a girl's shoulder hit him between the shoulder blades. He grabbed a door frame and swung himself through the kitchen, pol-vaulting into the back hallways. He opened a couple doors as he progressed. A closet, a bathroom, a couple making out on the floor of Maddie's parents room. Very passionately. Well, he knew who the next parents in their class would be. Kite winced and shut the door again quietly. He moved on. There was a library in the back that was quiet. Kite shut the double doors behind him, and moved inside. Through the thick shelves there was fluffy armchair he spotted. He moved to go sink into one and relax when he began hearing voices. Pausing just out of view of the windows by the armchair, Kite hung back, straining to listen. "... wrong with you, Alex?" It was Kathery, the younger twin. She sounded hurt. Kite heard Alex shift uncomfortably. He could tell he was in one of the armchairs, but he didn't hear where Kathery was. His best friend sighed sharply, like he was frustrated. "I don't know... I don't know, all right? I'm just not in the mood, I guess." "Not in the mood? You're drunk, how do you know?" "I am not drunk!" Alex snapped. "I'm not sober, but I'm not plastered! God, Kathery, get off it, its not like you're not hot. I just... God!" A muffled grunt. "I just feel weird, ok? It's not your fault." A pause. Someone's skin rustled against the arm of the chair, and Kite heard something thin thunk against the other arm. He assumed it was Kathery's stiletto heels. She must be on his lap. Kite felt bad for intruding. Kathery must've been working to get him in here and away from her sister while he was gone. "Sorry, Alex. I didn't mean anything by it. Can I stay with you, or do you want me to go?" Kite was surprised Kathery wasn't getting all pissy.. her sister and her had reputations of going around, throwing tantrums when they didn't get what they wanted. Maybe she really liked Alex. "No, I... stay. If you want." And Alex was being so docile. Wow. Two shocks. Kite heard them kiss. Alex's weary sigh echoed at Kite's back as he moved around the back of the library, getting far enough so he couldn't hear their conversation, and took an armchair in a circle well away from them. A safe distance.
The beer had given him a buzz. For some reason, he had the overwhelming urge to finish his beer, and get another one, and drown it. Then, suddenly, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Someone was watching him. Glancing around, he saw nothing, and he even turned all the way around in his chair trying to catch who was spying on him (almost afraid Alex thought he was spying). Furrowing his brow, he sank back in his chair, confused. Weird. He skimmed through a magazine on the table for a bit, resting just his bones, and read an article on acne medicine. The feeling didn't return. Before too long the grandfather clock made him itchy and he got up and left in search of his beer. Creeping out of the library doors, Kite had just clicked them shut when A sharp-nailed hand grabbed his shoulder. He stifled a gasp as it yanked him around, and he stood facing Courtney's angry glare. He winced away. "What were you doing in there?" She demanded. "Don't tell me you both were on my sister! I can put up with trying to get in the pants of one loser with a pretty face, but two I will not stand for," she hissed, "tell me! What were you doing?" Kite held up his hands. "Whoa, Courtney, chill! I didn't sleep with anybody." He was a virgin, as a matter of fact. Not that she needed to know. "I just wandered in there by accident, looking for someplace quiet, and I let them be. Though your sister should be fine with Alex... I don't think he's feeling well, so he wouldn't sleep with her. Honestly." Kite smiled sheepishly. Courtney looked at him; wary, but relieved. "So are they presentable? Can I go in?" "I wouldn't," Kite said softly, "I think they still want to be alone." He moved away from Courtney, watching her eye the door, pondering what she should do next, and turned his eyes back front. He didn't want to be run over again, after all.
Well... with Alex occupied, and everyone drunk, Kite saw no alternatives. He went out the back door, across the lawn, grabbed his beer and took a path into the woods opposite from where the idiots disappeared. He found a worn foot path, and took a swig out of his beer as he walked. Better if he didn't wander off. He might not remember how to get back if he finished this beer. He had opted not to grab another one, too, which was probably for the best. The trees were fuzzy already. Since he wasn't a drinker, this was getting to him a bit more than he expected, but he still planned on finishing the beer. If he wasn't shit-faced, he could still walk home if necessary. He knew he'd have to carry Alex back... definitely. Sighing, he realized that if Alex wasn't as skinny as he was, he wouldn't be able to get his friend out of these kinds of messes. Lucky, thats what it was.
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 24, 2011 18:13:42 GMT -5
Kite had a quarter of his beer left. He'd been walking for ten minutes at least; he was pretty far out now. These woods stretched out to the mountains, and left from the mountains took you to a state park. To the right took you into downtown - which was dangerous at any time of night, when the sun went down. Kite leaned his arm against a tree and stopped walking. His legs ached. He knew he hadn't turned back because his mind was so clouded. Everything was spinning, now that he had stopped moving. He felt really drunk, a lot more drunk than any beer should do. He looked at the brown glass bottle, confused. Damn. Maybe someone had gone around, dropping tasteless prank drugs in them... but he had left it by a bush - it should have been hidden. Those eyes in the library. Had someone been watching him? Oh, God. Maybe someone purposefully drugged him. Swinging around, he looked left and right, glaring at all the dark bushes he saw. Everything was too dark now. The sun was long gone, and the moon was crawling up in the sky. An owl hooted overhead. Crickets sounded. The path was still lit by the overly bright stars, so Kite struggled to face his feet back on the trail, and dragged himself forward. Suddenly both legs were heavy as stone. He dragged them forward, panting, the world flashing in black patches, and reeling like he was on a ship. He could hear the sound of his heartbeat droning in his ears, and his bottle clanking against tree trunks as he passed. He didn't know why he didn't drop it and run. It was pulling at him, almost as if it was the source of the weight dragging him back. But he didn't want to litter, as stupid as that sounded; he was too good for that, he could make it. One step, two steps, three. Four. He took a deep breath. Though no mater how hard he tried to focus, his mind would always go spiraling back again into an endless stream of slow, unanswered questions. What time is it? Who drugged me? Where is Maddie's house? "Alex, where the f*ck are you when I need you?!" He screamed in his head, the scream seeming to echo. Then he realized he'd actually screamed the last one out loud and clamped his mouth shut, panicking. Now he was losing control of his motor skills. His legs stopped moving. "No... no..." He wailed, hitting his knees. The bottle rolled from his hand as he dug his nails into the dirt, trying to stay upright. "Stop... please, Alex, Courtney, somebody.. Help..." Purple pulsated across his eyes, and he blinked. He was looking at the ground horizontally and staring at the base of a tree across the path. His gaze was blank. His head was still reeling. It hurt now. His whole body felt like it was pulled down by weights. He couldn't move. Didn't want to move. Slowly, his eyes eased shut, and he closed them at last, succumbing to the darkness. - - - Warm... Kite dragged himself from unconsciousness slowly, like walking through damp curtains, pulling one limb after the other out of the dark blackness he'd fallen into. He was awake, lying there, wherever he was, curled against something very warm. He had his arms tucked in and his knees knocked together as whatever his warmth was occupying shifted oddly. Almost like... a car. He almost didn't want to move, either. It was warm and perfect where he was. He could shut his eyes and go right back to sleep... it was still dark out, he could grab a couple more hours... Drowsily, he fought his urge to curl up like a toddler and doze off again as a scary thought hit him; had he been kidnapped? No, wait, he fainted from that drug. Wouldn't this be rescue? Not if it was done on purpose, the wise little voice in his head pointed out. He accepted this knowledge gratefully and cracked his eyes, blinking away sleep. OK, he was in the arms of the driver of a car. By the way it was rumbling he guessed it was a Ford, a truck by the lack of weight in the back end, and four wheel drive, hearing the front and back wheels spinning at the same velocity. Only about 35 mph. Six cylinder. He fixed his foggy gaze at the dashboard. His heart sank. When they got to the party, it was five. They hadn't spent more than three hours there. The dash read 2:17 am. He'd been out for three hours, at least. Maybe four. His face ached from where it had hit the ground, and his body tingled strangely, as if it were as surprised as he was from the drug's earlier effects. But now he felt fine. Just really, really tired. His eyes slid over to the wheel. Big hands. But the wrists tapered, so he was of medium bone structure, but he couldn't tell someone's age by their hands. All he could guess was age 16 to age 25. And that wasn't much of a range. While he was deep in thought, he yawned, and before he had time to smother it he'd already moved and made a noise. His heart took off like a jackrabbit as the shoulder his head was leaned against shifted, as if the male's head tipped to look at him. "Hey," a solemn voice sounded, making Kite jump, "are you ok?" That voice. .... No way. Kite felt his face turn beet red, half in anger, half in utter embarrassment, and half in fear. It was him. 17 year old, soccer star, womanizer. Lance Gyser. Kite cleared his throat and blinked a couple times, drawing in on himself a bit more, suddenly severely uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah, I'm... I'm ok now." He said, desperately trying not to look at the diamond-cut chin in his face, and the deep, sharp gray eyes locked on the road. No way. Just no way. How had Lance found him? Was he the kidnapper? The dirty-blond haired male nodded. "Good, I'm glad." He turned his attention to easing the truck around a corner. His arm pressed into Kite's back. The male was very warm; and good thing, because Kite found his legs and feet were freezing. Kite knew now. This was Lance's father's truck - the one he gave to him when he bought his new Tundra. This was the green '05 Ford. "Me and my boys were looking to head up to the mountain to meet some relatives of mine who live in a cabin, not far upriver," the blond explained after a pause, "we came across you on our way. You were like, not even eight feet from the dirt road. It was raining like mad - but of course that jacket is hard to miss." He didn't sound sardonic, or sarcastic, but he didn't sound friendly either. "Oh." Kite relaxed. But then, he realized, he was soaked. He looked down, then over at the passengers seat. His red jacket lay on a towel, dripping wet. A droplet of water drooped off his bangs and landed on his nose. Well, made sense, it rained like crazy here. Now the night was clear and misty. Another flush of color burst across his face. Drawing a black jacket tighter around his shoulders as not to expose his chest( cold but dry ), he felt a pit in his stomach. Shit. Lance had taken off his jacket and replaced it? Wait, whoa whoa whoa... this was Lance's soccer team jacket?!?!?!!? Oh my God, the humiliation... Alex would never let him forget- Wait. Alex! "What about Alex?" Kite asked quickly, forgetting, momentarily, of his humiliation. "Is he ok?"Lance looked down at him. It was only a glance, but it did everything it was rumored to. His soul was withered and his heart was turned to ice. "Larx? Yeah, his new girlfriend gave him a ride home. He was shit-faced as hell when they left." Kite was relieved; usually, when Alex got like that, it was his job to keep him out of trouble. He frowned. "Someone drugged my drink," he said darkly. Lance frowned deeply. "There were a few other people who collapsed, before we left, and thats why I decided to stop and check if it really was you. There was a box of them found in the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen and some idiots had put it in their drinks - but we caught them before they left, and even that was only an hour before we found you. Skater punks. We were driving passed the fork in the road at about midnight - so, yeah, we found you about an hour ago. It must've been some college kid trying to screw with your head... but whoever he was, the a**hole, he didn't show his face while me and my boys were there. I'll catch up to them later tonight. How long were you out?" "It... it had to be three or four hours." All Kite could do was stare at his red jacket, dark and limp from the rainwater. Lance had just probably saved his life. He was practically face down when he fell - he would've drowned, or gotten pneumonia if he was out there that long, in those wet clothes - "Thank you." He said suddenly, looking at Lance without regard for his crippling gaze. "Hell knows what might have happened if you had figured someone left a red sheet in the woods, or if I had gone too far into the bushes, all stoned or something." He shivered to think about if the guy who drugged him had found him. Lance just nodded again. "You're welcome." He said simply, humbly. Kite was shocked for the fourth time today. Why was everybody being so different now? Lance. Big, sexter, macho Lance, carrying a drowned rat in his lap who might have died if it wasn't for him, and he wasn't bragging. Actually, Kite was struck with a realization, Lance never did brag. Not that he heard anyway. This guy maybe wasn't so bad after all; he probably was just born with a gaze made to kill. Lance looked down at him again, eyes unchanged, but somehow more hostile, "But we need to agree that this part of the rescue story doesn't go beyond this drive. All right?"Kite smiled sheepishly, still red in th face. Orrrr, maybe he was just that malicious. "Yeah, man, of course." This was as embarrassing for Lance as it was for him, so he tried not to say anything too sarcastic, that might offend the taller male and get him pulverized before he was even finished saving him. Lance pulled up his driveway and put the truck in park. In the light of Kite's porch coming through the windshield, he noticed the male hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, just so he could hold Kite and keep him from freezing. The blond male now just wore a plain gray t-shirt with a v-neck; his hair was tousled from its normal neatness and as wet as Kite's, and another damp shirt was crumpled behind the headrest of his seat. Pulling the emergency brake, Lance took his hands off the wheel and tucked them around Kite, easing the boy with a final sort of gentleness into the passengers seat. Kite lifted his jacket off the material cushion before he sat on it and Lance tucked the towel beside the crumpled tee. The dark haired male shivered again. "Thanks again, bro," he said, rolling up his wet jacket into a ball, "I owe you one." As he climbed out of the car and shut the door behind him, Lance rolled down the window. "Don't ditch the red jacket, and we'll call it even," he replied, and Kite thought he saw a smile on the pale face of the offense leader, "you don't want to owe me any favors." With that, the window rolled up, and the truck backed out and rolled away, cruising out and onto the highway again. When his tail lights disappeared, Kite felt the damp chill of the night press on his wet jeans and squish his feet in his water-logged shoes, but the rest of him was neatly zipped into Lance's warm black jacket.
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 25, 2011 15:39:43 GMT -5
Kite woke up the next morning with a start. Weird dream; whatever it was, he couldn't remember now. He had a bit of a headache and as he rifled through his covers, trying to find daylight, he found he had buried himself completely in his down comforter.
With a gasp, he broke through and the morning light seared into his eyes, dialating them. He yelped and shoved his face back under his covers. IT BURRNSS... Dragging the blanket over his head, he moaned and leaned sideways against the wall, last night's memories slowly trickling back. Alex. The drug. Lance. Oh, God, Lance. That humiliating memory still made him wince.
Wait. Had it been a dream?
Slowly peeking out from under his covers, he saw the jacket he'd tossed over a chair by his closest was still there. It hung half on the floor, but its monogram was obvious, and he felt a sinking feeling. Nope, not a dream.
He groaned, loudly, and his dad knocked on his door. "Kite? Are you still alive in there? It's noon! Get up, ya dork!" Kite's dad was cool. He had been young when he met Kite's mother, at 21 and his mom at 23, and they got married that same year. Kite was the only good thing that came out of two alcoholics marrying. Thankfully, his parents were still on friendly terms, they were just both disappointed about how their partnership had gone. Now they were sharing Kite - 'cause they both loved him like crazy still - but they lived on opposite sides of town.
Sometimes, Kite would expect to wake up at his dad's and expect his mom to have breakfast filling the kitchen. She always made too much - but that also meant leftovers for dinner, because she didn't believe in cooking when you had perfectly good food left over in the fridge.
Or he'd be at his moms, expecting to hear World War II movies to start blaring at seven a.m. sharp as his dad went through his normal routine, neat, crisp and seamless as he weaved in and out of his mother's way as she cooked.
Kite lifted his head and glanced at his red jacket. It was damp, and practically ruined from the mud and dirt. He'd give it a wash and see if he couldn't get his mom to stitch it back to new. Too bad. He owed Lance not to get rid of it. Oh, well. He'd start wearing it again when it was mended.
He was grateful that his parents were so cool about their divorce, but he felt torn in half. Both houses were warm, and homey, and inviting when he carted his backpack back and forth. But he wanted to just step outside, super-stretch his arms to grab both his parents houses, and mush them together, so they could live apart but he didn't have to leave either of them. It made his heart cold to think the two people he loved the most would never be together again. Never sandwich him on the couch again.
With a yawn, he rolled out of bed and caught a glance of himself in the sink mirror; his bathroom was pretty big for a house this size, and attached directly beside his closet, and he had a tendency of leaving the door gaping open. Right now he stood letting the blood flow to his feet, shifting his toes on the carpet, and raised an eyebrow at himself. He was a mess. His too-big t-shirt was wrapped around his wirey frame twice, and his black skinny jeans were mud stained and torn. One for thing for his mother to mend. Turning to look at how the t-shirt was plastered around him, he nodded in approval. Or, maybe he'd leave the pants torn. They looked cool this way. Better not let his dad see them, though. Just to be safe.
He changed into a pair of black shorts and pushed open his door, hanging off the frame as he peered down the hall. He was so thin; his arms were strong enough, he supposed, but he had a flat stomach and zero abs, and his calves were almost nonexistent. That's why it was so easy for him to creep around and hang around like a monkey. He was lithe.
Actually, he was strong enough to carry Alex when he passed out drunk, or got alcohol poisoning, so that was cool he supposed. There wasn't much to Alex - but dead weight was nothing to scoff at, especially over 100 pounds. And Alex was around 120 - so was Kite, maybe a bit more. But Alex never ate and drank soda all the time. Kite ate regularly, he just... didn't sustain the weight.
Kite ran a hand through his messy black locks and yawned again as he glided into the kitchen. He didn't even bother asking if his dad had made breakfast. The kitchen was spotless, and his dad burned toast. Really - it was a regular occurrence. As a matter of fact, the smell of burnt toast was hanging over the toaster, and Kite spotted a small plate with a half-eaten piece of black toast on it, beside an empty coffee mug. And his dad called him a dork. A grown man couldn't even set the dial down on a toaster.
He just reached into the fridge and pulled a box of waffles, grabbing two and tossing them in the toaster. Flicking the switch down, he eased the dial from 'MAY ALL YOUR BACON BURN' to 'this setting is perfect for waffles' and leaned his arms on the counter, sniffing.
Tomorrow at five, while his dad was at work, he would pack up what he wanted to take in his backpack, and his mom would pick him up. Weekdays he lived with her. Closer to the high school, and his mother's job covered for his medical and beneficial junk because she was a nurse.
Weekends he spent with his dad. Usually it was Kite was left by himself until three, then his dad would take him to a movie, or hiking or something, and then they'd eat dinner either out or they had take-out, and both crashed on the couch watching John Wayne.
Kite grabbed a plate, lite pancake syrup, the butter and a knife and fork, setting them neatly on the counter beside the toaster. He was OCD like his dad - neatness was burned into his brain like a commandment. That would be a fun thing to tell the girl of his dreams.
Then, at the sound of footsteps, Kite shifted to sit up on the counter, leaning back as the whirlwind of his father came through. Tie undone, hair messed, collar askew, his dad flew through the kitchen, tossing things in the dishwasher and scrubbing counter tops. "Ok, there are three meetings, a consecutive lecture, and four clients to meet before three 'o clock," he was mumbling.
His father was thirty-eight. Tall, average weight, with a sharp chin and rainwater gray eyes like Kite. But he had a short, messy head of ginger hair, dulled from age and slightly damp still from the shower. He had an open, honest face and laugh lines embedded in several different places around it. He was also of medium bone structure - not nearly as thin as Kite would be at his age, or as slender, but healthy all the same. He was a good man with a good take on the world and a humor to back it up - and Kite aspired to be just like him someday, if not less nit-picky.
Kite poured some orange juice into a glass from the carton, which had been sitting perfectly perpendicular to the side of the sink, and handed it to his dad - who tucked it neatly back into the cold doors of the fridge. "Meetings, lecture, clients," Kite repeated, sipping at his OJ.
"Then Transformers at four, and dinner at Kotos at seven." His dad finished the dishes from last night( a pot he made ramen in and the serving spoon ), and looked at his reflection in the fridge to fix his tie and collar. "Right?" He began patting all his pockets.
Kite smiled and slid off the counter, taking the comb out of his dad's breast pocket and handing it to him, "Right, boss." He confirmed. The kitchen was spotless, his dad was seamless, and his schedule was set. Just like always.
"Thanks," the man said cheerily, combing his ginger back away from his face, "all righty, Kite-man, looks like everythings in order as usual!" He strode from the room and returned with his coat and briefcase, grinning at his son. "See you at three?"
Kite held up his hand. "You got it. Go get 'em, boss man." His father, Wesley Trei, was the head of Braned Corps; a packing and shipping company for websites all over the world. They had their own building of business, but all their deals were dealt out-of-state, from factories all over the world. Sometimes Kite wondered where the hell his dads paycheck went when the man only went out to eat once a week, and practically ran the packing industry on ramen and coffee. Maybe he got expensive coffee. Really expensive coffee.
Mr. Trei high-fived his son and threw on his coat, flashing him a smile, "I'll bring home the big bucks!" He chimed, and Kite waved as his dad swaggered into the living room and vanished out the front door.
As the lock clicked behind him, Kite's waffles popped up, and he caught them on his plate and neatly buttered both waffles, placing them perfectly even before drowning both in syrup. He put everything away and tossed his butter knife in the dishwasher before stabbing his waffles with his fork. Ah, the easy life.
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ritsukaorchid
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" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 25, 2011 21:36:03 GMT -5
There was always a strange... quiet, in the house, when his dad left for work. Kite usually spent the day watching old movies and eating popcorn, just because his dad had a really, really comfy couch worn perfectly for a bachelors day in. There was a worn spot on one of the grayish green cushions that molded to his backside perfectly, and he looked forward all week to sitting here, both with his dad and alone, just enjoying its fluffy cushion.
His mom was into fads and things, so her furniture was all modern and thin. Tables were orange. There was a zebra print carpet under the kitchen table. But, most important, the couch had four inches of foam to sit on. For a lounger like Kite, that was torture. All freaking week. He needed his lounge time, so he saved up money and bought himself a TV for his room, so if he fell asleep watching movies, he wouldn't wake up with a wood imprint on his face from her evil couch.
But, instead of lounging at all, Kite scrubbed the mud from behind his ears in the shower and dug through his dresser in his boxers looking for a clean shirt. Today he needed to do two things. Get Alex, tell him what happened, and then drag him to come with him to return Lance's jacket. Actually three things. He really, really needed his bike back, and so did Alex. Both of their summer jobs last year paid for those bikes - as well as the tire replacements for them, wrapped carefully in each boy's garage. He was not leaving a treasure like that for some rich girl's house guests to pervert.
So he buckled his stud belt around a normal pair of skinny jeans, threw on a white v-neck t-shirt, put on a black jacket and pushed the sleeves up to his elbows, grabbed his gray converse, and slipped out the back door. As much as he wanted to sit and watch the first Transformers before they went to the dollar theater tonight to see the second, today wasn't a day for lounging.
He sat on the top step of his short stone porch and pulled on his converse. His soaked black pair his dad had found at the front door; so, they hung on the rod-iron railing around the porch, all spread out, drying. Tiger lilies grew in big clusters all around the sides of the porch not against the house. Butterflies flitted here and there, drifting off to the vine-grown-over birdbath, the weeds covering it now sprouting purple flowers that looked prettier than the tulips they'd gotten in April.
Kite got up and skirted the side of the house, working his way around to the front before heading in the direction of Alex's house. The guy was only four blocks away, so he'd be there before he knew it. Kite shoved his hands into his pockets. He hadn't been without his red jacket in quite some time. It was sort of his... trade mark.
With his normal 5'6 height, rather skinny appearance, straight black hair, pale pallor, and gray eyes, there was nothing overly striking about him - not something he could see very day, looking in the mirror, anyway. All he saw was a sharp nose and vampire skin. Its not that he didn't get out, either - his skin just refused to tan. So, he picked one of his favorite hobbies, manga, and wore the jacket to show off his fandom. Who knew it actually had a functional use? Beacon in the night; life saver. The kid in the red Asian jacket.
His gray converse were a bit less roughed up than his black pair were; they looked neater, and more trim. And just as comfortable. But he hadn't worn them in a bit, and hadn't felt so... trim before. So neat. He self consciously shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept his eyes straight ahead. Most of his class lived in these neighborhoods here.
He passed under a tall oak tree, the shade dappling summer sunlight over his dark head. The house to his left behind the tree was the artist Schreader's house. Also a childhood friend, he was the most normal guy Kite had met, with the most insane imagination. He had horses drinking out of pools of acid, on the moon, of another dimension, surrounded by salami monsters, who were eating cheese, in one of his paintings. Yeah. Not makin this chiz up. His parents had him go to a therapist, but he wasn't disturbed. Just really, really good at what he loved.
Kite hopped over a wide crack in the sidewalk and passed Julia's house; she was a short girl, with a slutty-goth sort of fashion style. The nicest gal you'd ever met with dyed black hair - it hadn't been its dark chocolate brown since third grade. Back then he'd had a huge crush on her. Lots of personality, great smile... it was all buried under layers of eyeshadow and liner now. Really deep, but not too deep to lose sight of. She had bought him a monster once a month for a year in sixth grade because he agreed to pretend to be her boyfriend. They still shared a monster at the local cafe every now and then, to reminisce. Sometimes he wished she'd be that sweet little girl again. She could've been the girl of his dreams, if she hadn't changed the way she did. Funny what life did to people.
Shaking off the thought, he looked both ways before trotting across the street and onto the opposite sidewalk. One block left. He looked up and sat the broken swing set, the overgrown lawn, and the chipping shutters. This was Pitt's house. Tyler Pitts. The quarterback of the football team, mister IT, one of the main crashers at Maddie's party last night. His mother had died when he was just a kid, and his dad was disabled. Wheelchair. No one knew why. Army, navy, accident, whatever it was, Pitts never spoke about it. He was working his a** off for a free ride to college on a football scholarship to make his dad proud, on top of three different jobs to help keep their payments steady. Kite admired him for it - but he still couldn't afford to take care of the place they lived in, so they got a lot of neighborhood complaints. The guy had it rough, and he was still the most popular guy in school.
Kite sighed as he passed a couple white picket fences, some boulders out by short driveways, and a mutt tied to a tree barking like murder at him. All these people, all these back stories, all this history, all the things they had in common, and Alex was his only true friend. He wondered sometimes why their kindergarten class hadn't stayed closer.
Looking up at the sky, watching clouds drift passed, he frowned. Most everyone will be in bed with a hang-over. Or be sneaking out of a one night stands's bedroom window and falling twenty feet to get a broken leg. So, there would be nobody to see his change in attire. But they would. It'd take a while to mend his jacket.
It was weird, not dressing like an outcast. But as he rounded the corner to Alex's place and spotted the tire iron in the same place his friend had thrown it last night, he knew there was one outcast who would always get how it felt to be an outsider.
He swung the screen door out of the way and knocked on the wooden front door, sitting back on his heels on the porch to wait. Either Alex's big brother would let him in, or, if he waited ten minutes, he could just go in. Alex's parents both worked the night shift at the same company so Kite rarely saw them, and Alex's big brother, Blake, had minor down syndrome, so he rarely left the house, but he loved guests. Kite got along with Blake just fine - he just hated seeing Alex's face whenever he walked out and Blake was talking to him. It was like... Alex was ashamed of his older brother. Now, Kite knew Alex like they were brothers, but the one thing he had never gathered from his childhood friend was his feelings towards his brother.
No answer. Blake must still be asleep too. Kite went around to the back door, shifting a couple garbage cans, and wiggled through the broken door to get inside. All the windows shutters were drawn. Trash and dirty dishes mounded in the kitchen, and Tux, the black and white cat Blake took care of, was curled up in a mound of torn open kleenex boxes and gum wrappers under the kitchen table. He looked up and mewed happily as Kite passed. Healthy, well fed, well tempered; just living in filth, like all the Larxions.
Kite's eyebrows knitted together and he scrunched up one side of his face. Alex was cool, and his family was nice, letting another kid free range of their home, but it was hard being an OCD kid with a slob as a friend. Kite picked his way down the hall around boxes and passed piles of junk to the first door beside the basement door. It was painted with black and dark forest green checkers, and there was a poster of Devil Wears Prada tilted a bit sideways plastered over half of it. Pushing on it gently, he turned the knob just right so it wouldn't squeak, and slipped inside, shutting the door carefully behind him. Darkness swept up like a blanket and swallowed him whole.
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 26, 2011 16:06:45 GMT -5
Alex was also buried under mounds of blankets. He had a mattress directly on the floor, on top of another mattress, and there were pillows and DVDs all over the floor. The closet was open and overflowing, and Kite spotted at least six different game stations dark and silent in the mounds of stuff. His room was also a mess. The light of a touch map illuminated the room dimly. "Alex! Alex, you bum! It's almost two 'o clock!" Kite hissed in anger over the mountain of blankets. He knew his friend's family had excuses for sleeping in, but not him. Even with a hang-over. Hands on his hips, Kite steamed. "Hello?! Alex!" He said sharply.
"Shut up and go away," a voice moaned, cracked and muffled, from under the blankets.
Kite sighed. Grabbing the blankets, one by one, he pulled them off, searching for his friend in the mess. "You can't hide forever. Come on, I'll get you some Tylenol. It'll help the headache."
"No!" Alex yelped, as Kite uncovered his face at last. The brown haired boy flung his arms over his head. "Go away. I don't want you here, Kite." He sounded tired, and flat, like there wasn't much energy for emotion.
Kite sat back on his friend's bed for a minute, confused. Why was he being so harsh? I mean, he usually grumbled a little, but eventually he got his friend to get up and take something for his hang over, and they talk about the party in the dark until his headache was gone. "You gotta get up sometime, bro. It's been almost 24 hours since we rode into that party. You've had long enough to sulk through your pain." He reasoned, frowning.
"I don't give a shit how long I've been sulking! I can take care of myself - just leave!" Alex barked hoarsely. "Get out of my house!"
Kite narrowed his eyes and got up abruptly, leaving Alex's door open as he stepped into the hall. Footsteps padding against the hardwood floor echoed. The house was so still, and quiet, Tux's yawn was heard throughout the house. Alex's breathing was slow, but uneven, and he seemed to wheeze a little with each intake.
Then, Kite was back, with a bottle of chilled water and an extra-strength Tylenol. He sat back on Alex's bed and set them both on his bed stand, brushing away empty monster cans to make them fit.
"... Why are you still here?" "Shut your trap, and sit up, cracker." Kite demanded. "No. I said leave." "Get up, Alex." "No! F*ck, Kite, just go!" "Alex." "Kite." A pause. "OK, I give," Kite mumbled, a bit more softly this time. He crossed his legs and studied the posters on his friend's wall, not wanting to pressure him into answering too quickly. But this behavior wasn't like Alex, even with his usual foul mouth and sour attitude. Kite never got the sharp front of his bitterness. "Why are you so bent out of shape?"
Another pause. "Alex?" "I'm awake." Another pause. The silence gave way to the ticking of a clock; Kite waited. "It's Kathery." Kite nodded. But because Alex had his head down, he spoke aloud, accepting this, "Ok."
Alex's usually dark eyes stared at the wall opposite Kite, pools of chocolate brown dancing in the flickering light. "I didn't want to sleep with her."
And there it was. Simple as that. He could have been even more vague, and Kite would've just as easily understood. Mostly because he'd heard their conversation - but it hadn't been Kathery. Alex had said himself that she had looked attractive as hell last night. His friend hadn't been sick at all last night - he'd tasted what he thought he'd wanted, and pushed it away again, like finding burnt bologna flavor on your birthday cake. Kite's best friend was gay.
Kite bent his knees, and wrapped his arms around them. The knowledge sank in steadily. He slowly leaned his chin on his kneecaps and stared at the opposite wall Alex was staring at. "... Ok."
Yet another pause. Then, slowly, Alex sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at the bed. The blankets around him looked like flotation devices keeping him aloft in a sea of uncertainty. That's probably what they were for.
He held out his hand at last, and Kite handed him the water, and the Tylenol.
No words were spoken. Kite watched Alex take the pill and drain half the water bottle. He had skipped lunch himself, so he reached into a box of pink Debbie cake snowballs under Alex's bed that weren't expired yet, and munched slowly on the perfectly soft coconut pastry as his friend went about pushing his blankets aside. Alex grabbed his glasses off the chair on the opposite side of his bed.
Then they both perused through his manga collection. Choosing about five each, they went about skimming through them in the dim light, reading in silence, re-living the reasons they were such nerds.
There were no accusations. No questions. No more nagging. A silent understanding was passed between the boys; Kite had not left in a tizzy, appalled and horrified at the news - he would stay, and keep being Alex's best friend, and lend his shoulder for a crutch like he'd done hundreds of times before. He would be supportive. No one would be told. And until Alex was ready, nothing would be touched anywhere near the subject. Because anything else, other than a firm hand to anchor him, would only spiral his friend further into a darkness that he couldn't brave alone. Both of them knew that.
After quite a while, Alex got up and grabbed a couple articles of clothing, leaving his friend reading as he left for the bathroom down the hall. Kite sat patiently with his nose in Bleach, volume 27, as the shower ran, and Alex spiffied up his ragged form. After two more Tylenol, a good scrubbing, hair drying, tooth brushing, and a dash of cologne, he grabbed up his hairbrush and tugged it through his brown curls as Kite emerged from his room, waiting by the bathroom doorway.
"So, whats on the schedule today?" Alex questioned, back to his normal self at last. Or.. at least on the surface, anyway. Kite looked at his friend in his bathroom mirror as he tediously fixed his hair. "Lance Gyser." Alex stopped and looked at Kite's reflection, brow knitted together. After a second, he smoothed his forehead out and shrugged. " 'Aighte," he said acceptingly. "Well, first we need our bikes back. But Lance's place is the main house we need to hit up today." Kite unrolled Lance's jacket from the huge inside pocket of his own jacket and showed it to Alex.
His friend looked bewildered. "Ok," he muttered, "I gotta hear this shit."
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 27, 2011 15:07:23 GMT -5
Kite pinched the skin between his eyes. "I mean, holy sh*t, man! He even gave you his jacket? This is gonna be ALL OVER Facebook! His girlfriend is gonna be wondering where his jacket is, and be all like, 'Lance,' " Alex said in his female-mocking voice, "'where's your jacket, Lance? Yeah, I know its not here! What slut did you give it to? I DON'T EVEN CARE! WE'RE SO THROUGH!'" He dissolved into hysterical laughter.
Kite was contemplating killing Alex right here for the fortieth time since they'd started walking back to Maddie's to get their bikes. He thought it was because Kite wasn't wearing his jacket anymore... he didn't look like a weirdo now. So, Alex had to make him a public weirdo again by cackling like he was insane - in his presence.
Kite sighed; it had been no use trying to shut his friend up. He was fully over his hang-over and ready to torture him. "Look, he saved my life, and literally gave me the clothes off his back," Kite said, more than a bit POed, "the least you could do is shut the heck up about it if you're not proud of the guy for helping me."
They passed out from under the shade of the trees, and the afternoon sun hit them, the heat making Kite's skin prickle. Their footsteps clapped steadily on the old, worn-out concrete sidewalk.
Alex snickered, drawling sarcastically, "Oh, I'm plenty proud; the kid's a hero, really. That man whore." He cackled some more. "I'm just worried the guy's girlfriend is gonna be up his a** when she finds out. Lance looking after some lost drowned rat like you; maybe he's hitting on guys now."
Kite turned and flung his arms up, his jacket flying and his eyes black as coal, "And what part of that is funny to you, dipsh*t?" He demanded, seething. Kite never cussed. "It proves a lot more about him than it does about you! Where were you, huh? Sh*t-faced and driven home by a girl, asleep before midnight. You didn't even remember me by that point. I'd be dead if it wasn't for him!" He peaked, unsure why he was so furious, but unable to back down now. "So shut your f*cking mouth! Because you really have no goddamn room to talk."
Panting, steaming, Kite turned his back sharply on his friend and started walking again, shaking from head to toe. He'd never blown up on Alex. But what the hell?! Alex never ragged on him like this. He called him a drowned rat. Well, that's what he'd been, but...
There were no footsteps behind him. He reached a turn in the sidewalk and walked out into the street, headed for the other curb.
What a jerk. He had gone after some girl and left his best friend alone at a party, where he'd been date-rape drugged. Kite had been scared out of his mind for the first time in a long time, and that kind of fear shakes off the cobwebs and makes you feel five again; small, helpless. Horribly alone. And Kite had been alone, without Alex there to step up and fight back that fear, locking it back into the chains it had broken out of. That's what friends were for. That's what friends had always been for. Well, part of it, anyway. And even when he told Alex everything, he hadn't given a shit. Then he had the nerve to walk all over Lance, the good guy who had saved him. Even saying he was 'going after other guys.' Like Alex had room to-
Kite took another step and stopped in the middle of the crosswalk.
Alex had mentioned Lance hitting on other guys. ...Oh.
He turned and looked back at his friend. Alex's loose curls covered his face as the boy stared at his shoes, arms loose at his sides. He looked very, very frail, and thin, without his big grin and his loud, boasting voice shaking robins from the trees.
Kite waited.
Alex started forward, not lifting his eyes from the ground.
There was no one around. Not a soul would be out now; it was an hour to dinner time. They were either having video game competitions, sleeping, playing football in their backyards, or helping cook.
Birds twittered from the trees, singing their short, lovely melodies, and a cool breeze blew against Kite's forehead. His bangs rustled as it cooled his temper. He hadn't been able to avoid the thought. Alex had been thinking of it this whole time, covering it up with rantings about something he didn't mean.
Kite watched his friend pad from the middle of the sidewalk, to the crosswalk, where he hesitated on the curb. Rubbing his elbow, the brown haired male glanced up at Kite. His eyes were hidden in the reflection of sun in his glasses. So, Kite just kept still and solemn.
Alex kept walking, stepping down the curb, and stepped up to the paler male's side. "I'm sorry, bro. Seriously." Alex murmured quietly, avoiding meeting his friend's eye. "I should have been there to save you. Not some damn soccer jock. I wasn't thinking... Well, I was thinking, but I was thinking about me - I just, kinda, spiraled... after I didn't sleep with Kathery... I cleaned out a six pack by myself... but... I was being really freakin selfish, not thinking about what might have happened to you."
Al was just pissed at himself. Kite took a deep breath, his shoulders straight across, at his full height, feeling suddenly powerful over his hunched over friend. Usually it was the other way around. He let out a deep breath. What could he do? He was his friend. Alex looked at him finally, and Kite just nodded.
They fell into another pause and Alex looked back at the road. The white lines on the pavement were cracked, faded and even invisible in some parts, where the cars went over them so much. They were starting to burn the soles of their shoes with the hot sun baking them.
Kite put a hand on Alex's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, shaking him a bit, like he was trying to shake life back into him, "You'll be fine, Al," he murmured confidently, "I promise; now come on. Lets get going."
With a nod from Alex, they fell back into step, both boys looking opposite directions as they continued walking. Kite shoved his hands deep into his pockets again. Alex shoved his hands in his back pockets, tilting his head back to look at the sky. The sun burned down on them.
"Well," Kite said at last, musing aloud, "if you really think Lance is going for other guys..."
"Shut your f*cking mouth," Alex laughed, punching his friend's shoulder, "a**hole."
Kite punched him back, harder, they both laughed, shoulders shaking, and attempted to put each other in a headlock for another five minutes, heading straight down Maddie Creer's mile-long driveway. Suddenly they shoved away from each other, grinning like idiots, and bellowed, taking off down the dirt driveway in a sprinting race to the place they'd hidden their bikes.
They entered a tunnel of shadows cast by the thick trees connecting canopies overhead like a pair of bullets from an SKS. The temperature dropped five degrees, perfect running temp, and neither boy noticed the two used cigarette butts they trampled underfoot as they raced around a bend and were gone.
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 28, 2011 15:44:48 GMT -5
Alex lost. Kite flew through the trees and grabbed a sapling, swinging himself around so he skidded to a stop through the leaves. He stuck his hand out and leaned on a tree, chest heaving, and he grinned. He felt exhilarated. Their bikes were still there, under the bushes, their hiding place only ruffled by Kite's dramatic entrance.
Alex came up behind Kite at a trot and hit his back against the trunk of a tree. He tilted his head back and panted like he'd run a marathon, a hand over his stomach. "Damn, white boy, you can run," he wheezed.
Kite cackled and uncovered their bikes. He leaned Alex's against the tree beside him and patted the seat of his own. "Eat like a kid instead of a convenient store junkie, and it'll do you wonders. Maybe some fruit would even sweeten up that sour attitude of your's." He teased.
"Whatever, dick," Alex laughed, flailing to grab his bike and leaning against it, bent over double. He took quick, short breaths, slowly getting deeper, and straightened back up, pushing his bangs off his forehead. Kite was blinded by how white his friend's brow was.
Alex lifted a hand and motioned towards the house through the trees. "Hey, maybe we should ask Maddie what older guys were at her party last night. Your a**hole might be in her list of names."
Kite glanced at the house and looked back at his friend, rubbing the back of his head, "I dunno... She probably invited some guy, and that guy invited a couple guys, and she might not even know who he was." He kinda didn't want to know. "Why older, anyway?"
"Nah nah, come, you and me," Alex said firmly, clearing his throat as he finished getting his breathing under control. "Only an older guy would have the balls to drug a younger guy. Not even jocks care enough about us, or enough balls, to prank us with drugs that make a guy hit the floor. Ground, in your case." He left his bike against the tree and made Kite leave his, grabbing his friend around the shoulders and steering him up the driveway again. "It's a shot in the dark - but a shot in the dark in a very small room. If you don't wanna know, bail. But I want to know who was scaring my brother sh*tless."
Kite smiled and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, eyes on the ground as they walked. He sometimes forgot why he was friends with this guy. Now wasn't one of those times.
They knocked on Maddie's front door a couple times, and stood back, waiting. Alex glanced at Kite, leaning back on his heels. "Did you see anybody following you last night?"
Kite nodded, crossing his arms and training his gaze at the flower pot in the corner of her porch. "Yeah. I mean... I couldn't tell who it was. But once, they got too close, and I finally realized they were there."
"They who?" Alex asked, confused.
"I don't know. Isn't that why we're here?" Kite replied. As Alex opened his mouth again, the doorknob started to turn, and Kite swallowed.
The door opened, and there stood Maddie, wet hair falling against her cheeks and a bathrobe tied around her. Maddie had short blond hair, cropped to shape a pretty heart-shaped face, and curves that would make Rhiana jealous. Her pale blue eyes burned out at them. That's why Maddie was popular with parties, not with people. She had a creepy look in her eyes all the time. Not looking hung-over at all, Maddie frowned in confusion and leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms against herself as if cold. "Hey, Al, Kite."
At least she didn't think it was too weird they had come back so soon - usually people didn't - but she probably just thought they left a shoe here or something in last night's chaos.
Alex nodded. "Hey, Maddie. Killer party last night." He said with a friendly smile. Yeah, yeah, he could be pleasant when he wanted. Normally it took curves and nice hips for a guy like Alex to pay attention to his attitude. In this case, it was both, so he was acting with extra-good behavior.
She returned the smile, beaming, "Thanks. Glad you guys had fun. Whats up? You lose something?"
Kite shook his head and smiled at her, "Nothing but our bikes, otherwise we got home in one piece. Well, Al did, anyway; I got hit with that drug that went around last night. Somebody found me passed out in the woods at midnight - and I don't drink."
Maddie's smile vanished. "My God, I'm so sorry, Kite. I know. A couple people here just bam, hit the ground. Well, floor. I tried to make sure nothing like that would turn up, but my boyfriend managed to get a hold of the box before anybody else got to use them on people. This had happened already before - I told Jimmy not to let that creep know where my party was this time, and he just slipped-"
"Whoa, whoa, creep? What creep?" Alex demanded.
Maddie sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. "I don't know his name. But my boyfriend Darien invited his big brother Jake from his sophomore year in college, you know, to let loose, and Jake told Jimmy about the party, and Jimmy grabbed a few guys to come since we had too many girls coming-"
"Ok. This creep. Describe him to me. And why's he a creep?" He asked. Alex hated yammering. And he hated people who messed with his best friend even more. Catching onto this lead, he looked more agitated than ever.
"He just ruins parties with his drugs. The guy has a sick sense of humor. Around twenty, twenty-one, hazel eyes, I think hes got this really light brown hair - its almost like a blondish-gold. Real long. Wears it in a pony tail. But hes not tan like you'd think for this time of the year - I mean, hes kinda dark peach, but not Taylor Lautner dark, or Mario Lopez dark-"
"Twenties, hazel eyes, long blond-ish hair, white, anything else?" Alex interrupted impatiently, again. "Build? Height?"
Maddie let her eyes roll to the sky, innocently thinking, "He's only about six foot. Not much taller than the two of you. Not buff, not thin, hes just average I guess. Cute, the a**hole. Oh! And he has a silver stud in his ear."
Alex and Kite exchanged looks. Kite looked at her. "Which ear?"
She shrugged. "Can't remember. But he wears these clunky black boots from Harley Davidson - a gift from his sister, who died last year. Riding boots, steel toe. He wouldn't stop bragging about them two years back after his birthday. Guy's got a motorcycle he babies - you can't miss it. All black. A real clunker. He pulled it up behind those bushes-" she pointed behind where Kite and Alex's bikes stood, -last night, around seven. I actually didn't hear him rev off with the rest of the guys last night. He must've snuck in and out without us seeing him, the creep." She mumbled in irritation.
Alex rubbed his head. "Ok. Harley cycle, and boots. Anything else?" He said this like if she shot her mouth off again to kingdom-come he was going to push her back inside and shut the door in her face.
"I had their door locked, and he filled my parents room with that god-awful cigarette stink. Even left an entire pack of smoked butts on the carpet, which I've been scrubbing since I got up. Nobody else could've scaled that thin little tree outside their balcony - he knew I didn't want him here anymore, so he spited me. The guy smokes like the world's gonna end in the morning, butts in when he knows hes not wanted, and drugs kids! And he wonders why hes never invited!" Maddie said, disgusted.
Alex nodded, waving his hand. "Yeah, yeah, ok, thanks. Do you know if he lives nearby or anything?"
"Do you know if he's gay?" Kite piped.
Maddie looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Couldn't tell you that one. He's weird, and I guess it would match how he acts sometimes... hits with a little too much enthusiasm to both sides of the park, if you know what I mean... but he lives two cities over, where Jake's college is. Don't know where exactly, but he's probably long gone by now." She looked back and forth between them. "You know, the box was only missing one pill when the skater kids Jessie and Gerald found it - Damien said they only used them on four people, so there were only five missing. He checked the box."
Kite felt his insides turn cold as ice. So this guy had only needed one of his own drugs. Left the box behind, though? In a house full of half-stoned, partying teenagers? He either forgot it or had only wanted to take one pill for his own use, and leave the rest up to fate. Mess with the party by indirectly messing with it.
Alex looked at Kite and frowned deeply.
Maddie seemed to sense the agitation she'd caused. "Again, sorry for the trouble he gave you guys. It won't happen again." She said quickly.
They thanked her and left, reaching their bikes together. "I dunno," Alex muttered, shaking his head as he knelt by the bikes, "this guy was definitely after you. Taking only one pill, then following you around?"
Kite rubbed his arms, suddenly feeling a chill that climbed his spinal cord in this afternoon heat. "Maybe he went to slip the pill into someone's drink after having forgotten the box. Then he realized what he forgot, went back for it, and the skater idiots had already taken everything from the bathroom."
Alex compared the two bikes side by side. "Then how come you were hit first? Look, you heard what Maddison said. The guy's a douche. He squinted at his own bike.
Kite stood aside, looking off into the trees. He had worry written all over his face, his body language. He was actually scanning for signs of the hulking Harley this guy supposedly owned. "Yeah, I know, and she said he's bi, but come on, man. Why me?"
Alex spun the wheels on his bike. "Well... you do hang out with me," he said darkly.
"Shut up." Kite scoffed. "Be real, Al."
"Ok, ok." Alex grabbed something and stood up. "Well, you haven't had a girlfriend since fifth grade, and she dumped you because she was upset you brought her too many flowers. Dickery, but true, of course. Even if she was allergic. And we've been pals since the beginning of existence. Maybe he saw us last time he was here on our bikes, spotted the bikes when he pulled up, and just went looking. People make assumptions when they're desperate. I mean, you were the one he found out of the two of us, because I had a chick on me, but maybe thats what it took for him to go for you. Us separated, and you alone."
"You say that like we're married," Kite grumbled, upset more about the prospect about the truth being true than Alex actually figuring it out.
Alex chuckled, " 'I always thought you had lovely hands,' " he quoted in his Morgan Freeman voice, from An Unfinished Life, making Kite crack a small smile, "but I know for sure that he was after you, bro."
"Why's that?"
Alex held up the chain from Kite's bike.
With a frown, Kite looked from the fine-looking chain to his friend.
Turning the chain over, he showed Kite a part of it sawn almost all the way through and blackened by fire. "Our boy carries a flamethrower in that Harley of his." He took two ends of the chain and yanked. The metal snapped with a satisfying ping. "You wouldn't have made it over twenty miles an hour before this thing would've snapped like a twig. This guy either seriously wants to bang you, or seriously wants you dead, Kite."
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jun 28, 2011 19:57:49 GMT -5
Thankfully, Alex had a spare chain on the back of his bike, wrapped up under the seat, which he carefully unwound for Kite.
They both mounted up their bikes after two thorough inspections for more sabotage and took off down the driveway, sticking to the right side in case any cars came passed them.
"So to Lance's next?" Alex called to his friend, who raced out in front of him.
"Yup. I went to one of his birthday parties in elementary school; I think I remember where he lives." Kite called back, pulling his bike in a sharp turn Alex just barely managed to copy.
"Watch it!" Alex snapped.
But Kite didn't hear him. He was too busy pedaling as fast as his legs could, zooming through the back streets of the town, passing under trees and passing by windows too quick for the people inside to even glance at him.
Alex struggled to keep up behind him, but managed to follow his after-image down three blocks, around six bends and into a cul-de-sac at the richer part of town.
Merry-Way drive, Kite remembered, as he skidded to a stop in front of a two-story house at the end of the cul-de-sac. House 454. This was it. He dismounted, as did Alex, and they pushed their bikes to the front gate and leaned then against the rod iron fences.
Kite climbed the long brick steps onto the porch that stretched along the entire front of the house. A quaint swing was attached to the ceiling stretched over the porch, there were rugs, potted plants, and several benches and chairs neatly placed here and there, but never in the way. It was picture-perfect.
Looking up at the clouded glass door covered in intricate and ornate designs, he had to admit he was intimidated. This looked like Martha Stuart's suburban home. Even the shutters were perfect. His hand wobbled slightly as he lifted it to ring the doorbell. Both him and Alex stood back, admiring the porch, as they waited. This time neither spoke. They were too absorbed in the only porch in the neighborhood without pollen tucked in the corner of the door, or on the steps. All of it was.... sterile. No wonder Lance was so damn neat and clean.
The doorknob turned, and two doors opened. The back wooden door - painted white, so it was invisible behind the cloudy glass - and the glass door. The wooden door swung back inside, but the glass door swung out towards them. Kite caught it with his hand and held it as the answerer beamed out at them. Kite and Alex exchanged glances.
The man at the door was just Lance's build, only taller, which was like 6'5. 'Cause Lance was 6'2. Anyway, this man had a wave of nut brown hair perfectly placed in the opposite style from his son's, only shorter. He had sky blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled, perfect teeth, and the same diamond-cut chin Lance had. What made the boys uneasy was the apron he was wearing... pink, with white frills, it read 'Kiss the Cook.' Under the apron, the man had on a regular white button down shirt, and khaki slacks with dress shoes. He looked like a male model retire-ee who had gone gay early in the business. "Hey boys," he chimed, "what can I do you for?"
Alex must've been thinking about dead kittens just like Kite, because both of them kept straight, pleasant faces without bursting out laughing or cringing in homophobia.
"Evening, Mr. Gyser," Kite piped, "might Lance be at home?"
The man frowned slightly and shook his head. "Sorry, he isn't, boys. You couldn't be... Kite Trei, from all those years ago?" He asked, a big grin growing on his face.
Kite felt violated just looking at him. "Yessir, I am."
"Look at you, Kite! God you got tall. But you've grown up, thats for sure. Are you and Lance in the same grade?" The man asked, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He looked to be covered in cookie dough. "It's been such a long time; but I'm afraid I can't help you. Lance is still away with his buds at my sister's, up in the mountains, at the lake with his cousins. Won't be back 'til late tonight. What did you need him for?"
Kite nodded, "That's fine, sir. I just came by to drop something off." Reaching into his pocket, he unfolded Lance's jacket and offered it to his dad. "He left it at a friend's place, and I noticed it belonged to him."
When it came to parents, you always avoided talking about three things; parties, anything that related to their child's sexual tendencies, and where they are late at night - unless its a good cover-up. And since Kite had no ideas on a cover up that was even moderately plausible, he kept it as vague as possible.
Mr. Gyser nodded and accepted the jacket, smiling at him. "It's unlike our boy to forget things; are you sure its his?" His eyes were sharp, and glittering. Ohgods. He was suspicious.
Kite swallowed a shudder. "He lent it to one of his friends, cause they were kinda sick, and they left it behind. I just happened to see it while I popped in."
With a nod, Lance's dad's smile remained, "Well, thank you for being a good cemeritain and bringing this back for him. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."
"Honey!" A shrill voice made all of them jump, and Lance's dad turned, revealing a blond woman applying lipstick in the hall mirror. Kite's jaw dropped. She looked 30, compared to this 40 year old looking man in front of them, and she was gorgeous - long, flowing blond hair, all natural color, pale skin, in a tight business womans attire and stilettos. She had a finely-boned face, and high cheekbones, and as she scurried over to them, tucking her lipstick back in her purse, she looked up with the same silver eyes that Lance had. When she smiled, it seemed to light up the doorway. "Oh, we have guests! Hello, boys!" She leaned over quickly and kissed her husband, avoiding the flour on his cheek and smiling at him affectionately. "Hey, honey, please don't forget to clean the kitchen when you're done! I've gotta run." Well, then. There goes the homo theory.
The boys moved out of Mrs. Gyser's way as she stepped onto the porch, and she nodded to them both. "Sorry to greet and go, but I'm late as it is! Nice seeing you, Kite, Alex!" Then she was gone, scurrying down the steps to her silver Escalade.
Alex refrained from whistling visibly. Just 'cause he was gay, didn't mean he didn't know a hot mom when he saw her. Thank goodness Mr. Gyser missed it.
"Ok, well, uh, thanks Mr. G," Alex said, clearing his throat, "give Lance our best when he gets back."
Kite nodded. "Yeah, thanks again Mr. Gyser!"
They turned and descended the porch, Mr. G beaming his perfect teeth and waving after them. "No problem, boys!" He turned and retreated back into the house with Lance's jacket in hand as the boys mounted their bikes and watched Mrs. Gyser drive off into the distance.
"Gay men always get the best women," Kite grumbled, and Alex started laughing so hard, he couldn't pedal.
He busted a gut, slapped his knees, and rolled all over the concrete so much Kite eventully started laughing at how stupid Alex looked. So they had to sit on the curb to be safe - like not bust their heads into anything while they pealed laughter - and wait for their giggles to die down.
The sun was setting, and as the boys leaned back on the sidewalk and watched it go down over the trees, Alex sighed, smiling widely. "You're the best friend a guy could get, Kite." He turned and looked at his friend with an amused expression. "What did you do to get stuck with me, huh? Step on a duck?"
Kite looked confused. "Do what now...?"
Alex sat up. "Joke time." Kite sat up too, confused, but smiling, and Alex grinned.
"So these three guys, best friends, die and go to heaven. They get to the pearly gates, and Peter the angel is standing there with a clipboard.
They're standing around, all nervous, and Peter says, 'Guys, relax. You all got in to heaven.' So all the guys look all relieved, and as Saint Peter opens the gates, the guys see nothing but ducks. Everywhere. All over the ground, for miles, is covered in yellow, white, black, speckled, every kind, ducks.
So Peter turns to them and says, 'Ok, you made it in, but there's one rule. You can't step on a duck. Then one starts quacking, the rest of 'em start up, and it takes a Milena to get them to shut their traps, ya know? So don't step on any, or there's a consequence.'
All the guys are like, cool, we got into heaven, so they all agree like, whatever, ok, don't step on a duck. So Saint Peter goes back to the pearly gates.
Well, fifty years goes by, and the first guy steps on a duck. One started up, then the rest of them, and then it was a horrible ruckus no one could stop for over ten years. When they finally died down, Peter came back to the three friends. 'Guys,' the angel says, 'I'm sorry, but I have to punish somebody. Who stepped on the duck?'
And the first guy raised his hand, all damn, and says, 'It was me, sorry, whats my punishment?' So Saint Peter takes him and flies him over to this old, ugly woman, and handcuffs him to her. 'Your punishment is to live in eternity in heaven with this kind old lady.' So the guy is kinda annoyed, but he accepts it, and heaven goes back to being peaceful.
Then, two hundred years later, the second guy steps on a duck. The ruckus starts up, all the ducks are upset yatta yatta yatta, Saint Peter comes and says, 'Ok, guys, again, I'm sorry, but somebody's gotta pay for this. Who stepped on the duck?'
The second guy raises his hand, all, 'Ok, I'm sorry, it was me.' So Saint Peter takes him and flies him over to this fat old man covered in liver spots, and handcuffs them together.
So, a Milena goes by, and the third guy never steps on a duck. He chills, floating around, enjoying heaven,and then Saint Peter flies over to him with this amazingly beautiful girl. She's chesty and blond and has these amazing curves, and Saint Peter handcuffs her to this third friend.
Before the angel leaves he looks at him and asks, 'Hey, what did I do to deserve this?' And she looks at him and answers, 'I don't know what you did, but I stepped on a duck.' "
Kite busted out laughing, and fell over, crying, cause he was laughing so hard. Alex laughed along with him, and both of them rolled again, still managing not to bang into anything during their violent spasms of laughter.
Finally, they wiped tears from their eyes and lay back on the sidewalk, legs stretched out over the pavement, arms draped over their stomachs, watching the stars peak through the dimming orange-sunset sky.
Kite smiled warmly. "I'll tell you what, Al," he murmured, "it'd be impossible to step on a duck to get a guy like you as my best friend. Maybe two people stepped on ducks, got chained together, and we were the odd good-guys out. So they just handcuffed us together for eternity to keep it even."
Alex chuckled, lacing his hands together behind his head. "I dunno about no eternity, but until you get married or I die, you can bet your a** I'll be right here."
Kite shut his eyes. "Ditto, bro."
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jul 4, 2011 14:49:27 GMT -5
Kite and Al soared back into town, at a steady pace - still quick enough to be blurs, but nothing too risky. Not like they couldn't. They just didn't need to prove to anyone else how awesome they were. It was gray over the horizon, and reaching out over the town. Soon the whole sky would be gray, and the same light would occupy the sky from six in the afternoon, to six, and possibly beyond, tomorrow morning - whenever the clouds felt like breaking up. They were really damn moody, so it might be the same light until Thursday for all Kite knew.
They slowed going around a corner smoothly, and Kite reached to tug at the collar of his red jacket, and groped air. It took him a moment of confusion to realize he wasn't wearing his red jacket anymore.
He put both hands on the back of the seat of his bike as they cruised along the sidewalks, wheels turning steadily, frowning.
Huh. Messing with his collar. A habit he hadn't realized he'd developed. Making sure there wasn't any pollen on his shoulders, he guessed. Oh, well. Just another reason to miss his jacket.
They rode passed Alex's place, and around another block. Kite called over his shoulder to his friend. "Hey Al, you feel like crashing at my place tomorrow? We got Watchmen from Netflix."
Kite couldn't see him, but he could feel Alex weighing his options. Stay alone at home and sit in the dark like an emo fag, or hang with Kite. That's exactly how he thought, too. Kite just knew it.
"I can lounge around for a bit. My AP work doesn't need to be done for at least two more months." Alex responded finally.
Kite shook his head with a smile and reached up, taking the bars of his bike's steering again as they reached a slant in the road. "Cool. My dad should b- "
He stopped abruptly in mid-sentence, and screeched to an abrupt stop mid-sidewalk. Completely frozen. Alex fumbled to stop before he ran Kite over and ended up staggering a few feet before coming to a very ungraceful stop behind his stock-still friend.
"What, what, what's the matter with you?" Alex fumed, not really mad, just kinda surprised and annoyed. Since when did Kite try and cause accidents?
He pushed his glasses up his nose and stepped to the side so Kite wasn't blocking his view of what he was staring at, dragging his bike with him the couple inches. Leaning to look around the broad oak beside them, he squinted. His fingers turned white-knuckled around the worn and torn rubber protectors on his handlebars.
The motorcycle.
"Kite, back up," Alex whispered, "come on, the tree here will give us enough cover to hide."
Kite didn't move. His heart was thumping in his chest like a jack hammer, an his blood turned to ice in his veins.
"Kite! You gotta move, man. He might be watching." Alex persisted. He was hidden by the tree, but Kite, although not wearing his usual annoying red, was still half visible from where he was positioned.
Still nothing. Alex swore under his breath and grabbed Kite by his shirt collar and Kite's bike by the seat, dragging them both backwards. Both bikes went against the tree, and Alex had to steady Kite from back-pedaling.
The bike was in Kite's driveway.
It was surrounded by bushes, and hedges, all along the side of the house by the driveway, dividing their yard from their neighbor's. And just beyond the leafy branches of a holly bush was the back wheel of a cycle.
Kite moved at last, landing on his backside in the grass, just off the sidewalk. Alex watched him with a pit in his stomach as his friend sat in the shade of the tree, clutching grass by the fistfuls, the dappling light shifting over his face. He sat still again, chest fluttering, not making another sound, looking through the tree and at that one visible tire.
"Relax, Kai, there are a lot of people in this neighborhood. He wouldn't jump you in the suburbs." Alex reassured himself as well as Kite with this observation, and turned to look around the tree at the bike again. He narrowed his eyes and leaned out further, clutching the trunk of the tree for support.
"Does your dad own a bike?" Al asked, frowning. "I think I remember you telling me he sold his hotrod right before the divorce. So he must still have parts off it, extras and stuff." He looked back at Kite. "I think it's just a spare tire, bro."
Alex skirted the tree and leapt across the street, skidding to a stop in Kite's driveway. There, he rubbed the back of his head. He picked something up and brought it back, crouching in front of Kite and holding out the old, replacement back tire. "See?"
Kite reached out and took the old cobweb-covered tire and sighed in relief, heavily, putting the tire in his lap and leaning his forehead on it.
Alex smiled and looked back over his shoulder. "Looks like your dad's just on a cleaning spree. Your whole garage is open and dug through like crazy - but I don't see him anywhere."
Kite lifted his head and blinked. "We were supposed to go to the movies at four!" He smacked his forehead. "I completely forgot!" Alex helped him to his feet. Kite took the tire under one arm and used his free arm to guide his bike across the street. His friend followed. "But he wouldn't just start cleaning. He'd wait for me, at least, to come home, yell at me, then make me clean something."
Alex came up beside him as they stepped up onto the driveway and into view of the garage. "Then... whats that?"
Kite dropped the tire and his bike clattered to the driveway. The black pavement was completely covered in torn open boxes of storage, tools, cart and cycle parts, family memories, photo albums and other things a family man collects in his garage. Boxes were literally torn in half. Contents spilled out of baskets and bags everywhere. The garage door itself looked find, but the latch was completely destroyed.
"Someone ransacked my garage!" He exclaimed. Not waiting for Alex, he took off running and plunged through the junk, literally wading through to get to the side door. When he reached it he put his hands on the cool white metal. There were a crazy amount of scratches around the dented knob, but the deadbolt from inside had stopped whoever this had been, and it looked like he just ran off pissed.
Alex ran up behind him and swore a very, very long list of words that any ears would bleed from hearing. "That f*cker! He was here!"
Kite sat down heavily on an over-turned, dead TV, head in his hands. "Oh my God, Alex..." He murmured, an icy grip around his heart. That bastard had tried to get in his house! He not only knew where he lived, but he was violent, too. The teddy bear, torn in two, on the floor at his feet proved it. "What am I gonna do..."
Alex set his jaw firmly and grabbed Kite's wrist, "Come on - we're going to my place. Now." He started to drag Kite through the mess, but the dark haired boy jerked him back, and wiggled free.
"Alex! If he knows where I live, he probably knows where you live, too. We can't go back there."
Al paused. "So we can't stay here, and we can't go to my house." He ran a jerky hand through his curls and scowled at the floor. "Goddammit! That douche!"
Kite shook his head and went back around to the front of the house, pulling out his key. "Come on. I'll grab some stuff, and we can swing out of here. We can't stick around."
Alex growled under his breath. "All right, fine." He followed Kite inside and put his hand on the door knob. "I think I know where we can go." He slammed the door shut behind him, and flicked the deadbolt.
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Jul 30, 2011 11:07:53 GMT -5
Kite stumbled off his bike, leaning sideways against a tree as Alex skidded to a stop a couple yards ahead of him. Panting, the darker haired boy dragged the back of his arm across his forehead, and instinctively looked around for a flash of the motorcycle he kept telling himself was following them. His heart thundered in his chest - but from fear, not from the long bike ride uphill, to the strange mysterious place Alex had mentioned. They'd biking for over an hour - and as far as Kite was concerned, as hiked up on a bike as they were, they were perfect targets on a public path not too far from where Madison's house was, especially when the trail opened at bends and they could see over the town. That was too not-hidden for Kite. As Alex dismounted and steered his bike back towards his friend, Kite found a bone-chilling shiver rack him. "You ok, man?" Al looked at him with eyes narrowed in worry. "You know I'm not," Kite grumbled, clutching his handlebars a bit too tightly. He was pale as paper and was starting to feel cold. "Where the heck are we going?" He asked wearily. Al looked up into the forest canopy. The light had already long faded. It was getting dark, fast. Kite paused to look at his friend clearly for the first time in a while; usually quick glances assured him Al was fine, but right now, he looked as worn and worried as Kite felt. "Well, I suppose since the gay thing you probably know just about all my deep dark secrets, so I'll top it off with the last one," Al muttered after a minute of thought, "I dreamed about a house once. A house in a big tree - I still remember the color of the shingles, down to the dent in the front steps, as well as the trees and things that it was built into." He gave Kite a warning look, "You better not laugh, or I will kill you. But... I found the house."Kite paused for a moment, then nodded slowly, "O-K. Dream house. Weird, but I'll accept it." He was too tired to query. Al waved his hand in the air as if to smack something out of his face, "Good. Well. The year you went to boy scouts in Pennsylvania, I went looking, had a flashback, and I found the house out here. About a three hour walk from my place - so, about three and a half from your's. But since we're riding our bikes, we've gotten there a lot quicker - it's around the next bend." Alex clapped Kite on the shoulder, "So come on! I'll help you up. Lets just hurry, before I can't see clearly enough to see my hand looking for a lamp."They finished the long hike to the top of the hill, and turned down a bend that looked almost as if they were going to double back and go home. But Alex exposed a small foot path behind an oak tree just big enough to make you miss it. They wound around the top of the hill on the path and on the east side of the top, Kite gaped openly. Facing a break in the trees that gave it enough cover to hide and enough space to see the sunrise each morning, a quaint little house lay nestled in the thick, gnarled branches of a very very old tree. It was late sixties build - made of all wood, and some paneling, with dark green shingles and shutters. The limbs looked strong enough to hold the place, but you can imagine seeing a house so far in the air was a bit shocking. "Y-You found this place?" Kite stammered, eyes wide. Alex took their bikes and hid them in a small shack on the ground so covered in vines that Kite would have mistaken it for a dead tree. The wooden doors creaked open, and Al set them inside neatly, re-closing the doors and heading back to Kite, hands on his hips. "Yep. Came in a dream. I've always wondered what to use it for, and now its got a purpose." He walked around the side of the tree and Kite stuck close to his heels. He threaded his long fingers into the vines and pulled open a triangle doorway, pushing his friend through before carefully closing it behind him. "Secret staircase," Al grinned, almost giddy to be able to share his treasure, "plus, I stacked the place for emergencies. This is where I go when my parents get on my nerves."He lead Kite up a short ladder, and into an adjacent tree, which had a staircase winding around it. Al kicked down a fresh wooden board as a bridge, between the top of the steps and the side porch of the house, about as thick as a Harry Potter book. Then he edged took the four steps it took to get across. Al turned to look at his fearful friend. "Come on, its not so bad!"Kite gulped. Twenty steps. About two stories up. It's not so bad...?! He stepped out onto the plank. Four. Counting back wards kept his focus more easily. He slid his other foot forward. Three. He wondered how long it would take his dad to clean up the garage. Two. He wished suddenly that he had a cheeseburger with a huge tomato on it, smothered in ketchup. One. Wow, it was dark. What was it? Seven? Almost time for his favorite TV show. Kite grabbed onto Alex's arm to steady himself as his feet planted firmly on the porch, swaying. He'd made it. Thank God...Al smiled and kicked open the side door of his dream house, helping his friend regain his footing as he lead him inside. Kite collapsed onto a dusty couch as Alex carefully closed and locked the door, leaving the room to go lock the front and back doors as well. Kite took a look around. Wall to wall, the place was packed with maps, legends, and furniture, covered in souvenirs from all over the world. He awed. There were gondolas, Russian dolls, Chinese porcelain plates, and... Kite frowned. He reached out, and picked up a doll that was half black and half white - in color, not skin. It had ornaments hanging off both arms, and a head dress made differently on both sides. "That's some kind of dream catcher," Al said from the doorway, gliding to Kite's side with a lamp and a lighter in hand, "every night I sleep in this room, I dream about clouds. I've never had a nightmare here." He lit the big green clunker and the room lit with a soft yellow glow. Setting it on a table, Alex walked over to a wardrobe taller than he was and reached on top, pulling off a yellow card. He blew dust off it and showed it to Kite. "She was some Indian goddess. Said to be beautiful, and kind, and blah blah blah."Kite took the card and squinted at it. In the dim light he could make out Latin. "All I know is, she's a really good dream catcher." Al left Kite to examine the card, stepping out of the room and heading down the creaking hallway. A door shut. Kite sighed softly. A mother goddess with mythical powers, said to grow crops overnight, cure any ailment as well as birth twins when given the correct offerings; Alex would only care about not having nightmares. He set the card under the doll, and stood her up against a broken telescope on the table beside the couch. Then he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, leaning his forehead on his arms. He just hoped they'd be safe here. Running water sounded softly. The room grew warmer, and the kitchen light flickered to life down the dark hall. Kite huddled with the lamp in the den and shut his eyes. Suddenly, a sense of exhaustion came over him, and he drifted to sleep with the sound of an owl hooting in his ears. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Alex... Kite awoke with a start, a hand on his shoulder. He jerked his head up to see Alex standing over him with a bowl in his hand. It was pitch black outside, and stars shone brightly through the foliage. He relaxed. "Sorry, bro; did you fall asleep?"Kite took the bowl Al offered him and nodded, rubbing his eyes and crossing his legs. "Yeah, for like a minute. I don't know what happened - I totally passed out." The steam from the ramen caressed his face, and Kite drank in the scent, his stomach growling as he picked up the plastic spork on the side. "Well, it took me a bit to cook this anyway," Al replied with a shrug, digging into his bowl, "dream of anything weird?" Kite nodded, devouring two spoonfuls of noodle and egg before speaking, "Yeah... I, can't really remember, but..." He paused, putting down the spork. Alex had half his bowl gone. "But?" Kite shook his head. "Nothing. I don't remember it." He went back to his soup. Then Al got a loaf of bread and they devoured half of that, soaking it in their soup when all the egg and noodles were gone. Both boys licked the bowls clean, and Al set them aside when they had finished. "Well, welcome to the brotherhood house," Alex said, flopping out his arms, "what shall we do first? A video game competition, or dessert?"Kite rolled his eyes, "Thats a stupid question. Break out the sweets, then we'll see if I'm not too full to kick your ass at Halo." As Alex left again to go to the kitchen, Kite glanced at the dream doll, and he swore he heard the rev of a motorcycle at the bottom of the hill echoing through the dense trees.
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Aug 1, 2011 18:10:57 GMT -5
After his short nap that night, Kite slept like a baby. All the exhaustion, and stress, had worn him out in a bad way. He just remembered curling up into himself on the couch behind Al's head - his friend sitting on the carpet and leaning back against the couch to play Portal all wide-eyed and intent - with half his face buried in a big pillow. Then nothing. He woke up easily, a bit before the sunrise. His internal clock had gone off really early - it must be Sunday. Sundays, mass with his dad at the church a half hour away, for an hour and a half. So they usually got up early. But he usually got up at six. It seemed like five 'o eight, because of the lack of light coming through his closed lids. Both eyes opened on different paces, like a fish almost. The lamp had burned out and sat unlit on the table, so the room retained its musky, early-early morning darkness. As Kite blinked the sleep from his vision and got both eyes back on the same page, he realized his arm was trapped for some reason. Behind something messy and curly. ... Um... Huh? Kite had slept in the same position all night, unmoving - and apparently so had Alex. As Kite dipped his chin to see what kept his arm trapped, he saw his best friend, head pinning his arm against his stomach, face turned towards Kite's in sleep. Of course he was silent as a mouse; Kite knew Al didn't snore, from years of sleeping on his friends carpet. But everything else about how the kid had chosen to sleep was strange. Al had his legs in a loose Indian style, which the controller had rolled off of and onto the floor. Both his hands were resting on his stomach neatly as if he'd planned on falling asleep here, and hadn't even bothered laying down. That definitely wasn't like Al. Usually, he did what Kite had done. Curled up by himself somewhere warm - but even Kite had let himself fall asleep within close proximity of his friend. Alex was still so much of a loner - even if they had been close forever, Al always had his own space, away from Kite and the world. Kite was usually the one falling asleep where he stood and waking up in weird places. Kite frowned in worry. Al had changed. Since his 'closet evacuation,' he'd been so different. So easy to snap with his emotions. Touchier. Especially when he saw Kite's house torn up. I mean, Kite had been mad and scared as hell, but Alex had been outright furious, belting out those curses, and so adamant in dragging Kite off to the safety of his own home. Not to mention his out-of-the-blue tirade before, about Lance's jacket. He'd found crazy, loud humor in something just to keep his mind off of his own confession. Kite knew Al like a brother. Even with all his vague words, evasion and secrets he'd kept so long, Kite had known Al wasn't right for years. It had just taken time for Al to admit it to himself. But he knew now, seeing Al make yet another change to his usual self, that there was something the boy wasn't telling his brother-from-another-mother. All in time, he supposed. There were no windows in the den; that had been part of the reason Kite slept so easily. No danger of someone sneaking in on them with all the doors bolted shut and this house creaky as hell, but a window was different. A window was visual. They could be shot, or be spotted easily through a window. At least with four good solid walls he knew neither of those things would happen. The room across the hall, though, had windows that faced the sunrise. There was only a sliver of the them visible from the couch because it was moved a bit more down than the den's doorway - but it faced openly to the cliff face. No tree limbs to stand on, no way of getting up to this level... So no worries there. Through it currently, reaching over the horizon of evergreen forests and the town below, was a light touch of pink. Kite squinted. Yes, it looked like the sun was almost ready to rise. He did not wanna miss this. From here, he had a shitty view. Just out on the front porch, dangling his legs and pressing his cheek against the cool side-railing, would be amazing. But Kite looked down at Alex. He had his glasses slipped all the way down his nose. There was such a peace in his face now that it wasn't smothered by a blanket, and there was so much more they had to go through side by side, that although Kite knew for a definite fact he would never feel anything more for the boy than an eternally strong sibling-like bond, he felt a rush of affection for the foul-mouthed, skinny, gay little fuzz ball. He knew he didn't have the heart to wake him up just for one sunrise. So, like he'd done with Al many times, ages before and today, Kite settled back just the way he'd woken up and watched through heavily-lidded eyes as the sun began to stretch and yawn into the sky. The world seemed to transform as warm light touched it with gentle fingers, like flower buds shivering and shaking off the bonds of the night at the first break of day. Magnificent clouds parted, streaked with purples and oranges and pinks, the black faded out of sight - and just as the bottom rim of the bright morning sun shook loose from the evergreen canopy, Kite had fallen back to sleep, savoring another beautiful beginning. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "So... how much space do you think we have? You know, before we're back in territory people wander near to." Alex paused in thought. "Well, if you go down this cliff you'll be in the middle of a clearing just behind Arnold's diner. And you'll also be dead - because of the steep drop." Kite rolled his eyes and popped open his soda can with his other hand, taking a swig. The town sprawled out before them. Kite had finally gotten his front porch position - a little late for a sunrise at noon, but the view was still spectacular. And with a couple clouds in the sky it wasn't hotter than hell up on the mountain. They were also cooler because of the altitude factor - the higher the colder. It was definitely a sanctuary. "And if you go back on the trail and meet up with the hidden entrance, that gives us about eight yards all around. I've been up here for ages and nobody's come by." He drank deeply of his own soda, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth when he was done. A grin crackled onto his face. "Then again, people are lazy. Nobody ever goes all the way to Ark's Point - they just double back around the steep curve and say they did." Kite shrugged a bit, sloshing his soda around and dangling his legs off the side of the porch. "I dunno. When my dad took me to hike, we went all the way to the top." Alex stretched out more on his old lounge chair, groaning. "Well, you guys are try-hards." With a sigh, Kite sipped at his soda and went quiet, glancing around. It was definitely beautiful out. Perfect climbing weather. And they weren't far from the top. He frowned as he thought, but fear shrank any ideas he had about leaving. His legs curled tenatively against his chest, heels on a sliver of porch stair beneath him as he set his chin on his knees. He swallowed. No, he was definitely not going anywhere with someone looking for them. Alex saw him close up and frowned. "We're safe up here, Kite. Don't worry about that guy." He sat up, cracking his back. "Besides, if he does find us, I've got my dad's handgun in the back. We can get it and get him before he even finds the steps." Kite stared at his soda can. "But for how long?" He murmured. "We can't live here forever. I bet there's not even enough food to last us the week." A silence stretched. "Come on." Alex got out of his lounge chair and vanished inside. Kite looked up sharply and turned around, just seeing him disappear around the corner of the living room. "Al?" He questioned. With no answer, he set down his soda and scrambled to his feet, hurrying after him. He swung around the corner and stuck his head in every room. Not the den. Not the guest room. He frowned as his socks slid across the polished hardwood floor, slipping and sliding and skidding trying to look everywhere. Reaching out with desperate hands he grabbed the door frame and clung to it, peering into the last room at the end of the hall with a confused look. Alex was unlocking the door they'd come in. Kite's heart lurched. "Alex, don't open that! How do you know he's not out there?!" He squeaked. Al just scowled. "Shut up and get your shoes. We're going for a walk."
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stardust
Rookie
" If you be my star, I'll be your sky; I live to let you shine. "
Posts: 42
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Post by stardust on Oct 3, 2011 15:43:25 GMT -5
OMG I love it! > 3> Please continue! <3
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ritsukaorchid
Sidekick
" Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed? "[A1i:1]
Posts: 200
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Post by ritsukaorchid on Oct 30, 2011 16:05:31 GMT -5
No matter how hard he tried, Kite seemed to stop on every crackling leaf in his way; no matter where a thin, breakable little twig was on the path, it seemed to appear under his foot as he crept along behind Alex, struggling to keep up and squint at the obstacles in front of him at the same time. His dark bangs fell in his face as he stared at the ground religiously.
His heart had stopped pounding now that he was focused on something else, but the thought was still in the back of his mind, looming, still keeping him pale and drawn. Not even the long walk could return that color to his cheeks.
Al had been leading him for quite a while. They’d gone around a strange path; not heading down the mountain far enough to hit civilization, but not by any point Kite knew. It was a twist and a turn here, and a hidden footpath there barely wide enough for one foot at a time. The paler boy had no idea where they were going, but he figured Alex had some place he’d found in a dream or something, and anyway it wasn’t like there was anywhere he felt safer than on the run. Maybe if they kept moving there would be less of a chance of them running into… that guy.
Right now, they were on one of the thin paths, light dappling onto their heads from far above, the curling canopy lush, a stunning green despite the lack of rain of late. The normal sounds of the woods were muted, oddly; everything accept for Kite’s twig-snapping had become almost inaudible.
Figures, he thought wearily.
Forging ahead confidently, stoic and silent, Alex kept his eyes fixed ahead and reached out to grab the trunk of a taller sapling in the center of the path, swinging around and sliding back onto the thin footpath directly behind it. The leaves perched on its thin branches rustled as he did.
There was a brief yelp of pain and Kite took a few steps back from the tree, rubbing his head, tears in his eyes. “Ow!” He moaned. The top of his head had connected all too solidly with the slender obstacle.
Alex turned back and barked a laugh. “You dumbass. What are you doing, day dreaming back there?” Kite scowled as he lifted his head. “Shut up. I’m trying to be quiet back here.”
“And that justifies smashing into a tree?”
Thinking for a moment, Kite realized that as he’d been trying hard to be silent, and though it might have been the bump on the head, he couldn’t recall hearing Alex’s footsteps at all. He scoffed. “Whatever.”
Al just grinned and waited for him to catch up. He had recovered a bit more of his usual color, Kite noted, but still seemed to be refraining from something. Maybe he was holding back a barrage of comments that would give Kite a heart attack, like, ‘I wonder where he lives, where he’s staying? If he smokes so much, we’ll be able to see his smoke before we see him, so watch between the trees. He probably keeps a whip and hand cuffs in the back of his bike for all the other guys he’s screwed.’ Just thinking about it made Kite shaky; all the same, he was glad Al wasn’t saying that stuff out loud. And if he did, Kite was going to wring his pathetic little neck.
“Where are we going, anyway? We’ve been walking for two hours.” Kite mumbled, changing the subject away from the lump on his head.
Al put his hands on his hips and peered down the path in the direction they were heading, gauging something, peering as if he saw their destination not far up ahead. He nodded slowly. “We’ll be there soon, I’m pretty sure. Of course, it’s been a while, and I only wandered this far twice.” His smile grew mischievously, “But I’m pretty sure it’s up ahead.”
“Not telling, are you, jerk?”
“Nope.”
Kite rubbed his forehead. “I need Tylenol,” he grumbled, following Alex as the other boy began walking again. Grumpy, Kite didn’t bother to try going back to his ground-focus, just trudging behind his friend. He found at once that he made more noise, while Alex still made none. A frown worked its way into his brow. After watching him, and figuring out nothing, he gave up and just followed methodically in Alex’s footprints – which he, somehow, still managed to make more noise stepping in.
After a few more turns, Alex climbed up a short uphill slope of dirt hidden in the trees and pushed the bushes aside, grabbing Kite’s arm to help haul him up as well. They stood brushing themselves off for a moment before Kite noticed where they were.
The two of them stood on the far side of a creek that varied widely in width; it slivered to a trickle close by where they stood, and widened enough for a swim and good fishing up ahead, curling up the mountain and around the east side of a cabin perched among a patch of bushes at the top of the gently sloping hill. It sat a tad sideways, as if it were worn, but taken care of, and a neat stack of firewood as tall as its roof was stacked to one side.
All around the log cabin, there were signs of people, with a fire pit off to one side full of darkened embers and a few beach chairs here and there with a couple empty beer and soda cans in their arm holsters. One chair was tipped over; there was a shirt hanging on a tree branch by the creek, and some other tools and tires scattered about with weeds growing through them. A red four-wheeler had a blue tarp flung carelessly over it, and half was visible. There was no sign of uneaten food, and the shirt of the tree was a soccer jersey – naturally, Kite knew who had been here… or who was still here.
“What is wrong with you?!” Kite hissed, ducking behind a thick oak tree, gnarled near the bottom with roots climbing up out of the ground, then down again into the creek, giving a good shelter to any wandering creature in need. He was easily dwarfed and hidden. “Those are Lance’s guys in there! They’ll shoot us if they find we’re here!”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Come on, they won’t shoot us, idiot,” he said, “and besides, they’re not even here. Lance’s truck is gone – and he took them all here in the same car. Look, see for yourself.” He pointed at the retreating tire tracks in the dirt as well as the distinct lack of a vehicle. Well, other than the four-wheeler, but it was covered in dust and leaves and a blown transmission was leaning up against the far side of it. “We’re fine, for now. But I do intend to talk to them.”
Kite’s jaw dropped. “Why?!”
“Because!” Alex bellowed, angry now, “There’s a killer on the loose trying to lynch you! I have a house in a tree, with enough Twinkies to last us until we get sick of beating each other in video games and need a burger from the diner, a few candles, and a handgun. That’s it.” He scowled. “Unfortunately, we can’t avoid him forever. Sooner or later, he’ll need to be caught, fought, and by that point I will have kicked the living shit out of him, but until then he’s at large and I’m not Superman.”
Kite stared at him.
“Besides,” Al murmured, crossing his arms and eyeing the cabin, “the soccer jocks have a car, brawn, and connections. They helped you once – they might agree to help again.”
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